#or well fahc implied
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Thinking about that one story where some thieves stole computers from a crisis center, and returned them after realizing where they’d stolen from, and thinking about the FAHC.
Like one night a few of them are out, and maybe fucking wasted, and they don’t NEED to steal anything but if they don’t routinely break the law they start getting antsy. So they pick a building at random, just for fun, and steal a bunch of shit from it. The next day they see on the news, or see the things they stole, and realize fuck, they’d stolen from a nonprofit they’d have never touched if they’d known.
The next day the workers of the nonprofit go in and find everything that was stolen is back, along with like 30,000 dollars, and a note saying they’re sorry and that they didn’t know, and if anyone ever needs help that the police refuse to give to give them a call, and they’d be more than happy to sort it out for them.
And sometimes the nonprofit takes them up on that.
I was also thinking that sometimes, people who are desperate might go into a certain bar at a certain time. And they’d buy themselves a drink, and muse just a little too loudly about their friend, and how their friend’s husband abuses her but she can’t leave safely, or about how the cops won’t do anything about the professor preying on students for extra credit, or or or. And then they leave and go home and hope.
And then the next night, or the night after that, the husband shows up dead. The professor is in prison with a bullet wound in intimate places. There’s nothing that implies the Crew had anything to do it, but, well. The city knows.
#fahc#musing#i was laying in bed thinking about this last night#just the fakes being bad guys but not Bad Guys(tm)#and being completely unforgiving of anyone who is#domestic violence cw#ask to tag if theres anything else that shoudl be here#fake ah crew
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Prince’s Whumptober 2020 masterpost
Gonna have links, titles, summaries, and all that jazz under a readmore because i decided to really push myself and do all 31 prompts separately. Thank you to everyone who liked and reblogged my work; your support means the world to me and makes me want to keep writing!
multiparters here have been listed in chronological order rather than posting order for ease of reading.
FAHC
No 1. LET’S HANG OUT SOMETIME
Waking Up Restrained | Shackled | Hanging
Title: another duck joins the flock
Fandom: FAHC
Character(s): Geoff, Michael
Rating: T
Warning(s): blood, handcuffs
Wordcount: 728
Summary: Or how the Fakes gained their most famous muscle. [tidied up/expanded this never-to-be-posted fahc wip for whumptober]
Naruto
No 2. IN THE HANDS OF THE ENEMY
“Pick Who Dies” | Collars | Kidnapped
Title: and the worst part of waiting is the anticipation
Fandom: Naruto
Character(s): Team 7
Rating: T
Warning(s): blood, vomit
Wordcount: 951
Summary: Team Seven gets captured. [part of the whumptober au]
No 3. MY WAY OR THE HIGHWAY
Manhandled | Forced to their Knees | Held at Gunpoint
Title: A Teaching Moment
Fandom: Naruto
Character(s): Sakura, Kabuto
Rating: T
Warning(s): none
Wordcount: 498
Summary: Kabuto makes her an offer she can’t refuse. [part of the whumptober au]
No 29. I THINK I NEED A DOCTOR
Intubation | Emergency Room | Reluctant Bedrest
Title: Graduation
Fandom: Naruto
Character(s): Sakura, Kabuto,
Rating: T+?
Warning(s): blood
Wordcount: 835
Summary: Kabuto has one more test before Sakura can be considered a true medic-nin. [part of the whumptober au]
No 15. INTO THE UNKNOWN
Possession | Magical Healing | Science Gone Wrong
Title: Arboreal
Fandom: Naruto
Character(s): Sakura
Rating: T
Warning(s): needles
Wordcount: 803
Summary: It was only a matter of time before Sakura found something that could help her escape. [part of the whumptober au]
No 9. FOR THE GREATER GOOD
“Take Me Instead” | “Run!” | Ritual Sacrifice
Title: no good deed goes unpunished
Fandom: Naruto
Character(s): Naruto, Teuchi, Kyuubi
Rating: T
Warning(s): violence against children
Wordcount: 972
Summary: Something goes wrong on his seventh birthday. Naruto might never be the same again.
No 26. IF YOU THOUGHT THE HEAD TRAUMA WAS BAD…
Migraine | Concussion | Blindness
Title: Degradation
Fandom: Naruto
Character(s): Kakashi, Sakura, Naruto
Rating: T
Warning(s): dismemberment ment
Wordcount: 187
Summary: Kakashi knows that power comes with a price.
Dragon Age
No 6. PLEASE….
“Get it Out” | No More | “Stop, please”
Title: Like Dogs
Fandom: Dragon Age
Character(s): Female Tabris, Shianni, Soris, Nelaros
Rating: M
Warning(s): implied/offscreen rape, violence against women, blood
Wordcount: 1640
Summary: It was supposed to be a good thing, getting married. It wasn’t. [this is really just a love letter to the origin that fucking shooketh me]
No 19. BROKEN HEARTS
Grief | Mourning Loved One | Survivor’s Guilt
Title: all’s fair but war is not without casualties
Fandom: Dragon Age
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Female Cousland, Alistair; ex-Alistair/Warden
Rating: T
Warning(s): none
Wordcount: 695
Summary: Ten years after the Blight ends, Elissa Cousland runs into someone she never thought she’d see again. It, uh, doesn’t go quite as planned. [mostly canon compliant; Loghain is spared and becomes a warden]
No 11. PSYCH 101
Defiance | Struggling | Crying
Title: Duty
Fandom: Dragon Age
Character(s): Female Cousland, Eleanor, Bryce
Rating: T
Warning(s): blood, betrayal, last stand
Wordcount: 633
Summary: Even without interference, history marches on. A what-if scenario if Duncan wasn’t there to recruit the Cousland. [part of iron & ash]
No 23. WHAT’S A WHUMPEE GOTTA DO TO GET SOME SLEEP AROUND HERE?
Exhaustion | Narcolepsy | Sleep Deprivation
Title: To Ostagar
Fandom: Dragon Age
Character(s): Female Cousland
Rating: T
Warning(s): none
Wordcount: 545
Summary: Jasmine is determined to get vengeance for her family. [part of iron & ash]
No 14. IS SOMETHING BURNING?
Branding | Heat Exhaustion | Fire
Title: Consequences
Fandom: Dragon Age
Character(s): Female Surana
Rating: T
Warning(s): none
Wordcount: 368
Summary: Surana helps her best friend escape the Circle, and the consequences are more than she bargained for.
No 21. I DON’T FEEL SO WELL
Chronic Pain | Hypothermia | Infection
Title: Corrupted
Fandom: Dragon Age
Character(s): Female Mahariel, Duncan
Rating: Gen
Warning(s): none
Wordcount: 192
Summary: It’s a long journey from the Brecilian Forest to Ostagar for someone with blight sickness.
No 31. TODAY’S SPECIAL: TORTURE
Experiment | Whipped | Left for Dead
Title: Big Sister Instinct
Fandom: Dragon Age
Character(s): Female Hawke, Unnamed Templars
Rating: T
Warning(s): torture, violence against women
Wordcount: 325
Summary: Marian Hawke would rather die than betray her family. She might even just get the chance to do it.
Mass Effect
No 4. RUNNING OUT OF TIME
Caged | Buried Alive | Collapsed Building
Title: never forget to bury your regret (before it buries you)
Fandom: Mass Effect
Character(s): Male Shepard, Human OC
Rating: T
Warning(s): cave-in, blood, character death
Wordcount: 450
Summary: Survival training goes south in the ICT.
No 7. I’VE GOT YOU
Support | Carrying | Enemy to Caretaker
Title: First Contact
Fandom: Mass Effect
Character(s): Turian OC, Human OC
Rating: T
Warning(s): injuries, broken bones, vomit, vehicular crash
Wordcount: 1150
Summary: Decimus isn’t ready to die, but he’s especially not ready to die on a stupid scouting mission to a stupid alien colony. [set during the First Contact War; probably not canon-compliant but idgaf]
No 18. PANIC! AT THE DISCO
Panic Attacks | Phobias | Paranoia
Title: what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger (and what does makes you scarred forever)
Fandom: Mass Effect
Character(s): Female Shepard, Edi, Tali’Zorah, Garrus Vakarian
Rating: T
Warning(s): panic attack, open space
Wordcount: 662
Summary: Shepard isn’t afraid of getting spaced. No, really. [a closer look at the geth dreadnought mission]
No 28. SUCH WOW. MANY NORMAL. VERY OOPS.
Accidents | Hunting Season | Mugged
Title: Torfan
Fandom: Mass Effect
Character(s): Female Shepard, Major Kyle
Rating: T
Warning(s): blood, guns, drugging
Wordcount: 589
Summary: How the Butcher came to be.
No 25. I THINK I’LL JUST COLLAPSE RIGHT HERE, THANKS
Disorientation | Blurred Vision | Ringing Ears
Title: Rest
Fandom: Mass Effect
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Female Shepard, Anderson; referenced Shepard/Vega
Rating: T
Warning(s): blood, character death
Wordcount: 1018
Summary: A father-daughter moment after they open the arms of the Citadel. [part of Alder]
No 5. WHERE DO YOU THINK YOU’RE GOING?
On the Run | Failed Escape | Rescue
Title: they found you on the floor
Fandom: Mass Effect
Character(s): Female Shepard
Rating: T
Warning(s): alcohol, vomit, underage drinking
Wordcount: 348
Summary: Like mother like daughter; Shepard deals with her trauma after Mindoir. [part of Gloria Shepard]
No 22. DO THESE TACOS TASTE FUNNY TO YOU?
Poisoned | Drugged | Withdrawal
Title: there’s easier ways to die
Fandom: Mass Effect
Character(s): Female Shepard, Ashley Williams
Rating: T
Warning(s): DTs, vomit mention
Wordcount: 368
Summary: Shepard takes a stand against her own demons. [part of Gloria Shepard]
No 17. I DID NOT SEE THAT COMING
Blackmail | Dirty Secret | Wrongfully Accused
Title: you crawled up on your cross
Fandom: Mass Effect
Character(s): Female Shepard, Jacob Taylor
Rating: T
Warning(s): alcohol
Wordcount: 645
Summary: Shepard gets a morale boost from a crewmate. [part of Gloria Shepard]
No 16. A TERRIBLE, HORRIBLE, NO GOOD, VERY BAD DAY
Forced to Beg | Hallucinations | Shoot the Hostage
Title: Cornered
Fandom: Mass Effect
Character(s): Garrus, Female Shepard
Rating: T
Warning(s): broken bones
Wordcount: 1281
Summary: Garrus gets into some trouble. [part of the omega non-reaper au]
No 20. TOTO, I HAVE A FEELING WE’RE NOT IN KANSAS ANYMORE
Lost | Field Medicine | Medieval
Title: Ancient History
Fandom: Mass Effect
Character(s): Female Shepard, Garrus
Rating: T
Warning(s): injuries, death, self-destructive/suicidal actions
Wordcount: 1223
Summary: Jane is an enigma and Garrus just wants to figure her out. [part of the omega non-reaper au]
No 8. WHERE DID EVERYBODY GO?
“Don’t Say Goodbye” | Abandoned | Isolation
Title: After
Fandom: Mass Effect
Character(s): Garrus, Female Shepard
Rating: T
Warning(s): injuries, death
Wordcount: 440
Summary: Jane comes for Garrus after the gangs’ assault. [part of the omega non-reaper au]
No 30. NOW WHERE DID THAT COME FROM?
Wound Reveal | Ignoring an Injury | Internal Organ Injury
Title: Debt
Fandom: Mass Effect
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Garrus, Female Shepard, Mordin; mutual pining Shakarian
Rating: T
Warning(s): painkillers
Wordcount: 590
Summary: After the gangs’ assault, Garrus overhears something. [part of the omega non-reaper au]
Undertale
No 13. BREATHE IN BREATHE OUT
Delayed Drowning | Chemical Pneumonia | Oxygen Mask
Title: Drowning
Fandom: Undertale
Character(s): Toriel, Asgore
Rating: T
Warning(s): character death, child death
Wordcount: 156
Summary: Asriel brought Chara home one last time.
[replacing no. 27] Alt 7. Found Family
Title: The Door
Fandom: Undertale
Character(s): Frisk, Papyrus, Sans
Rating: Gen
Warning(s): none
Wordcount: 357
Summary: Just a little look at what could be a meeting with Gaster
Red vs Blue
No 12. I THINK I’VE BROKEN SOMETHING
Broken Down | Broken Bones | Broken Trust
Title: Being a twin is a Hard Thing
Fandom: Red vs Blue
Character(s): South Dakota
Rating: T
Warning(s): psychological trauma
Wordcount: 281
Summary: In the days before Wash finds them, South gets… introspective. [canon compliant? taken from a wip I was never going to finish so I fleshed it out for whumptober instead]
Original Fiction
No 10. THEY LOOK SO PRETTY WHEN THEY BLEED
Blood Loss | Internal Bleeding | Trail of Blood
Title: please leave a message
Rating: T
Warning(s): blood
Wordcount: 537
Summary: A detective’s work is never done. Antonia deals with the news that her most famous case’s subject is on the run again. [original fiction]
No 24. YOU’RE NOT MAKING ANY SENSE
Forced Mutism | Blindfolded | Sensory Deprivation
Title: Secondary Location
Rating: Gen?
Warning(s): kidnapping
Wordcount: 143
Summary: Antonia wakes up on the wrong side of the city. [original fiction]
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A Very Nana Christmas
Fandom: ragehappy, fahc
Ship: Mavinwood (Michael/Gavin/Ryan)
Words: 2.2k
Tags: dysfunctional family dynamics, christmas fluff, with family drama, Ryan and his mom don't get along well, russian divorce lawyer mom
Summary: Ryan takes his boyfriends to Georgia for christmas, where they meet his mother for the first time. Ryan would rather they don't.
A/N: First of the Winter Prompts! @itskaysno asked for a christmas sequel to Devil's From Downtown Georgia. Read here on Ao3 or Patreon.
***
Michael was sitting out on the veranda with Ryan, legs swinging idly as they watched the sun set, when the car arrived. A woman stepped out on red stiletto heels, barely visible in the porchlight, and Ryan stiffened next to him. Michael took his cue from his boyfriend, jumping off the veranda and standing at his side, waiting for the woman to approach. Her black fur coat swished around her legs as she walked across the gravel with long, steady steps.
“Well,” the woman said as she stopped in front of them, gaze gliding up and down, taking Michael’s scruffy outfit in from his scuffed boots to his worn leather jacket. He crossed his arms instinctively, narrowing his eyes at her. “You must be Ryan’s latest… boyfriend.” Her painted smile twitched as she said the words.
“Might be,” Michael returned, making a show of leaning into Ryan, who draped his arm over Michael’s shoulders. “What’s it to you?”
“Michael,” Ryan interrupted, and his tone was blank. Michael tensed immediately, because that was his Vagabond voice. The one that masked whatever he was feeling, usually fear or anger. Sometimes both. “May I introduce you to my mother.”
“Charmed, I’m sure,” the woman responded, her nose wrinkling just the slightest bit before her face smoothed out. Michael couldn’t help but notice that neither Ryan nor his mother exchanged greetings with one another.
“I’m not,” he drawled, arching a brow in clear challenge. Ryan never really talked about the woman who was supposed to raise him, that honour belonged to Nana Haywood. Based on his own family history, Michael could only come to so many conclusions based on that.
The woman’s smile thinned, and she gave Michael another obvious once over.
“No, I don’t suppose you’d much care for class.” She tossed back her hair with a dismissive flick of her hand, finally turning to address Ryan. “Doubtful that this one will last long. Really, dear, wherever did you get your appalling taste in men from?”
“I believe that would be you, Mother,” Ryan snapped. She sniffed, but didn’t deny Ryan’s accusation. Michael grit his teeth and swallowed his anger. He wasn’t here to antagonize Ryan’s family, and since they were staying for the next couple days, it might get awkward if he did.
The woman, on the other hand, apparently didn’t get the memo.
“I suppose it can’t be helped. Here.” Ryan’s mother held out a business card daintily between two manicured fingers, letting go the moment Michael held out his hand. He fumbled to catch the card as it fluttered, catching the curl of disgust around her mouth from the corner of his eyes. “My number. Should you ever need it.”
“What are you getting at?” Michael asked, his tone turning snappish with impatience. He was sure there was a dig hidden in those words, even when he didn’t know what. Ryan’s arm around his shoulders tightened, fingers digging lightly into his arm. His mother’s painted lips curled into the simile of a smile, her blue eyes colder than a Russian winter.
“I’m a divorce lawyer, darlin’.” Her eyes flickered up to meet Ryan’s, her expression tightening. Michael opened his mouth, anger burning in his gut, because how dare she imply-
“Triad marriages would have to be legal first,” Gavin interjected smoothly as he came up behind them, smiling his most fakest smile at Ryan’s mother. He’d clearly lingered in the doorway, eavesdropping. “Wouldn’t they, Mrs. Haywood?”
“Please,” she responded, shaking his hand with a limp wrist, her smile just as fake. “Mrs. Haywood is my mother.”
She didn’t offer an alternative, either, and Gavin let his smile bare teeth for just a moment.
“Of course.” He turned to Michael, smile softening. “Nana was looking for you, boi. Something about mushroom pie?”
Michael lit up immediately, eager to escape the situation. “Yeah, she promised to teach me.” He leaned in, brushing a kiss to Gavin’s cheek. “Thanks, boi.”
Gavin lingered as Michael ducked out without looking back at Ryan’s mother once, who in turn was mustering Gavin with great interest.
“I don’t believe we’ve been introduced,” she said at last, when Gavin refused to break the tense silence.
“We haven’t,” Gavin agreed, brow arching up in challenge. Her eyes flashed with something not quite like annoyance, but not quite like respect either. Her gaze flickered to Ryan, who crossed his arms, clearly keeping out of their little power struggle but unwilling to leave Gavin alone with his mother.
“Veronica,” she introduced herself, eyes lingering on Ryan thoughtfully before finally meeting Gavin’s. “Ryan’s mother.”
“Gavin,” he returned politely, mouth quirking up, voice just a tad smug. “Ryan’s boyfriend.”
“And here I thought I’d already met my son’s boyfriend earlier.” She laughed as if inviting Gavin to join in her joke. Gavin blinked slowly, and between one blink and the other, his face turned into a mask of sympathy.
“Michael’s also our boyfriend.” He reached out and caught her hand as she instinctively moved to shake his again, patting it instead. “I know it can be quite… confusing at first.”
This time, her eyes flashed with both obvious annoyance and respect. “Because you are in a… what did you call it? Triad?”
“That’s the term, yes,” Gavin agreed, giving her hand one last pat before letting go. To her credit, Ryan’s mother let it drop to her side as if he hadn’t just gotten one over her. Ryan was watching their exchange with growing amusement, if still tense and ready to intervene. Gavin cocked his head, glancing up at him from under long lashes. “I think I just heard Nana calling for you, Rye.”
“Did you now.” Ryan’s voice remained dry, knowing very well what Gavin was up to. Still, he played along, leaning down to give him a chaste kiss. “Guess I’ll have to go check what she needs.”
“Guess so,” Gavin agreed in his most guileless tone.
Ryan shot his mother one last, warning look before turning around and going back inside, leaving her and Gavin alone on the porch. Once inside, he could smell the amazing scents wafting from the kitchen of baking pies and still cooling cookies. Christmas on the Haywood farm had always been traditional to a T, with Nana pretending the Russian New Years dishes she smuggled in were simply a city thing. Once Gramps had passed away, she’d grown a bit more open about the mixing of traditions, at least to her family.
She didn’t go as far as making borsch, though. That would be a tad too obvious for the former spy.
“There you are, sweetpea,” Nana greeted him from where she hovered over Michael’s shoulder, supervising him as he kneaded the pie dough. “Michael dear informed me Veroshka made it. You didn’t get into a fight with her, did you, sweetpea?”
“No, Nana,” Ryan replied dutifully, which had the advantage of being true for once. She still eyed him suspiciously. “Gavin is trying his charm on Mother right now.”
“Good luck,” Michael scoffed, only to get a light slap over the head from Nana.
“None of that now. I know Vera can be difficult when she chooses to, but you’re family. She will learn.”
Ryan sighed, unconvinced. His mother never liked anyone he brought home, ever since his very first girlfriend. He tried to avoid introducing any subsequent lovers, because it never went well, and he’d rather not have that talk with his boyfriends. For that matter…
“I thought Mother was spending Christmas up in New York with her fancy new firm?” Ryan directed that question at Nana, even as he moved to haul the dishes from the cupboard. Dinner wouldn’t be ready for a while yet, but Nana hadn’t raised him to just stand by idle as others worked.
“Would you have brought your boys over if I told you, hm?” Nana asked, motioning for Michael to move the dough into the pan. Ryan didn’t respond because they both knew the answer. “That’s what I thought. Now, you want the mushrooms to sit on a bed of rice, like so-”
Ryan sighed and left Michael to his nana’s tender mercies, knowing better than to argue. When he carried the dishes over to the dining room, he found his other boyfriend had made his way inside, offering a glass of red wine to his mother. She had draped her fur coat over the back of a chair, which was sure to draw Nana’s ire when she saw. Ryan suspected that’s why his mother did it in the first place.
“Ryan! Do you have a decanter?”
Ryan blinked, setting the dishes on the wooden table. “Uh. Maybe?”
Gavin exchanged a speaking look with his mother, before winking at Ryan. “Right. I’ll ask Nana.”
“Uh huh.” Ryan raised a brow in question, but Gavin simply pressed a kiss to his cheek, angled perfectly for his mother’s view - a demonstration? - before swanning off to the kitchen. Ryan stared after him, entranced by the sway of his hips, until his mother cleared her throat.
“He’s quite something,” she said, sipping her wine and arching a brow at Ryan which he mimicked immediately. Her voice lacked the usual contempt.
“He is,” he agreed, waiting warily for the trap. But the words didn’t come. Instead, his mother hummed to herself, eyeing him over the rim of her glass. Then she turned abruptly, stalking over to the table to set the wine glass down, liquid splashing dangerously close to the rim. Back turned to him, she finally spoke.
“Does he… they… make you happy?”
“They do.” Ryan crossed his arms, narrowing his eyes. “Why?”
His mother swallowed, fingers tracing up the long stem of the glass before she let her hand drop away.
“He reminds me of… someone,” his mother mused, glancing back over her shoulder at him. “So young and full of energy. A way with words and every confidence that they will get him what he wants…”
“I know his tells. I know when he lies,” Ryan interrupted, bristling because he knew where this was going. “And he knows better than to lie to me.”
His mother paused, turning to look at him. “I suppose there’s that.” A genuine smile played around her mouth, making her look less plastic for once. “Mom raised quite the pretty little liars, didn’t she?”
“So he fits in perfectly. So what?”
“I’ve only ever wanted your happiness,” she murmured, averting her eyes. Ryan sneered.
“Could have fooled me.”
“You trust too easily,” she snapped, picking up her glass again and taking a big swallow. “I only ever tried to protect you, but you’re so… so…!”
“Full of trust issues?” A voice interrupted, and they both turned to see Michael in the doorway, carrying a bowl of gherkin salad. “Suspicious of everyone’s motives?” He walked up to the table, purposefully passing between Ryan and his mother to set the bowl on the table. “Hard to win over?”
Michael came to stand half next, half in front of Ryan, crossing his arms. Ryan’s mother pursed her lips.
“And what would you know?” she snapped, tossing her hair over her shoulder with a jerk of her head.
“We’ve all got our issues, lady,” Michael returned unerringly, shoulder bumping into Ryan’s. “And you need to stop projecting.”
“So I should just let him run into the knife? He’s my son!”
“You should back off and let him live his life.” Michael shrugged, dropping his arms, hand finding Ryan’s and intertwining their fingers. “He gets to make his own mistakes.”
“Which we hopefully don’t turn out to be,” Gavin piped up, having snuck up on them with his own bowl of porridge. “And if we do, I’m sure Ryan is more than capable of killing us before you get to us, so.”
His mother opened her mouth, but before she could reply, Nana bustled past Ryan.
“Well said. Now, if everyone can stop being dramatic for a bit, how about we eat, hm? I did not prepare a three course meal only for no one to appreciate it.” She levelled a stern look at Ryan and then his mother. “Or did I?”
“No, Nana,” Ryan gave in first, holding up his hands in surrender, including the one Michael was still holding. Nana nodded decisively, rounding the table to sit in the head chair. “Now, Vera, dear, how often do I have to tell you that a chair isn’t a coat rack, sweetheart?”
His mother rolled her eyes and sighed, plopping into her claimed chair. “Yes, Mom.”
“Don’t just ‘yes, mom’ me, Veroshka.” Nana harrumphed. “Youngsters these days, I swear. No manners anymore.”
Gavin and Michael sat down on either side of Ryan, Michael still holding his hand and bumping their shoulders together, and Gavin reaching out to squeeze his knee under the table, winking at him when Ryan caught his eyes. Ryan smiled and ducked his head.
When he looked up, his mother was watching them with an inscrutable look on her face. Ryan felt his smile slip, but before he could say anything, she gave him the smallest nod, barely moving her head, then turned to Nana to comment on the dishes.
Michael squeezed his hand and Gavin leaned in close, asking for him to pass the potato salad.
And slowly, Ryan relaxed, not quite trusting the truce, but not willing to break it either. Besides, Nana had outdone herself once again. And who could argue when faced with her cooking?
#the devil is from downtown georgia#downtown georgia#family of liars and lies#mavinwood#ragehappy#fahc#fake ah crew#ingno writes#fic rec#christmas fluff#christmas angst#because of family drama#michael and gavin are very protective of their boyfriend#mrs haywood the russian divorce lawyer#ryan's mom has trust issues#(so has ryan but he won't admit it)#I friggin love Veronica no lie#she's the worst and thus the best#she's got so many problems dude#I have like a whole history for her#sorry for the late crosspost#rl has been crazy lately#nana haywood#gavin free#michael jones#ryan haywood
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Okay, but.
FAHC Gavin who has ~ties to the mafia that the others find about during their escapades in Los Santos, right?
It’s this ~mysterious side to him that gets referenced from time to time.
Dan comes to visit and is like, “Oh, hey, B. Remember that time - “ and Gavin immediately shuts him up about it because it’s super sekrit,hush-hush and if word ever got out not even his ~ties to the mafia can save them?
The crew wants to pull a heist and Gavin is like, “Ahhh, memories,” or some new figure in town is connected to Gavin somehow.
Point is, everyone thinks it’s Serious Business and the reason Gavin came to the US in the first place? (Want to ask if he’s in Trouble, but he gets so squirrely about it they drop the subject every time.)
...And then Fiona shows up and is like, “Well, well, well, Gavin Free. It’s been a long time.”
(Rumors says she’s got mafia ties too, recently arrives from Europe and there are all these Incidents that happen wherever she goes? Professional hits and the whatnot and it’s heavily implied she’s following in her parents’ footsteps. Surely it’s no coincidence she just happens to end up in Los Santos and runs into the crew and knows Gavin, right?)
Gavin is like shit because yes, okay, his grandpa is in the mafia and there’s a whole Thing about it?
But mostly he was this ridiculous disaster of a human being back then. (More so than now, because young and stupid and just learning the ropes. Not incompetent, just inexperienced and if the crew thinks he’s reckless now? Wow, do they not know the half of it.)
Did the stupidest shit with Dan as his main accomplice. (Maybe his family had mafia ties too, son of an enforcer or some such who was killed when he was a kid and no where else to go after his mom died. The two of them grew up together. Was expected to look out for Gavin, and it was this obligation at first? But then he started to like the little bastard and everyone knows the rest.)
But.
There was this other kid, when Gavin and Dan were teens or whatever, daughter of some high-ranking mafia member. Maybe her mother was an assassin who used her cover as a model to travel without drawing attention to herself. (And of course there’s a thing where she and Meg run into one another at some point and it’s either Tense Standoff or Mutual Respect - or both.)
Her dad is either mafia too, or some sekrit agent - a la that one stream with Geoff where they were joking about him having all the passports and ~mysterious???. (Fiona isn’t really sure what he does, but it sure as hell isn’t what he says he is. They just don’t talk about it?)
But this kid, right. Important parents and the whatnot, and when her family brings her to where Gav and Dan are with the rest of *vague mafia things* she’s like this little sister/cousin/witness to their shenanigans and the whatnot.
Point is.
The reason Gavin’s so tight-lipped about his Mafia Ties is that it’s all embarrassing as hell, right?
Dumb shenanigans and ALL the embarrassing stories that Fiona is just oh so delighted to share and Gavin is like Fiona, ~noooooo. :(((((((((((((((((((
Everyone being like omg, Gavin, REALLY? at how secretive he’s been about his past because he was a dumb kid and all that. (They’re relived to know he’s NOT in trouble with the mafia, but are also idiot too and forget about the whole Mafia Ties thing.)
But then!
Someone puts a hit out on Gavin because he’s like, next in line to take over the mafia or something and it’s Serious Business and everyone is like shit because neither Gavin or Fiona mentioned that and what is wrong with you two?
Fiona who may or may not be a professional hitman(woman?) with this reputation in Europe that takes a while to catch up to her in Los Santos, right?
And when the crew realizes, Gavin’s just like, “Did we not mention it?” because everyone’s been looking at her like a valued member of the crew right, but she’s mostly been support for them, for Alfredo when they send him out and the whatnot and it’s like.
Oh shit.
Because she’s been taking on contracts from the mafia in Los Santos on the side - never conflict with crew business of course - and they didn’t realize it was her?
Ryan all starry-eyed about it because they were all beautifully executed (no pun intended) and hey, Fiona, hey. How the hell did you pull it off as he whips out a notebook to take notes for future purposes. (Murder purposes.)
Anyway.
Fiona comes to Los Santos and tells the crew all the embarrassing stories of Gavin’s Youth as sweet, sweet revenge for all the pranks he pulled on her as kids and Gavin is like ~nooooo my Mysteriousness Past is ruined. :(((((((((((((
#ragehappy#look#i don't even know what this is?#but i am delighted at the possibilities#and just#loling at gavin's suffering#technically not a fic#vagrant fic#¯\_(ツ)_/¯
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Never Fall In Love
read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2PpfY8o
by keelerpeeler
Ryan’s 5 rules for life:
1. Shoot first, ask questions second
2. Think ahead
3. Save yourself first
4. Don’t get too comfortable
And most importantly
5. Never fall in love
Ryan lived by these rules. As the menacing, fearsome, and well, lonely Vagabond, it wasn’t hard. Until he breaks them, for the first time in years.
Words: 29958, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English
Series: Part 5 of One Shots
Fandoms: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Categories: M/M
Characters: Ryan Haywood, Gavin Free, Michael Jones, Jack Pattillo, Geoff Ramsey, Jeremy Dooley
Relationships: Gavin Free/Ryan Haywood, implied relationships - Relationship, Jeremy Dooley/Michael Jones, Jack Pattillo/Geoff Ramsey
Additional Tags: This is a long boi, Fake AH Crew, GTA AU, Fem! Jack, Some pre-fahc, Getting Together
read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2PpfY8o
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Pressure Pops
Class of 198x
Ships: implied OT4, but can be viewed as just Sam/Amanda too.
Summary: Ten years after the events of 198x, the four have moved to Los Santos and made themselves the Kings and Queens of the city, OG FAHC style. It's not happily ever after though, there's a leak in their ranks and it could get someone killed. Amanda takes it the hardest.
Note: Hey what if the 198x kids became criminals and took over Los Santos before any of the FAHC/Cockbites were ever around? This is short and doesn't go super into detail about it, but I have another story from this universe that I can post if anyone is interested.
This au was co-created with @michaelthemadbitch
It starts with bruised eyes and an empty bed.
Sam finds himself waking up every morning facing a pillow that didn't get slept on, the sheets cold to the touch. She doesn't come to bed anymore. She used to and he would hold her tight and try to stay awake until her breath evened out, but he always fell asleep first and she would slip like a ghost from his arms.
He finds her at the kitchen table, a cigarette dangling from her lips and a full ashtray in front of her as she blankly stares out the window, not seeing the yawning colors of the morning sky. Her eyes are bloodshot and rimmed with dark bruises from the lack of sleep.
He plants a kiss on her head before moving into the kitchen to begin preparing breakfast.
“We're going to be alright, Hess. You know that, right?”
The only response is a half strangled sob and he turns around just in time to see her drop her head into her hands. He hurries back to her side, dropping to his knees beside her chair and pulling her into a tight hug. She twists in his arms and sobs into the collar of his shirt until there are no tears left. He holds her well past the last sob, rubbing her back and whispering quietly. “We're ok. We're all ok and we're going to figure this out.”
Mike and Hannah stumble into the kitchen a little while later and Amanda looks up at Hannah. Her red puffy eyes somehow manage to summon more tears as she sees the sling holding Hannah's arm tight to her torso, a safeguard to make sure she doesn't jostle the wound in her shoulder.
“Amanda, are you still hung up on this?!” Hannah rolled her eyes and slumped in the chair next to Amanda as the guys moved away. “I'm fine, we're going to find the leak and I am going to put whoever it is down myself even if it kills me.”
“Hannah!” Sam chides as Amanda covers her face with her hands again.
“Sorry, whatever, we'll get the dickbag, don't worry so much.”
The girls sit in silence as their boyfriends make breakfast, not a word passing between them as they move so fluidly around each other to prepare the meal. Every one of them is thinking about what happened that night, but none of them want to be the first to bring it up. In their own unique way they're each running a mental tally, who is the leak, how close are they to their core four, how deep does it run, how long has it been going on and what if one of them gets killed.
It starts with drastic weight loss and yellowing teeth.
He didn't notice it at first, but one day almost a month later he finds her on the couch, burrowed into the cushions far enough that he can lay down behind her, pressing his body against hers the way they used to sleep. He misses her, he misses her body. But her body has changed, he realizes. His hand resting on her hip feels too big, the soft curve is gone and the hard bone presses against the palm of his hand. When was the last time he saw her eat a proper meal? When was the last time she went longer than twenty minutes without a cigarette?
It turns to a desperate attempt to have some semblance of control over her own life.
He finds her sitting on the back deck, braless in a spaghetti strap shirt with her pyjama pants that have had the drawstring re-knotted too many times. Blonde hair lays in clumps on the wooden slats beside her, Mike's buzzer discarded on top.
He sits beside her quietly, glancing around the backyard before focusing on her. “It looks nice.”
She ducks her head, hiding behind the curtain of hair that still cascades from the right side of her scalp and plucks at the short brown hair on the left. “I needed change.”
“It's a nice change.”
She doesn't cry as much anymore. She doesn't seem to feel anything anymore.
He’s not sure if he should tell her they're getting close to finding the leak. It's not confirmed and if he tells her and they're wrong, what will happen then? Will she get worse?
He keeps his mouth shut.
It takes longer than it ever should have, weeks, but it finally ends with tears. A lot of tears. And then a really long nap.
She collapsed in his arms, overcome with relief. It was much too easy to catch her and pick her up in his arms to carry her to bed. It was the middle of the day, but he climbed into bed next to her anyways and held her tight, finally able to listen to her breathing as she fell asleep.
Read on Ao3
#class of 198x#sam 'cool' beans#GTA AU fic#my fic#amanda hess#<- had to fix that tag cause her name is not amandda#fake8x
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Blame It On The Blonde
Pairing: HundarNova
Summary: James and Brett are stuck in a safe house together and it’s all Aleks’s fault. He should have known James was an idiot and crushing hard on their coworker.
For the @ccsecretsanta
Merry Christmas, @tophatgoat it’s a little late but I hope you enjoy.
[AO3 Link] [Link]
James wished he could blame Aleks on his now giant problem. Mostly because he’s been blaming his partner for year. For everything. But this all fell on James. It had been a rush decision and now he was the one stuck dealing with the consequences.
“I fucking hate the snow. There’s a very clear reason I moved to Los Santos.” Brett bitched at him. One hand moved from the steering wheel to wave at the window, the powdered snow instantly turned to water before being swept away from by the whippers. Every word had an emphasis that went along with the hand motions.
James looked up from his burner, one of the Fakehaus guys was watching Ein as they laid low for the next few weeks. That didn’t mean he wouldn’t constantly check in on his girl. He didn’t say anything to Brett yet he playfully rolled his eyes as they pulled into the Suburbian driveway, hours away from the city.
James stared at the boring and admittedly too small house they were forced to stay in. He had to block out the flashback of when he stood next to Aleks as everything fell apart around them. It was like the mist that closes in around headlights, barely there but creeping in with every rotation of the tires. He almost wished that instead of taking Aleks’s original spot he forced Brett and Lindsey to switch. Those assholes were going east towards warmer weather, bright lights, and gambling, while their latest group of stragglers they’ve adopted headed South to hid under FAHC’s protection.
James sat in the warm car for a minute after Brett stepped out to stretch his muscles. He could already feel his joints start to ache as the cold breeze hit his jacket from the open door. He reluctantly left when he felt the need to stand as his muscles jumped and twitched.
He smirked as he listened to Brett’s continuous grumbling as he shook his hat out, the snowflakes still clinging to it stubbornly. The grass could still be seen, barely, under the white layer but there was no doubt by morning there wouldn’t be any green in the neighborhood. James had to resist the urge to stare as Brett raked a hand over his smooth head, probably still getting used to the cold air against it.
James cleared his throat, not shocked that the noise didn’t startle Brett. He’s been making it for years to mess with people.
“Huh, then why did you fuckin’ pick this piece of shit?” James asked, the little actual irritation he felt bleed through as he moved to get his shit out of the trunk.
“I didn’t. Aleks did.” Brett said as he moved to stand next to him. “ I didn’t find out about this until he gave me the address in the van.”
James could feel the warmth from Brett’s arm as it brushed against his. “That’s what you fucking get for letting him plan shit.”
“Yeah, no more of that from now on.”
James laughed at him. They both knew if Aleks wanted to make a plan they’d make it happen with very little hesitation. Not in a friendship way either but the fact that they’re all danger junkies and their co-leader was the best at being reckless. It made their work easier.
Aleks had been so excited about planning the heist by himself, his confidence shot after their losses that year. He only took ideas from the crew and basically created a secret plan to surprise them. Early Christmas present he said. He had worked over those stupid plans and evacuations for months. But now they were successfully richer and stuck in a frozen hell hole; hours away from the city he was still learning to love.
“Are you even listening to me?” Brett cut through James’s thought process. He cringed as he was caught stuck in the past.
:Fucking, no.” James scoffed quickly grabbing his bags before walking to the door.
“Wow.” Brett laughed and opened the door for them. The house was barely decorated but it was furnished. And fucking freezing. James immediately found the thermostat, his body long used to the overbearing heat of Los Santos. Brett flopped onto the ugly fucking brown couch.
“Never thought I’d actually miss cow print.” James commented. Brett stretched his legs out in front of him and glared. He already had his phone out and was texting away on it.
“If you’re implying that you can sit on that fucking couch without contracting some venereal disease then do I have some news for you, buddy.”
James glared at him and loudly scoffed at him, ready to throw a fake fit. He bought that couch, the second of its kind, not long after their move. It wasn’t his fault that Aleks was a fucking dumbass.
~
James hated unpacking. He usually just leaves everything in his case until he needed it, which is exactly what he did. So he hung out on the bed until he really needed to move, which was hopefully never.
Night had already fallen over the neighborhood and he ate the few granola bars left over from the road trip. Brett promised a food delivery in the morning so he had no need to save them. The side crew has long since checked in so all he needed was to here from Aleks and Lindsey. He wasn’t that worried about them, even if something went wrong those two could take care of it. They have before.
“James.” Brett’s voice carried across the house. James had gotten used to ignoring Brett’s irritated voice in the past few years. Mostly because he tended to not be on the receiving end of it. He closed his eyes and hoped if he pretended to sleep Brett would leave him alone, and while he really wanted to sleep but he couldn’t afford to fuck up his schedule more than he already had with the heist.
“James.” The irritation forced James up and out of the room before he even realized he was moving.
He could see Brett standing at the foot of his temporary bed. The scowl on his face was the one generally reserved for him and Aleks when their ideas went too far. This time is was thrown at a hideous red and yellow sweater he hung in front of his face.
“I thought we burned all those.” James said and Brett turned to look at him, he waved the sweater face stuck in between reprimanding James and chuckling with him.
“They weren’t that bad, a few of the other Fakes definitely were though.” Brett said, his face went back to the dark irritation that plagued it when he walked in.
“Why did you even bring it? Can it even fucking fit you?” James said. He took the sweater from him and playfully pulled the arm of the sleeve to stretch it against Brett’s. He tried not to think about anything but making Brett laugh, especially the way his fingers barely skimmed his skin.
“I didn’t, you fuck.” He took the sweater back and threw it on the pile of clothes on the bed. “I didn’t bring these either.”
He pointed after it as it landed. The god awful mix of red and greens that could be seen under the sweater made James’s head hurt.
“What the fuck?”
“Exactly.” Brett answered, “All of my shirts are missing, even my work out ones.”
James breathed in deeply, the urge to scream almost too much as he turned to stare out the door then back at Brett.
“James?” Brett asked, James must have looked crazy because he did a few more times before he stomped out of the room. He rushed back to his own temporary room, he could almost feel the house shake with each step. Brett followed him back calling his name, amusement in his voice rather than concern.
He all but tore his bag in his rush to see the contents inside. He could barely hear Brett’s breathless laugh over his scream as his own pile of red and green formed on the bed.
~
I actually fucking hate you.
I honestly have no idea what you’re talking about this time.
~
“Can’t sleep?” Brett’s voice almost startled James out of his thoughts. Memories so far in the past that they felt like the melting snowflakes as they hit the window.
He shouldn’t even be sitting there, in the window. It’s might as well be the first rule of the safe house and if Aleks caught him James would actually get himself stabbed by his friend. James had to resist smiling at the thought of Aleks ranting at him as blood showed on his ghastly fake gold sweater.
“James.”
“What?” His headache only grew as the ambient noise he managed to block out filled the air. Not just Brett and his every movement but the wind against the house and the creaks created from it. Brett was silent and James didn’t even realize he had moved to stand in front of him, even with his sweater with what James had to assume was a fat Santa face. He held out a plain white mug out to James who gratefully took it.
“Tea?” James asked as he cradled the mug in his hands. The warmth grounded him in the present as Brett sat on the ledge with his own cup. “Is this tea?”
“Shut up and drink it.” Brett said, a small chuckle as he watched James sip from the cup purposely making a slurping noise as he did.
While silence filled the living room again, it was comfortable and relaxing. Completely different from terror of before. Terror isn’t the right word for it, more existential. Something Aleks would tell him is the same thing.
“Lindsey and I stayed in a place like this a few years ago.” Brett was the first to break the silence. James hummed at him, not necessarily prompting him on but not rejecting him either.
“It was more of a fucking shithole, though. The stove had been stolen and she broke the fucking door on the last night.” Brett’s nostalgic face seemed so different from James’s. He always assumed he was frowning when he thought but Brett looked content as he looked outside.
“How’d she fucking do that?” James’s voice was bordering too high pitched for the time of night but he never really cared and if Brett did he didn’t show it.
“No idea. I don’t actually remember much of that night.” James choked on his tea but it didn’t stop him from laughing at Brett. He always forgot the party side of the more responsible leader. It took him awhile to catch his breath from his wheezing and it was only because Brett gave him a ‘you done’ look.
“Look, I’m not going to pester you to talk about what’s going on in your head.” Brett started. James expected more but there wasn’t even a single ‘you’ve been quiet’ or anything.
“Thanks.”
“Now, finish your fucking tea and go to sleep.” Brett used his mug to point down the hall towards James’s room.
“I’m good. I don’t think sleep and I are going to get along tonight.” James offered, it was only a small fraction of the problem and usually only happened when he was far away from the crew. A few days was fine but no contact for a week outside initial contact wasn’t apparently.
“What, you want to braid each other’s hair and paint our toe nails?” Brett asked, the sarcasm in his voice on level with nearly every time he spoke. If it wasn’t for the amusement in his eyes James would believe he was actually irritated.
“You don’t exactly have much, dude.” James replied. “But a few more stories wouldn’t hurt.”
Brett stood but didn’t go far. He lent down and kept his face close to James’s. When he looked up at him Brett placed a small kiss to his forehead. “I’ll make more tea than. And if you’re a good boy I’ll tell you about mine and Joel’s French heist.”
“Fuck you!” James yelled out after him. All he got was a middle finger in return.
~
He was startled awake. For a second he couldn’t move his body as sleep still had a hold of him. He slowly reached his hand over to the other side of the bed only to feel the cold pillow. He didn’t panic, Brett had always been a morning person and James usually caught him after his new home workout during their long week trapped in the house. Besides nothing happened last night and James wasn’t one to cling anyway.
He almost let himself drift back to sleep when his interruption showed back up, he didn’t realize what was about to happen until it did. There was a distant crash from the outside of the door and light footsteps, but they were nothing compared to the shock of his door being kicked open. It bounced off the wall, hard enough to almost crack the drywall behind it and close again. James jumped the noise knocking the sleep from his eyes.
“Merry Christmas, you fucking bitch.” Aleks didn’t quite yell into the room but he did throw his lanky body onto the bed. He barely missed James as he bounced. He didn’t move away from his friend as they both relaxed into the bed.
“It’s ten in the morning. How are you already drunk?” James asked his head snuggled back into his pillow, a deep sigh coming from the true annoyance he felt.
“Oh, please. I’m tipsy at most, asshole. Lindsey made some home made eggnog. It’s fucking great, man.” Aleks replied, his face slightly red as he stared at the roof. It stood out from the blue pillow case in a way that made James wished he had his phone in hand. He’d have to remember it for later.
“Why are you even here?” he asked instead, already missing his alone time away.
“Fake AH crashed our down time. They fucking took the cops’ attention off of us with their own Christmas heist. We decided to have a family Christmas instead. Three days late but still, we even brought presents.” Aleks had that rare soft look on his face as he smiled over at James. It was still a recent thing to see him open with his emotions. Like being in control of his situation for once allowed him to do what he wanted without consequences or fear. It was more comforting than nice to see. James learned to ground himself in the present with it, one of the few changes that they needed.
He hummed and whipped the sleep crust from his eyes, purposely using his middle finger. Aleks just smiled at him. “How was the vacation?”
“Quiet.”
“I fucking doubt that.” Aleks snorted. His eyes scrunched up as he laughed at his own joke.
“You planned this, didn’t you?” James asked as he stretched his body. Aleks snorted and James saw his face light up.
“Yeah, dawg, if you hadn’t of asked for the switch I would have come up with some excuse to switch Brett and Lindsey.” He explained, the amusement in his voice as he moved to sit back on his elbows.
“I hate you, so much.” James reached over and kicked at him. Aleks continued to giggle and clutched onto the sheets as James attacked him. Eventually James managed to push him off the bed, yet he managed to take all of the blankets with him.
James let out a small screech as the comfort and warmth was taken from him. Aleks’s dumb head popped up from the side he landed on.
“Oh, good. You’re wearing pants.”
He groaned and grabbed his pillow. He flung it at Aleks’s face. It his with a thump and he dramatically went with the movement. He landed hard on the floor, hitting his head on the wall as he did.
“Hey! Stop fucking around.” Brett’s voice carried across the house. “Come decorate this stupid fucking tree.”
Aleks ran out of the room just as James threw another pillow at him. The last James saw of him was his middle finger as it rounded the corner. He slowly moved to follow Aleks, he groaned as the only available thing to throw on was a sweater that looked like it had cows fucking on it. They were probably supposed to be reindeer but the material made them look fat and round.
The first thing he saw as he entered the living room was the dead and brown pine tree. It wasn’t that tall, barely taller than Lindsey as she tried to toss some garland onto it. Aleks had already gotten another cup of eggnog and sat on the couch.
“Oh, good, that fuck got you out of bed.” Brett asked. He was leaning against the corner between the kitchen and living room. Today his sweater was neon green with red plaid all over it, even the words were made of the ugly combination.
“Is that a Fake Pine sweater?” James asked, barely restraining the giggle he had in his throat. Aleks and Lindsey didn’t.
“Yeah.” Brett shrugged, massive shoulders pulling at the seams slightly. “I hate it.”
“How did you do it?” James asked turning to the blondes, they were in the post laugh stuttery laugh stages. James scowled at them when they wouldn’t stop.
“A magician never reveals her secrets.” Lindsey replied, she bowed low and a piece of her hair got caught by one of the branches.
“She’s also the one to stash all the cars before the fucking heist.” Aleks pipped in. Lindsey threw an ornament at him. They bickered but it was lost on James as he moved to the kitchen to grab his own glass of eggnog.
“Sleep well?” Brett moved to stand behind him not quite touching him but close enough James could feel the heat from his chest. James thought about yelling at him and telling him to fuck off. Instead he smiled, a full mouth smile that everybody knew meant trouble. Brett scowled at him, eyebrows scrunched in confusion, and took a step back for his safety.
“Amazing. I think it was the tea. Really put me to sleep.” James said and drank from the cup he made. Brett opened his mouth to say something in return but was interrupted by the front door being thrown open.
“Presents!” A voice called out and chatter filled the air as the living room.
“We’re right here, you bitch.” James yelled back at them as he stepped around Brett who just smirked down and followed him. “Stop fucking yelling.”
The side crew had filled the room, not everyone James hopped to see but he had no control over people he wasn’t in command of anymore. He still missed the flashes of tall teenager and brown hairs and short and long haired people. He forced it out of his mind as Aleks roughly grabbed a present from the hands of their new intern.
James sat on the couch with Aleks, they each took their own corner and it wasn’t long before Brett worked his way onto the middle seat. James allowed himself to slowly relax next to him as everybody started to sing some butchered version of Holy Night and threw tinsel at each other.
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he's like a hurricane, trouble's his middle name;
raywood | 1.7k | fahc / past implied illegal box
most couples, when they share clothes, have their friends make a couple jokes at their expense and realize how physically different they are.
however, in typical melodramatic fashion, ray and ryan cause a citywide police blockade and chase, destroy a business linage with one bullet and break gavin's nose.
on AO3
honestly, special thanks to @michaelsgavin and @juggey for retweeting ray in ryan’s jacket one day, which lead to me commissioning some art from sami and then writing this. enjoy! it’s my first ragehappy fic, i hope it’s a good one!
Ray’s pretty fucking sure that the cops of Los Santos must’ve paid to get onto the force, because these assholes definitely didn’t make their way through an entire college degree; Ray thinks himself pretty damn smart despite getting a GED the very first time he got the chance, but these goons are, some-fucking-how, stupider than Gavin is on a bad day (or an old crew member, on a good).
“It’s the Vagabond!” No, it’s Brownman in his jacket. I don’t even have half the muscle mass or ass he does. “Call in the SWAT team!” I’m gonna kick Ryan’s ass for taking my hoodie from the safe house. How the fuck does that thing even fit him? He’s a human dorito that’s a good two or three sizes bigger than me, he’s gonna look like an asshole. Well, a bigger one than usual.
Today, was supposed to be a nice, clean hit. Get to a rooftop, pop some rich kid’s entitled head off. Now he’s got half the police department on his ass because he and his morally repugnant (better) half had to give the old clothes switcheroo. Ray has spent the better part of a fucking year beating around the bush about how close he and the hurricane of a mercenary, the Vagabond, and this is gonna ruin everything. He can already see Gavin's smug fucking face. God damn it. He just revs of the engine of the bike he just stole, trying to get to his position before the cops actually come to their senses and attempt to do their fucking jobs right for once in their lives.
-
He's a little early for the time he'd been given despite his hectic encounter--this wasn't a fakes job, he just was bored in their downtime and some old friends asked for a favor--so he set to slowly putting his rifle together; the rendezvous point had originally been but a couple avenues down from the safe house he was currently housed up in with tall dark and scary, but the unexpected police convention in the 7/11 he'd planning to get a monster and a couple donuts from made for some good time to kill.
Apparently most of the downtown area was under surveillance for the Vagabond.
They can have fun looking for what isn't there.
Now, back to the scheduled actual homicide. Ray takes a breath, and looks into scope, taking in the all glass building where his target's supposed to making some kind of business deal that'll probably make him ever richer than he needs to be; there's too much movement, too many faces and bodies blocking what he needs to see and he goes to grab his phone to check the reference picture when--
~♫ here he is, the biggest douche in the uuuuuuniverse ♫~
[11:47:87] gavinofree: Y'know, most people don't raise hell on their walks of shame.
[11:48:72] gavinofree: Is keeping each other's jackets a consolation prize for the worst sex of your lives?
[11:49:32] gavinofree: Sorry, Rye's life.
[11:51:81] gavinofree: I called it, by the way. I knew you two were shagging! {attachment the_smug_gavin_face.jpeg}
It takes Ray a good moment to collect himself, and not consider kicking Gavin's ass. He settles on ruining the mountain that is his nose, less collateral damage that way.
[11:59:69] brownman: you use the word shagging between ryan and i's names ever again and i will permanently change your legal name to austin randy powers
[12:00:13] brownman: also i'm gonna go independence day on your god damn nose when i get back to the penthouse
[12:00:77] brownman: say goodbye to your sharkfin face, asshole
[12:01:42] gavinofree: You're gonna throw tea on my face, wot?
[12:01:57] brownman: the movie, with will smith
[12:01:88] brownman: i'm gonna hit you again, for not seeing the classic film
[12:02:07] brownman: you're a god damn travesty
He sighs, quickly taking a look at his mark's picture. The breeze is strong up here, and he has to zip up--Ryan's jacket that is way too big and baggy on him and makes him feel warm and fuzzy inside like when he perfects a game or snipes through five people with one bullet or makes Gavin knock into something expensive in the penthouse and watches Geoff tear him an absolutely new one--so the flaps in the wind don't throw off his aim.
Breathe.
He crouches, ever so slightly, mentally calculating the allowances he's got to make to get the shot perfectly. Align his back, angle the barrel straight, angle a few degrees off to the side.
Breathe.
The asshole goes up to the window--wall? he doesn't fucking know how these stupid yuppie skyscrapers work--and right into his crosshairs. Perfect.
Bang!
It's almost beautiful for a split second, the glass shattering like the beautiful lovechild of a snowflake and a spiderweb, before it all goes red and the entire board room goes into a panic. Ray shakes himself out of his dramatic and poetic stupor, to first take his rifle apart, pack it up and fucking book it out of here, then to send a text.
[12:17:49] brownman: okay, quick question
[12:17:69] brownman: i wanna do this the right way myself
[12:18:09] brownman: actually two questions
[12:18:99] brownman: can you grab michael for like, a minute when i get to the penthouse and how do you throw a good like one-two punch
[12:19:86] BMVagabond: I have a feeling these two things are very interconnected. Do you mean like, grab as in distract or grab as in hold him down because I can do both.
[12:21:19] brownman: you're not wrong
[12:21:52] brownman: whichever works, i doubt michael's gonna stop gavin from getting his ass kicked
[12:21:97] brownman: like baseball is for normal americans, seeing gavin get his just desserts is the crew's national pastime
[12:22:22] brownman: now give me those punchy deets
[12:23:44] BMVagabond: Okay, I'm just gonna send you a video, it's quicker. Let me hide in the bathroom real quick.
[12:23:77] brownman: make sure you make lots of moaning noises, pretend to have phone sex with me
[12:24:01] brownman: let the visual of my sensual unfit skinny body rock your dick, babe
[12:27:88] BMVagabond {Attached fist_vid_for_ray.mp4} Okay. 1: I didn't know we were at babe level, good to know. 2: I never want to read or listen to you stay those words ever again or I'm going to have to break up with you and find a more eloquent boyfriend. A real wordsmith.
[12:28:31] brownman: aw babe don't hurt me like this, you haven't even gotten to the rest of my horrible personality traits
[12:39:21] brownman: WAIT DID YOU SAY BOYFRIEND
Ray proceeds to spend the rest of his commute--he ties the jacket around his waist, goes and eats about seven burgers for lunch and takes the subway all the way back to his actual home, like a proper member of society--practicing making a proper fist along with swinging whenever there isn't someone next to him and mentally screaming because Ryan just used the word.
The big old word.
The b word.
Hoo boy. Oh man, he'll deal with that later when he doesn't have a smug British invasion of privacy to stop.
-
Ryan greets him as the door and it takes a lot for Ray not to burst into laughter at the sight before him. He's honestly amazed that the man even managed to get the thing on his arms, much less zip it all the way up; he looks like someone had the misfortune of putting a condom on an eggplant in health class, and it's equally jarring that he's in such a bright color too.
"Hey, you give that back right now mister. You're gonna ruin the elastic--big bad Vagabond and boyfriend or not, I can't have you going around and besmirching my aesthetic all willy-nilly. I work very hard to look like garbage, I'll have you know."
"Those are some big words and if I didn't know better, I'd say you read a thesaurus since your last text."
"You better know better. Please, you know I never learned how to read." He just tugs on the older man's sleeve--well, his sleeve, whatever--with an almost pout. "Give it back. I don't wanna get Gavin's blood on your good jacket when I break his nose." Ryan shrugs in a 'fair enough' way and they exchange jackets. Ray's a little pissed about the sleeves being slightly stretched out, but a good wash would fix it (but a wash would get rid of the weird scent of gunpowder and cologne that Ryan has on him and that would absolutely lowkey upset Ray--maybe he should just, do this again). He's about to take the first step to giving that smug asshole a good what for, when Ryan grabs his shoulder and he spins on his heel. "What."
"So you gotta keep your hands level with your shoulders, right--" Ryan gets behind Ray, and positions him properly. "--and have a wide stance. Twist your hips a bit when you swing and you'll have more power behind your strikes. Lead with a quick jab to daze him, and then give him a right cross." A couple demonstrations and Ray leaves--no, saunters out of the room--ready to strike.
Ryan's halfway through a sip of Diet Coke when he hears a distinct sound of a dying bird squawk, follow by the sound of the same bird hitting the carpeted floor of the living room floor. Geoff, walks in and sighs.
"If you two are gonna start dating, you better keep each other on a leash. 'Cause I can't afford Gavin getting sent to the hospital every other week because you two decided to double team him."
"Duly noted." And in that moment, Gavin comes in clutching the ruins of his once great and large nose.
"Geoffrey, Ray broke my nose, he's being a prick--" His whining is drowned out by both Jeremy and Michael, cackling and obviously video taping the whole thing.
Michael replays the whole thing for Ryan, and it's a pretty good first try.
They find Ray sulking on the couch, playing one handed tetris while the other is wrapped in an ice pack.
"His stupid face hurt my hand."
#ragehappy#raywood#fake ah crew#sometimes vi does the writing thing#HEY i did a thing i hope y'all enjoy
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Never Fall In Love
read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2PpfY8o
by keelerpeeler
Ryan’s 5 rules for life:
1. Shoot first, ask questions second
2. Think ahead
3. Save yourself first
4. Don’t get too comfortable
And most importantly
5. Never fall in love
Ryan lived by these rules. As the menacing, fearsome, and well, lonely Vagabond, it wasn’t hard. Until he breaks them, for the first time in years.
Words: 29957, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English
Series: Part 5 of One Shots
Fandoms: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Categories: M/M
Characters: Ryan Haywood, Gavin Free, Michael Jones, Jack Pattillo, Geoff Ramsey, Jeremy Dooley
Relationships: Gavin Free/Ryan Haywood, implied relationships - Relationship, Jeremy Dooley/Michael Jones, Jack Pattillo/Geoff Ramsey
Additional Tags: This is a long boi, Fake AH Crew, GTA AU, Fem! Jack, Some pre-fahc, Getting Together
read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2PpfY8o
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where you came from
read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2JDL9ex
by paox
James drags him into one last hug - and for somebody so non-tactile, it means a lot - and then lets him go, and Jeremy stumbles off down the path, hitching his backpack on his shoulders and forcing himself to keep looking forwards because he knows if he looked back, if he saw James standing there in the doorway with his hair loose around his shoulders and Aleks’ ring on his finger and that resigned, devastated look on his face, he wouldn’t have the strength to keep walking.
--
jeremy used to be a part of fake chop, but that was a long time ago. when they rock up at los santos? well, that causes a bit of a mess
Words: 4946, Chapters: 1/2, Language: English
Fandoms: The Creatures | Cow Chop RPF, Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Categories: Gen, M/M
Characters: Jeremy Dooley, Aleksandr Vitalyevich Marchant, James Richard Wilson, Brett Hundley, Asher | TheFirst, Trevor | ModestCube, Jakob | AlsoJakob, Gavin Free, Michael Jones, Ryan Haywood, Geoff Ramsey, Jack Pattillo, (others mentioned)
Relationships: Jeremy Dooley & Cow Chop, Jeremy Dooley & Aleksandr Marchant, Jeremy Dooley & James Richard Wilson, Jeremy Dooley/Gavin Free/Michael Jones, Aleksandr Vitalyevich Marchant/James Richard Wilson, (IMPLIED), Jeremy Dooley & Geoff Ramsey, Jeremy Dooley & Brett Hundley
Additional Tags: FAHC, Alternate Universe - Grand Theft Auto Setting, Fake Chop, FAHC Origins, god this is a mess but i love it
read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2JDL9ex
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Hi, I really liked King of my Heart and was wondering if you would ever write Jeremy's introduction into the crew? Even if u don't I love your work, thank you for being awesome 💕
I’m actually writing another fic that pertains to just that! It’s called The Loneliness Ends and a New Life Begins and I’ve been working on it for a few months now, it’s going to have all the boys’ introductions to the crew (currently I’ve posted Geoff, Gavin and Michael and I’m working on Ryan’s) Jeremy’s will likely be the last chapter of that, but you won’t have to wait too too long for it cause I’m trying to be good about working on it (and also I’m thinking about doing their intros in one-shots from their own povs as well once Loneliness Ends is finished)! And if you can’t wait and you wanna go waaayyyyy back to the beginning of my yelling about fahc there’s my original headcanon for Jeremy’s life prior to, and after the crew. It’s kind of dated to how I write Crew Fic now, since it implies that Ray is still involved, but it’s got Jeremy’s general introduction too!
And I’m really glad you loved it, I haven’t received any comments on it yet, and I was starting to feel a little discouraged, you’ve made my evening Nonny, thank you!
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Fics I Wrote, 2k19 Edition
All fanfic I posted last year. Meant to do this around Christmas, but uh, things happened. Whoops. But better late than never, am I right? :D?
Updated Stories
Your Prince Is In Another Castle - OT6, DnD/Minecraft AU, co-authored by @itskaysno. Added chapter 9 (3.6k for 31k total)
Series
Misfits: Jeremy/Ray/Michael/Gavin/Ryan college au with vampires!Ryan and Ray, and werewolf!Jeremy
- The Canine: Jeremy & Ray, past Raywood (3.8k)
- The Comfort: Jeremy & Ryan centric, background Mavinwood + Jeremavin (500)
Moniker: A Crew For Two: Jackeoff, fahc, sequel to Dead Man's Tale (3.3k)
Not A Good Man (But You Got Conviction): Batman AU
Caught The Cat's Eye: pre-Turnfreewood, pre-Treremy, flirting (6.3k)
Don't Dream (Don't Even Think): Trevor & Ryan (half-brothers), co-written by @itskaysno (1.8k)
Who Made These Promises: past Raywood, established Trevyan, Trevraywood endgame, fahc
- The Replacement: 6 chapters (49k), the story of Ray's return and subsequent drama
- The Reciprocation: smut fill-in for the black-out scene from chapter 6 (5.6k)
A Family Of Liars And Lies: Mavinwood, fahc, the Nana Haywood series
- A Very Nana Christmas: in which Michael & Gavin meet Ryan's mom (2.2k)
One-Shots
A Trickster's Pact: MCU crossover, Freewood (550)
Proposal: Ryack, high school au (500)
Suitable Distraction: Trevredovin, fahc (500)
Everyday Shenanigans: Jeremavinwood, fahc (500)
random Prison angst: minecraft/king au, Jerevin (440)
Friends On The Other Side: demon au, witch!Gavin, implied Jeremavin (3.8k)
Flip A Coin: Jerevinwood, fahc, smut (3.7k)
This Is How We Roll: Freewood, Dusk Boys band au (2.4k)
Amateur Hour: Freewood, Battle Buddies, fahc (4.5k)
Misc. Fandoms
Rifts in Time: Disney’s Descendants, Time Travel series
- Mistress of the Universe: Belvie, Mal/Evie travel to the crowning ceremony (2.8k)
- What's My Name: Juma, Jane/Uma travel to the kidnapped prince (5.7k)
Vigilante 2890 (a comic by Kael McDonald):
- Girl Talk: Carrie and Anina discuss the crew and their hotness ranking (500)
- Roll Initiative: Mash invites the crew to a DnD XE game (500)
Filibert the Brave: the story of an unsung DnD hero (500)
Sink Your Teeth In (To The People You Depend On): MCU/Jurassic World crossover, raptor!Darcy joins the raptor squad (2.7k, WIP)
Memory Baubles: Naruto, Ino-centric time travel (2.8k, WIP)
.
Which means we got a wordcount of 108.5k for 2019! Not as much as last year, but not bad all in all. (Especially considering I haven't really counted Eclipse and some other unfinished WIPs that I started writing. Oh well, they'll count into the 2020 tally.)
#ragehappy#masterpost#ingno writes#fake ah crew#and other aus#also other fandoms#disney descendants#v2890#dnd#mcu#jurassic world#crossover#naruto#fic rec#rec list#in a way lol
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Providence, Idiots, and Boys Who Become Men
read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2t4TWMa
by That_Familiar_Feeling
"There is a special Providence that watches over idiots, drunken men, and boys." - Thomas Bailey Aldrich
When two men come wandering into her diner, the first thing on her mind is,"Don't you dare put blood on those seats because I'll be the only one to clean them" and "You jerks better tip me well."
She didn't expect to befriend them, she didn't expect to somehow help nurture whatever dream they had burning in their souls like embers.
She certainly never thought she'd grow old beside them. That she'd love every fiber and bone in every single one of their bodies in a way only a mother can. That somehow, her story would only begin after 12 p.m on a Wednesday night.
-------
In which I began an intense character study of the FAHC: Pre crew, the height of the crew, and the present day allotment of characters.
But then accidentally wrote over 18,000 words of OC content to go with this character study...
My bad?
Words: 17676, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English
Fandoms: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Categories: Multi
Characters: Original Female Character(s), Original Child Character(s), Geoff Ramsey, Ryan Haywood, Jack Pattillo, Gavin Free, Michael Jones, Lindsay Tuggey Jones, Ray Narvaez Jr., Jeremy Dooley, Matt Bragg, Trevor Collins, Larry Matovina, Steffie Hardy, Alfredo Diaz, Providence is the Fem OC, James Dean is her son
Relationships: Ryan Haywood/Ray Narvaez Jr., Lindsay Tuggey Jones/Michael Jones, Implied Geoff and Jack of some variance
Additional Tags: I made two ocs and accidentally wrote them a 12 year long story my bad, Alternate Universe - Diners, Character Study, Character Death, Narratively speaking I had to do something with him, Canon-Typical Violence, Ryan is multi layered y'all, also this is very southern my bad, look i just kinda threw it together, Here have this
read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2t4TWMa
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Boston Bitch
Fandom: ragehappy/fahc
Ship: Doolray (Jeremy/Ray)
Words: 7.1k
Tags: fahc, established relationship, meet the family, crew politics
Summary: Ray is leaving a lot and the crew is suspicious. What they don’t know is that he has a lover on the East Coast. A lover that is in serious trouble...
Read here on Ao3.
Ray’s halfway out the door when Gavin calls after him. He freezes, heart stopping for a beat, before going double as fast. Surely, surely he simply misheard him. He turns, all casual like, arching a brow at the Brit lounging at the penthouse bar.
“What?”
“You’re heading to the East Coast, right?” Gavin clarifies nonchalantly, glancing up from his laptop. Ray’s eyes narrow - that’s not what he’d implied.
“Yeah, got a couple jobs down in New England. Why?”
At that, Michael looks up from where’s mixing some sort of monster cocktail.
“You gonna hit Jersey without me?” he jokes. “I’m hurt, Ray.”
“Nah, man.” Ray shakes his head. He grins. “I’d call your mom and you’d know by now.”
Michael nods sagely. “Can’t go to Jersey and not go see her. You better not be lying, or she’s gonna be pissed.”
“Gotcha,” Ray says, shooting him finger guns. Michael laughs.
“No, but you’re heading to Boston, right?” Gavin interjects lightly, pretending to busy himself with whatever’s on the screen in front of him. “You’ve been spending a lot of time there.”
“I guess?” Ray says flatly, turning to look at Gavin. His palms are sweating. “Hadn’t noticed, really.”
Gavin hums, turning the laptop to face him. There’s a list of his flights from this year.
“Lately, all your jobs seem to center around that general area,” he continues pointedly. Michael shoots him a sharp look. “And you always end up in Boston for a prolonged period of time, whether you take a job in NorCal or Florida directly after.”
A cold shiver runs down Ray’s spine. He’d been so careful.
“You’re spying on me, Vav?” he bites out, pushing his hands into his pockets to hide the slight tremble. “Rude.”
“I keep track of everyone in the crew,” Gavin counters remorselessly. “It’s what I do.”
“You got a sweetheart there, Ray?” Michael intervenes teasingly, but his shoulders are tense. “Seeing some Boston bitch?”
“None of your damn business,” Ray snarls. His voice is hard as he turns to address Gavin. “I mean it. Keep your big nose out of this, Free.”
But Gavin’s already shaking his head.
“You know I have to take this to Geoff next.” He bites his lips, expression softening. “This is your only warning, X-Ray. Because we’re friends.”
“Thanks,” Ray drawls, sneering at him. “Appreciate it, really.”
“Ray.” Michael reaches out for him, but drops his hand as Ray flinches back. “If you’re seeing some other crew-”
“No!” Ray startles. “Of course not! The fuck, man?”
“Well, I don’t know what the hell else this could be!” Michael roars. Gavin grabs his shoulder and pulls him back.
“Regardless of what it is,” he states coldly, “It has to end after this trip, or you come clean. Your choice.”
Ray stares at him, feeling cold all over. Gavin stares back firmly, gaze not wavering. Ray’s jaw clenches, and he holds tightly onto the strap of his backpack.
“You know what? Screw you. Screw both of you.” He glares fiercely at them. “You gonna call me a traitor? Go ahead, assholes. Spit it out.”
Silence. Ray waits for a moment, eyes flickering between the two of them. Gavin presses his lips together, and Michael lifts his chin challengingly. But neither speaks.
“Thought so,” Ray spits angrily. He turns on his heels and marches out if the penthouse, heart in his throat.
Fucking hell.
***
“-three, two, one… And out! The winner is Rimmy Tim!”
The crowd cheers as the man in the purple and orange mask stumbles to his feet. He lifts his hands in his signature victory pose, followed by that silly little dance. Around Ray, people start chanting his name. He shakes his head, slowly making his way to the back. He blends into the shadows until he’s at the backstage entrance. The guard glowers down at him blankly. Ray simply raises his hands and stops.
He doesn’t have to wait long. Jeremy’s manager hurries past him, talking twenty miles a minute. She freezes just past the guard, turns to squint at him before rolling her eyes. She grabs him by the wrist and waves the guard off, dragging Ray down the corridor.
“Yes, thank you, that’s all. Right. Right. Of course.” She puts the phone away and eyes Ray wryly. “He should be in the changing room, what are you waiting for? Shoo. And make it quick! I have a potential sponsor waiting to meet him.”
“No victory sex, got it,” Ray returns drily. “Don’t worry, he’ll be out shortly.”
“I’ll take your word for that,” she says, pointing at him sternly. “You have ten minutes.”
He waves her goodbye and heads straight for Jeremy’s usual dressing room. He doesn’t care much for underground fights himself - he’s not built for it - and didn’t know much about it aside the small tidbits he’d gleaned from Michael. But then he’d met Jeremy, and now he’s on a first name basis with most of the ring runners in the Boston area.
Sometimes he wonders who would win, Mogar or Rimmy Tim.
His hand is on the doorknob when raised voices pull him out of his thoughts. A quick glance around shows the corridor completely empty. Ray frowns, pressing his ear to the door and strains to hear what’s being said.
There- Jeremy’s voice, loud and boisterous with a hint panic hidden behind jokes. Ray can make out Rimmy Tim and win, before a different voice cuts him off.
This one is quiet and lilting and heavy with accent. Ray’s never been good at placing accents, and this one seems forced. Between the slurred speech and low voice, Ray can’t make out a single word. Heavy footfalls and the voice growing louder are his only warning. Ray steps back and leans against the opposite wall, just striking a bored pose before the door flies open.
“-consider it, Mr. Tim,” the voice was saying. “If I were you-” The man trails off, noticing Ray against the wall. A frown crosses his brow as he looks Ray up and down. “Who the hell are you!?”
Ray arches an eyebrow, mustering him in turn. The man is old- older than Geoff probably. Mid-forties, early-fifties if he has to guess. His red hair is thin at the temples, streaks of grey running along the sides. His suit is immaculate and plain - as are his bodyguards. They spill into the hallway and loom threateningly. Ray eyes them lazily, takes in how the jackets are tight around the shoulders. Good to show off, bad for range of movement.
He lets the silence linger for a second longer, then snorts.
“Nobody,” he quips, and makes a mental note to tell Ryan later. He’ll get a laugh out of that one. “Rimmy, your manager says you have a meeting in five.”
“Right. Let’s wrap this up gentlemen,” Jeremy says brightly, but his eyes seem strained. “Thank you for the offer.”
“I expect everything to go smoothly if I don’t hear back from you,” the leader warns, and Ray glances at him sharply. “Good day, Mr. Tim.”
Jeremy watches them leave silently, before turning to Ray, his voice clipped. “Come in.”
Ray shoots him a careful look as he pulls the door shut behind him. Jeremy is still in full costume, including the half-mask over his lower face. He paces up and down the room, now, as Ray takes a seat on the bench.
“You alright, pal?” he asks lightly, watching calmly as Jeremy whirls around and punches the wall. It cracks under his fist, plaster falling to the ground like snowflakes.
“No,” he bites out, ripping the mask off and flinging it into the corner. “Fuck. Sorry.”
“S’all good,” Ray assures him, standing up and slowly walking closer Jeremy’s shoulder slump.
“No, it’s not.” He looks up at Ray, brown eyes bright and earnest. “I didn’t even say hello.”
“Hello,” Ray teases, and a grin flashes across Jeremy’s face. He leans in, their noses brushing. “I’d give you a kiss, but you stink.”
“It’s a manly smell,” Jeremy protests, lifting his arm to sniff the pit. He grimaces. “On the other hand, I’d better take a shower before the meet and greet. You mind?”
“By all means.” Ray spreads his hands and leans back. “Feel free to provide me with a good show.”
“Why, how forward of you, Mr. Narvaez,” Jeremy drawls, plucking his gloves off. He glances at Ray with lowered lashes. “Or have you paid for the post-fight show?”
“As long as it’s a one-man show,” Ray shoots back, casually spreading his legs for Jeremy to step between. “I’m not inclined to share, you know.”
“Shame,” Jeremy jokes, inching his top up to reveals his abs. Ray reaches out and strokes along the hard line of muscles as Jeremy holds his breath to better show off. “Thought we had a good concept there. Could’ve made a pretty penny.”
Ray lets his hands wander over Jeremy’s pecs, before gliding back down to his stomach as he pulls the top off. Now that he’s no longer sucking his gut in, there’s a bit of fat covering his abs. Ray hums thoughtfully.
“No shower sex,” he declares regretfully. “Your manager will have my hide, I promised to have you out there by now.”
“That woman is a menace,” Jeremy complains as he steps back and drops his pants.
“You wouldn’t know what to do without her,” Ray shoots back, staring unabashedly. Jeremy flexes mockingly under his gaze, before chuckling and turning to the shower.
“A blessing and a curse,” he amends, glancing back at him over his shoulder. “You coming to watch or…?”
“Sure,” Ray agrees easily, standing up to follow him to the shower. He leans in the doorway, watching as Jeremy gets wet. “So. Those guys earlier.”
Jeremy turns his back on him, busying himself with the dials. His shoulders are tense.
“Hm? Oh, those guys,” he says dismissively, the spray of water making him pause. Ray watches him appreciatively, the way the muscles on his back move. But he doesn’t let it distract him.
“Yeah, those,” he says lightly, eyes sharp. “You in trouble, man?”
It takes Jeremy a long time to answer. He’s avoiding Ray’s gaze, too, but he can be patient. Finally he steps up and gets Jeremy’s back for him.
“Nah, not really. At least not yet.” He finally turns to face Ray. “Thanks. And don’t worry, yeah?”
His front is getting wet from the spray, but he doesn’t care. He musters Jeremy’s face, searching for something but only finding a sort of tense earnestness.
“Alright,” he says, handing the soap over and taking a step back. “You know you can talk to me, right? Just because we don’t usually talk shop doesn’t mean…”
Ray trails off, looking down with a grimace. They both know the other is part of the criminal underworld but not much else. Ray’s pretty sure Jeremy’s seen his rifle case and, considering his constant travels, put two and two together. And well. He knows where Jeremy fights and that he works with one of the local crews.
“I guess.” Jeremy sounds hesitant. He sticks his head under the spray, washing out the shampoo, before turning the shower head off. “It’s just- I don’t want to involve you in my shit, y’know? It’s hard enough to make it in this life without me dragging you down.”
“Jeremy,” Ray starts, tone serious. He tears his gaze from how the rivulets of water cling to his sculpted body to meet his eyes. “I get that, okay? But promise me-” Jeremy opens his mouth, but Ray shakes his head insistently. “No, listen. Promise to tell me if you need an out. From your crew, the ring, the city - it doesn’t matter. Just… promise me.”
“I will,” Jeremy rasps, voice hoarse with some unnamed emotion. He swallows hard. “I will, I promise. If it comes to that- I will.”
“Good,” Ray says slowly, nodding. He flashes Jeremy a grin, trying to lighten the mood. “Better get dressed, tiger. Unless you want to seduce your future sponsor?”
“Oh, fuck off,” Jeremy laughs, throwing the soap at him. Ray ducks out of the room, chuckling. But while Jeremy’s finishing up in the bath, he checks his schedule app on his phone. It’s one of Gavin’s and password protected in addition to his emoji-riddled code. He’s not an idiot.
Ray frowns. He hasn’t more than a week left in Boston before his next flight to his first job. He peeks through the door, watching Jeremy get dressed while singing Linkin Park under his breath. It brings a reluctant smile to his lips.
He’ll be fine. Jeremy can take care of himself.
...he hopes.
***
“I can’t do it, Trish,” Jeremy pleads, rubbing at his forehead. “I don’t have the manpower or the resources needed to pull it off by the weekend. You know this is bullshit.”
“I know that the boss expects results by then,” Trish replies blandly. Jeremy once more feels the urge to throw something, his hand clenching into a fist by his side. “I can’t help you there.”
“Just, talk to him. Get me a couple more days, that’s all I’m asking.” Jeremy takes a deep breath. “The others are dead, Trish. As far as I can tell, they hunted down everyone else.”
There’s a shaky inhale on the other hand of the line. “Kenneth is here, too. They’ve- we’ve recruited him last week.”
“Trish,” Jeremy starts, then stops. He lets his head bang against the fridge. “Be honest with me. Why did they let you live?”
A long silence ensues, in which Jeremy starts pacing up and down in his kitchen. The place is too small, but too empty. He’s used to hanging out with someone, even if Ray’s off on a job. One or more of his crew - but they’re dead now. All of them are dead or scattered in the wind. Except for Trish, and as relieved as he first was to hear she survived the slaughter when the Irish dismantled their little crew, suspicion is niggling at the back of his mind with an awful idea.
“I did what I had to,” she finally says, and her voice is flat. “We all did.”
“Did you give them Andrew?” Jeremy asks even as he knows it’s useless to prod. “Daniel? Sarah?”
“I’m not a traitor, Jeremy. But our crew doesn’t exist anymore,” Trish returns calmly. “We were small and stupid and arrogant, and they tore us apart. Circle of life. You should worry over your own survival.”
“I am,” Jeremy bites out, drawing a shaky breath. “Which is why I’m asking you, I need more time. Tell Brendan-”
“Tell him himself,” Trish snarls. “I’m not putting my head on the line for you, Dooley. We’re not crew anymore, get that through your thick head.”
“Did you give me up to them? Is that what saved you?” Jeremy questions sharply, pacing like a caged tiger. “Did you tell them where to find me-”
“You’re a lot of things, Dooley, but subtle is not one of them,” Trish snaps back. “Rimmy Tim is the opposite of subtle. They would have found you sooner or later anyway.” A crackle, and he’s not sure if it’s the line breaking or something on her side. She comes back a second later, her voice hushed. “Jeremy, you stupid bastard went back to the ring. Everyone knew we had a ring fighter and you just went back there. I couldn’t have saved you even if I wanted to.”
“And you didn’t want to. No, I get it. I’m on my own,” Jeremy snaps, abruptly ending the call. He drops his head against the fridge again, taking a deep breath. He slams his fist against the surface, exhaling shakily. “Fuck.”
He’s not sure how to get out of this mess. The Irish are expecting him to pull this job off by Monday at the latest, alone and without resources. Most of his old allies are in hiding after what happened to their crew, and he doesn’t have to money to pay for additional muscle, especially since he won’t get paid himself. Except being allowed to keep his life and maybe be initiated by the Irish if they so damn well please.
Fuck. He’s really hoped to get this done before Ray comes back, too.
Jeremy glances at the clock and curses. He’ll have to do it tonight, before he picks Ray up from the airport in the morning. He’s managed to scrounge up some outdated blueprints and scouted the area, there’s not much left to do but wing it.
He’s gonna break into the police station. Fuck.
***
Ray’s already waiting at the front entrance when Jeremy pulls up in his old, beat-up car.
“Sorry I’m late,” he apologizes immediately as Ray opens the passenger door. “Hope you didn’t have to wait long?”
“It’s fine,” Ray waves him off, mustering him intently. “You okay? You look tired.”
Jeremy grimaces, stifling a yawn. He’s hoped Ray wouldn’t notice. But of course he has, there’s no sense in trying to deny it now. “Rough day. I’ve been up all night.”
“Work?” Ray inquires, his brow furrowing with concern. “You sure you don’t need help?”
Jeremy hesitates, but… he won’t drag Ray into this. He’s sure his boyfriend wouldn’t bat an eye before he throws himself into it if he asked. They’ve never talked much about work, but he’s seen Ray’s gun case. He’s sure the Irish would fall over themselves to bag them an independent mercenary. Jeremy can’t let that happen. For one, they’d use his life as blackmail to keep Ray on their payroll. And on the flipside, they’d have Ray to keep Jeremy compliant.
They’d never let either of them go.
“Nah, it’s fine,” he hedges instead. “I managed. The job just went a little sideways, had to lay low all night until the heat died down.”
And that’s mostly true. He’s swapped the evidence he was supposed to, but a copper surprised him as he tried to navigate their computer system. He could’ve really used a hacker on this job. He just hopes Brendan won’t be too pissed about Jeremy abandoning the secondary goal to get the hell out of there.
“If you’re sure,” Ray trails off, obviously not quite buying it but also not willing to push. Jeremy smiles, then has to stifle another yawn.
“I’m pretty sure. I just need some sleep, s’all.”
Ray hums thoughtfully. “Well, let’s head back to yours then.”
Jeremy glances at him, surprised, but Ray just looks back steadily.
“That really okay with you? I know we were planning a date…” He can’t quite recall what plans they’d made and wow, if that doesn’t drive the exhaustion home. Usually he’s really excited for these special moments spend just the two of them, all too aware of how rare they are. “I’m sure I can push through if I get my hands on a coffee or two.”
“No, I mean it. You need some rest.” The corner of his mouth ticked up into a crooked grin. “Let me take care of you, shorty.”
He knows he should protest but that… that sounds way too tempting. “Alright.”
Jeremy has to admit it’s probably the right choice as he’s dozing off on the couch, Ray rummaging through the kitchen in the background. The worry of Brendan’s reaction is still niggling in the back of his mind, but with Ray’s reassuring presence, he lets his eyes slip shut to rest just for a moment.
“Come on, Big Guy,” Ray says softly. There’s warm hands on his shoulders, gently pulling him up. Jeremy grumbles half-heartedly. “Let’s get you to bed.”
***
Ray wakes with a start, instantly alert. He’s not quite sure why, but something feels off. A glance to his side assures him that Jeremy’s alright, sleeping soundly on his stomach. One of his arms is thrown over Ray’s waist, pinning him down. He can’t help but smile fondly, his heart warming at the thought that even in his sleep, Jeremy wants to keep him close.
There’s a muffled thud, and Ray freezes, straining his ears.
Against the quiet sound of distant traffic and the Boston night life, there was the creaking of floorboards and the scraping of the bathroom door opening. Ray wiggled out from Jeremy’s arm, dropping quietly to the floor. He’s glad he decided to keep his socks on overnight as they muffle his steps. Jeremy stirs with a questioning murmur, and Ray glances back at him, debating whether or not to wake him.
The low hiss of voices is his only warning, and he quickly scrambles up to lie flat on top of the wardrobe, just as the door to the bedroom flies open.
Five men storm in, two stepping forward to rip Jeremy from the bed, two others taking guard by the door and the window respectively. The fifth man is wearing a suit, and Ray recognizes him from when he visited Jeremy at the ring. The two men drag a struggling Jeremy forward, forcing him to kneel in front of the Suit.
“What the fuck,” Jeremy snaps, squinting through the darkness. Ray can appreciate leaving the lights off, both as an intimidation tactic and so no one notices the going-ons. Still. Right now, it’s their second mistake.
“Mr. Tim,” the Suit intones darkly. “I thought we had an agreement.”
“We have!” Jeremy squawks. He glares blearily up at the Suit. “The fuck, Brendan. You could have just called.”
The Suit - Brendan - signals one of Jeremy’s captors. The man grins viciously and stomp-kicks him in the side. Jeremy cries out in pain, and Ray twitches on his perch. His fingers brush against his sniper case, the lid parting easily. In his paranoia, he didn’t zip it shut earlier after checking all the pieces. Ray bites his lip and prays the men will be distracted long enough for him to quietly assemble his gun.
“Did you really think we’d be tricked that easily, Mr. Tim?” Brendan asks silkily, brushing off the jacket of his suit. “Did you seriously believe we would buy it?”
“Buy what?” Jeremy asks, sounding honestly confused. One of the grunts punches him in the face, and Ray grits his teeth. His fingers dance over the familiar scope and grip, scrambling to assemble it properly in the dark and in close quarters.
“I must admit, it was masterfully done. The perfect accident - a silent alarm triggered while an officer just happened to pass by. And yet! You escaped without anyone catching sight of you, but too little time to back out of the computer system.”
The Suit is pacing now, gesticulating wildly. Ray slips the magazine in, timing the sharp fall of footsteps with the quiet click of it sliding home.
“Conveniently leaving the file of our man open on the monitor. Pure coincidence, I’m sure.”
The Suit stops in front of Jeremy, and Ray bites hack a curse, inching forward and over his rifle to line up the perfect shot.
“Do you really think I’m that stupid?” He rears his hand back and slaps Jeremy across the face. “Did you really think I would wave off that near impossible timing and not grow suspicious?”
“What? No!” Jeremy splutters. He spits a glob of blood on the floor. “Why the fuck would I do that?”
“Andrew? Daniel? Sarah?” the Suit mocks, and Ray can see Jeremy flinch from the corner of his eyes. He sights down the scope, aiming for the Suits’ left eye. “That’s right. Did you honestly think we wouldn’t supervise your call to your old friend?”
“Look, man, I don’t care about revenge. I just want to fucking survive-” Jeremy rambles, his eyes flickering about the room. Ray takes a deep breath, finger closing on the trigger.
“Then you chose the wrong people to piss off,” the Suit snarls, pulling out a gun from a hip holster. He lifts it up to Jeremy’s pale face. Ray can’t see his expression from this angle, but the line of his shoulders is tense. “However, I am a merciful man. I shall reunite you with your dead friends-”
A shot rings out.
For a second, no one moves. Then, chaos erupts.
Ray pulls over and shoots at the window guard without aiming properly, but the man goes down with a cry. At the same time, Jeremy lurches forward, throwing one of the man holding him over his shoulder. The Suit dropping dead to the floor with a dull thud seems to spur the others into action. The door guard pulls out a gun, and Ray swings around to aim at him, leaving Jeremy to wrestle with the other two.
His first shot splinters the wooden doorframe, the next one grazes the guard’s arm. He ducks low and fires into Ray’s general direction blindly. With a curse, Ray rolls off the wardrobe, landing awkwardly on his side. He hisses in pain, but uses the momentum to roll further, until he comes up on his knees, lifting his sniper shakily.
One of the man on the ground cries out, distracting the door guard for a millisecond, and Ray uses the opportunity to his advantage. He fires two shots rapidly, and the guard doubles over, crumbling to the floor.
Another yell, and Ray whirls around reflexively, pulling the trigger point blank as the window guard staggers towards him. Another shot rings out, just as the window guard topples over with a hole straight between his eyes. Ray turns to see Jeremy pinning down one of the men and holding the Suit’s discarded gun. The other man goes down, clutching his shoulder, while the first reaches up to grapple for the gun.
Ray doesn’t think, he just aims and exhales, and the wounded man is dead.
A second shot goes wild as Jeremy’s opponent forces him to empty his gun into the ceiling. Ray takes aim but hesitates. He can’t get a clear shot. He circles them slowly, putting his back to the door. Jeremy shakes the man’s grip off, whipping the pistol across his face. The man goes down and Jeremy doesn’t wait, just aims and shoots.
Ray holsters his sniper over his shoulder, exhaling shakily.
Jeremy looks up, staring at him blankly. Then he lifts the gun, pointing at him, and Ray freezes, his eyes going wide.
“Jere-” He shoots. Something bumps into Ray’s back, making him jump. He turns, stepping back as the door guard’s corpse slides to the ground.
For a moment, there’s only their heavy breathing breaking the silence.
“Nice shot,” Ray says at long last, turning to face Jeremy. He’s dropped the gun and his hands are trembling, Ray notes as he musters him.
“Thanks. Been working on my aim,” Jeremy jokes, rubbing the back of his hand over his forehead. Then he stares at the hand, surprised.
“Impressive,” Ray comments drily. Warily, he steps closer. “We need to talk.”
“Yeah,” Jeremy breathes out, shaking his head and looking up. “I figured.”
***
They take the next plane to Los Santos. Jeremy’s pretty sure Ray dropped some jobs to return early, but he’s too thankful to ask. All his belongings fit within one suitcase. Ray sold his remaining weapon stash for some quick cash, while Jeremy pushed clothes and mementos into a bag. There’s no space for his xbox, and maybe it doesn’t matter in the long run, but Jeremy can’t shake the thought.
“Stop worrying,” Ray sighs, and when Jeremy glances over his eyes are still closed. “I’m sure they’ll like you.”
“Right.” The Fake AH Crew. He’s heard of them, rumours of impossible heists and a gang taking over an entire city over in San Andreas. Nothing concrete,and it’s always been far enough away not to bother with.
“You’ll be fine,” Ray assures him, opening one lazy eye. “Geoff would be an idiot not to hire you. But I can introduce you to our people in the fight ring at the very least, if he doesn’t. On that note, did your manager make it out okay?”
“Yeah. She wasn’t happy at the news, but she’s laying low for now.”
“That’s good.” Ray closes his eyes again and Jeremy bites his lip, watching him intently. Ray makes an amused noise. “Something on my face?”
“Nah.” Jeremy can feel the sappy grin stretch across his face. “Just glad that I still have you, despite everything.”
He’d been scared, being woken by Brendan and his goons in the middle of the night to find Ray gone. He hadn’t dared calling attention to it, hoping against hope that Ray had managed to evade them or hide somewhere. At the same time he worried that Brendan might pull him out to threaten Jeremy or make an example of him.
He didn’t have time to think after Brendan’s death, too busy fighting his goons. But now the relief hits him again, and he leans in to press their lips together.
“Whatever else happens next,” Jeremy whispers, holding Ray’s gaze steadily. “As long as you’re by my side, I don’t care what it is.”
“Sap,” Ray accuses him, but he’s smiling, and Jeremy can’t help himself, he kisses him again.
***
The Fakes are nothing like he’d imagined.
Oh, sure, they’re quite the impressive welcoming committee, arms crossed as they present a united front, obviously expecting them. Or at least… expecting something, judging by the visible double-takes as Jeremy follows Ray into the penthouse.
There’s five of them with Ramsey standing front and center. He’s flanked by a red-head with an impressive beard on one side and the Vagabond with his signature skull mask on the other. Behind the red-head there’s a blond toothpick with golden sunglasses and a shorter man with a fearsome scowl.
“Sup,” Ray greets them, coming to a slouched halt several feet in front of Ramsey. Jeremy steps up behind him, glancing curiously between the crew and Ray.
“You’re back early,” Ramsey frowns, and despite everything he resembles a disappointed parent more than a scary mob boss. “I thought you had some jobs queued up for at least eight weeks.”
Ray shrugs nonchalantly. “Things changed.”
“Ray…” the blond pipes up warily. “I meant what I said.”
“That next time I come back I better come clean?” Ray returns sharply, before relaxing into a grin. “I know, dude. That’s what I’m here for.”
He jerks his head to indicate Jeremy, who waves awkwardly as every gaze turns to him.
“Um, hi?”
“Explain,” Ramsey orders shortly, eyes flicking between them.
“This is Jeremy. He’s looking for work. Thought you might like him.” Ray shrugs, shooting Jeremy a glance. “He’s a pretty good fighter. Great shot. Could probably take on Mogar, hand-to-hand.”
“I’ll consider it,” Ramsey says dismissively, pinning Ray with a stern look. “Not what I was asking, asshole.”
“Did you fucking find us a replacement?” the angry one spits. “The fuck Ray. Are you leaving us?”
“No!” Ray protests immediately. “It’s not that.”
He gives Jeremy a tight smile, before turning to address the scowling man in the back.
“You asked me if I had a sweetheart a couple weeks ago,” Ray starts, reaching out and entangling his fingers with Jeremy’s. “If I was seeing some Boston Bitch, as you put it.”
The man’s eyebrows are flying up to his behind his curls. “I thought it was a metaphor another crew. Damn, Ray, I didn’t think you’d take it so literally.���
“Very biblical, too,” Jeremy quips, squeezing Ray’s hand.
“We’ve been dating for a year now,” he continues blithely, turning to face Ramsey. His chin juts forward defiantly. “You said I could take some time off, spread my wings, find myself and all that shit. Well, I did. Didn’t realize everyone would jump to crazy conclusions, but here it is: the truth.”
Geoff eyes him lazily for a long moment, before nodding. He jerks his head to indicate Jeremy.
“You think he’s got what it takes?”
“I don’t think so - I know,” Ray states confidently. Ramsey hums contemplatively.
“Michael? Thoughts?”
The scowly man in the back bares his teeth. “I can take him. No matter what Ray says, he’s clearly biased.”
“If I were biased I’d say he could beat Ryan,” Ray drawls, giving the Vagabond a nod. Then he glances at Jeremy. “No offence, babe.”
“None taken,” Jeremy chuckles, feeling himself relax. He turns towards Michael. “Rules?”
The other looks him over scathingly. “No weapons, no serious injury or death. First to lose consciousness or surrender.”
“Sounds good to me.” Jeremy shrugs.
“Alright, assholes, that settles it,” Ramsey pronounces, clapping his hands and rubbing them together. “If Jeremy wins, he gets initiated. If not-” Ramsey shrugs. “Hell, might still sell tickets.”
“I’ll set up a betting pool,” the bearded man offers.
“Great!” Ramsey grins sharply, and finally Jeremy can see the shark-like mob boss in his expression. He shivers. “This’ll be fun.”
***
“You’ll be fine,” Ray reassures his boyfriend, feeling a little exasperated. “Even if you don’t win, you just need to impress Geoff and that’s not hard, honestly. Besides, you’re good. You’ll wipe the floor with Michael.”
“And then he’ll be pissed because I made him a laughing stock and I’ll have to run again,” Jeremy rambles, pacing nervously. Ray snorts. “Don’t laugh, this is serious!”
“You’ll be fine,” Ray repeats, stepping up to him and cupping his face. He leans down a little and brushes their mouths together gently. “Now go out there before they disqualify you for dawdling.”
“You’re an ass,” Jeremy accuses him, closing his eyes and pressing his forehead against Ray’s. He exhales slowly. “Alright. Here goes nothing.”
“Go get ‘em, tiger,” Ray drawls, swatting his butt. Jeremy shoots him a baleful look but makes his way over to his entrance. The announcer is already getting the audience hyped. Ray uses a side-door to slip past unnoticed, before joining his crew in the private booth.
“-and now! The match you’ve all been waiting for! He’s made a name for himself in Jersey, now he’s raising hell in the streets of Los Santos! The Fake’s very own Mogar!!”
The crowd goes wild, cheering and clapping as Michael saunters in wearing his brown leather jacket with the snarling wolf on the back. He circles the ring, posing with a cocky grin before finally taking his jacket off, revealing a black tank underneath.
“And on the other side, a new challenger appears! He fought his way up and down the East Coast to find a rival good enough to test his skill. All the way from New England, here is Rimmy Tim!”
The crowd explodes as Jeremy jogs in. He’s wearing his hideous orange and purple wrestler outfit, but forewent the mask that usually goes with it. Instead he’s wearing a white cowboy hat that he assured Ray is part of his heist ensemble.
Climbing the rope, Jeremy poses before taking a flying leap into the ring. At the last second, he tucks into a ball and rolls to his feet.
“Frontflip for style,” Ray comments, a grin spreading across his face. Gavin glances at him curiously, but before he can add anything, Geoff stands up with a mike. Instantly, the crowd falls silence.
“Welcome to this special exhibition match of Mogar vs. Rimmy Tim. As always, there are no rules. Both fighters have agreed to unarmed combat, but that’s it, no holds barred. We’re all here to find out one thing.” He pauses dramatically. “Does Rimmy Tim have what it takes… to join the Fakes?”
The crowd roars, as the announcer starts the countdown. “...one- Begin!”
They start circling each other, Michael with a cocky smirk and Jeremy warily.
“Ready to get pummeled into the mat?” Michael calls out. Jeremy snorts and makes a come hither gesture with his hand.
“You can try,” Jeremy taunts, pausing dramatically. “If you dare.”
“Bitch, please,” Michael shoots back, stepping closer. “You calling me a coward?”
“I call ‘em as I see ‘em,” Jeremy retorts. He closes the distance between them and takes a firm stance. “You gonna attack or should I go ahead and take a nap?”
Ray shakes his head as he watches Michael lunge forward. Jeremy dances out of the way, going for a kick to the shins to trip him up. Michael jumps over and punches Jeremy, his fist grazing his shoulder. Jeremy retaliates by ducking in close with an uppercut that Michael barely manages to dodge. Jeremy twirls around and drives his elbow into Michael’s stomach just as the other pulls him into a headlock.
They collapse to the ground and roll apart, squaring off again once they’re back on their feet.
Ray watches curiously. Technically, he knows their fighting styles are different, but it’s something else to see them in action. Michael relies on upper body strength and speed, punches and dodges turning into grapples at every opportunity. He’s faster than Jeremy, Ray has to admit. Jeremy is steadier, dodging less than redirecting his enemies. It’s a combination of wrestling-inspired martial arts moves.
Just then he faces Michael’s tackle head-on, only to throw him over his shoulder.
“One grand says Micoo finishes this in the next minute,” Gavin says, offering Ray a smug grin. “Your boy is good, but mine’s better.”
Ray hums disagreeably. “He’ll have to finish in the next minute if he wants a chance. Jeremy’s got better stamina.”
“Know that from personal experience, hm?” Jack teases, as he jots Gavin’s bet down. “Any takers?”
“Yes,” Ryan joins them quietly, cocking his masked head. Ray glances at him in surprise. “Ray’s right, Michael’s more of a short burst fighter. Dooley seems like the wiley sort. If this comes down to a test of endurance, he has a better chance to win.
Geoff hums thoughtfully, but doesn’t add anything as they all return to watching the match.
Down in the ring, the fighters have taken to rolling on the mat, trying to pin each other. Michael’s got a busted lip, and Jeremy’s face looks like he’ll develop one hell of a black eye. Michael has his legs pinned and is trying to grasp his arms. Jeremy, however, is a slippery bastard, worming his way out of the pin just enough to flip Michael on his back.
Instead of pinning him, though, Jeremy scrambles to his feet. He whirls 360 degrees, lifts his leg up high and aims for Michael’s stomach. Michael’s eyes go wide and he lurches to the side, barely escaping the danger. The kick leaves a nicely sized dent in the mat. Next to Ray, Gavin winces.
“Ouch. That’s-”
“Powerful,” Jack agrees.
“But showy,” Geoff points out, frowning.
“It’s an exhibition match,” Ray pipes up, because duh. He’s not sure how it isn’t obvious to them. “The goal is to impress, not to be efficient.”
“But he can be efficient?” Geoff asks pointedly.
“Yes.” Ray nods decisively. He hesitated for a moment, then added, “He ran with a crew until recently the Irish mob wiped them out. They came after Jeremy in the middle of the night while I was there.”
“That’s why you came back early,” Jack realizes. Ray just shrugs.
“He’s good. Definitely kept up with me so.”
Geoff is nodding thoughtfully. “East Coast, you said?”
“Massachusetts,” Ray agrees.
In the ring, Michael pulls Jeremy into a chokehold, before Jeremy ducks down and rolls him over his shoulder. Going by both of their grins, they’re having fun at least.
“Alright. We’ll give him a trial run,” Geoff declares, stroking his mustache.
“Cheers, boss.”
Michael seems to slowly be running out of energy. He’s panting hard and his eyes narrow as he stares Jeremy down.
“Ready to give up yet, Boston Bitch?” he calls mockingly. Jeremy laughs.
“Not before you surrender, Jersey trash.”
The crowd boos and ooohs s they trade insults. But Ray knows Michael is stalling, and clearly Jeremy can sense it, too. He rushes the other man with a yell, grabbing him around the waist and throwing himself to the ground, dragging Michael to the ground with him. They roll across the mat, a flailing mess of limbs, fighting for the upper hand. They’re very clearly evenly matched.
Silence descends on the bleachers as Jeremy pulls out on top.
Sitting on Michael’s thighs to keep him pinned and with one arm across his throat, Jeremy gasps for breath, before ordering loudly, for all to hear, “Surrender.”
Everyone holds their breath as one.
The referee seems lost, glancing up to the Fake’s booth. Geoff nods and waves him off, his face serious. Ray eyes him warily before focusing back on the match. Michael is glaring up at Jeremy jaw clenched. He bares his teeth and-
Then he taps out.
The crowd stares in shocked silence, no one quite daring to move. Jeremy sits back with a not, gaze not wavering from Michael’s. He slowly stands up and offers the other man his hand. Ray tenses, and for a split second it looks like Michael’s gonna spit on him. But then a grin grows on his face and he laughs, clasping the offered hand.
“Hell of a match, man.”
“Thanks. You, too.”
They grin stupidly at each other and shake hands. Something in Ray snaps into place.
“Parkour!” he calls out, jumping over the balustrade and landing on the bleachers, startling the audience sitting there. Without paying the strangers too much mind, Ray hops down the benches until he’s at the outside of the ring. No one stops him from slipping under the ropes and joining the fighters. He wraps an arm around Jeremy’s waist and takes the man’s weight as he leans into him, exhausted but unwilling to show it in front of everyone.
“Good job, babe,” Ray praises him, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “I knew you could do it!”
“Not without some effort,” Jeremy admits, giving Michael a thumbs up. “You put up quite the fight, dude.”
“Can’t throw a match this important,” Michael offers, grinning. “Besides, I needed to make sure you were good enough for our Ray.”
“Asshole,” Ray groans, rolling his eyes.
“Micool! You lost me several bets!” Gavin squawks as he joins him, throwing an arm around Michael’s shoulders. The lad staggers before regaining his balance. Gavin frowns, immediately concerned. “You alright?”
“I’m fine, just beat up,” Michael waves him off. He turns to stare over Ray’s shoulder. “So. What’s the verdict, Boss?”
Ray and Jeremy turn, and there stand the Gents, Geoff at the forefront. He’s smoothing out his mustache, eyeing Jeremy with a mischievous glint in his eyes.
“Welcome to the crew, Rimmy Tim,” he announces, holding out his hand. Jeremy shakes it, quick and firm. “Good match, boys. You’ve done well, Michael.”
Michael shrugs. “Should have listened to Ray’s assessment,” he admits ruefully.
Ray sticks his tongue out at him, and Michael instantly mirrors him. Smiling, Ray leaves the ring with his family and boyfriend, all part of his crew now.
The next outside job could wait. He doesn’t need to find himself anymore, he found something more important.
Buy me a coffee?
#doolray#jeremay#fake ah crew#fahc#ragehappy#ingno writes#achievement hunter#jeremy dooley#ray narvaez jr#the secret boyfriend fic#iftext
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Bitesized
Fandom: fahc/ragehappy
Characters: Jeremy & Ryan, (Jack, Michael, implied Michael/Lindsay)
Words: 6.148
Tags: immortal fahc, vampire!Ryan, werewolf!Jeremy, temporary character death (Lindsay), grief, werewolf prejudice, canon-typical violence
Summary: Lindsay just died and the crew is grieving. Immortals have to learn to deal with death at some point. Sometimes they forget how hard the first was.
Jeremy needs help. Ryan notices.
Terms & Conditions Apply: Lindsay’s origin, Jeremy’s origin, Mavinsay spinoff, Lads one-shot
Read here on Ao3
(Lindsay temporally died in BFA. This story happens in the timespan before she returns to the crew. They don't know she's an immortal, too.)
Ryan wasn’t nearly as old as he pretended to be.
It was fun to wind the crew up, keep them guessing. They had some rather fantastical theories about him and his origins. Ancient Rome was a favourite, and he spoke Latin fluently enough to mess with them. But the truth was, he was about the same age as Gavin - give or take some decades. Instead, the crew thought him ancient.
Certainly, he acted more mature, more reserved than most of them, but maturity was no indicator for age among immortals. That, coupled with his vast knowledge of obscure facts (so sue him, he liked to read. And research. And experiment.) led them to rely on him when they didn’t know how to handle a situation.
Except in this Ryan was at a loss.
Lindsay had died three months ago. They were all still grieving, in their own ways but Jeremy took it especially hard. Jeremy… Well. He was something of a mystery to Ryan. He’d been weirdly domesticated for a werewolf when he first joined them, but Ryan kept his distance. Vampires and werewolves don’t get along, a rule that had been hammered into him by elder vampires since he was a youngling. He thought maybe it was some sort of instinct for the wolf when confronted with something as unnatural as the undead. He didn’t care to test that hypothesis with Jeremy, though.
Jeremy didn’t search him out either, and that was fine with Ryan. The lad seemed more drawn to Lindsay, who exuded warmth and home and a spark of life that he couldn’t imagine being snuffed out-
Fuck. Ryan missed her.
It’s not like he never lost anyone in his life, after all, he lived through several centuries already. He’d grown attached to human and inhuman beings and lost both, tried to stay unattached before realizing he was being foolish. He’d rather lose loved ones than stay forever unloved. Lindsay was a mortal and they all knew they would outlive her but…
They didn’t expect her to be taken from them so soon or so suddenly.
They were all grieving. Geoff took to the bottle more often, Ray kept more to himself than ever, Michael’s rage threatened to burn down the city and Jeremy… Jeremy wilted.
It wasn’t noticeable at first. Ryan wasn’t even sure if the others had taken note at all, but they all kept busy, trying not to think about their loss. Jeremy seemed to bounce back remarkably fast, clinging more to the rest of the crew. He obeyed Geoff’s every order in the blink of an eye, no matter how whimsy and drunk the man was. He followed Gavin on his business and came back with bruises and cuts. He leveled small rival gangs with Michael, stuck close to whoever was in headquarters.
And… he stopped eating. Ryan observed him picking at his food to only leave a mostly full plate behind. His wounds remained untreated, hidden under dirty shirts. Once he borrowed Ray’s sniper rifle and observed the wolf on the full moon, lying listlessly in the clearing, fur tangled and mangy.
Ryan didn’t know what to do. So he fell back on what he could do: research.
“Useless… Garbage… What bullshit- fucking morons, all of them,” Ryan muttered, throwing the book over his shoulder in frustration. It slammed into the opposite wall, then landed on the floor with a thud. Jack stuck his head cautiously through the door.
“Alright in here?” he asked carefully, gaze flitting from Ryan to the stack of books in front of him. “Literature offending your sensibilities?”
“This pile of trash doesn’t deserve to be called lit- literash- litaral- doesn’t deserve that name,” Ryan snarled, shoving his chair back in disgust. The wood squeaked in protest.
“No, don’t hold back, let me know how you truly feel,” Jack teased him drily. Ryan glowered at the man.
“You know what I mean.”
Jack hummed noncommittally, taking in the room. The oil lamp stood perilously close to the edge, pushed there by a discarded pile of books. Jack raised an eyebrow pointedly.
“We have electricity, you know.”
“Call me old-fashioned, then,” Ryan growled, dragging his palm over his face. “What do you want?”
“Michael was supposed to take Jeremy to a meeting with the Blazes in an hour, but we can’t find him anywhere,” Jack explained. “Geoff and I are heading out now, can you go with him instead?”
Ryan flipped open his pocket watch, frowning. His office didn’t have windows on purpose.
“The sun hasn’t even set yet,” he pointed out with a grimace. He didn’t mind jumping in, but daylight was a problem.
“It’ll be mostly dark if you cut it close.” Jack tugged on his beard, then sighed. “Look, you know things have been tense with the Blazes since-” Since Lindsay died. She’d been their main contact to the other gang, wrapping their leader around her little finger. Jack hesitated. “The last couple months.”
Ryan sighed. “Intimidation, then?”
Jack nodded. “Just to keep them in check, remind them they’re relying on our goodwill. Thanks, Ryan.”
He waved him off. “It’s fine. I could use a break from this.”
“Research not working out for you, huh?” Jack gave him a sympathetic pat on the back. “Well, good luck. I gotta round up Geoffrey.”
Ryan watched him leave silently, then turned back to his books with a frown. It wasn’t like Jeremy to just take off without a word. He’d stuck close to anyone that sat still long enough, lingering awkwardly when everyone else was busy. Things must be really wrong for him to drop a job like that, and these books weren’t helping.
Probably because most of them were written by fellow vampires.
With a sigh, Ryan doused the lamp, stepping across the hall into the small bathroom. He kept most of his stage makeup there for convenience’s sake. The habitual movements of the brush put him in something of a trance, allowing his mind to wander as the familiar pattern took shape.
So far he’d found twenty-four alleged methods of killing a werewolf, signs to look for them in their human shape and one unreliable account about pack dynamics. The condescending tone of the work didn’t help.
He was still mulling it over when he ran across Jeremy in the front hall, the setting sun throwing the room in steep shadows.
“Uh, hey Ryan,” Jeremy greeted him nervously, shuffling his feet. “Jack said you agreed to jump in for Michael?”
Oh. That made more sense. Michael had been erratic in his grief, vanishing just before a job fit the pattern.
“Yes,” Ryan agreed shortly, staying preternaturally still. They stared at each other for a long moment. Finally, Jeremy cleared his throat.
“Shall we... go then?”
“The sun’s still up,” Ryan snapped, eyes narrowing. Was that a threat? A trick? If so, it was certainly subtle. Jeremy flinched at his sharp tone.
“I put the car with the darkened windows in the garage,” he explained hastily, swallowing. “I thought… I mean, would that work?”
Ryan stared at him speechlessly. A pang of guilt stabbed through his chest. Right. Of course Jeremy hadn’t meant to weaken him before a possible shoot-out. He’d been reading too much prejudiced ‘bloodthirsty werewolves’ shit.
“I’m sorry, I should have asked,” Jeremy mumbled, dropping his gaze. He looked like a kicked puppy. Something twisted in Ryan’s chest.
“No, it’s… fine,” Ryan said, struggling to find the right words. “It’s very thoughtful of you.”
Jeremy perked up at the praise. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” Ryan mustered a smile for him. Then he started towards the back door that led directly to the garage. “It’s actually pretty clever. We won’t have to wait until it’s completely dark and be late to the meeting.”
He glanced over his shoulder to see Jeremy following on his heel, preening under his regard. It made Ryan wonder.
Between the two of them, the Blazes were properly intimidated. The Vagabond was something akin to urban myth, and Jeremy had learned to harness the wild, bloodthirsty aura of a wolf. Ryan kept a close eye on him, but he seemed to have things under control.
“Good job,” Ryan said on their way back. Jeremy grinned happily up at him.
“Thanks! But I didn’t have to do much. They were scared shitless of you.”
There was something close to admiration in his voice. Ryan decided not to think anything of it.
Afterwards, Jeremy came to visit him in his office every other night. Ryan wasn’t sure what to make of it, but it helped him keep an eye on the werewolf’s state. They’d talk for a bit, crew business and gossip before Jeremy went to bed or headed out on a job. He went out alone with a rising frequency that started to worry Ryan.
“Michael got benched,” Jack confessed to him when he inquired after the change. “Ray is taking him on a road trip. He needs a break, time to grieve. You know how close he was with Lindsay.”
“We all were,” Ryan pointed out reasonably. Jack gave him a look.
“Not like Michael,” he replied, then changed the topic. Ryan didn’t know what to make of that, either.
It still left Jeremy on his own more than he preferred.
“Have you eaten today?” Ryan asked skeptically as Jeremy came by that night. He was looking more skinny than bulky. “Or at all this week?”
Jeremy shuffled awkwardly in the doorway, dropping his gaze.
“Not much,” he admitted, staring down at the floor. “I can’t- it’s complicated.”
“Is it.” Ryan hummed, mustering him sharply. He shoved his chair back and stood up. “Why don’t you explain on the way to the kitchen?”
Jeremy’s gaze snapped back up, staring at him wide-eyed. He opened and closed his mouth, then shook his head.
“I don’t- I don’t think I can eat with you watching me,” Jeremy stuttered, blushing. He was avoiding his eyes again. “Since you don’t eat, I-”
Ryan frowned. “You need someone to share the meal with you?”
“Not necessarily, just- If you’re feeding me, I won’t be able- that is-” Jeremy stopped and took a deep breath. “Lindsay would always eat a bite first, then I could- but you’re a vampire, you don’t eat.”
“Not often or much, no,” Ryan replied, a contemplative look on his face. “I don’t gain any nutritional advantages from bloodless meat, much less plants. Is this a wolf hierarchy thing?”
Jeremy shrugged. “I don’t know? I was never part of a pack. For the most part Lindsay knew. Or figured it out. I-” He swallowed, hunching in on himself. “I miss her.”
Ryan walked over and grabbed his shoulder, squeezing.
“I know,” he said in a gravelly voice, then cleared his throat. “I miss her, too.”
Jeremy leaned into the touch, head bowed. Cautiously, Ryan let his hand slide up his neck before settling in his hair. He scratched at his scalp awkwardly, watching him closely. Some of the tension bled out of Jeremy’s shoulder, so he kept petting him for several long seconds.
Finally, he let his hand drop.
“Do you think you can eat if I get a cup of blood?” Ryan inquired gently. He gave Jeremy a moment to ponder the suggestion. “It is technically what constitutes food for me.”
“I… I don’t know. We can try?” Jeremy gave him a half hopeful, half confused look. “Where are you getting the blood from, though. I mean… I don’t think…”
He lifted his wrist in offer, but Ryan immediately shook his head, pushing his arm down.
“No, that’s not necessary, we have some leftovers from the last interrogation in the refrigerator.” He stepped past Jeremy and lead him down the hall. “Lacking that, I’ve fed recently enough. I don’t know how the wolf in you would react to being bitten.”
Jeremy winced, his hand coming up to cover his throat instinctively. “Chastised and afraid, probably. I… the thought alone makes me feel like I did something wrong.”
Ryan frowned, turning to look at him as they entered the kitchen.
“Not aggressive? Not like defending yourself?” he pushed, brows furrowed. Jeremy silently shook his head. “Well. That’s… unexpected.”
Jeremy blinked up at him. “Uh… Why’s that?”
“Historically, vampires and werewolves don’t get along very well. I expected some kind of… biological imperative.” Ryan busied himself with the refrigerator, embarrassed to find he’d let prejudice colour his perception. “Does the wolf not find my presence… uncomfortable?”
“No?” Jeremy sounded utterly bewildered. Ryan grabbed some lettuce, ham and garlic butter to set on the counter before going for the bag of frozen blood. “And what’s with all ‘the wolf’ talk. I’m the wolf. It’s what I am, not like a second entity in my head or whatever.”
Ryan glanced over his shoulder at him, brows furrowing. “It’s not?”
Jeremy raised an eyebrow. “Would you call yourself a vampire or a human with a vampire stuck inside his head?”
“When you put it like that…” Ryan pursed his lips. Turning back to the counter, he set a pot of water on the hearth to boil. “My apologies. It was rude of me to assume… all my research always described the wolf and its instincts and behaviors as a separate being. But that’s no excuse.”
“Research?” Jeremy stared at him wide-eyed. “You… researched werewolves? For me?”
“Well, like you said, Lindsay knew what she was doing but the rest of us…” Ryan responded evasively, waving him off. He concentrated on the sandwich he was making. “Of course I looked into it. It’s nothing.”
“It’s not nothing,” Jeremy refuted vehemently. “I thought… Nevermind. Thank you, Ryan. It means a lot to me.”
“It’s no trouble, but you’re welcome.” The water started bubbling, so Ryan put the frozen bag into the pot. Then he frowned, the rest of the words sinking in. He shot Jeremy a curious look. “What did you think?”
Jeremy blushed, ducking his head. Ryan could hear him shuffle his feet under the table.
“It’s just…” he mumbled quietly, and Ryan probably wouldn’t have caught his words if not for his exceptional hearing. “I didn’t think… You didn’t seem to like me much?”
Ryan inclined his head, setting the plate with the sandwich on the table in front of Jeremy.
“I was admittedly… wary. I’ve heard a lot about the bad blood between vampires and werewolves.” Ryan hesitated, before reaching out and gently carding his fingers through Jeremy’s hair. “You were young and new and I didn’t want to test your control unless it was necessary.”
Jeremy leaned into the touch, but his tone was cautious as he spoke. “Do you think that could happen? I don’t- I don’t want to hurt any of you.”
Privately, Ryan still thought there was quite the risk. Werewolves were unpredictable and only an alpha-wolf could truly control other wolves according to his research. But he was also acutely aware how wrong some of the concepts were that he’d assumed to be fact. He mustered Jeremy, taking in his hunched form and how he avoided eye contact.
Grief. They were all still grieving, and Jeremy needed reassurance above all.
“Well, you’re not attacking me right now, are you?” he pointed out reasonably, carefully choosing his words so they rang true. “Besides, none of us are quite mortal. We’d subdue you before you could do serious damage.”
“I guess,” Jeremy said slowly, picking at the edge of his sandwich. He glanced up at Ryan through his lashes. “Is this… Can I…?”
Ryan hummed in agreement dropping his hand. “Go ahead. My meal should be warmed up sufficiently as well.”
It wasn’t. Ryan kept the grimace from his face as he sipped the viscous blood, watching as Jeremy demolished the first sandwich in no time, glancing hesitantly at Ryan every other bite. Ryan gave him a reassuring nod and then set his cup down to make him a second sandwich.
The lingering gross taste was worth it to see Jeremy eat his fill.
***
For the most part, Geoff knew what he was doing. He’d been in the business long enough to run his empire more or less smoothly. But in the aftermath of Lindsay’s death and with Michael and Ray on a grief roadtrip, everyone else had to take on work outside their comfort zone to fill in the holes.
Maybe it was pure coincidence, or maybe it was a setup. It didn’t really matter because Ryan was confronted by three rabid werewolves.
Four if Jeremy lost it and instinctively sided with the other wolve.
After they’d spend more and more time together at the base, Ryan had volunteered to be partnered with Jeremy on these missions. He didn’t like how often the other went out alone since Michael left. Jeremy had taken to the companionship like a duck to water, eager to please and impress Ryan and listening to his orders in the field. They hadn’t run into much trouble until now.
Ryan bared his fangs in a snarl.
“This is Fake territory,” he growled, widening his stance to brace for a fight.
“And we’ve settled here a while ago,” the leader spat, the hair on his neck rising like heckles. “Not been chased out, have we?”
“You start a fight with me, you will no longer be welcome,” Ryan stated clearly, eyeing them warily. “I work for Ramsey. Either let me pass or run for your pathetic little lives.”
Jeremy was depositing of the corpse down by the pier, just around the corner. Ryan shifted and watched the wolves warily, wondering if he could dispatch them before Jeremy noticed the commotion since they weren’t dissuaded in the least.
“Not fucking likely, bloodsucker,” the alpha snarled, lunging forward.
Ryan had barely a second of warning as he duck before Jeremy came barreling down the alleyway with reverberating growl. Swearing under his breath, Ryan grabbed the attacker’s outstretched arm and used his momentum against him, slamming him full force against the wall.
The woman of the pack threw her head back and howled, but Ryan didn’t have time to figure out what was going on with her. Jeremy came straight at him, eyes a stark yellow-amber, just as the other male wolf made to swipe at him. Jeremy leapt into the air not five feet from them, and Ryan braced for impact.
Nothing happened.
The other wolf yowled in pain and shock as Jeremy crashed into him. They tumbled to the ground in a mess of limbs and claws. The scent of blood hit Ryan’s sensitive nose. In the next moment he had to focus on his own opponent, the alpha clumsily clawing at him. Ryan grabbed the back of his head and bashed it against the wall again and again, until the alpha went limp, sliding to the floor with a whimper.
Only then did he turn back to the other fight. The two werewolves ganged up on Jeremy, who was holding them off admirably but desperately. The smell of blood lay heavy in the air. One of them, Ryan knew to be Jeremy’s scent.
Something twisted in his chest.
With a snarl Ryan lunged forward, grabbing the male by the scruff and ripping him off Jeremy. He didn’t think. Acting on pure, animalistic instinct, he raked his fangs across the werewolf’s throat and shoulders, leaving deep gouges behind. The werewolf yelped, cowering under Ryan’s heavy gaze. Blood swelled to the surface and Ryan’s eyes dilated at the tantalizing smell. It took more effort than Ryan liked to tear his eyes away. Disgusted, he threw the werewolf away, where he curled in on himself with a whimper.
Turning back to Jeremy, he saw the other had the female pinned to the ground, teeth bared in warning.
“Surrender,” he growled. The woman glowered at him, then turned her head and spat out blood.
“Traitor,” she hissed angrily. “Sidin’ with a fuckin’ bloodsucker. What, he pet your belly? You heel when he calls?”
Jeremy snarled, teeth snapping an inch from her nose threateningly.
“This is our territory, intruder,” he pointed out furiously. The woman’s face darkened.
“So not only d’you sell out to this ‘un, you play tame beast for an entire coven? Disgustin’.”
Ryan’s brow furrowed, insulted on Jeremy’s behalf. This was getting them nowhere.
“The Fakes are my pack,” Jeremy grit out, fingers tightening around her throat. “And if you wanna live in our city, you better apologize to my packmate here and then make yourself useful for Alpha.”
Her brow creased in confusion. “Didn’t know Ramsey’s a wolf.”
“He’s not,” Ryan interrupted, and the werewolf flinched. “He’s not a vampire either. But he will be your worst nightmare if you keep causing trouble.”
He reached out and gently touched Jeremy’s shoulder. The younger man glanced up at him questioningly, but backed off the woman when Ryan jerked his head. He straightened to his full height, unimpressively short as that was, and glared down at her. She stayed on the ground, licking her lips nervously. Her eyes flickered around, to their leader unconscious several feet from her, and the other werewolf cowering submissively not far from them.
Jeremy followed her gaze. “See? He’s got the right idea.”
The werewolf flinched, ducking his head lower. Jeremy preened.
“We don’t want no trouble,” the woman spoke up, pulling her legs under her. She dropped her gaze, offering her throat. “We submit.”
“And we accept,” Ryan cut in just as Jeremy opened his mouth. He shot him a quick look. “There’s a clinic past the docks, maybe five blocks from here. I suggest you take your pack there. Ramsey will expect you before the week is over. If not…”
Ryan smiled sharply, showing off his bloodied fangs. The woman shrunk back, glancing nervously up at him and then back down.
“Is… I mean… Can we go in during the day or…” she stuttered, and Jeremy snorted.
“Bossman’s no vampire, but if it makes you feel safer, sure.” He shrugged, than added under his breath, “Cowards.��
Ryan huffed a laugh, shaking his head. “Let’s go. We’ve wasted enough time here.”
They left the werewolf cell without further comment, walking through midnight-dark alleys side by side. Finally, after several long minutes of silence, Ryan’s questions burned whatever resistance his manners could muster.
“Packmate?” he asked quietly, watching Jeremy from the corner of his eyes. The werewolf lifted one shoulder in a half-shrug.
“I mean, yeah. The crew’s basically my pack,” he replied overly casually. He glanced up and caught Ryan’s gaze. “The way I see it, I mean. That’s… okay right?”
Ryan nodded jerkily, his thoughts still spinning around this new piece of information.
“Yes, of course. It seems obvious in hindsight. Just…” He trailed off, unsure how to continue. “Even though none of us are wolves? Even though I’m a vampire?”
Jeremy shrugged again, kicking an empty can out of their way. It clanked down the street loudly, before coming to rest against one of the rare lampposts. “Sure. Why not? I never knew about this vampires vs. werewolves thing until you brought it up so why should I care?”
“I guess,” Ryan agreed, frowning down at the cobblestone, mind racing. He had been convinced Jeremy was coming for him back in the alley, except he hadn’t. Jeremy seemed to read something of his reluctance.
“You thought I would side with the wolves back there,” he said shrewdly, eyes narrowing. “Because, what? We’re the same race?”
Ryan had to look away, shrugging uncomfortably. A lot of his reasoning seemed faulty lately.
“Ryan.” Jeremy stopped in the middle of the street. Ryan reluctantly turned to face him. “You’re pack. They are intruders in our territory. Fuck, they were attacking you.”
He didn’t know what to say, so he said nothing. Jeremy started pacing, hand running through his hair in frustration.
“Look, Ryan. I know you have some weird, historical notion of how I should behave or whatever, but the thing is, I don’t know. I’ve never known other wolves before except for the asshole who bit me. Lindsay was teaching me how to trust my instincts and how to channel them into healthy activities but-” Jeremy choked, dropping his gaze. “There’s a lot I don’t know, Ryan.”
“I’m sorry.”
They stood there in silence for several uncomfortable seconds before Jeremy sighed, inching closer. Ryan lifted his arm up out of habit, and Jeremy sidled up to his side in an instant.
“You’re like my beta, Ryan,” Jeremy explained quietly, pressing his nose against Ryan’s chest. “Geoff’s alpha, and that’s fine and all except- except he doesn’t always act like Alpha should and it chafes. Lindsay used to smooth over the edges but- but she’s gone and it hurts.”
Ryan closed his eyes and inhaled slowly. “What about Jack?”
Jeremy huffed, pressing closer. “Jack’s a good soul and all, and I know he’s second in command but Ryan. He doesn’t act like a beta at all. I can’t- he’s not Beta. Lindsay used to be Beta but no one’s stepped up after she died. It felt- it felt like I had to but I’m not ready. I don’t want to be Beta.”
“And now?” Ryan inquired softly, noting the past tense Jeremy was using.
“Now there’s you,” he murmured, glancing up at Ryan through his eyelashes. “It’s not a perfect fit or anything, but you take on enough of the beta duties that it doesn’t quite feel like a vacuum anymore. It’s still- chafing and uncomfortable but there’s no longer an intense pressure for me to step up.”
Humming thoughtfully, Ryan mulled this new piece of information over. Jeremy watched him expectantly, shoulders tense under his arm. Ryan squeezed, trying to project reassurance.
“So what are a beta’s duties then?”
Jeremy broke into a wide smile, launching into a list of things he’d noticed with Lindsay, or the lack that made the uncomfortable pressure rise in his chest. It was incomplete and there would be a lot of fumbling, but Ryan memorized as much of the list as possible, listening attentively as Jeremy went on a tangent about Jack and Geoff arguing about… something.
Packmate. Beta. Somehow, Ryan couldn’t quite get his mind around that thought.
At least, not yet.
***
“Ah, Haywood, a moment if you please.”
Ryan stopped and turned to look at the younger vampire. Though the man had been turned late in life and thus looked older than him with his stately grey hair, Ryan felt the weight of the centuries between them. Raising an imperious eyebrow, he waited for the other to catch up.
“It’s come to my attention that you’ve been looking into werewolves recently,” the vampire stated pompously, puffing out his chest. “Of course, there’s not much to know about those foul beasts, so I thought it curious that a scholar of your caliber would request a compilation of previous research.”
Ryan struggled to keep his face empty of emotions, fury roiling slowly under his skin. He wasn’t sure who he should be more insulted for - Jeremy or himself.
“Of course, there’s some interesting theories out there. Far-fetched, perhaps, but a temptation nonetheless,” he went on, folding his hands. “Now I can’t help but wonder if you might have discovered some of these myths to be secret truths, hmm?”
Ryan snorted derisively. “Mostly I’ve found hogwash and superstition. Our understanding of werewolves is greatly flawed and it shows.”
“Nevertheless,” the vampire insisted mildly. “Something must have caught your attention. A great mind like yours wouldn’t waste time with such trivial matters otherwise.”
Ryan’s eyes narrowed, and he had to swallow his first, instinctive, biting answer.
“My personal research was rather more enlightening,” he agreed warily. “I’m sorry, I don’t think we’ve been introduced?”
“Yves Beaufort, it’s an honour to meet you, Mr. Haywood.”
“I’m sure,” Ryan muttered, eyeing the man sharply. “And I suppose it depends on what a person such as yourself considers trivial. Regardless, existing research is full of egomaniacs who only wish to prove themselves superior rather than finding true knowledge in the subject. On second thought, you might fit right in.”
Beaufort frowned lightly. “Thank you, I think. Sadly I’ve not had a, ah, live specimen to study yet. Actually, I was wondering if you might be interested in sponsoring my upcoming proposal.”
Ryan stilled at the mention of live specimen. He stared at Beaufort, face blank and eyes unblinking.
“You see, my acquaintances and I, we’ve been looking into modern medicine, and we think we’ve found some promising hypotheticals. Now, if we had a werewolf or two to test these on - restrained, of course, to make certain the procedures are safe-”
The image of Jeremy in a cage flashed through his mind, being prodded with sticks of various metals, as vampires in labcoats jotted down notes on his reactions. Jeremy screaming in pain as silver left blisters on his skin-
“Of course, if there were, say, newly discovered methods to ensure the beasts’ cooperation, guaranteeing the researchers’ safety, the council would be more inclined to approve such an endeavour,” Beaufort prattled on excitedly, blind to Ryan’s horror. “And if there were, well, as responsible researchers we’d be only too happy to share, wouldn’t you agree?”
Strapped down on a gurney with leather straps reinforced by silver buckles, the hair on his arms and chest thickening as he desperately fought the transformation, clinging to his control while Beaufort loomed over him with a syringe-
“Methods,” Ryan echoed flatly, tearing himself from the colourful picture his mind painted at his words. “Ensuring cooperation.”
Brainwashing. Mind control. He knew there were a few beings out there with psychic abilities.
At the crunch of gravel behind him he tilted his head. Listening closely, he could make out the double-staccato heartbeat of a werewolf against the city’s white noise. Ryan didn’t have to look to know it’s Jeremy - not many werewolves would approach two vampires in the middle of the city. Beaufort’s eyes flickered over his shoulder, his face lighting up.
“It’s true then?” the vampire asked breathlessly.
“Is what true?” Ryan growled through clenched teeth. He couldn’t just throttle the idiot in public, but maybe-
“There’s been rumours that you’ve been able to tame one,” he said distractedly, peering past Ryan.
“There is no such thing as ‘taming’ a werewolf,” Ryan replied coldly and didn’t turn to look as Jeremy stepped up besides him.
“Not to interrupt or whatever, but we don’t have all night,” Jeremy chimed up, giving the other vampire a curious look. “You done here?”
“Yes.” Ryan eyed the vampire sharply. “Let’s go.”
“He seems rather tame to me,” Beaufort continued doubtfully. He cut a sly look Ryan’s way, missing how Jeremy bristled next to him. “They say a werewolf’s blood contains its strength and longevity. That even a single drop enhances our abilities beyond our wildest dreams.”
He licked his lips, staring at Jeremy as if mesmerized. No, not Jeremy- his throat. His pupils dilated, eyes tinging red with greed. Ryan bared his fangs, hissing warningly. Beaufort ignored him, eyes not leaving Jeremy as he reached out, blunt nails skimming over the skin for barely half a second before Jeremy reared back with a growl.
In the same second Ryan struck blindingly fast, grabbing the offending arm by the wrist and twisting.
Beaufort yelped, pupils shrinking rapidly at the sudden pain.
“Don’t touch him,” Ryan snarled, squeezing for good measure.
The vampire licked his lips again, nervously this time and nodded hastily. Ryan held on for a second longer, watching him with narrowed eyes, then he pushed the arm away from them. Beaufort cradled his wrist to his chest, cringing as Jeremy snorted.
“My apologies,” the vampire offered, turning back to Ryan. “I should have known better than to touch your possession without permission. That was rude of me.” He glanced at Jeremy enviously, who was bristling at the implications. “But just between us… is that the limit of your enhanced speed and strength?”
“Let me make this clear: I am your elder, and nothing more than that.” Ryan cut through the air with his hand. “I do not, nor have I ever, consumed werewolf blood.”
“What he’s saying is you’re weak,” Jeremy helpfully clarified. Ryan shot him an amused look. “What? He seems slow.”
“An understandable conclusion to reach considering the intelligence he’s exhibited so far,” Ryan agreed. His gaze snapped back to the fidgety vampire. “I suggest you leave.”
“O-of course,” he stammered, wide eyes flicking from him to Jeremy. The werewolf bared his teeth.
“He means the city. Before dusk preferably. Otherwise we’ll have to hunt you down,” Jeremy explained in a low voice. He chuckled darkly. “Run.”
For a vampire clearly lacking physical conditioning of any kind, he could run surprisingly fast when motivated. Ryan laughed, shaking his head.
“Let’s get back to work, buddy.”
***
Ryan was reading a book when Michael returned.
One moment he was going through the life and death of Nero, amusing himself by coming up with stories of how he supposedly met the Roman Emperor and how the crew would react. The next he noticed Michael standing in the door, watching him with an inscrutable expression. Ryan lowered his book and raised a finger to his lips in the universal request for silence.
“He just fell asleep,” Ryan murmured, dropping his hand to absently card through Jeremy’s hair. “It’s been a hard week for him.”
“I didn’t realize you two were this close,” Michael said quietly, a weird look on his face. Ryan shrugged.
“He needed someone.”
Michael stepped into the room, still a strange look in his eyes. He hovered by the armchair, watching thoughtfully as Ryan’s hand trailed over his neck and shoulders.
“A hard couple months, you mean,” Michael muttered, dragging a hand through his own hair and dropping into the chair with a sigh. “I haven’t seen Lil J this relaxed since…”
“Since Lindsay died,” Ryan finished softly. Michael sunk into himself.
“Yeah.”
Ryan eyed him contemplatively, fingers drawing slow circles on Jeremy’s back. He took in the dark shadows under his eyes, the tired slump of his shoulders.
“We all miss. Everyone grieves differently, but never doubt that she meant a lot to all of us,” Ryan spoke softly.
“I was going to ask her out,” Michael blurted out, fingers clenching in the arms of the chair. “I knew she wasn’t… like us, that I’d lose her some day but… I wanted what time I could have with her. Marriage, kids, the whole nine yards. I didn’t expect some asshole to gun her down.”
Ryan didn’t know what to say to that. Instead he offered, “He’s dead now.”
“Doesn’t bring Lindsay back,” Michael spat bitterly.
They sat in silence for a long while.
“Moving on doesn’t mean forgetting,” Ryan finally spoke up, hand flattening on Jeremy’s lower back. “Lindsay was special. And we’ll all remember her. Just… do her proud.”
Michael barked out a sharp laugh. Jeremy stirred, pressing his face more firmly against Ryan’s thigh.
“I’m a mess, I don’t- Gods, there’s nothing to be proud of.”
“You came back,” Jeremy mumbled, and Michael stilled. The werewolf turned his head to watch him with one eye. “It hurts, being here, with all of us because it reminds you of her. Reminds you what is missing. Yet you came back.”
Michael looked down, swallowing hard. “Yes, well. You assholes would be lost without me.”
Jeremy snorted, rolling over so that he lay with his back on the couch, head still in Ryan’s lap. He looked up at him with wide, pitiful eyes until Ryan relented with a put-upon sigh and started scratching his belly. Michael chuckled, looking a little bewildered.
“So how long has this been going on?” he asked incredulously, shaking his head with a smile. Jeremy hummed.
“Not long enough,” he stated decisively. Ryan snorted.
“The day I pointed out to our resident werepuppy that he could very well demand petting whenever he felt like it, I’ve created a monster,” Ryan lamented. Michael laughed, a rough and rusty sound.
“Better not let Gavin find out,” he teased, a twinkle in his eyes. “Or he’ll spoil him rotten.”
Jeremy perked up, turning the dangerous puppy dog eyes on Michael. The lad froze, then scrambled out of the armchair.
“Oh no. No, no, no, no.”
“But Michael,” Jeremy whined, his lower lip quivering. Ryan chuckled bemusedly. Michael’s eyes narrowed as he pointed a stern finger at Jeremy, but there was laughter in his eyes.
“I’m onto you, Dooley.” He made to leave, but stopped in the doorway, glancing over his shoulder with a mischievous smile. “Give me a heads-up. I wanna see you use that on Geoff and Gavvers.”
Jeremy gave him a thumbs up. Ryan, hoping to distract him from his nefarious plans, started tickling his sides.
“Ryan!” Jeremy squeaked, giggling.
Laughter filled the Fakes’ mansion and that. That was good.
Buy me a coffee?
#ragehappy#fake ah crew#fahc#immortal fake ah crew#immortal fahc#jeremy dooley#ryan haywood#michael jones#jack pattillo#achievement hunter#ingno writes#terms and conditions apply#bitesized#I've been sitting on this for nearly two weeks now#I hope it was worth the wait :DD#messed up relationships with happy ending are the best#just saying
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Take No Prisoners 11
No Solution But Revolution
Fandom: FAHC/ragehappy
Ships: AH OT6, Geoff/Griffon, Michael/Lindsay, one-sided/implied Mica/Ryan
Words: 1.953
Tags: prison au, angst
Summary: Jack being re-captured throws a wrench into the works. The boys worry.
Read here on Ao3. Previous.
The meeting they called after was chaotic at best. They split up just long enough to freshen up, get rid of the grime and blood. Caleb was waiting for them in the penthouse, an elaborate first aid station set up in one of the guest rooms.
Gavin only grabbed a quick shower, going through the motions by rote. His heart was hammering in his chest, his stomach clenching in worry.
Jack.
Someone had bought a boatload of burgers and fries - the table was basically covered in them. Not Steffie, Gavin thought with a twinge of guilt. The woman was sitting on the recliner, a frowning Caleb hovering over her. Mica maybe - he hadn’t seen the intel specialist during their wild car chase, so he assumed she’d stayed behind.
Gavin felt too nauseous to eat.
The rest of the crew, close allies and support staff were strewn about the room, nursing their own scratches or helping themselves to the food. They were quietly bickering among themselves. The noise stopped abruptly when Gavin entered the room.
“How are you doing, buddy?” Jeremy asked softly. Gavin gave him a tired smile.
“As can be expected,” he replied. Caleb looked over with a frown, but he waved the other man off. “I’m fine. We have more important things to worry about.”
That sobered all of them.
“How were the others, when you left them?” Lindsay asked. She leaned forward, eager for news. “I might be able to swing one more visit, but-”
Gavin shook his head.
“They’re fine. Or, well.” He paused, grinning ruefully. “Things have been a little… tense. Michael got into a fight- Just a couple bruises!” he added quickly at Lindsay’s look of alarm. “Just a scrape, the usual. Nothing to worry about.”
Lindsay eyed him sharply. Gavin avoided her gaze, knowing she could see through him too easily.
“Well,” she said slowly. “I’m glad you got out safe.”
Gavin looked down, hands clenching on the top of the table.
“Jack didn’t,” he pointed out tightly. He lifted his head and caught her eyes. “Will you help me get her and the others out?
“I’m with you, no matter what,” Lindsay promised immediately. Next to her, her business partner made a frustrated sound.
“I would like to reiterate that we are independent,” Mica stressed, pursing her lips. Lindsay shrugged blithely, and Trevor waggled his brows exaggeratedly.
“Aww, Mica-Bica, we all know why you care.” He grinned insouciantly, leaning in closer, a spark of mischief in his eyes. “You have the hots for Ryan, don’t you?”
“I- what? No I don’t!” Mica protested, sputtering.
“Uh huh,” Trevor teased, resting his chin on his fist. At his side, Matt ignored them pointedly, fingers flying over a keyboard.
“If you’re done,” Gavin snapped at them, shoulders tense and gaze sharp. “We have some planning to do. Either leave or stay, but stop posturing.”
Mica narrowed her eyes at him, staring at him for a tense moment. Then she relaxed leaning back in her chair.
“I’ll let this one slide because I know you’re just worried. Next time…” she trailed off, giving him a warning look. Gavin nodded in acknowledgement, lips pressed into a tight line.
“Do we have any word where they took Jack?” he asked the room. A tense silence descended where they all looked at each other, before Matt spoke up.
“I can confirm that an undocumented transport made it back to Bolingbroke, but with the chaos following the escape attempt, bureaucracy is lagging behind.” He let out an exasperated snort, shaking his head. “I can’t find her on any of the camera feeds of the station and outposts, for what it’s worth.”
Lindsay drummed her fingers on the table, humming thoughtfully.
“We’ll have to wait for Griffon to report back in, then. Hopefully she’ll have news,” she decided, shooting Gavin a careful look. Then she suggested calmly, “Why don’t we go over the plans we’ve got so far? The better prepared we are, the easier it is to add changes later.”
Gavin nodded, staring blankly at the table. Jeremy reached out and squeezed his hand.
“She’ll be fine,” he assured him, catching Gavin’s eyes. Jeremy grinned crookedly. “Jack’s a tough gal. Let’s concentrate on breaking her and the others out for now, okay?”
“Right.” Gavin inhaled deeply, straightening his back. “Alright. This is what we have to work with on the inside…”
***
Michael had moved his and Gavin’s stuff over the the others’ cell in the assumption that the plan would work and Gavin and Jack would make it out okay. His cellmates noticed, but didn’t deign to comment.
Now he sat on the floor, leaning back against Ryan’s legs as the gent carded fingers through his hair. Ray had taken the upper bunk, a sniper’s urge to find the high ground. Geoff was pacing across the small cell agitatedly, waiting for news on the escape.
The guards were in an uproar, and the prisoners were starting to take notice. So far, so good.
Waiting for the news of what happened was the hardest part. With the guards distracted and on high alert at the same time, the inmates grew restless as well. The prison turned into a quietly buzzing beehive, the rising tension sizzling in the air.
Guards were patrolling the corridors, and access to the yard had been restricted. The convicts were urged to stay in their cells, but they weren’t locked in yet. Maybe the warden was hoping to catch them doing something stupid, but despite their impatience, the Fakes knew better. This was a time to lay low.
Just then, another patrol passed by. Michael glanced up boredly, only to freeze. This wasn’t just another patrol.
Two guards were conferring with each other, one of them the motherfucker that had bothered Jack during the inspection. The other one was a much more welcoming sight: Griffon. They were arguing quietly, McJackass growing steadily more frustrated. Griffon ended the discussion with a sharp word, motioning him in the direction of Michael’s old cell. The other guard grumbled but obeyed, muttering something under his breath. Griffon nodded, then looked back over her shoulder at them. Her gaze lingered on Geoff, before gliding over to Michael.
He held his breath. Did she have news for them?
Griffon sauntered over, taking out her baton and letting it strafe against their cell’s iron bars. Clink. Clink clink. Clink. She stopped in the doorway, crossing her arms. Her blank face was hard to read. Geoff paused in his pacing, turning to face her.
“I’m surprised you already picked out a new bitch, Ramsey,” Griffon sneered, motioning to where Michael was sitting on the floor. All four of them tensed. She turned her intent gaze on Michael next. “Surprised you’d just let him, too, Jones. What, miss your own bitch already? Don’t worry, the cops will catch him soon enough and then you’ll be reunited.”
Griffon gave Geoff a pointed look, and he nodded imperceptibly. Message received.
Gavin made it out, Michael thought, exhaling in relief. He’s out and lost the cops.
Griffon crossed her arms, lifting her chin. Her baton tapped against her thigh impatiently. She was a damn good actress. Michael watched her admiringly.
“Well, you might as well stay in your new quarters, Jones,” Griffon continued blithely, a dark undertone to her words. Geoff took notice and tensed, exchanging a quick look with Ryan. The gent’s hands dropped to Michael’s shoulders and squeezed.
“...why?” Michael asked warily. There was something tight in Griffon’s expression. To an outsider it might look like she was torn between fury and nasty glee. And she was, neither of it pretend, just exaggerated. But not for the reasons an outsider would assume. She must have bad news, as well.
“Oh, no reason,” Griffon replied flippantly, forcing a grin onto her face. It was sharp and brittle around the edges. “Pattillo decided she’d prefer a more… isolated space. It does tend to get unruly in here.”
Michael froze, staring at Griffon in disbelief.
Isolated.
Isolation.
“What the fuck are you on about, you bitch?” Geoff growled, stepping up to her and straightening to his full height. Griffon bared her teeth and lifted her chin.
“Exactly what I said, Ramsey,” she spat, loud enough for curious onlookers to overhear. “Your lovely wife made some very poor choices today. Maybe she just wanted to get away from you?” Griffon cocked her head, shrugging one shoulder. Her grip on her baton tightened, her knuckles white. “Well, she’ll have more than enough time to think about it in solitary confinement.”
Geoff snarled in impotent fury, taking a step forward.
Griffon placed a hand on his chest, as if holding him back. She narrowed her eyes.
“So if I were you, I’d treat carefully, Ramsey,” she warned. “Out there, they might call you a king. In here?”
She leaned in close, whispering something short under her breath. Michael couldn’t catch it, even though he was only a couple feet away.
Then Griffon stepped back, shooting them one last disgusted look, before joining the other guard who’d gathered the bedding and extra prison garments Gavin had left behind. Michael had to leave something for them to find, so he only took the necessities and personal items with him as he moved.
Geoff stood frozen in the doorway, watching the guards darkly as the stalked down the corridor. Then he sighed, dropping down on his bed, head between his knees.
“Fuck. Fuck.”
“What now, boss?” Ray asked quietly from above. His voice sounded strangled. Geoff inhaled sharply, then lifted his head to look at them.
“We stick to the plan,” he decided. Ryan made a noise of protest, and Geoff’s hard stare slid to him. “No buts. Things are already in motion, we can’t risk a change of plans.”
Michael frowned, hands clenching into fists. Ryan’s nails dug into his shoulders as the other man leaned forward.
“We’re not leaving her behind,” he growled, glaring at their leader.
“Of course not,” Geoff agreed immediately, frown turning into a dark scowl. “But we need to think. There’s too many eyes on us right now.”
He thrust his chin in the direction of the hallway, just as another patrol walked by. The guards eyed the inmates suspiciously. Michael stared blankly back at them.
Once they were out of earshot, Geoff deflated.
“This situation is fucked up as dicks,” he swore, dragging a hand over his face. He caught Ryan’s eyes when he looked up. “I wish we could do something. I really do. But right now we need to lie low and trust our allies to come up with a plan.”
Silence settled uneasily between them. Finally, Michael couldn’t stand it any longer.
“Fuck this,” he spat out, turning to glare first at Geoff, then Ray, then Ryan. “Gavin got out. And he fucking loves Jack. He’s not gonna leave her to rot.”
“Exactly!” Geoff jumped on that thought, clinging to it desperately. He nodded eagerly. “We all love her. We’re not gonna rest until she’s out.”
“And we can’t do that from in here,” Ray mused, something calculating in his voice. Michael dropped his head back into Ryan’s lap and gently punched Ray’s dangling leg.
“So we get out,” he continued, the excitement starting to bubble up in his chest again. He turned his gaze to Ryan’s troubled eyes. “You in?”
Ryan mustered him for a long moment, then lifted his gaze to catch Geoff’s eyes.
“Yeah,” he agreed, clearing his throat. A grin slowly spread across his face. “Okay.”
Geoff nodded seriously, a spark in his eyes.
“Alright, you assholes better be ready,” he said, the grim smile turning wicked. “Gentlemen. Let’s start a riot.”
#fahc#fake ah crew#ragehappy#ahot6#ah ot6#ingno writes#take no prisoners#geoff ramsey#jack pattillo#ryan haywood#michael jones#gavin free#ray narvaez jr#please don't kill me#someone needs to upload the last two chapters after all!#and then there's a 400 words long mini epilogue#hope you liked it! let me know :D#prison au
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