#Fake ah crew insert | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

chezzkaa · 7 years ago

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Von, Pardon?

Pairing: Ryan Haywood x Reader & Jeremy Dooley x Reader Universe: Fake AH Crew (Cinders)

Summary: Jeremy’s attempts to secure a gallery setting for an art show sees you roped into being his wife, a wealthy and influential art investor - much to Ryan and your family’s amusement.

WC: 4788 [Master List]

Jeremy shuffles nervously in the doorway, eyes darting uncomfortably between you and Ryan’s lounging figure splayed across the faded grey couch, hair tumbling over the cream and maroon pillows to spill off the edge. Ray perches in the centre of the muted lilac rug covering the rich wooden floors, completely engulfed in Tilly as she pounces back and forth over his chest, swiping at his nose before bouncing away playfully.

Around you the world bustles without a care, large windows opening up like panels into a narrative; each seat offering you a new outlook. The ocean gently lapping at the crisp sand, the ice cream parlour with the jovial owner who’s love of sunshine yellow cardigans knew no bounds. But in your pent house you could stop and watch others tumbling through their stresses, safe and far away.

Jeremy struggles, a trembling hand running clumsily through his freshly dyed hair, finger tips still stained purple. Your lips pull away into a glittering beam, his tensions visibly easing at the sight.

“Of course I'll come to the show, is that even a real question? You’ve worked your ass off, there's no way I'd miss it.”

Ryan hauls himself into sitting, an equally warm and supportive smile curving across his strong features, “we'll all come.”

Ray's attention darts to the conversation, apprehension shifting in the scorching depths of his eyes, hand busy scratching Tilly's ear; “what’re you volunteering me for? Every time you do that I nearly die.”

“That was once time!” he defends, body rocking back while he shoots out a hand offence.

“Three times, actually,” you pat his knee in correction before tapping Ray with your foot; having to sink down in the matching bucket chair to reach.

“Jeremy's got art show tomorrow.” The man’s face relaxes, eyes drifting back to your cat as she tries to curl on his chest.

“Look at pictures and shit? I can do that, I'm a pro.”

“For the amount of time you spend glued to video games,” Ryan muses affectionately, eyes resting on Ray’s pursed lips and raised eyebrows, “I have no doubt.”

The sound of Jeremy clearing his throat anxiously catches your attention, cheeks growing pink as he rocks on the balls of his feet; incredibly out of place and caught between the kitchen and living space. “It’s a, err, it’s a black tie event; and I sorta kinda need a date.”

"Oh c’mon, lil J,” teases Ryan smugly, leaning back with his hands behind his head, “I can't believe it’s taken you this long to ask me out. But I'm sorry to say,” his face falls, holding out his left hand and wiggling his fingers, “the opportunity's 5 years too late. I'm happily married.”

“You bet your ass you are,” you warn, watching him shrink into the pillows with his bottom lip drawn between his teeth. The sight sends your heart fluttering, his devoting smile contagious.

“I'll be your date,” interjects Ray in between Tilly's fur; grinning up at Jeremy as he moves to stand beside another empty seat, bright purple and orange classing rudely in your living room. “I’ll do anything for free food.”

Jeremy lets off an uncomfortable and irritated hum, fingers drumming against the invitations he gripped in white knuckles. Pleadingly he looks to you, your ball of sunshine now a bundle of nerves.

“See here's the thing: I kinda sorta might've told the owner of the space I was married... To our beloved news anchor's female associate... who happens to be a famous art investor?”

“Oh Jeremy,” you groan as your head falls into your hands, Ryan's deep chuckles swamped by the loud cackles emanating from Ray.

“I had to Y/N,” he cries, “it looked good on the application and it's the only reason he's letting me use the space.” With a half hearted sigh you stand, accepting the thick printed invitation and peering down at Jeremy’s most professional scrawl.

“Oh you're kidding,” you mumble into the golden lettering “Beatrice? You fucking called me Beatrice?!”

“Beatrice Von Bisurart,” he squeaks quietly, collapsing into the empty seat and curling his chest to his knees, arms hanging uselessly by his side.

“Buys your art? Jeremy I taught you better than this.”

“I panicked, okay? It was all very stressful,” the man has to increase his volume, tears now rolling down Ryan’s cheeks as he grows pink from laughter, hunching against his knees to hold in his sides. “And it asked for a significant other and I just lost it and I’m sorry; please be my date?”

“‘Von’, Jeremy!” You smack the paper with wide eyes staring at him, as though you could force some sense into the situation, “where the fuck did you get ‘Von’?”

“It sounded cool, like you’re a vampire slayer or something; I don’t know!”

“You wanted people to think you’d married a vampire slaying art investor? Jeremy, how are we supposed to get matching rings for this shit by tomorrow?”

Recovering, Ryan grins, standing with creaking knees to lay a supportive hand on his battle buddy’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, I’ve got a plan.”

“You suck, Jeremy. I’m gonna have to find a fucking babysitter now,” you pout at the clashing monstrosity vibrating in the cream chair, small groans falling into his lap. Tossing the invitation onto the glass coffee table in defeat you glance to the sky streaked with paint as the sun sets, chuckling delicately.

“Okay, so Jeremy might suck,” Ryan admits, Jeremy letting out a deep, rattling sigh. “But nothing sucks more than being called Beatrice Von Bisurart.”

“Whatcha think of this one?” Jeremy asks, holding the ring to the flashlight's beam; glow dancing off the particles caught in the air. Ryan looks up from the display he was pilfering, joining Jeremy and staring critically at the piece through the smudged face paint. Eventually he shakes his head.

“Do you really think Von Bisurart would wear anything with less than a cluster fuck of diamonds?”

“Oh crap,” Jeremy groans in agreement, tossing the ring behind him; your fingers pinching it mid flight as you shuffle through the necklaces, “you're so right, Ryan. Von Bon is a classy bitch.”

“I dunno,” you counter, shining the light onto the ring as it shines brighter than the gold dusting your eyes, voice muffled through the bandana, “I think it's kinda nice.”

“My wife deserves more than nice,” Jeremy retaliates indignantly, Ryan nodding vigorously by his side. With a sweeping gesture Jeremy's eyes glaze over, a dreamy smile hanging from his lips, “she deserves the world.”

You're chuckling when returning to scavenge, tentatively stepping over the shattered glass sprinkling the carpet from your entrance, careful of the dangers the dark might house. Careering to the counter you rip out the draw beneath the register to reveal the products too expensive to display for the public; riches glittering in excitement as your eyes rake curiously over the sharp edges and pools of gems.

Rifling through, you're immediately drawn to the thick necklace choked with diamonds, jewels dripping to your collarbone and flush against your neck when you lift the bandana and press it to you skin. With an affectionate chuckle Ryan joins you; fingers brush the nape of your neck to sweep away stray hairs before taking the clasp and latching it, the weight heavy against the hollow of your throat.

“Oh, now that's nice,” he compliments with a hammering heart as you turn to face him; lost in the rainbows fracturing your eyes. “Beautiful.”

“Hey,” snaps Jeremy, his exaggerated frown appearing above your shoulder, “stop fraternizing with my wife, Ryan.”

“She was my wife first, Jeremy.”

“Well, this is awkward,” shuffles the younger man with a quirk of the lips, eyes drifting to the stacks of jewels you'd unearthed. With a start he lunges in to snatch a hefty ring, every inch littered with elaborate diamonds and shifting colours. Ryan's hand moves to your lower back, redirecting attention to Jeremy, the young man’s face excited as you offer him your hand to allow the incredibly loud fake wedding ring to slip neatly above the real.

“And this is perfect!”

In all the time you’d known Jeremy, he’d never been this nervous. His breath rattled with every vibration rocking through his body, hand’s either buried deep in his pockets or smoothing back his hair for the millionth time. You sigh, his anxieties lapping at your skin as you approach the gallery, lights glowing invitingly from the windows.

Though a relatively warm night, the breeze gnawed against your skin and through the tumbling royal purple skirts exploding from your waist, tracing the hems of your chest trapped tightly in a cantaloupe sweetheart neckline, arms encased in flattering sleeves but fingers exposed to the wind. Comfort came from the weighted necklace from last night, nestled in the hollows of your throat and emanating power.

Slipping your hand into his with a sense of familiarity and ease, your fingers give him a gentle and reassuring squeeze, his chestnut eyes frantically glancing between your smiling face and the fear throbbing around the final destination.

“You’ll be okay, J,” you comfort, clicking up the steps in your incredibly tall heels, “you’re an amazing artist. This is gonna be seamless, they’ll be nothing left on the walls.”

“I dunno,” he mumbles in reluctance, an invisible barrier stopping him just before the entrance. You turn to face him, hands moving to his shoulders, resting atop the floral patterns blooming with royal purple variants across his suit jacket.

“Listen to me, just breathe. You’re nervous now, but once we get through those doors you’re Benjamin Von Bisurart. A smooth talking, confident man with a stupid name, who I’m incredibly proud of.”

“You’re right,” he nods, letting you loop his arm intimately around your waist, bodies fitting together like they were fashioned with each other in mind.

“We’re all here to support you,” you continue, straightening his matching cantaloupe bowtie before resting your palm against the curve of his back. He takes a few shaky breaths, his grip tightening as he collects himself.

“Remember,” you murmur, directing him towards the large man at the entrance, his welcoming smile false and pained, “my offer to stab everyone still stands.”

“Hopefully it won’t come to that,” he whispers while removing the invitations and handing them over, the man checking them before moving aside.

“You’re such a party pooper, Von Bisurart.”

“Von, pardon? Oh, oh!” he catches himself, passing the man and entering the bustling space, overwhelmed by the crowd muttering at his art in approval, “you mean me. Right, okay.”

Inside the stiflingly warm room packed with dull shades of grey bodies, all you see are erratic splashes of colour glued to the walls. Sharp tones slashing through cool comforts, grand canvases coated in complex patterns, sculptures etched with dramatic angles. Jeremy had left a part of himself in each piece, the expanse of his emotion lain out for critique.

You could pick out which artwork tied to the different points of his life, the darker, brooding works heavy and loaded with stress, loaded with Laura. Loaded with Gareth. Splayed out across bleach white walls and curving hallways, the pieces flowed like a journey. Bright colours moving with ease and the dark pain staggered, cluttered and overwhelming.

Littered throughout the winding rooms are the family that lived the paintings, each brush stroke cutting as sharp as the knife buried in their heart, faded smoke as cold as the gun with bullets whizzing with a splash of colour. Jack’s voice reaches you first, Jeremy redirecting your gaze to the powerful woman with fire for hair and flames for soul. Towering in her signature heels, her shape is draped in elegance and freckle clusters, grape fabric pooling to the floor in fountains, long shapely legs protruding from the slits.

Beside her stands Geoff, tall and proud, incredibly neat in peach slacks and a brilliant white button down, moustache meticulously twirled to follow the curves of his smile. Beneath the cuffs and collar of his dress shirt poke the stifled narrative, seeping into his fingers and tainting his knuckles. He seems content in holding Jack’s drink while she gestures wildly, scolding voice putting a narrow minded critic back in his place. At her words Jeremy smiles, excusing himself to join them after Jack motions with a gold adorned hand, his fingers burning as they leave your waist.

As he leaves, you catch sight of Lindsay and Michael, smartly dressed in matching black attire, streaks of tangerine orange and rich purple dancing through his tie and her sheer scarf. Chatting to a waiter Michael works his charm and talks exuberantly with his hands, drinks tray being emptied behind the server’s back by Lindsay, expertly balancing brimming flute glasses between her fingers. She nods to Michael, disappearing into the shadows as he redirects the servers attention by yelling ‘hey!’ after an invisible culprit, scampering away to hide with his wife and live his best life; duel wielding champagne glasses.

Gavin wastes no time in emerging from the door to the kitchen, clutching a tray loaded with elaborate canapés. Beneath the shimmering gold of his waistcoat glares an aubergine shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows and loose around the collar, legs stretching with incredible length in pastel pumpkin trousers.

Tearing your eyes away from their laughter, you can’t help but notice people avoiding the anger and pain, instead congregating around the expansive paintings splotched with happy pastels in their dull tones. Stood in an abandoned hallway, Jon in a classic sherbet orange suit jacket stares up at the suffocating piece twirling with deep blues and heavy grey tones, colours found so easily in his eyes, a hand fiddling with the delicate lavender of his shirt.

Beside the man with wild hair is a familiar face from a lifetime ago. Clinging to your brother’s hand, a suit of orchid, apricot and sunshine yellow hides the inherent clumsiness of his person. His deep olive skin glows beneath the light, hazel eyes studying the piece before him, a hand musing through his messy brunet curls as he stares in wonder. Jon mirrors the expression, though understanding and empathy flows as an undertone.

“This is incredible,” breathes Ben as you approach, eyes tearing from the piece to greet you, the long forgotten fear sparking for a moment before he settles into an easy, lopsided smile.

“I’m glad you appreciate my husband’s work,” you tease, resting a comfortable hand on his shoulder, casting a glance to Jon, who beams brightly.

“He’s very talented,” he muses, letting go of Ben’s hand and pulling you into a hug, as warm as ever, “I’m so glad it’s all worked out for him.”

“He’s been so nervous,” you admit, attention drifting from the bright eyes of your family to the dark pain of one of your best friends, agony splatter on the canvas. “The gallery owner’s been trying to get in his ass all week, apparently.”

“Oh no,” sympathises Jon, lips flattening in concern, “Mr... err, oh god what’s his name? Ermm...” He snaps his fingers; face scrunching as he turns to look up to Ben for help, the man smiling down with patience and adoration.

“Mr Vermont,” he offers, Jon’s forehead resting against his shoulder with a groan, “we’ve still got to speak to him. He invited you personally, and you promised to interview him for your news segment.”

“Thank you,” your brother breathes in relief, “what would I do without you?”

“Look a lot less attractive,” he teases, pressing a gentle kiss into Jon’s wild hair, gentle chuckles resonating from their shoulders and dancing around your feet.

You’re smiling at Ben, overwhelmingly grateful for the role he’s played in your life and the lives of those you loved; knowing you couldn’t apologise enough for the years lost to anger and confusion. Still, the joy that had returned to Jon could only be attributed to him. His patience, understanding and loving adoration leading him to devote all he had to Jon’s recovery from the trauma of memory loss. You’d never be able to thank him for bringing your brother back from the brink, certain the downward spiral would have dragged him further into self destruction.

“There’d be less ice cream,” you joke, ears pricking at the sound of youthful, girlish giggles; “that’s for sure.”

“You’ve got a point,” Ben agrees, watching your eyes scan the room for the source of the joyful noises, “it’s not as though there’s 20 other ice cream parlours in Los Santos or anything.”

“Heaven forbid!” Jon gasps, eyebrows quirking as Ben laughs, rich and deep.

“Besides, you’re conveniently within walking distance of our apartments.” You chuckle, eyes coming to land on Ray, dressed head to toe in purple bar a bright orange tie, a red haired two year old doused in a starfish orange dress sparkling as bright as her amethyst shoes perched against his hip. As soon as he appeared Ray vanishes behind Trevor and Alfredo, the pair in matching mulberry and pink ginger pinstripe suits, talking animatedly to one another.

“We should probably let you go,” admits Ben, a sweeping motion catching the entire room, “Mrs. Von What’s-your-face must have some networking to do!” Your eyes narrow at the mischievous pop of his dimples, gold glittering in his eyes.

“Careful, Benji,” you warn with a teasing smile, “I made you, and it’ll be easy to break you.”

“Go on,” he challenges as Jon laughs, coaxing away his beaming boyfriend – who can’t help but trip over his own legs, “bring it on!”

“I’ll eat you out of ice cream, don’t you think I won’t!”

A sharp, insistent tugging on your skirts makes you turn, Jon and Ben dematerialising to explore the rest of the gallery. Stood beside you is a bright girl, her eyes achingly familiar, a deep blue ocean meeting the crisp white sand, light fracturing playfully. You smile, crouching to level with her, giggles tumbling from her lips as your face scrunches; taking her hands in yours.

“Georgina, what’re you doing running around without Daddy?”

The girl shrugs, lips sharing the shape of your own as she chews the bottom, “I lost him.”

“I don’t think you did,” you state knowingly, poking her button nose, “I think you ditched him.”

“No!” she exclaims joyfully, attempting to hide the smile splitting her pretty face, eyelashes long and fluttering.

“Georgie, did you abandon Daddy?”

“... Maybe.”

“Oh sweetie,” you chuckle, brushing back the tumbling golden curls cascading over her shoulders and straightening the amethyst dress that had begun to bunch around her waist, “you know Daddy can’t manage on his own.”

“She’s right,” comes a deep and affectionate chuckle, Ryan parting through the crowd to stand behind the girl, who shrieks in delight. “What would I do without my girls?”

“You’d die!” Georgie offers, skipping in place as you straighten up, laughing while greeting Ryan’s churning eyes and adoring expression. Stood with confidence, his grey, slim fitting jacket traces his curves and angles, papaya dress shirt tucking snug into wine slacks. Taking him in, you’re breathless, hair in similar curls to those of your daughter – if not a little darker – perching atop his head in an elegant bun with spiralling locks brushing the nape of his neck and resting against his jaw bone and shoulders.

“It’s nice to meet you,” you murmur, having to shake out of the trace ensnaring you in his eyes, caught in the waves. He takes your hand, bringing it to his lips and pressing a delicate kiss that leaves your skin tingling and excited.

“Henry Lawrence.” He released your hand reluctantly, instead stroking Georgie’s hair. “Mrs. Von Bisurart, this is my eldest, Georgina.”

Your daughter waves, delighting in playing pretend and offering you a tiny hand similar to the way her father had. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss.”

You accept it, fingers curling against her warm palm, “the pleasure’s all mine.”

“Good job, Georgie,” Ryan breathes as he creaks to the ground, hands carefully lifting the small girl into his arms; a joyful smile sparkling in his eyes as she giggles. Brushing her blond hair from her face her blue eyes shine with the same light as her father’s, her dress crinkling as he supports her against his hip; flowers spilling with amethyst making up her skirt. “You’ll get your candy later.”

“Now,” she giggles, Ryan pressing his nose against hers, rocking back and forth.

“Oh no,” he smiles, “a deal’s a deal.” Georgie pouts, eyes moving to you as her eyebrows knit together.

“Mommy-”

“Ah ah aahh, you little sneak,” Ryan cuts off, looking proudly at his daughter’s triumphant expression, her hands out and eagerly awaiting her prize.

“I’m so proud.”

“She got that from you,” he sighs, planting a kiss against her forehead and pressing a noisy packet into her tiny hands, fingers clumsily ripping open the bag.

“I’m not even denying it,” you smile, reaching out a hand as Jeremy joins you, ruffling her blond curls and receiving another beautiful giggle in return, “I’m teaching her to take over the world.”

“Don’t you mean ‘take on’?”

“Oh no,” you deny the correction, smiling at Jeremy and slipping your hand into his own, Ryan beaming and bouncing your daughter; Georgie’s feet kicking with glee, “she’s going to rule the world.”

She beams, chest puffing out and face falling serious as Ryan rests his head against her own. “I’m gonna be a princess.”

“Oh really?” chuckles Jeremy, “and what will her ladyship Princess Georgina do?”

“Rule with an iron fist.”

‘“Ryan, don’t let her think dictatorship is a valuable form of governance!” you cast him a half hearted glare, the young girl cackling evilly along with Jeremy.

“Okay, yeah I taught her that. But she’ll be the cutest little dictator.”

“Mad King and Princess Georgina!” the small girl chants excitedly, Ryan swinging her in his arms and tossing her onto his shoulders; her tiny arms winding around his neck.

“That’s right, sweetie,” he smiles, “but don’t forget about your sister.”

“No,” she shakes her head in small jerks, “Corrie to the dungeons.”

Ryan draws in a dramatic gasp, peering up lovingly into her crystal blue eyes, “don’t imprison your knights! How’s she gonna defend our kingdom if she’s dead?”

“Oh,” Georgie considers this fact hard, face contorting in concentration before she sighs. “She’s no good dead.”

“That’s my girl, you’ve gotta be logical about these things. Let’s go find her and Uncle Ray.”

“Uncle Ray! He can go to the dungeons,” she squeals in delight, Ryan’s chuckling as he holds Georgie steady.

“It’ll probably be the nicest place he’s ever lived.”

“I’m a good princess.”

“The best,” agrees Ryan, the love in his eyes shifting to you and Jeremy, offering out his free hand. You take it, shaking firmly and settling back into the role you still had to pay. “It was nice to meet you, Mrs. Von Bisurart. Do you mind if I call you Bee?”

“Yes, I do Mr. Lawrence,” you grumble, Jeremy’s laughter warm against the exposed skin of your shoulder. Ryan’s eyes flash mischievously, their corners crinkling in amusement as Georgie’s feet swing playfully either side of his head.

“Bee it is,” Ryan smiles, shaking Jeremy’s hand next.

“Be good to her,” he warns warmly, motioning as you wiggling your fingers at your daughter, blowing her kisses and watching her attempt to catch them; pressing the final one clasped in her fist to Ryan’s forehead. “She’s a keeper.”

“She’s out of my league,” his sighs teasingly, watching as Ryan backs away with Georgie, her small hands grabbing at the air in a wave goodbye.

“Oh yeah she is.”

Then he’s disappearing into the crowd, Georgie’s blond curls towering above the milling guests, laughter accompanying Ryan’s joyful chuckles.

“We couldn’t find a babysitter,” you whisper to Jeremy, lips brushing against his neck as your children skip alongside Ryan and Ray; their laughter pealing through the room and weaving with the canvases.

“Understandable,” he manages, shaking himself as you pull away to beam at him beneath the watchful gaze of the patrons, his fingers gripping the fabric against your hip.

“I didn’t think their Uncle Jear Bear would mind,” you muse, the depths of your eyes shifting in the light, splashes of colour reflecting in thanks. Jeremy shrugs, a comedic smirk curving through his face before he’s interrupted by a gruff, reproachful voice.

“I didn’t realise you’d be inviting children into my Gallery, Mr. Von Bisurart.”

“Why wouldn’t children be welcome?” Your tone is harsh and belittling, anger pooling in your stomach. The man attached to the voice acknowledges your presence with wide eyes, taking in the cruelty deep beneath your vicious beauty. He doesn’t speak for a moment, his sallow face and sunken eyes dragging on as long as the silence until Jeremy wraps an arm more firmly around your waist.

“You must be Mrs. Von Bisurart,” he tried politely, but you brush his words aside; face hard and fierce.

“Why wouldn’t children be welcome?”

“Art galleries are for the prestigious, the meaning is wasted on children. All they do is kick and scream, it ruins the peace. I mean, this child and a man in a hideous purple suit were just playing on the floor!” he explains, caught off guard by your forwardness, casting a glance to Jeremy that told him to keep you in line. The same look Geoff must have experienced before Jack had lost her cool.

“That couldn’t be further from the truth, Mr..?”

“Vermont.”

“I don’t really care,” you spit cooly, enjoying the rejection flitting across his face. “I’ve met many a men like you, and I can tell you from experience, none of you deserve the spotlight you’ve directed to the self constructed pedestal you stand on.”

“Excuse me?” He splutters, Jeremy somehow finding the confidence to stand beside you.

“No one will want to invest in art with such unprofessionalism – which your husband seems talented in.”

Vermont visible flinches from your anger, Cheshire kept comfortably on her reins like she had for years, pacing in the ruts of pattern.

“It’s nothing personal,” Vermont growls, “your art just doesn’t fit the space.”

“It’s a good thing we won’t be coming back,” you snap, eyes like daggers. “You seem to have forgotten, Vermont, that I could ruin your career in the creative space within an instant. All it takes is one bad review from someone influential; and by god am I revered.”

He shakes, blubbering his apology when realising his career rested in your imaginative, art investor hands. An audience attunes to your scolding, gentle murmurs of agreement and fearful respect rippling through the crowd. Geoff’s yells of ‘hear, hear’, not going unappreciated.

“How dare you treat the talent keeping your business running so poorly. Without them, you’re nothing. A single one of his paintings will fetch more than you’re worth outside these walls, and that’s a professional’s perspective. It’s also important for you to know that you’re fucked.”

Beneath your glare he cowers, whispers of price ranges surrounding you, a young man tapping Jeremy on the shoulder to inquire about one of the larger pieces. All at once offers for purchase hurtle towards him, mind unable to juggle all the numbers as an impromptu auction breaks out. Ryan’s moves to stand beside you, arms filled with your daughters, Corrine tugging at your hair while Ray nods vigorously from your left.

Amidst the yelling and desperation to purchase Jeremy’s artwork and his excitement radiating against your back you bring Corrine into your arms, satisfied that the room was distracted while you prop the girl against your hip, hand holding her head against your chest.

At the sight Vermont’s eyes widen, hopes and dreams crashing as he realises the children he’d despised throughout the night were your own. Confusion and fear brims as he tries to understand whose work was really being housed in his gallery; and who he’d be left to deal with once everything was said and done. “Trust me; the Fakes don’t take too kindly to assholes like you.”

“J,” calls Ryan over his shoulder, the man looking to him with glee as your husband jabs a finger to the painting splattered with the colours of Ryan’s eyes, laced with Cheshire’s signature golden shimmer and ash black splotches twirling in the gleaming colourful depths of your own eyes, “we’re taking that one home!”

Yells of protest sound from the crowd, Ryan pressing a kiss to the top of Georgie’s head as Corrine cuddles into you, watching the chaos in bubbly delight.

“Sold,” yells Jeremy, hands in the air to hold back voices clambering over one another to be heard, “to the terrifying man with great hair.”

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monarchisms · 4 years ago

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#[insert steel chair meme here]#hello?!?!?!?!#achievement hunter #geoff ramsey #the internet's geoff ramsey? the one and only???#for real?????#i love him in f**kface #but hearing his voice w/ the rest of the AH crew after so many months #is legit gonna make me cry #tears of joy #fake ah q

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lil-demi-boy · 4 years ago

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I saw someone mention that Matt should be the new king and I had to run with that

Bonus:

#my love for the Vagabond DOES NOT extend to the person he was based on #my heart is full for the character ONLY #my art #fake ah crew #fahc #fahc michael #fahc matt #fahc ryan #self ship #self shipping #self insert ship #self insert shipping #ultrasound [matt]#cops and robbers [michael]#partners in crime [ryan]

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staranon95 · 4 years ago

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OK but Alfredo being the Jason Todd kind of guy is badass, and imagine him making just remarks/calling out the fakes other than just Ryan

GOD COULD YOU IMAGINE??

Alfredo/Red being a snarky lil shit. all sarcasm. all biting remarks. he knows how to cut deep and make you feel the burn.

imagine Alfredo/Red purposefully getting the one up on the next marks the Fakes have and either taking the mark for his own or fucking up the Fakes hard work

imagine Gavin trying to grift someone at a fancy gala only to see that Alfredo/Red is there, dressed to the nines, scars carefully covered up with some sort of makeup, sweet talking his way into the mark’s circle and fucking up all the hard ground work Gavin has laid

imagine Jeremy boosting a car and then having the cops called on him immediately because Alfredo/Red knew he’s been looking at that car all week

imagine Alfredo/Red breaking into Trevor’s apartment to steal their plans for upcoming jobs and leaving Trevor a cheeky lil calling card like he knew Trevor would back in the day when he was still just a burglar (also: insert some sort of shared past between Trevor and ‘fredo here in that both used to do things for the Fakes unofficially, and ‘fredo is sort of hurt to see his former best friend in such a position of power in the Fakes now)

imagine Jack trying to talk Alfredo/Red down from doing something . . . unsavory and being absolutely taken aback at how angry Alfredo/Red is. How he calls Jack out on his false sense of family within the Fakes and how Jack is just as guilty as them. For never caring about anyone else other than those in his inner circle, leaving people like ‘fredo to take the hits time and time again.

imagine Alfredo/Red sitting alone atop some building and quietly contemplating his life and his decisions up until this point. left partially blind in his left eye and partially deaf as well from the damage of the fire. he’s got arthritis in his wrists (he grew up with juvenile arthritis but ever since the fire, it’s always felt worse). he lives in chronic pain from everything he’s been put through and what he puts himself through and he wishes he could stop but he can’t ignore the drive within him. this sense of vengeance that he can’t seem to quiet.

so he’ll keep doing this. hurting himself and hurting people he used to know

#fake ah crew #schrionplays #fahc #gta au #star speaks #star writes #red hood au #insert GOYTE's somebody that i used to know #weird trippy music video and all

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mywinona · 5 years ago

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as I dive back into the good ol’ fahc days I propose: sniper Alfredo who’s a big goofball just having a good time til he starts focusing on the task at hand and turns into a sniper that never misses the mark. like a flip switches and he goes silent, scary, and lands every headshot

Edit: Gonna turn my reblog into an edit so people scrolling in the tag can see

I saw a few tags point out the 360 no scope headshot he landed on gavin in a TTT video. yes, absolutely, fuck yes, thank you for pointing that out

when he flips that switch, it’s automatic, almost instinctual the way he knows his way around a gun. no one can get the jump on him, he’s always three steps ahead. no matter what corner he wedges himself into, be it getting cornered by rivals, said something that pissed someone off, or dives headfirst way too early into a fight, he can quickly think on his feet to get out with only a few scratches.

#fake ah crew #fahc alfredo #I see yall in the fuckin tag STILL inserting ray into this au in TWENTY NINETEEN #so here. yall want a sniper THERE IS YOUR SNIPER. HES RIGHT THERE

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short-honey-badger · 5 years ago

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I wrote this little thing after reading the Fake AH Headconnons that wonderful @sarahinara wrote up. So the idea goes to them. I hope you like it!

Copycat

In Los Santos, it was an unspoken rule that the civilians living there were not to be involved with any gang activity. The Fakes always made sure that this rule was followed and came down on anyone who thought to break it. So it came to your surprise when you are taken hostage by a man who looks similar to the Vagabond. Sure the mask was a little too different and the man was not as broad as what you thought he should be, but to your terrified mind you did not take in these differences right away.

To you, it was the Vagabond tying you up and shoving a gag into your mouth before locking you in the supply closet at your work. You force the tears that sprung in your eyes away and tried to focus on getting out of the restraints the man had forced you into.

The sharp crack of gunfire makes you jump and the tears drip from your eyes and make your vision blur. All you had wanted to do was eat your lunch while on break. Being shoved in a closet was not your idea of a good time.

The sound of gunfire went off further away this time and you hoped that a stray bullet would not somehow find your defenseless body. It had seemed like hours had passed before the gunfire finally stopped, but it couldn’t have been more than a few minutes. When you hear approaching footsteps, you strain your ears to listen to the people talking.

“Search the place. Make sure that copycat didn’t hurt anyone else.'' The voice is vaguely familiar with a southern accent and it makes you wonder where you’ve heard it from before.

“Roger that, Kingpin.” another voice says and you slouch in relief. It was The Fakes! You knew that the gang who ran Los Santos would not hurt any civilians, but you were still confused on why the Vagabond had done this to you in the first place. However; now that you were not filled with terror, it was easy for you to recall the details of the man who bound you. The differences you had unconsciously noticed came to mind and you relaxed even more. What Ramsey had said was right-it was a copycat!

Your thoughts are interrupted when the door to the closet is opened and the man of your thoughts is suddenly standing in front of you. From the short distance you can see his blue eyes, while they are cold and calculated, you can’t help but to sag when he looks at you and begins to cut you lose.

“You alright?” he asks and you answer after wetting your lips from the dryness of the cloth.

“Yeah. Thanks for getting me outta there.”

You see his eyes crinkles at the edges behind his mask and the real Vagabond offers you his hand to lead you out from the closet. You were absolutely going to be telling your friends about this later.

Outside in the hallway the Kingpin and Beardo are speaking in hushed voices. When they turn in your direction, you can see a pool of red behind them and are quick to close your eyes. You are grateful when the Vagabond pulls you closer and begins to lead you away.

“Found this one in a closet. I’m getting her out of here.” You hear him say and Ramsey says something you can’t quite make out with being smothered in the leather of the man’s jacket.

Soon you can feel the outside air and Vagabond releases his hold on you. You open your eyes and turn to look at the man who saved your life to find him gazing back at you. Before you can open your mouth to thank him again, he is leading you away once more to an intimidating bike. “Let me give you a ride home.” he says and offers you a helmet he has stored in one of the saddle bags.

You obviously must be more traumatized than you think because instead of telling him no thank you. I can drive, you are taking the helmet and slipping it on your head. He mounts the bike first and soon you are clinging to his waist as the two of you zip out of the parking lot and out to the road. You yell directions to him over the wind and it feels like seconds when you see you see the familiar paneling of your modest house.

You get off the bike and hand the helmet back to the large man. He gives off a striking image sitting in his skull mask on the equally terrifying bike. It is no wonder why the other minor gangs and criminals are so terrified of the Vagabond. You give him another smile and hold yourself against the chill of the wind, “Thank you again. You saved probably saved my life.”

The Vagabond simply shrugs and says, “You shouldn’t be a part of any of our business and we shouldn’t be a part of yours.” you see his eyes crinkle behind his mask again before he gives you a two fingered salute and then he is gone. You watch until you can’t see him anymore before making your way inside your home. What a day.

#fanfic #reader-insert #achievement hunter #fake ah crew #fake ah ryan #achievement hunter au

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doobler · 5 years ago

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Plunge

"Alright, me time."

Edgar propped his hands up on his hips. Standing in his underwear in the kitchen, he admired his spread of snacks. From Pringles to Takis, sour gummy worms to Sno Balls, he had all his bases covered. All that remained was a tall glass of any booze he could scrounge up and his night would be set.

He was halfway through shoving a handful of chips into his mouth when a knock came at the door. Weird. It was just past eleven. Groaning loudly, he choked down his chips and slipped on a shirt just baggy enough to cover his ass. Checking to make sure the closest drawer did in fact have a loaded pistol, he slowly eased the door open.

Edgar gasped. The body leaning against the doorframe was soaked in blood. He tried to push it back with the door when it moaned.

"Ed.... Please...."

"James?!"

Their head tilted back and sure enough, there were two pretty blue eyes and a familiar slightly crooked nose. Edgar felt paralyzed, fingers clenching at the doorknob.

"What... What happened?!"

"Can I... Come in...?"

"Oh! Yeah, of course!"

Edgar scuttled back, holding out his hand to help James inside. He staggered a few feet before collapsing on the couch. Edgar bolted to the bathroom, pulling out the old first aid kit shoved deep under the sink. When he returned, James had pulled off his jacket and pushed up his shirt. He had a few circular wounds, undeniably from bullets, and a long shallow cut down one arm. Pulling out the hydrogen peroxide, Edgar soaked a rag and began dabbing at every injury.

"You look like hell!" He cried, fear like ice in his veins. "What the fuck happened?! I thought you were out working again!"

"I mean..." James hissed softly, his wounds stinging. "Technically, yeah."

"What d'you mean, 'technically'?"

James inhaled slowly. He looked as gorgeous as usual, long honey brown hair pulled back in a ponytail, errant strands framing his face nicely. He didn't have his glasses on, which was an odd sight, but he actually looked better without them.

"Can I just... Rest a bit first?" He pleaded.

"Yeah, yeah, of course! Let me get you some water--"

Edgar filled a glass, dropping in a straw for good measure. He held it as James drank, watching closely when he once again melted into the cushions with a deep sigh. After staring for a few solid minutes, James finally gave in.

"Y'know... The Fakes?"

"The Fake AH Crew?" Edgar snorted, unpeeling a bandaid and awkwardly placing it over a bullet wound. "Yeah, those rich thug assholes who make my commute a daily hell. What about them?"

James gave him a leveled look, a terrifying sense of honesty written on his face. Edgar shook his head slowly, the gradual realization stabbing into his heart.

"No... No, you told me.... You said you were in IT! You did computer shit!"

"A younger me did, yeah," James clarified. "Present me? Not so much."

Edgar stood up and stepped back. He looked at the bloodstained jacket again, finally taking in the solid black leather and its stripes of blue accents. Oh. Oh fuck no.

"You--"

"I... 'Moonlight' as The Vagabond, yes," James flexed his fingers in air quotes. "I was out on a self-assigned hit and got hit back twice as hard. I... Remembered your address and knew you were much closer than the base. If I'd tried to get back home, I probably would've bled out "

Edgar was breathing hard, hazel eyes wide, brows draw in. He leaned heavily against the wall, blinking rapidly.

"I know.... It's a lot," James pushed off the couch, clutching at his side and wincing. "But I need to get out of here. Either... You can drive me or I gotta drive myself. But I gotta be quick."

Edgar looked at him again, those damned eyes, that long hair, his stupid jawline and annoyingly pretty lips. He was hyperventilating a little bit from the stress and tried his best to stay calm. Sweeping his hair off his face, Edgar met James' eyes. Neither of them blinked.

"Can you... Give me thirty seconds?" Edgar finally spoke.

James relaxed a fraction and nodded. Within moments, Edgar was in ripped jeans and the same shirt with a thin jacket layered on top. He slipped on his only sensible pair of shoes, powder pink Chucks, and pocketed his emergency miniature canister of mace. He contemplated grabbing his gun, the only real weapon he owned, but decided against it. Somehow, the denial of danger was keeping him focused.

"I just got a fucking raise, I was gonna have a fucking night to my goddamned myself," Edgar muttered as he packed. "But no, god knows there's no fucking good fortune in a backwater shit city like fucking Los Santos."

"That's the spirit!"

James flinched at the cold scowl he received. Finally ready, the pair slipped out the door and down the single flight of stairs. Parked outside, rather haphazardly, was no doubt James' car. It easily cost what Edgar made in more than a year. He tried to ignore the obvious bullet holes and slid into the driver's seat. James followed suit, nearly collapsing in the passenger's. His skin was getting pale and little beads of sweat gathered along his forehead.

"If I navigate, can you follow?"

"Of course I fucking can," Edgar growled, buckling himself in and revving the engine. "What am I, a fucking baby?"

"No, you're not."

James' somewhat ditzy smile was replaced with an awkward frown when Edgar shot him a death glare.

"You're not off the hook, mister, not by a long shot," Edgar pulled them into reverse then drive, smoothly slamming his foot down on the gas. "Either you die on the way or I kill you with my bare fucking hands."

"Wow," James croaked as they sped down the street well over the speed limit. "You sure are a catch, huh?"

#self-insert #fahc #fake ah crew #tiny fic #ryan #edgar #yee yee #finally #my oc

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damnyn-blog · 6 years ago

Note

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

Aw, thanks!

159- “Didn’t you read the sign?”

AO3

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What is it?” I asked.

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

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

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

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

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rosegoldachievement · 6 years ago

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Where Good Girls Go To Die (Chapter 4)

pairing: fahc x reader

word count: 2,615

series: Where Good Girls Go To Die

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

chapter 1 / chapter 2 / chapter 3 / chapter four

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hello, y/n.”

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

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

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

“Oh, you’re up.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hello?”

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

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

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

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

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

“If you hurt her, I swear…”

“Time is ticking, Dooley.”

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

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

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

A scoff came from the other end of the line.

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

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

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

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

“Then why the fuck did you set thi-”

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

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

“Wow, you all actually showed up!”

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

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

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

“Everything’s here.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Got it!”

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

“O-okay.”

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

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

“How many more are left?”

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

“Two guys just escaped out the back door!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I have an idea.”

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

“God damn it, Ryan!”

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

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

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boogeywoogeywoogeywoogeywoogey · 6 years ago

Photo

its real shit but this made me wanna draw some self-insert art so here have crazy tiny demon girl (oni?) and Rimmy Tim being annoying to The Vagabond as he babysits them around

#fake ah crew #rimmy tim #the vagabond #achievement hunter #ryan haywood #jeremy dooley #self-insert #sorry

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sarahinara · 7 years ago

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I have this weird little headcanon that living as a civilian in achievement city isn’t... that bad? like,

the fahc are borderline insane with the heists they pull, stealing from every bank in the city and getting away in absurdly painted cars. decked out in weird outfits that are always so pristine despite the fact that they seem to wear it all. the time.

it becomes normal to hear laughter on top of the engines of motorcycles, or to see a helicopter swerving madly in the sky as it threads through skyscrapers while getting away from the police.

achievement city’s organizations, the little ngos that try to make it better, receive donations on the regular, any truly innocent person doesn’t stay missing for very long - always returned home with an unbelievable story to tell

(it was the vagabond, I swear - skull and all - he came for me)

you see the golden boy shopping at calvin klein and all he does is hold up two shirts when you stare, asking which looks better? before you hear sirens in the distance. he says I guess both is fine, shoving them in his bag and escapes out the back door, slipping a few hundreds into one of the retail employee’s jean pockets on the way

a mugger pushes you into an alley with a gun to your back and you barely get a word out before you hear a knock that shit off and they’re shoved off you by the jersey devil, more annoyed than anything else. the mugger gawks and runs off and you’re still frozen as the curly haired criminal brushes off your shoulders with a stern stay safe out here

you’re sitting under a tree at the park one afternoon and the kingpin walks up to you, asking mind if I join you? you nod meekly and he plants himself down beside you, pulling out a book of his own, occasionally asking what was happening in yours and leaving you with some recommendations when it was time to go heist

a job is pulled off near your work and roads are crammed with police and traffic, every person within a 100m radius being questioned. the next day you walk in to a fully catered lunch, a small note placed on top reading sorry about the mess - beardo

the self-proclaimed rimmy tim shows up to the bowling alley, cowboy hat and all, and smiles kindly to the teenager working behind the counter while paying for a game. he grabs the lane next to you, saying watch this, and throws the ball in the gutter

and it really was the vagabond breaking down the door that locked you in after what seemed to be like endless gunfire from the main floor, cutting off your restraints and letting you hold onto him on his motorcycle as he drives back to the city, stopping in an abandoned parking lot and offering to walk you home from there

because it’s an unspoken rule of the underground to keep civilians out of it, and you better believe that ramsey enforces it. the little boy who grew up watching the people he knew disappear, swearing on his heart that he’d do whatever he could to change that, even if his methods were a bit unorthodox

then when you post it online later, you get the expected amount of disbelief and yeah right’s, but then you get a comment - fun, but maybe let’s not do that again - v

#achievement hunter #fake ah crew #fahc #reader insert #kinda?#headcanon #yeahhh i dunno where i was going with this #rooster teeth #rtah #my writing

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chezzkaa · 7 years ago

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Of Course I Know

Pairing: FAHC Jeremy x Reader Day 12 of Fics Advent Calendar 2017. Read the others here

Summary: Jeremy really doesn’t think Rimmy is a secret...right?

WC: 523

I'm glaring, the woman shrinking away from my rage. The night bites, but no way near as hard as my venom, the rain attempting to wash away the pain littering the streets. She takes a cautious step forward and I stop her with a snarl. “You've gone too far this time.”

She pulls a face, throwing a gesture to Jeremy shuffling his feet behind me. “I did this for you, Y/N. You needed to know that he’s lying to you.”

Jeremy flinches, looking to me in shame. I don’t spare him a glance, too enraptured in the woman. “This is my life, and I don't need you in it, Steph. You can't help it, can you? You were always poking through my shit, didn’t trust me. Try fixing your own damn problems rather than creating more of mine.”

She doesn’t listen, taking another step forward as my hands ball into fists. “Aren’t you hearing me?” she wails, and I can’t tell if her makeup is running because of the tears or rain. “You're running around with Rimmy Tim. The only this worse that this fucking psychopath is the Vagabond!” My face hardens, seeing right through her supposed concern. “Come home, well sort it out and call the police. I still love you, Y/N. We can still fix this.”

“First of all, Ryan's fucking lovely. Second, of course I know he’s Rimmy Tim; he’s not lying or hiding it. Nothing, not his murderous tendencies or your grovelling, is going to change the fact that you’re a manipulative bitch. You’re abusive, and don’t deserve me.” I spit the final words at her feet, turning to an astounded Jeremy and grabbing his hand in finality.

He looks nervous in the face of my anger, but stumbles along without complaint as we duck and weave between the buildings. Spotting shelter he redirects us, street light spluttering above.

“You know?” His voice is pained and loaded with guilt as he anxiously rubs the nape of his neck.

I smile, giving his hand a squeeze before letting go and stepping into his confused arms. “Oh course I know. I’m not stupid.”

“But how?”

“Everything you own is either purple or orange. It’s a dead giveaway.”

I laugh into his relief, hugging him close. His arms tighten, his eyes closing as he savours my company. I can feel his breath against my neck, warm as it whispers through my hair. “My god, I fucking love you.”

Then searing pain hits, exploding through my back and blooming across my chest. I jerk away to look down in confusion, the tip of a blade jutting from between my breasts.

I try to speak, words just gurgling bubbles as I collapse into Jeremy’s arms with a croak. He’s panicking, hands clumsily tearing away my shirt and applying pressure, desperate to stem the bleeding.

Through the fog I can barely see her behind me, struggle to make out the wicked smile and hand covered in bloody splatters. She’s backing away, shrieking into the phone receiver as my body goes cold. “Oh god, someone come quickly! Rimmy Tim just stabbed and killed my girlfriend, please!”

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aplaceforrtprompts · 7 years ago

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Holiday Flash Fic Challenge: Day 30

Pairing: FAHC!Ryan Haywood x Reader

Prompt: “This may be the champagne talking but you look really hot all dressed up.”

Word Count: 462

Requester: Anonymous

“You might want to slow down there,” Ryan chuckled as you were downing your third glass of champagne.

“It’s a New Year’s party. We need to live a little. Blend in and that includes drinking,” you reminded him.

“Yes but remember you’re at a nice event, not a frat party,” Geoff buzzed in your ear from the coms. “We need you sharp as a lookout.”

You rolled your eyes and Ryan bit back his laughter at your clear annoyance.

“Guards are still all in position, still rotating every hour, still posted at every entrance to the rest of the museum and still none of them actually going into the museum,” you reported. You could have done your job as lookout blindfolded but that never stopped Geoff from lecturing you. To be fair you were the newest in the crew but you’ve known Geoff much longer than that and had no problem sassing him.

You just heard a heavy sigh on the other side of your earpiece followed by, “We’re going in, in five.”

“It was quiet after that so you busied yourself with another glass of champagne. Though after a few sips Ryan took it out of your hands and set it on the bar counter and took your hand, “Come on.”

“We need to watch the doors,” you reminded.

“They’ll be fine,” Ryan gave your hand a soft squeeze.

You looked back at the doors and there was some talk from the crew communicating with one another but everything sounded okay so you followed Ryan upstairs and out onto a balcony.

“I didn’t even know this was here,” you gasped as you looked out on the city.

Ryan shrugged, “There’s always a balcony or at least rooftop access. People love their views of the city.”

The two of you fell into a comfortable silence. Ryan turned off his earpiece and you followed suit, “What’s up?”

“This may be the champagne talking but you look really hot all dressed up, I mean, gorgeous. Wow, it really must be the champagne,” Ryan scrambled all over himself. “That sounded so much better in my head.”

You snorted, “I thought I was the one drinking.”

“You were,” Ryan chuckled.

You just smiled and pulled him closer, “This might just be the champagne talking but…” You finished with a soft kiss.

Ryan didn’t even hesitate to kiss you back hungrily.

The two of you could have easily stayed like that for hours but an alarm went off pulling you apart.

“Not even gone two minutes,” you sighed and clicked your earpiece back on just in time to hear Geoff screaming your name.

“What did you fuckers do now?” you asked. Ryan laughed and took your hand once again as the two of you went into action.

#ryan haywood x reader #ryan haywood imagine #ryan h x reader #Ragehappy #rooster teeth imagine #rooster teeth reader inserts #rooster teeth inserts #rooster teeth reader insert #rooster teeth imagines #achievement hunter reader inserts #achievement hunter imagines #gta au #fahc #Fake AH Crew #RyanH #winter ragehappy

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lil-demi-boy · 5 years ago

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I didn’t get an ask for it, but I wanted to do it anyway so B4 with Ryan <3

#my art #fahc #fake ah crew #fahc ryan #self ship #self shipping #self insert ship #self insert shipping #partners in crime [ryan]

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tigerinthestars · 7 years ago

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What Can Go Wrong Part III [Final]

Summary: What was supposed to be a simple heist spirals out of control. Everything seems to be going from bad to worse. What was Murphy's Law again?

Also, the one where Jeremy saves you from certain death.

Pairing: FAHC!Jeremy x FAHC!Reader

Words: 3,052

Warnings: Language and violence.

A/N: Here’s the third and final part! Enjoy!

Read it on AO3!

Part I ~ Part II

You don’t know how long you sat there grieving before you felt a hand on your shoulder. You looked up to see Jack had opened your door and was crouched down on her knees. Her red hair was frizzy and there was blood on her floral shirt. Jeremy's blood, you guessed with a hiccup. Her eyes were kind and sad, flickering between you and the hat in your hands, as she forced a smile on her lips, her thumb rubbing your shoulder in soothing circles.

"He's gonna be okay." Her voice wavered as she said those words, a single tear fell from her eyes. She looked like she wanted to say more but either she couldn't find the words or was unable to without breaking down, you weren't sure which.

You couldn't find your voice to respond, just fell heavily into her arms. A fresh set of sobs and tears spilled from you. Jack wrapped her arms around you tightly, her own tears fell onto your filthy shirt. You both were knelt on the floor, crying into each other’s arms. After a moment, there was a shadow that fell upon you both. You didn't move an inch as you sensed the presence of others around you. You looked up when you heard someone sniffle and saw the rest of your chosen family.

Michael had taken his glasses off and was rubbing his eyes. Gavin was hanging his head in defeat. Lindsay had her forehead pressed against Michael's shoulder, her lips pressed in a hard line and eyes screwed shut. Geoff had tears freely falling from his eyes, a hand covered his mouth and his gaze was fixed on the hat in your hand. Ryan had pulled his mask off and was staring at it in his hands with a faraway look in his blue eyes.

Jack looked up as well, her teary gaze falling on the hurting family as well. You both stood together. All of you stepped forward, together, arms curling around each other’s shoulders. You all had moved into a circle, creating a group hug with your heads bowed. Your arms had remained in front of you, Jeremy's hat still in your hands. You were all painfully aware of the absent member of your family. Your hurt shared between each other as you all stood in silence. That was, until someone was brave enough to break it.

"Is he going to be okay?" Gavin asked hesitantly, his voice small and heavy with emotion. His accent thickened in his grief.

"Yeah," Geoff managed to respond, his voice cracking, "They said he should be fine."

You let out a breathed in relief, your eyes closing as you tried to compose yourself. While the news was good, this still hit too close. It still was a shock. One you will not be forgetting anytime soon.

"Fuck." Michael muttered, his eyes red with tears. "What the fuck happened?"

"He saved her," Ryan answered, "He took the bullet for Y/N."

You looked up then, up at the faces of the people you called family. You saw the remnants of their grief and having verbal conformation that you were technically responsible stabbed you like an ice-cold knife. What if…

"Damn that boy," Jack said, "His heart of gold."

"This would have been a different story if Jeremy hadn't pushed you down." Ryan said, looking right at you. "Jeremy saved your life."

You nodded at him, but you couldn't help the guilt you felt. Jeremy almost died because of you. If you weren't there. If you weren't involved. Maybe…

"He cares so much for you, you know?" Jack spoke softly to you, perceptive as always. She may not know exactly where your thoughts were taking you, but she probably had a decent idea. She always did.

You nodded again and tried to quell the guilt you felt. Licking your dry lips, you tried to clear your throat. "When can I see him?" Clearing your throat didn't help much, your voice still sounded wrecked.

"They said they would call when they were done." Geoff answered you, his voice sounding much better than it had moments ago. "Why don't we all get cleaned up? There's no telling how long it will take."

Everyone mumbled their agreements and you moved as a unit to the elevator. In the bright light of the elevator, you were reminded of your sore head. You needed to be checked out by the medical staff. Although, everyone down there is probably busy with Jeremy. May as well get cleaned up and have half their job done for them so you have more time with Jeremy.

The elevator ride to the top floors was filled with a comfortable silence as everyone broke off to their floors to get washed up. You had kept your eyes down cast to the battered hat in your grip. You got off on your floor, biding everyone a nod as a goodbye, not able to force a smile yet. You shared this floor with Jeremy. You felt the lump in your throat reform as the reality of what almost happened dawned on you once again. You don’t know what you would have done if Jeremy didn't make it. If you had to come back here without him.

With a shaky sigh you made your way to your master bedroom with its en suite bathroom. Once there, you laid the hat on your bed, your gaze lingering on the silly thing before you moved to gather up some fresh clothes from your shared closet and enter the bathroom. For the first time since to heist started you got to see what state your appearance was in staring at you from your reflection. You saw red and puff eyes and dried tear tracks; frizzy and matted hair; soot and dirt on your face and dried blood on your temple coming from somewhere above your hairline, probably from when you hit your head in the car; and bruises blossoming all over yourself. You have certainly seen better days. You looked awful.

You began to carefully peel your dirty and ripped clothes off your body. Once done, you turned the shower on and waited for the water to heat up. You inspected your body for any more injuries. You only found shallow cuts and scrapes, thankfully. When the steam began to rise, you stepped into the spacious shower and simply stood there. You watched the blood get washed off your body and swirl down the drain. You wished your pain would wash away just as easily.

You went through the motions of cleaning yourself, trying and failing to keep your mind off what was happening floors below you. You didn't want to, but you cursed him for putting you through this. You were beginning to hate the feelings in your chest. How could he do this to you? What was he thinking? Did he think getting himself killed was going to save you? How damn selfish is that?

You swallowed around the lump in your throat as your scrubbed your scalp. You loved him with all your heart. With every fiber of your being. You were so thankful to have met Jeremy in the first place. But in this moment, at this particular moment, you wished you had never met him. If you didn't know him, then you wouldn't be hurting like this. These thoughts only made you hate yourself. The bitter taste in your mouth grew as you finished your shower and grabbed your towel.

You dried yourself off angrily, though you weren't sure who you were angry with at that moment. Once dry, you peaked at yourself in the mirror and resolved that you looked better. Pulling on the clothes you grabbed, a loose t-shirt and sweat pants and a pair of underwear, and brushing your hair you still saw the emotions flashing through your eyes, you saw the tension in your body.

You were startled from your staring contest with your reflection by a knock on the door. Putting the brush down, you ran a hand through your wet hair as you made your way to the door to your floor. When you opened the door, you saw Geoff and Jack, cleaned up and wearing comfy clothes like you.

"Caleb called. He said they're done. Jeremy is fine, sleeping and pumped full of pain meds." Geoff informed you, a smile on his face.

"I came to walk you down, if you don't mind." Jack added with a smile of her own.

"Okay," you replied, "I just need to grab something really quick." You turned and made your way back to your bedroom when they nodded.

Your gaze immediately fell to the hat on your bed. You grabbed it and one of Jeremy's hoodies and went back out to Jack and Geoff who had stepped inside when you left them at the door. They gave you sad smiles when they saw what was in your arms.

"You ready?" Jack asked.

You took a moment to think, was there anything else? "He almost died." Your voice sounded hallow even to your own ears.

"But he didn't," Geoff said immediately. "It wasn't your fault, Y/N."

"Wasn't it?"

"No, it wasn't. This was his choice." Jack spoke softly. "Don’t do this to yourself, Y/N.”

"Do this to myself? He-" you interrupted yourself and looked at the floor, stealing yourself. "Should I grab him clothes?" You continued in almost a whisper.

"I'll grab them," Geoff offered, "You girls go ahead."

Jack stepped forward and placed an arm around your shoulders and guided you to the elevator. She pressed the button for the basement level and pulled you tightly into her side. "I know it hurts right now, but know that this was not your fault. In fact, you can ask him yourself when he wakes up."

"Oh, I definitely will be." You said, the hint of a smile tugged at your lips.

"I am sure he will love every moment of the verbal lashing you will give him as soon as he wakes."

"He better, the fool."

"Aren't we all?" Jack said with a chuckle as the elevator dinged, signaling that you had arrived at the appropriate floor.

The two of you made your way through the infirmary, one of the nurses pointed out the room to you as you passed. Both of you paused, Jack's hand on the door handle while yours tighten their grip on the cowboy hat and the jacket. After a moment of hesitation, you both pushed your way into the room and you found yourself once more fighting tears at the sight of him.

Jeremy was lying in a hospital bed with a sheet tucked tightly around his body. Both his arms were laid out, IV leads connecting him to the machines that surrounded him, and a blood pressure cuff was secured on his left bicep. The heart rate monitor beeped in an even rhythm and was the only sound in the room. They had cleaned his face of blood and grime, as with the rest of his body, from what you could see. He was dressed in a white shirt which hid, with help from the blanket, the damages from sight. He looked peaceful, completely at rest. That's what got you. All this scare and he is just peacefully lying there, oblivious and ignorant.

Jack guided you to the chair that had been placed by his bedside in anticipation for your arrival. You sat numbly, not once looking away from his sleeping face. Jack pulled the hoodie from your death grip and helped you put it on, breaking your sight with him for a second. You looked to her, then the hat still sitting in your lap, and then you focused back on Jeremy's face.

"Do you want me to leave you?" Jack asked, running her hand comfortingly through your wet hair.

Before you could answer, Geoff entered with a pile of Jeremy's clothes in his arms. His eye flicked over all of you before settling on Jeremy, much like yours. He frowned before moving into the room completely, shutting the door behind him and placing the clothes on a table nearby. Geoff walked to the other side of the bed where he hesitated a moment. His gazed move to you and he seemed to be conflicted with what he wants to say to you.

"They said the operation to remove the bullet went smoothly," so he spoke more with the nurses and doctors, that's what delayed him, "Minor internal damage which will heal with time, so long as he takes it easy. He lost a lot of blood," Geoff's gaze shifted to the IV lines connected to Jeremy's arms, "so they're giving him some of that and morphine and saline. They said he may not wake until tomorrow."

You nodded your acknowledgement, not trusting your voice once again. You wanted to touch him, but he looked like he might shatter if you did. You didn't think he could ever look so pale. Or so fragile.

"They brought in a cot if you feel like sleeping." Geoff gestured to the collapsed bed on wheels behind him. You don't think you'll be sleeping tonight.

"We'll leave you two be," Jack said from behind you with a pointed look at Geoff which you missed, "Unless there's something else you need?"

You shook your head and opened your mouth to thank them, but you couldn't get the words out. Geoff just smiled at you, "It's okay, sweet heart. We know."

"Call us if you need anything." Jack said with one last look at Jeremy before both she and Geoff left you to the quiet room.

You sat and stared at Jeremy. Watching his chest as he breathed. You almost lost him. The sight of him falling on the pavement flashed before your eyes, taking the bullet that was meant for you without a second thought. The tears that you thought were gone began to fall again. You began to sob quietly into his bedside, a hand shakily reaching for his face down hand. It was cold, you noted with a sniffle. Your hand curled tightly around his bigger one, pulling it closer to you so that you could press your forehead against it.

You sat there, hand in his and head laid on his bed, Jeremy's hat squished to your chest by your other hand, for so long you fell asleep. Not even the nurses coming a going to check on Jeremy woke you. What did eventually wake you was pressure on your head. You felt a hand run through your hair. You blinked sleep from your eyes and slowly sat up to hear a gravelly "Good morning" from above you. Your eyes snapped up to meet Jeremy's warm, brown ones.

"Jeremy," you said with a gasp.

"That's me," he said with a smile, "Hi, Y/N."

After a moment of shocked silence, your felt the anger, the sadness, the grief, and the confusion from yesterday come to a front. The anger was the loudest. "What the fuck, Jeremy?"

"What?" Jeremy asked as if he had no idea what you were talking about, the ass.

"You know exactly what I'm talking about! What were you thinking?" You ground your teeth together.

"I was thinking I saved your life."

"And yours? You almost-, I thought you-" You couldn't even bring yourself to finish those sentences. You felt tears prick at your eyes again. You were tired of crying.

"I wasn't thinking-"

You cut him off, "Obviously."

He had the audacity to shoot a glare at you, "Don't look at me like that. You don’t get to be pissed at me. Not after what I went through these past twenty-four hours."

"I just-. Y/N, I wasn't thinking about what happened to me," You crossed your arms and sat back in your chair, "I was thinking about you."

"So? If you," you closed your eyes for a moment and took a breath, "If you died, what was I supposed to do?"

"And if you died? Y/N, I was presented with a choice, you or me. I chose you. That's all." Jeremy tried to sit up a bit, but a groan of pain stopped him in is tracks.

You shot forward and put a hand on his chest, "Careful! You were shot, remember? You need to take it easy!" You gently pushed him down back on the bed.

Jeremy let you push him back and once he was settled, he reached up with a hand pushed your hair back behind your ears and looked you in the eyes, "If my legacy is to throw myself in the path of a bullet to save your life, then so be it."

You reached up to cup his hand to your face and shook your head, tears in your eyes, "No, we go down together. You understand?"

Jeremy laughed at that, "Fair enough." He smiled at you, love in his eyes. "Com'ere."

With the hand on the side of your face, he brought your head to his, your lips met in a chaste kiss. You tried to convey all the pain and relief you were feeling into that kiss while Jeremy responded to you with an apology. When you both broke the kiss, you pressed your foreheads together and just breathed.

You heard gagging sounds come from your right and you both turned to the door to see the rest of the Fake AH Crew stood in the doorway. The gagging sounds had come from Gavin and Michael judging by their matching grins, Lindsay giggling along. Jack had warm smile on her face and Geoff was busy trying to hold in his laugh from the lad’s antics. Ryan even had a soft and amused look in his steel eyes, the ghost of a smile on his lips.

"So, how's the moron who got himself shot?" Geoff asked after he rained his laughter, only to burst out laughing along with everyone else and the crowd in the door made their way into the room.

Tears fell from your eyes, this time from happiness as you looked upon your family in fondness. There really isn't a dull moment in the Fake AH Crew.

(Anyone who says otherwise can kiss ALL your asses.)

#achievement hunter fanfiction #jeremy dooley x reader #jeremy dooley imagine #reader insert #fake ah crew #fahc jeremy #part 3 of 3 #complete

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