#fahc x reader

[rosegoldachievement]

Where Good Girls Go To Die part four coming very, very soon. 

[chezzkaa]

Cinders Character Design no. 1

Realised this has been sat in my sketch book for a while. Now that Cinders is able to stray away from being a FAHC fic, I've been exploring character visuals. Have a page with Ryan Jamie, Jeremy Akio and Reader Ellie.

[vidderinserts]

Can’t Fake It | Jon Risinger

Summary: Soulmates, Fake Ah Crew, and an artist

Warnings: I use the word cunt

Notes: Please note this is set in the FAHC world. This is not real, I don’t actually know how any of the people written about would actually be in a scenario like this. This is all a work of fiction and I mean no disrespect to any of the mentioned people

<b>Enjoy!</b>

Jon had been sixteen when his Soul Mark appeared. Pretty par for the course, as anyone who had a soulmate got the tattoo on their sixteenth birthday. Science still hadn’t quite explained it, even after hundreds of years. He had been disappointed when he couldn’t make heads or tails of the saying, probably attached to a crazy person.

Until the day he moved to Los Santos, and he found himself being held up in his new bank. By the Fake AH Crew. Who he later learned had to change the name of their gang every other week because the mud crawlers of the godforsaken city would try and use it.

That day he learned that the nonsense on his arm would fit the ridiculous abbreviations the crew had to switch to. So he decided to take the initiative.

He had always been an avid artist, talented with a brush and lines. So he began to practice, carefully dragging paint on canvas and recreating his favorite art pieces.

Geoff Ramsey always did enjoy hocking a good forgery.

He wasn’t part of the crew really, he had no taste for wild car chases or shoot-em-ups. But if Geoff wanted something appraised - he’d been sold a fake he’d been assured was genuine and it hadn’t settled well - Jon would verify its authenticity. If he wanted something forged, Jon was his guy.

He’d even paid way more than Jon had asked for a few original pieces.

Kdin had actually been the one to introduce the two and Jon would forever be grateful to her. She’d met him at a gallery - about five minutes before FAHC had stormed in - and they’d talked about the pieces he’d been showing. Impressed with his work, she’d made sure to pass his information to Geoff when they’d gone over the pieces they’d stolen.

Now, as the Vagabond helped him carry a few paintings into the latest penthouse, he once again thanked his friend mentally. He’d nearly dropped a replica of Starry Night on his foot (Haywood had snorted, but still silently made sure the artist was okay) but he couldn’t find it in him to care. Not when the most beautiful person he’d ever seen was right there.

Sitting beside Ray, pieces of his beloved rifle in their lap, was a gorgeous (h/c) person wrapped in Ray’s obnoxiously purple hoodie. They were laughing, occasionally stopping to actually help clean the weapon. The sniper looked amused, even as he tried to feign annoyance.

“Just gonna stare at them?” Jon’s gaze snapped back to Haywood (if you asked how he knew the mans name, he’d just smile and say he had his own ways) only to find the psychopath smirking. “They’re pretty cute, right?”

“I mean, that’s a handsome individual.” He flushed, blue eyes darting away.

“They’re Meg’s, part of the Dollz. They came to help Geoff out with floorplans. They’ve been inside the mark.”

“That’s the most I’ve ever heard you say at once.”

“Don’t push it.”

“Jon!” The artist turned to find Ray watching with a grin. He apparently finally spotted the outlier while yanking on the purple garment, trying to get it back from the temp. Said Doll was watching with a delighted look in their eye. “Have you finally come to rekindle our love?”

“In your dreams,” he replied with an easy smile.

“Every night, Risinger.”

“So.” Jon ignored the Puerto Rican, setting the heavy canvases down against the wall and coming closer. He shoved his hands into his jean pockets, a crooked grin on his stubbly face and shoulders kinda hunched. “What’s FAHC stand for this week?”

Ryan and Ray shared a look, knowing the man asked every new person around the base the same thing. Ryan had managed to put together the ‘why’, having seen the colorful words branded on his forearm.

“Fuck Assholes Hard Cunts.” The sniper and vagabond heard the gasp both took. With a rough tug, the former was being forced out of the room. “So, uh... Jon, huh?”

“Yeah. I don’t think I caught your name though.”

“I didn’t throw it.” His smile grew a bit bigger as he perched on the back of the couch. They smiled up at him, and he crossed his arms over his chest. “It’s Porcelain out on the job... but you can call me Y/N.”

“Can I call you my date for Friday?”

“Long as you never use a line like that again.” Y/N giggled.

[rt-reader-inserts]

Wounds

Pairing: Ryan Haywood x Reader x Jeremy Dooley

Word Count: 5,338

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

Warnings: Swearing, descriptions of torture.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I believe it was Devon.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[cornfields-and-bad-dreams]

I'm gonna try this again. If anyone has a request or an idea they'd like me to do I'm all ears.

[rtscrobbles]

Don’t know if you get this but can you possibly do #17 (“Bite me”) with Michael?? (if you don’t write for Michael, Ryan or any other Lad would be top) Happy to see you writing again! 💖💖

I'm going to make this gta!au because I feel like it fits better for Michael.

You were invited to stay in the penthouse with the infamous criminals of Los Santos. You weren't so innocent yourself though, you helped them cover most of their tracks and gave them leads. You were highly regarded, and very much so protected as a gratitude gift. You were greeted by the bickering of familiar voices as you stepped foot out of your room.

"Oh come on, I won that!" You heard Jeremy whine, you could see that they were playing cards. You couldn't help but roll your eyes. These criminals were actually children. "No, I clearly did!" Michael retorts, shoving his cards on the table with defeat.

"Seriously?" You speak up, as much as you liked the entertainment, it just wasn't something you wanted to wake up to. Michael turned around to face you, "Oh bite me Y/N!"

"Yeah? Maybe later if you're lucky." You smirk, making your way towards the kitchen where the sound of hollering was all but behind you.

[geeky-edit]

Fahc 2-10

[damnyn-blog]

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

Aw, thanks!

159-  “Didn’t you read the sign?”

AO3

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What is it?” I asked.

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

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

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

[aplaceforrtprompts]

Festive prompts #5 & 6 with the Vagabond?

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

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

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

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

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

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

[rosegoldachievement]

Where Good Girls Go To Die (Chapter 3)

pairing: fahc x reader

word count: 2,316

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

Chapter Three: Bittersweet

Later that night, you had found yourself being pulled out of your slumber by a phone going off. With still closed eyes, you mindlessly extended your hand and brushed it along the surface of the end table. As your phone continued to send its cry for attention out into the open air, you found yourself changing your technique to a patting motion. Finally, the texture underneath your fingertips changed as you found your phone. The rather cold phone case made you grown but miraculously, you managed to accept the call and press the phone to your ear before time ran out.

“Y/n?” Jeremy’s voice broke through the speaker. You quickly retracted the phone from your ear and forced open your eyelids to read the caller ID. Once you got confirmation that it was indeed Jeremy on the other end of the line, you allowed your eyes to rest again. You let out a small noise of acknowledgement as a response. “Hey, I’m just checking in. I got kind of worried that you didn’t text me after work like you said you would.”

The afternoon of your re-connection with Jeremy, you had sent him a message so he had your number. This sparked a conversation between the two of you, and it had been carried over into the past couple of days. In a way it was weird, the rekindled friendship of the two of you. Sometimes, the two of you acted like the relationship you had was totally new. Which, it technically was, neither of you were the same people as you were before. But, there was still that sense of familiarity in the way you spoke to each other, the way that either of you would somehow bring up an old joke like it happened yesterday. And for some reason, you hated it.

The night previous you had mentioned you were starting your new job in the morning and Jeremy insisted that you text him when you get home to tell him all about it. You agreed and after telling him your shift hours, you went to sleep. Because of all of the commotion this morning, you completely forgot this promise.

“Sorry Jeremy. Today was just...” You trailed off in an attempt to figure out how to explain the day’s events. Luckily, the amount of brain power needed to do this task woke you up slightly. “A long day.”

“Is that still code for ‘today’s been shit’?” Your lack of reply to this question made Jeremy’s tone of voice change. “That bad, huh?” You wouldn’t consider yourself as a optimist, but you were admittedly more calm about the situation than when it first happened. Your time at the station gave you time to reflect on how lucky you were that you, or anyone else, wasn’t dead from the interaction.  But, that goes to say that this day was far from the best in your life.

“Yeah, it was pretty rough.”

“Did your boss chew you out or something? Where did you even get a job at, anyway?” You sat up in your bed and leaned yourself against the headboard, fully aware that this conversation was not going to end anytime soon.

“Pacific Standard Public Deposit Bank.” You expected Jeremy to bring the conversation to how you followed your father’s footsteps. Silence seemed to pass through the speaker for a moment before Jeremy spoke up.

“You were at the robbery.;;”

“How do you know about the robbery?” You heard Jeremy shift his body, the distant sound of sheets being ruffled filled the speaker.

“I saw it on the news. Are you okay?” Concern was evident in his voice. “I’m so sorry that happened to you, Y/n-”

“Jeremy, relax. I’m alright, I promise. I’m not going to lie to you, I was apart of a hostage situation but I’m okay. I’m sorry for not calling you, I came home and immediately fell asleep.” You attempted to convince him that you were indeed fine with today’s previous events.

“Alright, I want to take your word for it but I’m still worried about you. When you said you moved here, I suspected that you would run into crime. Hell, it’s impossible not to in this fucking city, but I didn’t think it would be so soon…” A beat of silence came between the two of you before Jeremy spoke up in a more positive tone.  “If you’re comfortable enough to go out tonight, maybe I can show you one of the places that makes Los Santos worth it?” You had to admit, ever since you had ran into Jeremy, you wanted to hang out with him again and hopefully this could be what was needed to end your horrible day on a good note. Jeremy was the type of person that had a carefree aura around him, which allowed whoever he was with to feel it too.

“Yeah, I’m feeling okay enough to go out.”

“Nice! Text me your address and I’ll be there in a little bit, okay?” You could envision the smile on his face as he said this.

“Will do. See you in a little bit, bye Jeremy.” With this you hung up and managed to force yourself out of bed. You sent him a text with your address and tossed your phone onto your bed. Your bedroom was still a mess, but luckily your clothes were all unpacked and put away in the closet. After rummaging around for something decent to wear, you finally settled on a hoodie, jeans, and sneakers.

It wasn’t long until you had received a text from Jeremy, saying that he was outside. You patted your pockets, making sure you had everything before heading downstairs to join him. Once you slipped out of the front doors of your apartment complex, you noticed a royal purple Pariah sitting in front of the sidewalk. Before you could text Jeremy for confirmation, the passenger door opened to reveal him leaning over from the driver’s seat.

“Need a ride?” He asked, then shifted back into his seat. You only chuckled at this and walked over to the car. After you had climbed into the car and shut the door, you put on your seatbelt. The familiar feeling of comfort settled into your bones.

“Never thought I’d see you driving a sports car.” You hummed as he began to drive out of the parking lot.

“It’s no Big Blue, but it works.” You smiled at the reference to Jeremy’s rusted powder blue pick up truck, the one he received on his sixteenth birthday that drove you and him across every inch of your hometown. You found yourself looking out of the window next to you, focusing on the way that the buildings basked in neon colors of the city. “That reminds me, how’s everyone at home?”

“Anyone in particular you want to know about?” You could faintly hear Jeremy’s fingers tap against the steering wheel.

“How about the old troop?” Throughout most of your childhood, you and Jeremy were considered the dynamic duo but sometime around the second year of high school, the two of you formed a small friend group.

“Mark is still trying to do that archery thing and Edger managed to get a job as a stablehand a few towns over. Taylor and I haven’t talked since she got married. I heard she gave birth to a baby boy last May. Anyone else?” “My parents?” You tried to hide the shock on your face when he said this. You couldn’t fathom the fact that Jeremy hadn’t had some sort of contact with his family for the last few years.

“They’re okay. I honestly don’t see them all that often, but sometimes your mom will say hi if we cross paths at the market.” You answered truthfully. Upon saying this, questions began to appear in your brain. The overarching theme of Jeremy’s absence seemed to be prominent in each one. As much as you wanted to ask him all of them, you opted to stay quiet, not wanting to come off as the bitter friend who assumed was left behind. Once you opened your mouth to continue the conversation and bring it to a different topic, Jeremy parked the car. The two of you got out of the car and you were instantly met with the smell of salt water filling your nose.

“Welcome to Del Perro Pier.” In front of you sat a boardwalk overlooking the beach. Various amenities and amusement park rides covered a section that protruded out into the water. Just as Jeremy had said, a large red sign with blinking yellow lights read Del Perro Pier. You turned to Jeremy with a teasing smile.

“This is what makes Los Santos worth wild?”

“Give it a chance.” He remarked as he began to go up the ramp to the boardwalk. You followed, eventually falling back into step with him. You had to admit, the concept of the beach was very compelling to you. Growing up, the only large body of water within radiance of your home was the town lake. There was something euphoric about swimming in the lake on a nice hot summer day but since it was the only swimming spot in town, it was hard to enjoy it with the amount of people that often inhabited it. You and Jeremy walked towards the portion of the pier that stretches over the ocean, various shops and carnival games were lined up on either side of you. Jeremy paused, causing you to do the same.

Jeremy’s mouth opened to say something, but your attention was focused on the booth behind him. Nested onto the shelf fixated on the sidewall sat a collection of stuffed bears, all arranged by the color of their fur. Tied around each one of their necks was a crimson colored ribbon. Jeremy must have noticed, because he turned his head to see behind him before looking back at you.

“Let me guess, you want one of the bears?” He chuckled. You shrugged and a shy smile came across your face.

“A little, yeah.” Jeremy turned around and approached the booth in which you had eyed up. You followed, fully prepared to give the game your all. But, to your surprise, Jeremy placed down the cash that was required before casting you a smile.

“I got this.” He insisted. The man in the booth accepted the money and begun to explain the game. Behind him stood a mock shooting gallery that had zombie animatronics. The goal of the game was when the zombie’s eyes glowed bright blue, the person with the cork gun would send a cork into the large target on the zombie’s chest. He handed Jeremy the cork gun and got out of the way by standing on the side of the gallery.

“Ready?” The guy asked, which earned a nod from Jeremy. The man pressed a button on the booth’s wall, which activated the zombies. You watched in awe as Jeremy’s focus snapped to zombie after zombie as their eyes changed, hitting them perfectly in the center of the zombie each time. It was strange to see him so comfortable holding something that resembled a gun, but you chose not to think about it too much.

A loud buzzing sound could be heard after roughly three minutes, signaling the end of the game. Jeremy placed the cork gun on the counter of the booth. The game manager then went around, examining the glowing red areas where Jeremy had hit the zombies.

“Good job, dude. Perfect score.” He congratulated Jeremy, who only smiled broadly. “Pick any prize you want.” Jeremy looked towards you, indicating that the choice was yours. Your eyes locked upon a caramel colored stuffed bear and pointed at it.

“Can we have that one, please?” You asked. The man nodded and retrieve the bear. He handed it to you and thanked you guys for playing. After wishing him a good day, you and Jeremy walked away to find something else to do.

After riding the ferris wheel and practically being blackmailed onto a roller coaster called the Leviathan, you and Jeremy decided to get ice cream to end your night out. The two of you sat at one of the circular tables outside of the ice cream shop, chatting about anything that sparked your interest. With the stuffed bear he had won you sitting on your lap, you put another spoonful of the (favorite flavor) ice cream into your mouth.

“So, how was it. Did Pleasure Pier live up to the hype?” Jeremy asked. You shrugged lightly, making sure the food in your mouth had vanished before you answered.

“It was nice.”

“Just ‘nice’? C’mon, this place is the bomb!” You laughed at his words.

“I’m a big fan of the concept that it’s who you’re with and not the place that make it a good situation.” Jeremy’s eyebrows furrowed as he pointed his spoon towards you.

“Take your sappy bullshit,” He then moved the utensil to point in another direction. “And take it somewhere else.” A warmth resonated inside of you, this was definitely the Jeremy you had come to love. Nethertheless, you rolled your eyes at his reaction and shot back a protest.

“That was only, like, not even five percent sap.”

“So, you admit it had some sap?”

“Anyway,” You chose to ignore his question. “Thanks for taking me out, Jeremy.” The robbery seemed like it happens months prior now, even though it occurred only a few hours ago. The little outing he provided helped cease some of the tightness that still lingered in your chest when you were getting ready for Jeremy to pick you up.

“No problem, y/n.” The fluorescent light that was fixated on the wall behind him flickered once, covering him in a dark shadow before illuminating his features once more. “Anytime.”

[chezzkaa]

Dreaming pt 2

A/N: I was so overwhelmed with calls for a part two of Dreaming, so buckle in folks - you wanted it to get weird. 

Pairing: FAHC Ryan Haywood x Reader Day 15 of Fics Advent Calendar 2017. Read the others here

[Part One] [Part Three]

Wc: 625

I’m not sure I want to be a part of his story, not anymore.

I don’t want to hear the whispering worries tracing the contours of his body as blood soaks his shirt, don’t want to listen to the panic throbbing in my chest with the fear spun like the silk of his hair.

But I hear them because they’re screaming.

The carpet pushes between my toes before I realise that I’m moving. Clothing fibres catching on the stubble coating my legs while I pull on trackies, catching the wadded up shirt he tosses.

It’s riddled with holes, his fingers leaving bloody impressions on the collar.

I don’t complain, too busy careering into the bathroom and gathering the blade buried under the sink; tucking it into my pocket as the hair tie around my wrist snaps over my mess of hair.

Then my eyes fall on my throat as it stings with a flash, flesh now littered with scars resembling wounds, deep red blemishes hugging the curves carved by the bullet.

That shouldn’t have happened; it’s never happened before. But then again, I’ve never brought home the person whose dreams I plague. It’s a good night for firsts; the first time I’ve unintentionally visited a world so awake while I’m lost in sleep, the first time I’ve struggled to differentiate reality from the haunting of my mind.

The first time I’ve saved a man from a death he rightfully deserves.

They’re outside, yelling like sirens and barking orders at insubordinates. Voices charging my front door in time with their shoulders, house shaking with each attempt. The glass panes shake, rattling in fear as the wallpaper dulls the sound.

I don’t have time to break, but the bedroom window does. It shatters in glitter as I hurl a weighted candle through, the darkness alight with the fractured moon bouncing off the shards.

And then we’re moving again, a rush of air greeting our cheeks while we launch through, his hand taking mine as we plummet.

I barely hear him talking and instructing me to roll – I’m too busy drawing in a deep, resounding breath.

My feet hit the ground with a ripple long before his, grass shaking as the shockwaves whisper across the earth.

As I stand the world slows, bullets drifting lazily through the air and the voices of officers echoing like they’re trapped in water. The breeze stops as I watch the scene unfold, breath trapped in my lungs and barred behind ground teeth.

He’s still falling, eyes growing wide as I pluck the bullets ready to tear through his throat from the air. One after another.

As his knees come to brace I hurl the ammunition back at the men firing with all my might, body burning and begging for air as they cling in the open space, ready for my gasp.

I ignore his questions once my hand lands on his, breaking his stunted pace and bringing him into existence as the world continues to lazily spin.

I can’t risk another breath, not yet.

We’re running and I feel him resist, wanting to pull away from what he doesn’t understand. But he doesn’t.

He grips tighter and takes over as I stumble, deprived of life until I’m in his arms on the street.

And then I take a breath.

The world speeds up, sirens breaking through the water logging them down, confusion overwhelming the cries of officers sliced with their own bullets.

I dethatch from him, pressing my bare feet into the asphalt as the rain dwindles into nothing, lungs thankful for air. He doesn’t move as I keep walking, regaining my balance as the cold seeps in and his attackers continue chasing daydreams.

“C’mon Ryan, the Fakes are looking for you.”

[noelenough]

Rating: Explicit

Archive Warning: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Category: F/M

Additional Tags: Drugs; Violence; Torture; Implied/Referenced Torture; Aftermath of Torture; Scars; Alternate Universe - Grand Theft Auto Setting

Language: English

[rt-reader-inserts]

Can you do a TSF with FAHC Michael giving the reader a kind of pep talk before the reader's first heist with the crew?

(Enjoy xx)

“Hey. Hey, Y/N, look at me.” When Michael’s voice failed to make you raise your eyes to meet his, so he reached out to lift your chin with his hand.

“It’s just - what if I fuck it up? What if it’s my fault it fails? What if someone fucking dies because of me, Michael?” Tears collected in the corners of your eyes and you willed them to not spill onto your cheeks.

“Trust me, you wouldn’t be coming along if you were in any way a liability to the crew. It’s an easy job and you’ll be great - you’re one of the best damn lookouts we’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting.” He pulled you into a tight hug and you let the tears fall freely, letting it all out before Jack called out for you and Michael.

[5lbsofsmarties]

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

Word Count: 352

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you.”

[rtscrobbles]

Fahc Michael x civilian reader where she's super sweet and girly and he introduces her to the lifestyle / the guys? I'd love as well Jeremy being like her bestie or Geoff practically adopting her but whatever is good with you works for me xxxxxx

MORE DAD GEOFF (my weakness)

   “Hey guys, this is my girlfriend Y/N. We’ve been dating for a little while and thought that it would be nice if she could meet the crew,” Michael explains himself, you grip his hand anxiously while the other sweeps matted hair from your forehead. You smile at the group of men staring at you, for once, not gawking like most guys do. 

  “Aww that’s sweet! Does she know…?” Jeremy perks up suggestively.

“About you guys being grand heisters? Of course I do!” You giggle, you could feel the tension in the room relax. “Ah, so you’re not freaked out by the fact that we kill people? We’re literally a parents’ worst nightmare for their child to be associated with!”

  “That’s the thing that makes this easy - I never knew my birth-parents. I’ve moved around a lot from family members to other family members. I was kind of the a-typical reckless teenage type so no-one knew how to handle me. Which is why I guess I hope to get along with you guys since I kind of understand.” 

   “You don’t understand a thing. You won’t ever understand a thing. About us, about the crew and what we do. You’ll never fucking understand,” The scrawny figure, laced with tattoos and hands clutched around a whiskey, speaks up.

“Don’t worry about him,” Michael murmurs into your ear “He’s drunk most of the time… and he’s our boss.”

“Geoff?” You whisper, Michael gives you a confirmation nod.

“Don’t talk about me behind my back, fuckers!” 

Two years ago you were introduced to the crew and two years ago your life improved seamlessly for the better. You, Gavin and Jeremy were playing blackjack on the coffee table with stacks on money on the table, which all started from a stupid bet between you and Jeremy since you mentioned how ace you were at blackjack. 

  “Annnd bingo!” You lay out your cards on the table for all to see. 

“God damn it!” Jeremy groans banging his fist on the table, letting his hand go. You smirk, gathering up the thousands of dollars. “Mine. All mineee,” You rub in to the two losers sitting on either side of you. 

“I let you win,” Gavin proclaims.

“Aha sure. Wanna go for round two?”

“Nope!” Jeremy hops out of his chair just as Geoff and Michael walk in with bags of groceries. You’d think with being millionaires and all, they’d just get their assistant to do all the shopping for them but nope. It seemed that the crew enjoyed doing civilian chores every once in a while. 

 “Hey Babe,” Michael drops the bags on the counter of the kitchen and skips over to you, kissing you on the cheek.  “Gross. Can’t you guys go get a room or something?” Geoff pretended to sound disgusted.

“Nah,” Michael responds, his eyes darting to the money in front of you. “You win again?”

“Damn right! I’m paying for our next date and all the make-up I want,” You grin. You never really had the luxury of buying high-brand make-up and now all your wishes came true, but you also gave back by donating to local rescue shelters and charities. 

  “Aww babe you know I could do that for you anytime if you asked.”

“I know but I like doing things myself, you know?” 

The rest of the night was spent on Geoff splurging at an expensive nightclub and laughing at Gavin’s drunk dance moves. While everyone was getting wasted, you were observing them. They all seemed like polar opposites of themselves, but drunk or sober, they were all very sweet and caring towards you. 

 “Hey, can I talk to you outside?” Geoff elbows you gently, a bottle of whiskey clutched in his hand. “Lead the way!” You follow Geoff outside to an alleyway behind the nightclub. 

“I didn’t want to ask you this in front of the guys and Michael but how would you feel about joining the crew? I consider you my daughter and Michael has been begging me for months to get you into the crew, saying you could help us on heists or whatever. I understand if you don’t want to though, it’s a dangerous job and it isn’t exactly covered by insurance and I know I probably didn’t give you a good first impression when Michael first bought you home..” Geoff rambles, you couldn’t help but give a soft laugh and smile.

“I’d be honoured to join the crew, Dad. Only on one condition.”

“Sure.”

“My uniform is heels and I get to wear a fuck-tone of makeup and I get paid in lingerie,”

“Deal. But Michael can get you the lingerie, I don’t want to even have that image in my head. Anyways, should we head back inside?” 

Inside, the party was still going. Jeremy found you and pulled you to the dance floor where you both danced and danced until your heels hurt. 

You wouldn’t have life any other way.

[legendoffae]

I found this in my notes from February of last year and like??? Why did I ever stop writing for this one???? I liked how it started...