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be-ready-when-i-say-go · 4 years

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Okay what about going to the pumpkin patch and carving them with Calum

I can do that. Reader Insert. No gender or race.

Halloween blurb night going until 8PM PDT. Writing for Shawn Mendes, 5sos, Harry Styles and FAHC.

See the Halloween Blurb Night Masterlist.

Enjoy my complete masterlist.

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The air is crisp but not too cool as you sit out in the backyard. Your cup of tea is still steaming. Calum’s mug of coffee is creating small tufts of clouds as its own warmth escapes it into the cooler air. The beanie on Calum’s head is low and covers his forehead and ears as he stands, green bag in hand and tying it close. Duke trots up to the door that leads back inside. The thud of the garbage bin top hardly disrupts the call of the birds flying over head.

“Halloween’s soon. Want to do something?” Calum asks after going inside to wash his hands and settling back down next to you. After the mugs are emptied, the two of you will take Duke for a walk and then the rest of the day will be all to yourself.

You shrug. “Like should we throw a party?”

“Believe me when I say there are plenty of others that have that covered. But possibly a pumpkin carving? Just us? I dunno. Or a group if you want.”

“The patch in town’s probably got slim pickings now.”

“I know about one a little further out that Luke told me about. He and Sierra went to the one close by and said there wasn’t much left to it either.”

“I’d be down for a road trip,” you agree before taking another sip from your mug. The tea’s still warm enough that the moment it touches your tongue you recoil slightly. “Gagh!” you exclaim.

Calum chuckles from next to you. “Patience, young grasshopper.” He digs in the tease by taking a pointed sip of coffee.

“Curse your burnt nerve endings.”

Your walk with Duke is nice. Most of the neighborhood hasn’t waken up yet. It’s early and the sun’s hardly turned the sky a hazy pink to signal the start of the day. As Duke pulls a little on the leash, his nose dug brushing the base of a bush as if something is wrong, Calum makes a quip about being a better pumpkin carver than you.

“That’s a lot of talk there,” you laugh, gazing up into the more normal sky. The sun’s climbed out more from the horizon, the sky it’s bright blue. “Put your money where your mouth is?” you asks.

“You the betting type?”

“Against you, Hood? Any day of the week. But we need to find out who’s judging?”

“Poll on IG. Let the public decide,” Calum returns.

“Fine by me.” The three of you soon start back up and then loop back around to the house. The scents are as new this time around as on the initial loop. Duke is content just to trot along. Back home, you shower and change. You find that it’s at least an hour and half drive so while Calum gets ready, you decide to put together a little basket with some snacks and something for lunch.

“Having a picnic too?” Calum asks as he slips into his leather jacket, noticing the basket in your head.

“Just some snacks. In case.”

He kisses the center of your forehead. “Snacks are always important.”

The two of you discuss what’s the best shape of pumpkin to get and what ideas you have. Though the conversation slowly fizzles out and the twinges of the guitars swell around you from the radio. Gazing out of the window you watch the buildings pass by you. It’s all stationary. All unmoving but somehow constantly moving forward too. And maybe that’s just you. Maybe that’s just you constantly moving forward and like from the window of the car it all seems to be moving with you.

A hand settles into your knee and without thinking you wrap your fingers around Calum’s hand. His thumb brushes along the skin of your hands and it’s just comfort--that’s all you can describe it as as the world stays and you move and Calum rubs and your hand.

Calum takes your hand as you walk into the patch itself. There are more pumpkins that you anticipated being left but you can still some haven’t weathered the test of time too well. Calum spies a pretty decent looking section and tugs on your hand before nodding in that direction. You follow behind him. Pausing him only once to show him the teeny tiny pumpkins. He laughs at the way you pout.

“Go on. Grab one,” he encourages and you zip off to grab the most robust looking one of the tiny ones. It fits all too well in the grip of your curled palm and you finally come to the section Calum noticed.

You turn over pumpkin, pressing inspecting them and trying to envision your design onto it. Calum goes off a little ways, not too far but he too is inspect his choices. You find one that’s tall enough to handle the idea you had for a little cartoon like ghost on the pumpkin and still have some width to it. Clutching your pumpkin close you set the tiny one on top and trot over to Calum, who’s crouched now, tracing over a pumpkin with his fingers. It looks like he’s spelling out something, but you can’t be sure.

“That’s a thinkin’ face if I ever seen one,” you tease.

He looks up, the sun casting the perfect glow around you and the fly aways of your hair. “Yeah thinking of all the ways I can kick your ass carving this pumpkin.”

You scoff. “You don’t have a tiny one. Clearly, two pumpkins are better than one.”

He laughs. “Clearly.”

“Can we stop by a craft store too? I don’t think we have paints at the house and I have an idea that involves painting the tiny one.”

“Yeah, we can make a stop.” Calum places the pumpkin back onto it’s bottom and searches around for another moment. He spies another one that he thinks might be wide enough for his plan. He stands with a small grunt and throws a pointed finger up at you. “Not a peep.”

You roll your lips together to keep the snicker at bay and trot behind him as he carries on and squats yet again at another potential canvas of the squash variety. He traces again with his finger and you watch out over the patch to take in the sounds of some children and possibly teens laughing. Their smiles are big as they survey their pumpkin pickings.

“Alright, you all set?”

“Been set,” you return still watching the young group pick up pumpkins to each the group.

After paying for your pumpkins you set them into the trunk and Calum pulls out the basket. There are some benches right on the edge of the makeshift public lot and Calum suggest a small reprieve to munch on the snacks you packed. Though the food break is short, you enjoy taking the moment just to sneak jelly onto the tip of Calum’s nose.

“Hey!” he calls out with a laugh. He scrunches his nose and face up when you stretch across and lick it off. “You’re disgusting.”

“And you taste like grape jelly.”

Back home, with pumpkin carving sets and paints spread out on the table in the backyard, and old newspapers from the local gas station covering the table, the two of you set out to cut open, deseed, and carve your pumpkins. You sit across from Calum and can only see the way his tongue peeks out from his lips as he takes the sharpie carefully over the ridges and bumps of the pumpkin.

You cut open and pulled out the seeds to the big one but switched to painting your tiny pumpkin first so it could try while you wrestled with your actual carving. The little witches hat is perfect on the tiny one and you set it off the side before exhaling and turning to you big on.

“Scared now? Got you shakin’ in your boots, I reckon. Going up against a professional.” Calum grins, driving the tiny saw into the rind. His sleeves that he previously rolled up are starting to slip.

“You wish. I’m exhaling because I know you want to, but you’re too scared to show that I’m getting into your head.”

Calum pauses, eyebrow raised but you’ve turned attention back to your carving. And it’s true. You are in his head. But not the way you think and the shakes come back. They first started in the pumpkin patch. He was going to stick with you until you picked yours but he needed a moment to breathe. His plan would work. It would all work out. You two had been dating for three years at this point. You had moved in with him. You two had worked out so that you’d spend Christmas one year with your family and the other with his--but you always made sure on the years that you spent Christmas with your family, that you spend News Years with Joy and David in Australia.

You coming home for the holidays, or Calum coming home with you weren’t even a point of discussion--in that it was a big deal. Everyone’s family just knew. Where one of you was, the other wouldn’t be far behind. And it all just fucking worked out. So this would too.

You giggle to yourself, setting the tiny pumpkin into the tiny whole you made so that the hat lines up perfectly onto of your cartoon ghost who’s smiling and there’s a tiny speech bubble with “Trick or treat.” It’s such a silly design but you’re so proud of it, even if your finger are covered in black paint and smell like pumpkin guts.

“Totally kicking your ass, Hood.”

He scoffs. “I doubt it.” He looks at his pumpkin. He couldn’t go with the full design--he needed two pumpkins he realized when he got the patch. He couldn’t get two big ones it would be too suspicious. But the tiny ring he might’ve butchered attempting to carve it with his lack of art skills but it’s not terrible. The question is still legible and that’s the most important.

You put in a tiny tea light and watch the ghost flicker and hand one over to Calum too. “Done?”

“Not quite.”

“Okay. I’m just going to start cleaning up a little bit.” The newspaper holding the pumpkin guts is thankfully layered a few times so it doesn’t make a huge mess as you walk over to the garbage can. You take the hose to try and get the paint off but you efforts will work best with soap and water.

As you settle back down at your side of the table you take a picture of it and watch the way Calum fidgets across from you. “You okay? What’s going on?”

Calum really is a do-or-die situation. He’s already got the pumpkin carved. He just needs to ask. “Not-nothing. It’s okay. I’m done now.” He looks up to you with a tiny smile. It wavers for a second but he continues on before you can ask again. “Reveal on the count of three.”

“Yeah. One.”

“Two.”

“Three,” you two say together and spin the pumpkins around. You hear Duke’s small bark and check for a second but he’s off in the corner tussling with one of his toys and your turn your attention back to the task at hand.

As you turn back around there’s tiny ring box sitting next to Calum’s pumpkin. Open to a gold band. It’s ornate but still simple without being overly decorated with gems. Marry me? is carved into the pumpkin. You gasps looking up to find Calum and he’s hand settles onto your knees, bringing your attention to your side. The tears blur his face for just a moment.

“I know you hate too much attention and even the thought of asking this in some stuffy overpriced restaurant wasn’t ideal for me either. But we’ve had a really great three years. And I love you. I don’t know how else to say it is. I want as many years with you as you’ll give me. So, will you marry me?”

You nod before your teeth, tongue and lips and push out the word, “Yes.” Once you can speak, you chant yes over and over even as Calum slips the ring onto your ring and you slip down out of your chair to burrow your face into his chest. “Oh my god, yes. I’d be so honored to marry you,” you exhale bringing your head up to gaze at him. “So, so honored.”

The kiss is soft and short and you both giggle into you. “My ghost pumpkin seems so stupid now.”

“Your witch ghost is so cute. And thank you. For allowing me into your life.”

#calum hood #calum hood fluff #calum hood imagine #calum hood x reader #calum hood x reader insert #calum hood blurb #5sos #5sos blurb #5sos fluff #5sos imagine #h writes #halloween blurb night 2020 #asks #answered #anon

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miss-ingno · 4 years

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Soft As Silk

Fandom: ragehappy, fahc Ship: one-sided Fiona/Lindsay (aka Fiona got a ~crush) Words: 3.1k Tags: immortal fahc, noir au, 20s fahc, Terms’verse, selkie!Fiona, phoenix!Lindsay, more hints at what Gavin’s deal is, speakeasies, illegal drugs and alcohol

Summary: Fiona joins the Fakes in 1920s Los Santos.

A/N: written for @fionaweek. I used a lot of only lightly researched 20s slang, there'll be a list of translations at the end (in order of appearance).

Read here on Ao3 or Patreon.

***

Ramsey's speakeasy was the place to be in town if you wanted some fun. Even Fiona knew this, as new to this shore as she was. Tonight was her first time downstairs, however, having been twirled across the dancefloor by the blond Brit with the sharp eyes two nights in a row. He was fun, always a proper gentleman about it, and they'd talked about their respective homelands with thinly veiled nostalgia.

But not tonight.

Tonight, he'd approached her the minute she entered, all gallant bows and banter, ushering her to a corner table not far from the dancefloor. The tables to either side were crowded, not so subtly checking the corner table on the regular, envy writ large across faces. Someone was holding court at that table, and while no one dared come close uninvited, they watched those who did with rapture.

Like Fiona, on the arm of the blond Brit.

The crowd and curious onlookers parted for him, marking him as someone well-known in these circles. Fiona’s gaze wandered over the people sitting at the table, heart beating too fast. A part of her expected Ramsey to be the one holding court, but as they stepped up, the woman sitting across from them turned away from her neighbour, conversation petering off.

Fiona’s breath caught.

The woman was simply stunning. She was wearing a red flapper dress with layers of fringe that went from a deep orange to a yellow so bright it was almost white, with gold beading peeking out from under the strings whenever she shifted. White opera gloves wrapped her arms to the elbows in gleaming satin. None of those details mattered, however, compared to the brilliant smile that took Fiona’s breath away.

She had seen the sort of beauty that men went to war for, having spent most of her teenage years in the Aegean sea. The woman met her gaze with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes, and Fiona finally understood why the Greeks had been so obsessed with Helen of Troy.

“Here you go, doll,” the blond Brit said, pulling out a chair for Fiona. A sharp retort sat on the tip of her tongue, but before she could rejoin, the woman already answered, making Fiona realize the Brit hadn’t been talking to her.

“Thanks, sweetheart,” she drawled, her voice deeper than Fiona had expected. She folded her gloved hands under her chin, eyeing Fiona up and down. Fiona quirked an eyebrow in return.

“You wanted to see me, Ma’am?”

That pretty mouth quirked into a grin, eyes hooded as she watched Fiona. “Of course, darlin’. Wouldn’t have invited you if I didn’t.”

"Of course," Fiona agreed, crossing her arms on top of the table. "I assume I'm supposed to know who you are?"

Next to her, the Brit choked on his drink.

"Possibly." The woman laughed, the honest kind that came from deep within. She held out her hand across the table. "Hi. Lindsay Tuggey."

"Fiona Nova," she returned, shaking Lindsay's hand. "Nice to meet you. I think."

"So," Lindsay said, leaning back and eyeing Fiona over her own drink, bracelets clinking against the glass. "What brings you to our beautiful corner of this world?"

Fiona shrugged one shoulder casually, her silver-grey stole shifting, turning the motion almost supernaturally fluid. She was wearing a simple, black flapper dress with pearl earrings, accentuated by the wavy bob haircut. Lindsay's eyes traced up the stole to the earrings, eyebrows rising ever so slightly.

"I was bored, to be quite honest," she quipped, meeting Lindsay's eyes. "I hear there's fun to be had here."

"Depends on what you call fun," Lindsay drawled, a wide smirk spreading across her lips. Her eyes flickered to her earrings and back. "Fancy jewelry you got there." She let her gaze dip down to Fiona's coat curled around her shoulders like fur before slowly dragging her eyes back up. "Very… unique."

Recognition glittered in her eyes, and Fiona tensed at the implication, one hand rising to lay on her coat. But she caught herself, smoothly redirecting her hand to gesture to the pearls.

"Oh these?" Her laughter sounded forced even to her own ears. "Ah, non. They're faux, I'm afraid. Fake. But don't they look just like the real thing?"

"Just so," Lindsay murmured, quirking an eyebrow, before letting it pass. Her eyes lingered on Fiona’s stole a moment longer, making the hairs on Fiona’s neck stand up. But before she could decide whether or not to leave, Lindsay favoured her with a sharp smile and continued, “I have a proposition for you.”

“Oh?” Fiona eyed her warily, shooting a quick glance at the Brit next to her, who was acting bored but used the pretense to keep an eye on the crowd.

“Indeed.” Lindsay pulled out a thin case of cigarettes, setting one into an elegant, black holder. Gaze locked with Fiona, Lindsay flicked the end with her pointer finger, a flame bursting from the tip, there and gone again. No one else seemed to notice the small display of the extraordinary.

Lindsay pulled, blowing small, delicate rings of smoke before offering the whole thing to Fiona. Fiona took it gingerly, trying not to grimace at the taste.

“What sort of proposition?”

“Well,” Lindsay drawled, taking the fag back and gesturing lazily with it. Her gaze wandered pointedly across the crowd, eagerly pressing close to listen in. “That depends entirely on your definition of ‘fun’.”

Lindsay shot her an exaggerated wink, and Fiona swore her heart skipped a beat.

“Gavin, be a dear and show our friend around, hm?”

The Brit glanced at her quickly, before turning to Lindsay. “She on the up and up?”

“Pos-i-lute-ly,” Lindsay drawled, and Fiona choked on a laugh. Now that was some silly slang she hadn’t come across yet.

“Darb,” the Brit - Gavin - responded, pushing his chair back and standing up. He held out his arm for Fiona like a gentleman, and with one last searching look at Lindsay, Fiona took it.

“You’re staying here?” Fiona couldn’t help but ask.

Lindsay shrugged, gesturing at the other people sitting at the table, pretending hard they weren’t listening. “Gotta punch the bag some more. I’ll be down later.”

***

Downstairs turned out to be much quieter than the above club. The music was just as loud, but nobody was dancing. A game of poker took place at one of the tables, gentlemen of various ages and states of dress smoking cigars. They each had a glass of bootleg at their elbow, talking in low voices while eyeing each other up like sharks. Ramsey sat amongst them, tie loose around his neck and shirt rolled up to the elbows. His face was the most expressive amongst the players, mustache quivering with rage and eyes crinkling with laughter in turn.

Along the short wall of the room stood a bar, the red-headed bartender cleaning glasses and talking to two customers seated on the stools. He caught Fiona’s gaze across the room, his welcoming smile almost hidden in his bushy beard.

Several stools apart sat a kid in his late teens, huddling in a purple sweater, the only one not dolled up in the entire establishment. Fiona caught a glimpse of little bags of dope he shoved into a messenger bag, and she couldn’t help but wonder if he worked for Ramsey. Something flickered around the edges of him, something slightly off in the way the light caught his glasses. Fiona shivered, unable to look at him long.

Instead, her gaze was caught by a flash of red eyes from the corner behind the kid.

“Don’t worry about him, doll,” Gavin murmured as he tucked her towards the bar. Fiona kept an eye on the vampire regardless. “He’s not here to hurt nobody, promise.”

“Oh yeah, tell it to Sweeney,” Fiona snorted, but let herself be led away.

Gavin just shrugged. “He’s crew.”

The bartender extricated himself from the other two clients as they approached, giving Gavin a nod and Fiona a questioning look. If Fiona didn’t know better, she’d say he was a selkie, too, with his broad stature and nice, round belly. He reminded her of her aunt, she thought, he had that same sort of calm aura.

“Two of your best, Jack,” Gavin ordered, settling onto a stool. Fiona mirrored him.

“Sure thing,” the bartender - Jack, replied, turning to Fiona, “Anything you like in particular?”

“You got any ginger gin?” Fiona quipped, because Jack was a ginger and the local gin mill, apparently.

Jack let out a belly-deep laugh. “You’d get along fine with Jeremy.”

He handed them two tumblers of moonshine, and Fiona took a careful sip. It tasted strongly of peaches, but not in a bad way. She clinked her glass with Gavin’s before taking another swig. “Cheers.”

They ambled over to the poker table. The gentlemen tipped their hats at them, puffing on their cigars. They were wearing suits, ties and vests, though most of them had lost the jacket at some point. Gavin pulled a chair for her, and Fiona blew him a kiss in thanks.

“Deal me in, fellas.”

“There’s some heavy sugar riding on this, Jane,” one of the men piped up, watching her from under the brim of his fedora. “You sure you can keep up?”

Fiona opened her mouth, a retort on the tip of her tongue, but Ramsey waved them off. “I’ll put up her ante.”

“And here I thought she was the limey’s moll!” The men roared in laughter, but Ramsey just quirked a brow as he dealt her in.

“He didn’t even offer to take her coat, Flynt, I don’t know what you expected,” another razzed the first man, or perhaps the joke was directed at Gavin.

“You want beef, old man?” Fiona challenged them both, narrowing her eyes.

Flynt held up his hand, laughing. “Nah, doll, we’re good. Some of us have seen a stole before, it’s all the rage with the dames these days, Sloth.”

They continued bickering while Fiona tugged her coat tighter around her shoulders, meeting Ramsey’s observant gaze.

“Well, fellas? Are we starting or am I playing with pikers?” she taunted, which they denied immediately and with much shouting.

Needless to say, she took great pleasure in taking them for what they were worth. Ramsey didn’t lose the smirk once as he watched her making them eat their words. But when she tried paying him back his dough, he held up his hands. With a calculating glance zozzled gangsters, he offered her his arm and walked her a ways away, Gavin trailing after them with her winnings in a bag.

“Why don’t you show up here tomorrow at noon? Let’s call it a favour for a favour.”

Fiona raised her brows because she wasn’t stupid, she heard what type of man Ramsey was. But then, she had been looking for something shiny to catch her eye, and Lindsay obviously worked for this man. As did the vampire, who had lurked in his corner all night. A curious crew.

“One favour,” she stipulated, and Ramsey barked out a laugh.

“Just the one,” he agreed, clasping her hand in a firm grip. They both knew she would be back more often than that, now that her curiosity was piqued.

***

Working for the Fakes turned out to be pretty fun, all told. They provided her with the goods and a gun to defend herself, and more importantly, the Fakes never went out alone. Her favourite jobs were the ones she was partnered with Gavin. He generally took care of negotiations and deals, and Fiona got to try out various roles like putting on different coats to see how they fit. The bored, rich doll, a baby vamp, the dumb Dora, or even taking a turn at talking herself, all of which made a great whoopee.

Especially when they stole Geoff’s swell Ford Roadster afterwards for a joyride.

They drove way past the speed limit, nearly crashing into oncoming traffic twice and got chased by a fuzzy on horse halfway across the city. Fiona couldn’t stop laughing, and Gavin’s giggles kept setting her off again every time she caught her breath. But they shook the fella off somewhere around the public park, so everything was jake.

They ended up on the pier with a basket of sandwiches and a bottle of giggle water between them, legs dangling above the water as they exchanged stories.

“Go chase yourself!” Fiona laughed after a particularly outrageous story that involved a bank heist and duck masks.

“It’s true!” Gavin insisted, unable to keep his giggles to himself as he gestured with the bottle. “I even got Ryan to wear one, swear on God and cross my heart!”

“The vamp?” Fiona questioned, nose wrinkling as she snatched the bottle back and took a swig herself. Gavin shot her a careful look.

“In some senses of that word, yes.”

“Bull,” she called, dodging as Gavin tried to swipe the bottle back. “There’s no way Mr. Stick-Up-His-Ass agreed to that.”

“Did too,” Gavin laughed, tackling her. She instinctively let go of the bottle to grab hold of her coat, and Gavin rolled off her with his prize, smirking. “So what’s your most fantastical tale?”

Fiona hummed, shrugging off her coat and shifting to sit on top of it, just to be sure. Gavin was watching her with too clever eyes, smirk slipping. He offered her the bottle back, like some sort of apology, but she wasn’t gonna say no to more midday booze.

“I used to have this fat pet rabbit. I called him Chungus.” She tilted her head back, letting the breeze brush over her skin. It smelt of sea salt mixed with the stink of oil.

“And?” Gavin leaned forward, clearly curious. Fiona smirked.

“And that’s it. That’s the craziest thing I’ve seen.”

Gavin sputtered and Fiona laughed, chucking the rest of the booze in one long gulp.

“Bushwa!” Gavin called, even as Fiona dangled the bottle upside down to prove its emptiness, her eyebrows dancing merrily. “I call bull! No way that’s the extent of your adventures.”

Fiona shrugged one shoulder, before pushing both of her fists to her cheeks, smushing her lips together. “It had cheeks like this. All chunky and adorable.”

“Bushwa,” Gavin repeated, pinching her cheek. Fiona batted her lashes at him.

“It was so cute, Gav! Just adorable!”

Laughing, Gavin snatched the empty bottle from her lap, twirling it between his idle fingers. “Okay, alright. Your craziest story, then.”

Fiona dropped her hands in her lap, humming thoughtfully. She stared out to the sea, listening to the waves crashing against the pier. It sounded different than the cliffs she was used to, but still soothingly familiar.

“You ever see a dame so beautiful you would drown for her?”

Gavin choked, the bottle tumbling from his fingers and landing with a splash in the murky waters below. Fiona thumped his back helpfully.

“Is this about your crush on Lindsay?” he finally sputtered, trying to slap her hand away. So rude.

“As if you don’t have a crush on her, too,” Fiona parried, sniffing haughtily. “As if anyone with eyes doesn’t have a crush on her, hello? Have you met Lindsay?”

“I mean, duh.” Gavin shook his head. “But I wouldn’t do that to my boi.”

“You mean Michael?” Fiona tilted her head, but she hadn’t seen Michael and Lindsay together yet. “He got a crush on her, too?”

Gavin shrugged. “They have… something. I don’t know. I won’t come between them, though.”

“Bummer,” Fiona murmured. She figured there was more to that story, because she could’ve wagered Gavin and Michael had a thing, instead. Or maybe too was the right word. Trying to lift the tension, she joked, “and here I thought I finally met a classy dame I had a chance with!”

Gavin elbowed her, so she shoved back. They squabbled for several moments, as if to make up for the serious mood they’ve fallen into. The playful slap fight turned into a tickle fight instead, until they both lay on the wooden pier, panting for breath.

“I met a siren once,” Gavin admitted, startling Fiona. She pushed up onto her elbows and watched him from the corner of her eyes. “Back when I was travelling by ship.”

When he fled Britain for the new world, she surmised. She wondered what happened, but knew better than to ask. Instead, she went for the more important question.

“Oh yeah? How come you’re still alive then?”

“Who says I survived?” Gavin mused with a faux philosophical air, turning a smirk her way. She slapped his elbow in retaliation. “‘Sides, maybe she fancied me.”

“Yeah, sure,” Fiona scoffed, flopping back down while Gavin sat up, pulling his legs under himself.

There was a familiar sort of longing in his eyes, the way he stared out at the sea. As if he didn’t belong on land. Fiona knew that feeling very well, and it made her curious. Gavin had seemed human to her from the first moment she met him, but he surrounded himself with people who were… more. Like Lindsay, or Michael, or the ghost that haunted their speakeasy slash headquarters. And apparently met a siren and lived to tell the tale.

“You wanna go for a swim?” Fiona asked, impulsively. Gavin blinked and turned to look at her.

“Here? At the docks?”

Fiona shrugged, the straps of her dress falling off her shoulders. “Where else?”

Without waiting for Gavin’s response, she shimmied out of her dress, kicking off her shoes and rolling the hose down her gams. Then while he was busy sputtering and blushing, she picked up her coat and ran for the edge of the pier, slipping the coat on just as she leapt.

Diving in a high arc, a seal splashed into the waters below.

When she resurfaced, Gavin was leaning over the pier, peering down at her. Fiona stared back, clapping her flappers against her tummy to make funny noises, then giggling to herself. Gavin just stared down at her, shocked. But before doubt could sneak in and make her second guess her decision to reveal herself, he started cooing, hearts visibly in his eyes.

“Oh my God! Look at you! You’re so cute!” He leaned down and reached out for her, and she bumped her nose against his fingers, making him squee. “Your fur’s so soft! Softer than silk! And your nose is wet! You’re so chubby, oh gosh!”

Fiona snickered, throwing herself around and splashing Gavin with her fin. The indignant squawk was worth it.

“Oh, you’re on!” Gavin yelped, and with another splash, he joined her in the water.

So worth it.

speakeasy - a bar selling illegal alcohol

doll, dame - woman

fag - cigarette

on the up and up - legitimate, honest

pos-i-lute-ly - affirmative, mixture of positive + absolutely

darb - great

punch the bag - small talk

bootleg - illegal alcohol

dope - drugs

tell it to Sweeney - tell it to someone who’ll believe you

gin mill - seller of hard liquor

moonshine - homebrewed whiskey

fella - guy

heavy sugar - a lot of money

Jane - any woman

limey - a British person

moll - someone’s girlfriend

razz - to make fun of, tease

beef - a problem

piker - coward

dough - money

zozzled - drunk

baby vamp - a pretty or popular woman (usually a student)

dumb Dora - an unintelligent woman

whoopee - wild fun, a good time

fuzzy - a cop on patrol

jake - fine (as in everything’s jake/fine)

giggle water - alcohol

Go chase yourself! - Get out of here!

bushwa - bullshit

gams - legs

#terms and conditions apply #ingno writes #ragehappy #fahc #immortal fahc #supernatural fahc #fake ah crew #immortal fake ah crew #supernatural fake ah crew #fiona nova appreciation week #fiona week #fiona nova week #fiona appreciation week #selkie!Fiona #fic rec #I missed this verse #this was fun to get back into it

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thefahc-motheringvampire · 4 years

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Okay so I accidentally deleted it, but @watchthe-queenconquer submitted an ask about Geoff and Jack adopting Gavin so he can’t get deported, in the same vein as my headcanon about them being married. And uh, my hand slipped.

FAHC headcanon: Gavin was adopted by Geoff and Jack.

He cheekily calls them ��mum’ and ‘dad’, and everyone else thinks he’s joking. Even when he insists he’s being completely serious, can anyone actually take Gavin at his word? Geoff calls him ‘son’, when the mood strikes him, but that’s not really a clear indication of anything.

But that’s how the brit ended up joining the crew. It’s still the early days, “crew” was a nice word, it was more like a group of loose affiliates Geoff and Jack could more or less depend on to not fuck them over. They were moving up in the world, but still had a long climb to the top. At least they had a steady base of operations now (two bedrooms and the landlord accepted cash). But back to Gavin: they had stumbled on him by accident. A job required a hacker to get past a security system, and while they were fretting about what the fuck they were going to do about that, this idiot descended from the heavens and tried to boost Jack’s car.

He was unsuccessful, obviously, losing quite quickly in the ensuing fistfight. When Jack threatened to report him to the cops (a laugh in and of itself, like she was going to call the police), the kid completely broke down and promised he would do anything she wanted in penance. Among the blubbered offerings were his skills with computers, and Jack decided to be merciful and accept his proposition.

That started their acquaintance with Gavin. He did a good job and seemed eager to work for them, so they called him whenever they needed a hacker. Kid didn’t have a car though, always needed to be picked up and dropped off. Geoff joked with Jack that they were picking up their son from school.

Something that nagged at Geoff though was that they rarely dropped him off at the same place twice. He would have guessed homeless, but Gavin was always clean and dressed nicely. Better than Geoff was, usually. When he asked about it, Gavin brushed it off; he wasn’t exactly here legally, so he was couch surfing until he could figure out the best way to secure citizenship. He was only 17 after all, and he looked it. It was proving difficult to forge his documents.

One night they’re back at the apartment after finishing a job. It’s pissing rain outside and everyone is soaked (because SOMEONE forgot where they parked the car and Jack swears it’s the last time she’ll let Geoff drive). Geoff’s in a good mood though, they were successful and there’ll be a big payout waiting for them tomorrow. He cracks out the beers, but notices Gavin edging his way to the door.

“Should probably pop off, friends’re expectin’ me,” he offers lamely. Geoff starts feeling around for his keys (which are in Jack’s pocket but he’s already forgotten her oath), but Gavin stops him, “Oh don’t worry ‘bout it. It’s not far, I can walk.”

Geoff won’t hear it though, because despite his best intentions he’s developed a soft spot for Gavin and his well being, and insists on driving. Gavin seems uncomfortable with it, but goes along because what else is he going to do? So Geoff drives him and Gavin waits on the curb until he’s gone (“It’s just British etiquette mate”). While he’s driving home he gets a text from Jack demanding ribs from that place across town (”you owe me for making me walk around in the rain asshole”), so he sighs and continues his adventure. Good thing he was such a devoted husband.

40 minutes later he’s on his way back, passing through the same neighborhood he dropped Gavin off in. He’s surprised to see a familiar skinny silhouette walking in the rain. Geoff slows the car and rolls down the window, calling out Gavin’s name. The kid jumps and turns, and has a weird mix of relief and trepidation on his face. Closer up, Geoff is able to see a puffy eye and a split lip.

“Hey man, you okay?” Geoff is all fatherly concern and friendly confusion.

“Wot…oh yeah I’m toppers. Just uh…bit of a tiff with my friend, yeah? Boys’ll be boys, you know how it is.” Gavin is smiling but it isn’t reaching his eyes. The rain continues to pour, making his hair plaster around his face and add to the pathetic look.

“Do you need a place to stay tonight?” That’s not the question Geoff wants to ask. He wants to ask where this asshole who thinks he can beat up on Gavin is. But the kid seems out of sorts and Geoff doesn’t want to upset him further.

“Don’t worry ‘bout me, I’ll figure something out. Thanks though.” As if he really believes Geoff is just going to leave him there in the rain with a busted face and no place to go.

“Gavin, get in the fucking car.” Kingpin Geoff is out, and Gavin hurries to obey the strict tone. He’s quiet at first, like he’s struggling with something that needs to be said but isn’t wanted.

“I uh, don’t have any money on me, but you can take what you want from my cut of the job,” he decides on, watching Geoff carefully.

“I don’t want your money, Gavin,” the older man replies, a lot gruffer than he intended. Still in kingpin mode.

“Right,” Gavin says quietly, almost to himself, “ ‘course not.” He cheers right up after that, and begins chattering blithely about nonsense like whether or not Geoff thinks dogs know they’re dogs. The tenseness eases up. They get back to the apartment, the evening winds down, Geoff has packed away his vengeance in a box, to open later. After her ribfest Jack turns in for the night, and it’s just Geoff and Gavin sitting on the couch, watching TV.

And Geoff’s enjoying it; he likes Gavin, and there’s an anxiety in him he didn’t know he had that’s calmed tonight, because he knows the kid is safe. And he looks over and smiles at Gavin and it’s just a peaceful pure moment and it feels good.

The next thing he knows, Gavin is on top of him, hand on his crotch and kissing him. Geoff isn’t able to process exactly what’s happening, and a pulse of arousal shoots through him, responding to the kid’s touch. Gavin’s lip has re-split open and all Geoff can taste is blood. It doesn’t take his conscious brain long to kick in. He pushes Gavin off and stands up, creating some distance between them.

“What the fuck was that?” Geoff asks before he can stop himself, still not putting the pieces together. He’s looking down at Gavin and the kid looks scared out of his mind, and Geoff knows that feeling. I’ll do anything you want, just don’t hurt me. Please daddy, just don’t hurt me. And then it dawns on him, and he’s sitting down heavily, head in his hands. He realizes what Gavin thought the price for a place to sleep was.

Several emotions wash over him all at once. Anger. Grief. Disgust. It takes him a second to collect himself, to stifle the feelings in his throat threatening to bubble out. Next to him Gavin hasn’t moved, and the blood has started to dribble down his chin.

“Are you mad at me Geoff?” Gavin asks in a tiny voice that absolutely breaks Geoff’s heart. It helps ease the grip around his throat his anger currently has.

“No Gavin. I’m not mad at you.” He’s pinching the bridge of his nose and his eyes are squeezed shut, he doesn’t trust himself to look at the kid again, not yet, “is this…what always happens when you need a place to sleep?”

“Yeah. They don’t pay me but they buy me stuff sometimes.” Gavin’s unfrozen, but he’s keeping his distance from Geoff, making himself as small as physically possible at the other end of the couch. Eying up the door, calculating an escape route.

“Is this…something you want to be doing?” Geoff doesn’t want to hear the answer.

“You having a laugh? ‘Course I don’t want to be fucking men my dad’s age. Don’t really wanna be fucking men at all, honestly. But if that’s what I gotta do to survive, it’s what I’ll do.” There it is. The anger’s back, threatening to overwhelm Geoff. He wants to know who did this, who forced this kid to believe that no kindness comes without a price. Seventeen goddamn years old. All Geoff wants in this moment is to burn this entire city to the fucking ground.

Instead he takes a deep breath and finally trusts himself to look at Gavin. The terror’s gone but the kid’s guard is still up, “Okay listen up. I’m not going to force you to do anything you don’t want to,” Geoff starts, and he can practically see Gavin shut down, “but if you need a place to stay and don’t want to fuck anybody to get it, you can crash with us. As long as you want. No strings.”

“For real?” Gavin’s afraid to trust what Geoff says, and it cuts deep.

“For real.”

That’s how Gavin starts living with them. Geoff has a talk with Jack, and they take the money they were saving for a new car and put it to a new use. It’s a few weeks until things come to fruition, but when they do Geoff is excited like a kid at Christmas and it takes everything in him to not ruin the surprise.

“Wot’s all this then?” Gavin asks, coming into the kitchen. There’s a questionably made cake courtesy of Jack (but Geoff helped decorate) and a neat stack of papers at Gavin’s place.

“Well if you’re going to join our crew there’s some paperwork you have to submit first,” Jack quips, smirking.

It doesn’t take the golden boy long realize she’s joking, but he’s not getting the joke, “These are adoption papers?”

“Geoff and I have begun to long for the pitter-patter of tiny feet. Yours are a bit bigger than we’d like, but we’ll make do,” Jack is teasing this out as long as she can, much to the torment of Geoff next to her.

“I don’t get it.”

Geoff finally bursts, “you won’t be deportable if we adopt you, dummy.”

“You’re serious?” Gavin is incredulous, still waiting for the other boot to drop. People in his world weren’t ever so generous.

Geoff’s in the middle of telling Gavin about how he married Jack, how much worse off could he do, when Gavin hug-tackles him. He’s trying hard not to cry, but Geoff can feel two wet spots growing on his shirt. Which is just as well, because Geoff’s crying too. And his little family grows by one.

#I'm sorry it took so long #I got lost in the sauce #gonna call this the wholesome family au #fahc #fahc au #fahc headcanon #fahc fanfiction #fahc geoff #fahc jack #fahc gavin #ragehappy #ficlet #tw: blood #writing

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vagrantblvrd · 4 years

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Lol, I was just typing up a post about not being able to watch the new AH video until after my dr’s appointment this morning when her office called to let me know she’s out sick and wanted to reschedule my appointment?

But anyway.

I haven’t watched the entire thing yet, but just going by the description and brief intro/explanation

(SPOILERS FOR THINGS AND STUFF I GUESS???)

It sounds like FAHC shenanigans in which they’re prepping for a heist the right way after the fiasco that was the Diamond Casino Heist, you know?

None of this ridiculously impressive dumb little model of the heist target location, RYAN.

(...I mean, I don’t know what kind of heist would involve them needing to defuse a bomb, but maybe it’s a general preparedness kind of deal???

Or they’re just really fuckin’ bored and bomb defusal is a common hobby among the crew? Who knows.)

They get Michael to mock up some bombs - glitter and confetti and pies in the face instead of fiery exposlions, but they haven’t done anything to piss him off enough to want them actually dead - watch out though, or that might change, assholes.

Or he and the others are gonna be gone/busy and know better than to leave these idiots alone with nothing to keep them occupied, so bomb defusing shenanigans?

OR.

Sekrit agent/spy/hitmens AU where they’re running through training exercises and this is either hazing Jeremy the rookie or Making Things More Interesting.

(And y’know, hazing him.)

Either way it’s got a major Jerevinwood feel to it I’m loving. XD

So, uh.

Yeah.

Also, later on in their wacky antics and running into a Real Bomb on a heist/job in the FAHC AU and being like “Well, shit,” because sure they’ve trained for this but still, a bomb, you know? Not fun.

The same with the sekrit agent/spy/hitmens AU but probs in sharp tuxes or suits and quips and one-liners and idk, I gotta go but you get the picture.

#ragehappy #jerevinwood #technically not a fic #vagrant fic #omg yay for no dr's appt this morning #but ugh for still needing ot run errands #adulting is lame you guys #because /o\

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redvsvblue · 6 years

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Chadwood. But Chad is a vampire. And Ryan is the only one who's worn Chad down enough that the jaded facade he wears is gone and the vampire is back to almost pure innocence in Ryan's presence. But then also, angry, overprotective Chad ruthlessly slaughtering anyone who hurts Ryan.

YES. YES WHAT A GREAT CONCEPT.

I adore this because, like, when they first meet Chad’s still smiley and easygoing but he’s sharply cynical, doesn’t seem to linger too long on anything or anyone, jaded but not quite cold, not completely. Seems it, but isn’t.

MM OKAY SO WHAT ABOUT FAHC AU where Ryan first meets him (pre-Fake, just running jobs to pay the rent in his freezing, leaky flat) on the run from the cops - climbs onto the roof of the building adjacent his to sneak in through his fire exit and he comes across someone else up there, dressed in black from head-to-toe and a sniper rifle strapped across their back.

And instead of anything normal, like hey or who the fuck are you, Ryan opens his mouth with aren’t you cold, because the guy’s in a T-shirt and jeans and fingerless gloves and nothing else and winter’s setting in and there’s already a chill setting in even under Ryan’s thick leather jacket.

None of your business.

Ryan gives him a slight nod and - well, it’s awkward, sure, because he’s just as obviously carrying - a holster on his hip, the pistol dangling from one hand - so Ryan just…moves past mystery guy.

Not lookin’ for me, are you? He can’t help but quip before he jumps the gap between buildings.

Not unless you’re Lucy.

And Ryan shakes his head and salutes him with two fingers and climbs over to his building as the sniper lays down to set up.

Ryan doesn’t expect he’ll ever see him again.

–

Ryan sees him again on the same damn rooftop two weeks later, still in a T-shirt and still not shivering even though Ryan’s fingers are numb without his gloves.

And maybe they run into each other a few times, trade quips, and Ryan doesn’t quite know what to make of the sniper that’s apparently made his neighbour’s rooftop a base. (He hasn’t. Chad’s just a little intrigued by the human running around on rooftops and knows he can catch him here. He’s not even doing any jobs here. He doesn’t even snipe that much anymore.)

And from there they start up a sort of friendship, and it takes two months for Ryan to realise Chad’s - off. Not just in the quiet, introverted way of his, but off.

Although - he’s not as quiet and cynical as before. He’s opened up a bit, he laughs and jokes and he knows the good Chinese places and the good 24 hour diners and eventually he even invites Ryan along when they meet up after another of Ryan’s escapes.

The dinners aren’t dates but they are totally dates oh my god. Chad would joke that he feels almost human again when he’s with Ryan and Ryan’s still a little flustered and trips over his words a bit but he seems genuine, confident in his abilities and a little less so about himself, handsome in a way that makes Chad’s eyes linger on his face instead of his neck. It’s nice. It’s good. Chad ignores Ryan’s mortality and Ryan ignores his stranger danger morals for a few hours each week.

It goes to shit.

Not really, but Ryan walks out of his rundown building at four a.m. to ditch his bloody clothes in a bag by the dumpster and -

There’s someone at the end of the alley.

Ryan’s immediately on guard, hand going to the gun tucked into his waistband and scrutinising the darkness - eyes flash up at him and the light shifts and he sees Chad and - and blood? And blood smeared around his mouth, a mostly empty bloodbag in his hands and oh god that’s why there were cops at the blood bank. And Ryan freezes and panics and Chad frantically wipes his mouth and gets to his feet and wait, I can explain! and Ryan - Ryan knows vampires exist but it doesn’t come to his mind immediately because there aren’t many on the West Coast - too sunny too often, they prefer cloudier climes, and Los Santos is not a cloudy clime.

Chad catches Ryan around the arm before Ryan can walk away and Ryan only barely suppresses the urge to quickdraw but Chad’s looking at him with such sincerity, such clear please that Ryan’s a little helpless to it and he lets Chad urge him back into the shadows, against his better judgment.

And there, in a grimy alleyway at four a.m. in the winter of Los Santos, Chad quietly tells Ryan he’s a vampire and all Ryan says is so that’s why you aren’t cold.

Chad looks at him for a stunned moment and Ryan’s lips twitch up in a slight smile and they end up in only partly hysterical laughter.

–

It takes a few days for Ryan to sort it all out in his head - he’s fine with vampires, met quite a few when he used to live back east, but he just needs a little time to reconcile Chad with vampire. And to smack himself in the forehead for all the things that explains, now. Why Chad’s skin is always so damn cold. Why he always leaves before dawn.

So, is it inappropriate to still want to kiss you? Ryan asks when they’re tucked into a tiny booth at the back of Palace Hong, half-muffled into a dumpling as Chad pauses.

I’ve been told I run cold, Chad jokes instead of an answer, but he lifts his head and glances suggestively at Ryan’s lips and this is a hint Ryan can read.

Well then let me warm you up, Ryan quips with a poorly-hidden snicker and their first kiss tastes like face paint and peanut sauce.

–

With the secret out, things change.

Things change in general - Ryan starts picking up bigger jobs, more money and more reputation, catches the eye of a particular Geoff Ramsey and flirts with taking any of his offers.

But now Ryan starts doing jobs with Chad and immortality? Very useful for a bullet to the chest, and it’s hard at first to remember that a horrific slashed throat heals in under a minute for vampires, but eventually he learns and they start working together more smoothly, almost seamless in their rotation as Ryan guns down a rival gang member and Chad gets more up-close and personal with knives and pistols and his fists. He can afford to take a few hits, after all.

Ryan getting caught in a bad situation walking home, almost mugged, and he’s sure he’ll have to turn over his wallet when the mugger suddenly yelps and there’s punches and Ryan shakily turns his head to see Chad viciously breaking an arm and snarling at the mugger to shut up and go home.

The mugger does.

Ryan’s still a little wary for a moment, but Chad runs a hand over his face and stands up and asks if Ryan’s okay and just like that he’s back to his usual playful personality.

Ryan learns that Chad is terrifying when he’s pissed. Fortunately not a lot of things seem to piss him off - except for an endangered Ryan, and Ryan’s - just fine with that.

(The protection extends to when Ryan finally joins the Fakes, and there’s a month or two of Chad making sure they’re not trying to screw him over before he lets Ryan introduce Chad to the group. Gavin loses his fucking mind. (Over the vampire factoid and the Ryan’s shagging a bloke?! factoid.) It’s hilarious. Jack’s still laughing about Gavin’s reaction a day later.)

#ragehappy #chadwood #asks #anon #mine #monster AU #idea

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bostonchungschwa · 7 years

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Hot & Cold (Jerevinwood)

youngjusticeaddict submitted:

.FAHC.

The Vagabond and the Golden Boy have been in the crew for years, dancing around their feelings for each other in fear of the other being used as a weakness by their enemies. The others know, Gav and Ryan know and refuse to talk about it, an unspoken agreement between them all that it will not come up in conversation and their relationship goes no farther than friends, than crewmates.

Then Ray leaves, and they find each other within arm’s reach. That first night after he left they’re curled around each other in Gavin’s massive bed in one of the many rooms of the penthouse, silently promising to never leave each other with tender touches and warm reassurance. Under the moon they kiss, forgetting their promises, but the new status is dead by daylight. As the sun barely breaches the horizon, Ryan is up and heading for his motorcycle, needing to feel the chill of the wind as he blazes through the dreary Los Santos streets in the dawn. Gavin isn’t too offended - if Ryan hadn’t left first, he would have. Gavin heads down to the kitchen and sits at the window, numb to the warmth the sunrise brings.

They stay this way, a chill deep in their bones that they can’t shake. It affects work performance, and Geoff has threatened them with expulsion from the crew every time Gavin messes up a deal or Ryan lets a target escape. They know he won’t, he needs them, he loves them, but it doesn’t make dealing with the disapproval and disappointment any easier.

One morning about four months later, a warmth creeps into the penthouse. It’s bright orange and loud and it reaches down into the cold abyss that has grown between the Vagabond and the Golden Boy, puddling at the bottom and slowly filling it’s volume. His name is Rimmy Tim, Jeremy. He’ll do anything Gavin asks of him, and loves to listen to Ryan educate him on all sorts of things.

The first time Gav tells him to axe-kick a dusty old crate in a warehouse while they wait for their supplier, Ryan notes Gavin’s smile is more genuine than he’s seen in weeks. Jeremy comes around to him soon enough too, weeks later making him laugh hard enough to leave his hostages flinching every time he sucks in a breath. Geoff is so shocked that he forgets they’re in a middle of a heist and this is the worst time for their heavy hitter to break character. They make it out with over three million in cash and valuables, and Ryan rips off his mask on the way out, face paint making his wide-set grin look absolutely terrifying. He glances over at Gavin, who is lugging around a duffel brimming with the contents of the safety deposit boxes, and Gavin freezes. He can see it in Ryan’s eyes, as blue as the lapping tides and just as alive, nothing like the icy stares he’d been finding watching his every move back at the penthouse. He wasn’t stupid, he’d picked up on his own reaction to Jeremy, but now Ryan was warming up to him too.

Gavin goes to Ryan that night, long after the rest of the crew has gone to bed. He’s staring out the large windows in the living room, watching as the nocturnal patches of the city come to life. Gavin saddles up next to him and watches the lights turn on as the buildings a few streets down get ready to open for the night. Neither say a thing, but Ryan’s finger snakes through the belt loop on Gavin’s jeans and he pulls him closer, their sides flush to one another. Gavin responds with an arm around Ryan’s waist and leans his head on his shoulder. Ryan plants a gentle kiss on top of his head in a silent but mutual apology, and the last few frosty stalactites between the two instantly thaw.

The glare from the lights paint Jeremy’s face in a pale orange hue as he peeks out from the hallway to watch the exchange. Seeing the kiss, he frowns and retreats back to his room. Something in his chest sends a chill through his blood, and he curls up under the big purple comforter the guys got him when he first moved in, and stares at the stars until the sun comes to wipe them away. He wears his heavy purple blazer during the meeting with Fakehaus at the park in place of his thinner one, and it goes unnoticed.

Despite this, things seem fine. Jeremy is a great actor, and the others think nothing of how cold he is slowly becoming. They get grouped up for heists more often, Gavin and Ryan because they’re together and Jeremy gets added for physical support. Every second that he watches the Golden Boy grin as the wind whips past him in a car chase, or as the Vagabond does oddly domestic things around the penthouse whilst humming tunes from hit musicals, his bones hit the freezing point.

Everything really goes to shit when the big bad Vagabond is out-matched by a rival crew and gets abducted on a job.

Everyone is furious, but Jeremy’s reaction is much more noteworthy. He stomps into the armoury immediately, filling his arms up with every big gun he can, and dumps them onto the coffee table. Jack and Michael grumble about scuffing the glass, but Jeremy isn’t listening. Gavin sees the perseverance burning in his eyes and starts strapping the weapons to himself and helping Jeremy with his. Geoff warns them it’s a suicide mission, that they haven’t even found out details about the crew yet or their guard schedules, but all it takes is one look from his Golden Boy and he tosses them the keys to the armoured car. “Make them regret it,” is all he can get out before his boys are heading for the elevator, making their way to the garage. Michael and Jack tag along a few minutes later in another car, planning to set up sniper’s roost’s a ways out from the base to catch any of the rival crew members who try to flee. Geoff pours himself a glass of whiskey and dials up Caleb and the B-Team, passing along orders with a sigh.

By the time they get to Ryan, he isn’t too terribly hurt. A few bruises already starting to bloom across his chest and stomach and a limp in his step is the worst of it. No new scars, and Gavin sighs in relief. The other crew was decimated in their rage, not even their building remains. Tomorrow he’ll transfer their remaining funds into the Fakes accounts, but for tonight he’ll gently help Ryan clean up in the bathroom with a washcloth.

Jeremy bursts in unapologetically and slams the door behind him. He points to Ryan, his hand shaking something terrible and Ryan feels worry pool low in his stomach. Gavin opens his mouth to speak but Jeremy beats him to it. “You scared the fuck outta me, James Ryan Haywood.”

Ryan gapes, eyes darting between both of the men before him. Gavin gives him a sympathizing look as Jeremy continues.

“Why the fuck would you go out there on your own? You should have at least taken Michael or Jack with you, they would have been able to get you out of there with just a few scrapes. What the hell were you thinking?”

“I wasn’t expecting to get jumped by those amateurs, Jeremy.” Ryan declares, pushing himself off the edge of the tub, standing at his full height with an arm around his midsection. Gavin hovers, ready to catch him. He has a prickling feeling about where this conversation is headed so he stalks towards Jeremy and backs him into the door. Jeremy locks his gaze to Ryan’s and lifts his chin, holding his ground despite his position. “What is your problem, Dooley?”

Jeremy can feel Gavin’s eyes on him, waiting for his next move as he squares up against the Golden Boy’s boyfriend, the deadliest assassin Los Santos has ever seen. But right now he’s battered and filthy. He’s been tossed around in a basement somewhere outside of town, then tossed in the backseat of a four-door sedan as they high-tailed it out of there, bouncing around every turn without a seatbelt. Jeremy eyes the cut on his lip and the bruise under his right eye, his mind cursing up a storm as he cups a hand around the back of Ryan’s neck and brings him down to his level (fuck everyone else for being giants, he’s not going to walk around with a step stool just for this) and brushes his lips across Ryan’s. He won’t take the choice from Ryan, just offers himself up to the Vagabond and exposes himself to the rejection of not one but two of his crew members.

He can hear Gavin’s breath hitch behind him as Jeremy took control, Ryan not even considering resistance in favour of not aggravating any bruising as he bends to meet Jeremy’s lips. He smirks a bit at the hesitation from the younger man and cradles Jeremy’s head with his free hand to kiss him fully, closing his eyes.

Jeremy melts against the door, hands sliding around Ryan’s waist to keep him close. He cracks open an eye to peek at Gavin as he smiles at the two of them. A new warmth spreads through him at this acceptance and he grins into the kiss, causing Ryan to chuckle and pull back.

“Good to know that the problem is one we can solve,” Ryan quips, turning to pull Gavin closer and into their embrace.

“We’re gonna have to talk about this,” Gavin announces, placing a hand on Jeremy’s lower back.

“We will,” Ryan says, ducking to peck Gavin on the lips too, “Tomorrow. I’m to tired to keep up with anything right now.”

The others chuckle at him and disband to filter out of the bathroom. Gavin leads Ryan to his bedroom, but when Jeremy breaks off to go farther down the hall, he stops. “Lil J?”

Jeremy turns around and smiles softly, “Just going to change. I’ll be there in a minute.”

Gavin smiles back and Ryan nods. After they’ve already entered the bedroom and Jeremy is just outside his, he stands there and closes his eyes, taking a deep breath, and enjoying the warm, fuzzy feeling in his chest.

He hopes he’ll never feel cold again.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

#submitted fic #jerevinwood #youngjusticeaddict #submission #THIS IS SO GOOD I LOVE IT SO MUCH

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