hello all! i’m trying to start writing again after a hectic 6 months or so. i’m posting this here to test the waters! i’ll probably carry on with it but i would really appreciate some feedback! it’s gonna be some fucked up pwp eventually, so y’know, not much has changed there. based off the song luscious apparatus by recoil, so listen to that if you want an idea of where i might take it.
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freewood, rated m basically for subtext
gtav au, not strictly fahc.
warnings for small mentions of cuts / cutting
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Ryan scrawls a note on a piece of scrap paper and picks up his cigarettes. 01:56. He’ll come back to his work station at 02:11.
His hands are covered in papercuts and splinters from opening different boxes all day, but he doesn’t feel them. The only thing he feels is the early morning air cooling his face.
He walks a little way and sits at a picnic table that’s only there to make the place look a little more habitable. He looks out over the Port of Los Santos. He never thought he’d end up working a menial job, unboxing and re-boxing shit that then gets transported somewhere else, but he has to lay low.
He lights his cigarette and takes a well-deserved drag. He doesn’t necessarily feel the nicotine’s effects any more, smoking is more something to entertain him through the graveyard shift.
He takes his standard issue penknife out of his pocket and slides the blade upwards. It gleams in the light coming from distant freighters. He absentmindedly fiddles with the blade, slicing his finger open. He doesn’t notice until the penknife slips in his hands as he beings to carve idly into the table.
He carves pretty words into the poorly glossed wood. He thinks of his co-worker, Gavin. Words like bend and melt and lush make their way into the wood and he tries to write a poem but he can’t make the connections between the words.
Gavin is a machine wrapped in beautiful, soft flesh. Ryan wants to figure out how to turn the machine on, how to work the machine.
Luscious apparatus.
He carves the two words into the wood beneath him. If he had to describe Gavin, they would be the two words he would use.
He checks his watch – 02:09. He stubs out his cigarette in some of the fresh grooves in the picnic bench and rubs the sleep from his eyes. Just under three hours to go. Gavin starts work at 05:00. They exchange small talk in the staff room as one clocks on and the other clocks off,
***
09:03. Gavin takes his travel mug filled with cheap coffee that his employer is legally obliged to provide and goes to sit at the out-of-place picnic table. The sun has risen over Los Santos but the morning still has that fresh feeling about it. The sun shines into his eyes and he regrets not bringing his sunglasses. He takes a sip of the coffee. It’s not good, but it’ll get him through the next hour and a bit. His free hand roams freely over the lukewarm wood of the table and looks down as his fingers run over imperfections. He can make out some disjointed words like lush and bend and taste and he doesn’t understand the connections between them. He follows the string of random words to two that grab his attention.
Luscious apparatus.
Gavin gulps. There’s something about those words that make his heart beat a little faster, that stir an excitement in the pit of his stomach. He doesn’t know why, but he feels those words are left for him. He rubs trembling fingers over the indentations and the words feel like fire to his fingertips.
He takes out his standard issue penknife and hesitates. He’s generally a good kid. There’s something rebellious about reaching out to a strange etching on a bench, but he never thought he’d have to vandalise public property to do it.
Glancing around anxiously, Gavin begins to carve with a shaking hand.
alright we’ve had rockstar ryan au channelling his inner dave gahan
for your consideration:
rockstar ryan channelling his inner corey taylor
rockstar au where ryan still looks like the quiet office nerd but on the weekends he fronts a band who play covers in a seedy underground rock club where he fucking owns songs like the devil in i, the heretic anthem, duality (i’ve been listening to a lot of slipknot songs today ok)
rockstar au where when ryan screams “step inside, and see the devil in i, too many times we’ve let it come to this” there’s something he can relate to, he’s not sure, but screaming those words feels so fucking good y’know?
and then on monday he goes back to being an it drone sipping from a lukewarm can of diet coke and fixing computers
so unless i get asked specifically to post them on here, chapters in my series fics are going to be on ao3 only. this sounds like a selfish reason but i actually get hits and kudos on ao3. i don’t know if it’s because of tagging issues, but im noticing my chapters don’t get that many notes. and i know that my work is good, so i don’t get why i get so few notes.
plus, ao3 is a hell of a lot easier to work with.
i’ll still post oneshots and stuff on here, but for multi-chaptered fics, please make your way over to my ao3.
again, if i am asked to post them here i will, but won’t do it otherwise.
warnings in this chapter for very brief mentions of rape (no actual rape), graphic description, masturbation, sexual fantasy, s&m (for lack of a better tern)
rated e for explicit
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My knife, it’s sharp and chrome. Come see inside my bones.
A little after a month at North Ward, Ryan found himself in the Comfort Room again.
It was only for two nights this time, and Ryan wasn’t nearly as angry as before, but he was still unhappy about it, and was not happy about the reason he was thrown in there.
He wasn’t sure whether it was a side effect of spending so much time with the guy, but Gavin was really growing on Ryan. He was growing on him, in unconventional ways.
Gavin was likable, and Ryan was eternally grateful that he was given a mentor that he could have some back-and-forth with, some level of understanding with. The thing he liked most about Gavin though, was his body and his looks.
It sounded incredibly shallow on the surface, but the reality of it was twisted. Gavin had a body that Ryan wanted to disgusting, horrendous things to. He simultaneously wanted to plow into him and break his limbs. He wanted to make him a quivering, sobbing mess, by fingering him to climax or by biting his neck so hard he’d break the skin. He’d done that before on one of this previous victims. He’d found it to be very enjoyable. He wanted to taste Gavin’s blood, tie him up and beat him until he was black and blue, carve pretty pictures into his back. And then, once they’d fucked, in the afterglow, when Gavin would least expect it, under the guise of comfort, Ryan would take his head in his hands and snap his neck.
When Ryan first discovered that he got off to killing, he tried to feel bad. He really, really did.
At this point, he just accepted it.
He wasn’t attracted to corpses. He wasn’t into the idea of having sex with a dead body. The thought itself made him shudder a little. He wasn’t into the whole rape fantasy thing, either. No, he’d make Gavin want to get beaten up. Gavin would be begging Ryan to hurt him, to bite him so hard that he’d be marked for weeks. It was much better that way. It was when Ryan caught himself mid-thought that he realised that he was truly sick.
It was those thoughts that kept Ryan up at night and it was those thoughts that Ryan was caught jacking off to when one of the security guards caught him. He was stupid to think that his en-suite would keep him out of sight from the window in his door. He figured later that the rooms with bathroom facilities had special glass in them that magnified the room and allowed guards to see the whole room. The en-suite, after all, did not have a door.
Ryan was thrown into the Comfort Room while still incredibly aroused. His hands were handcuffed behind him, for obvious reasons. The embarrassment was made worse when he woke up after having a wet dream, covered in sweat and in gross underwear like a fucking fifteen year old. For the first time since being committed to North Ward, he was glad for Shower Time.
***
The sessions that day were noticeably more strained. Ryan wasn’t particularly embarrassed anymore, no longer caught up in sick thoughts, but he knew that if he was asked about it, he would either be too open and cause him to be a) confined to the CR forever or b) rocketed up to the top of the waiting list on Death Row. Or he would not say anything and Gavin probably wouldn’t take that for an answer and end up making him confess and then he’d lose Gavin as a mentor. Which he didn’t want since despite all the disgusting thoughts, he liked Gavin as a person too.
“So tell me Ryan, why you’re in here again?”
“I’d rather not say.” Ryan said plainly, looking Gavin in the eye, as if to say “I have nothing to hide here.”
It was finally Gavin’s turn to roll his eyes at Ryan.
“Come on, Ryan. You think the people here tell me nothing? I know you were caught masturbating.”
Ryan didn’t flinch.
“You’re not mad?”
“I’m mad because I didn’t get to cum,” Ryan said, purposefully putting on a light-hearted voice, “if that’s what you mean.”
Gavin went red. “That’s not what I mean.”
Ryan chuckled. “I was mad at the time. But you’re not yourself when you’re all caught up in that sorta stuff, are you? You’re not a rational, sane human being – not that I am normally, apparently – you’re just a bundle of nerves chasing an orgasm. So yes, I was mad at the time. I’m a little miffed today that I’ve been punished for a totally human instinct, but whatever.”
Gavin made his notes. “I have to ask. What were you thinking about? Was it just a combination of hormones and chemicals that made you want to do that, or was it something you were thinking about that led you to do it?”
Gavin had given Ryan an out. Thank fucking Christ, Ryan thought to himself.
“I dunno. You know when you wake up hard in the mornings? It was like that, except… I dunno. I just got horny. A man has urges y’know?”
“Do you know how many rapists have used that as a defence?” Gavin asked, cocking an eyebrow.
“Oh come on, Gavin, I’m not a rapist. I like everything to be in my control and going the way I want it, including whoever I’m interacting with.”
“Did you ever have sex with your victims?” Gavin asked.
“While they were alive and consenting, yes,” Ryan said, emphasising the key word. “I had a whole phase of seducing my victims, sleeping with them and getting them in the afterglow. I had a whole routine-“
Ryan felt his heartbeat starting to increase. He felt the ugly, serial-killer side of himself rear its head, the one with the sick smile and the drawling voice that made Gavin pale and feel faint. Now was not the time to do that.
“- but that’s not really important. The point is, whenever I had sex with a victim, or whenever I had sex in general, it was always consensual.”
“Alright, alright, I get it,” Gavin said, hastily taking notes on his tablet.
“Ironically, it was those victim cases that got me here. DNA on the corpse – that got there before they were a corpse, by the way – was what got me linked to all the other ones. In hindsight, I should have thought about that.”
Gavin was silent for a minute while he brought up Ryan’s case notes and had a browse through them.
“Yeah. Well, bi, technically. I just have a preference for men.”
“Because I’m just looking at these files,” Gavin said, “and I can see you definitely had a preference for men. Alpha male types?”
“Yeah,” Ryan said, not supressing his rising heartbeat this time. “I got so much shit at school, it was so good to have those types completely under my control. Y’know the type I’m talking about?” Ryan asked, grinning up at Gavin. Gavin nodded.
“There was something so satisfying about having them under my spell. I had them naked, their ass in the air begging to be fucked. It was exhilarating to literally fuck over the people that gave me all that crap while I was in school. Killing them was the icing on the cake. They deserved it.”
Gavin could tell that Ryan had gone into horrible-creepy-killer mode, so didn’t look at him as he spoke.
“Now here there’s a case of a man who has your DNA on – in – him and with several stab wounds, head trauma and ligature marks. Looking at the other cases of this nature, you just snapped their necks and then dumped the body somewhere discreet. With this guy there’s so much overkill, and you dumped him on the side of a busy thoroughfare. Personal connection.”
Ryan couldn’t hide his grin this time.
“He was one of the guys that gave me crap in school. I had a thing or two to say and do to him.”
***
Gavin was quite glad for the break between sessions. The first one had been quite full on.
And yet, Gavin thought to himself, he still doesn’t scare me so much that I want out. I still like him. He’s just got some anger issues.
Oh shit.
Gavin had just unknowingly defended a serial killer. A serial killer that he liked.
People don’t like serial killers, Gav, he told himself, he’s just interesting.
Gavin had found it interesting to find out he was gay – bi – though. He didn’t look it, or really act like it, but Gavin realised how much of an uneducated bellend he sounded like when he thought of it like that.
***
“Do you want to talk about the day you got arrested?” Gavin asked that afternoon. Ryan’s had use of his hands back and was using them to create a long string of loom bands, a new exercise that had been brought in to calm patients down and to keep their hands busy.
“Sure,” Ryan said, smiling up at Gavin as he reached into the box to pull out another band. He looked like a little kid. Gavin almost wanted to lean down and pat his head.
“So you were caught by the LSPD in a car that had broken down, correct?”
“It was all a distraction. I’m a gun for hire – well, I was a gun for hire – so it was like an unwritten rule that any job I go on, I have to take the fall. Which I’m fine with, because I have a backup plan. I’m a silver-tongued devil who can charm his way out of anything. Which would have worked, had it not been for this ongoing investigation into these murders and the whole DNA matching thing. Anyway, I digress. I was working a bank heist with a crew. I was the one doing all the threatening and shooting my gun into the ceiling to prove a point. I was a distraction throughout the whole heist, I suppose.”
“Anyway, my job was to keep gunning while the money was loaded into the van, then we were going to split, four of them in the van and me and another person in my car. When we got to the vehicles, the van wouldn’t start. In that situation, you’ve gotta get out somehow, you can’t be trying over and over to get the thing to start. We had about thirty seconds lead on the cops because we’d parked under the bank. They grabbed their cash and we swapped cars and I told my passenger to go with them, I’d stay with the van. They all got in there. It looked a little bit like a clown car, but they managed to get away. I got caught with the van and some of the money and the cops were all so elated with catching one person that they actually let another five get away relatively easily. Anyway, I started planning out my exit plan while I was in the cop car and in the police station. I’m a well off guy, the police are corrupt as fuck, surely they’d be able to forget a ‘little misunderstanding’, right fellas? Anyway, they took my fingerprints and then… well, the rest is history.”
Gavin nodded throughout Ryan’s monologue while taking notes. When Ryan finished his story, he let him get his breath back a bit before he started asking the questions.
“Who were you working for?” Gavin asked.
“How long have you been in the US, here specifically?” Ryan asked.
“What has that got anything to do with it?”
“Well,” Ryan began, “they’re a crew notorious around these parts. 90% of the people around here would know who I was talking about. Just wondering if you’re part of that percentage.
“Well, I’ve got here only a few weeks before I started working with you and I’ve not heard of any gangs. But try me.”
“I was working for Geoff Ramsey and the Fake AH Crew. They’re a big fucking deal, and they pretty much run half of the city in one way or another. They’re bank robbers, drug dealers, hitmen, they’re everything people fear. I’d been working with them pretty much full time for the last month or so before I got caught.”
“No. I can’t say I’ve ever heard of them before,” Gavin said.
They spoke for another half hour about Ryan’s involvement with the gang before Gavin’s alarm went off to signal the end of their session. Gavin had made a lot of notes and had a long night of compiling them together. Their first session was still playing on Gavin’s mind, as was the dream he had about Ryan choking him. At the time he hadn’t thought of it as a sexual dream, really, just a little twisted. But he felt sick when thinking about it again, a spark of excitement started flittering about in his lower abdomen.
***
“Hello?”
“Gavin?”
“Oh. It’s you. Long time no speak.”
“There’s a reason for that.”
“I know.”
“Listen, do you have time to talk?”
“Sure.”
“Are you still in the industry?”
“I can be. Depends on what you want.”
“I think with your profession, you might be able to help me out.”
“What do you need?”
“I need a guy.”
“I think I know a guy.”
“Contact me on this number if you can help. I’ll send you some information too. There’ll be an envelope under your door next Tuesday.”
warnings in this chapter for mentions of attampted suicide, graphic-ish description.
rated m for mature (sensitive material etc etc)
___
I am my father’s son, because he’s a phantom, a mystery and that leaves me nothing.
After the initial bump of three days in the Comfort Room, Ryan remained on relatively good form for the next week. Apart from constantly answering back to Gavin for their first few sessions, he showed no signs of acting out again. A risk-to-self assessment determined that he was allowed to change to a room with an en-suite (a rather grandiose term for a large closet with a washbasin and a toilet in). The person administering the test told Ryan that they’d rather have everyone in rooms with their own facilities, but unfortunately they had seen too many suicide attempts via drowning using the basin or the toilet bowl.
“How many have you lost from that?” Ryan asked as he waited for his results to be determined.
“None. Too many attempts to count, though.”
Despite this, he still needed to be escorted to Shower Time every day and a week into his routine, he still found it degrading and embarrassing.
He kept to himself mostly. The other residents at North Ward still seemed too scared of him to approach him, apart from one shaky-looking man who asked him for a cigarette. Ryan told him that he didn’t smoke, sorry, but that was a lie. Gavin had bought him some cigarettes the day before as a reward for good behaviour (mostly) and he was in no mood to share his reward. He’d earned it and he wasn’t about to share it with some junkie. He made a mental note to make sure that his Smoking Time was never at the same time as that dude’s.
***
“Let’s talk about drugs.”
Ryan rolled his eyes. Gavin wasn’t sure why he expected a different reaction.
“Come on Ryan. Don’t roll your eyes at me. Be a good boy and maybe I can get you some ice cream!” Gavin responded jokingly.
Ryan glared up at him, the effort he put into not rolling his eyes obvious in his expression. Gavin laughed.
“Come on, Ryan. Let’s talk about drugs.”
“The ones they’re stuffing me with here? Which I’m pretty sure are gonna do jack shit, by the way.”
“No. Drugs. Illegal narcotics. What was your involvement with them?”
“Taking or selling?”
“Both. Why not.”
“Alright.” Ryan shifted his weight on the edge of the bed. It wasn’t very comfy, but it was a hell of a lot comfier than the gammy mattress in the Comfort Room. Gammy, heh. He laughed to himself. He’d never heard that word until he met Gavin. He liked it. “I mainly sold it. I sold to dealers mainly, but I wasn’t the head honcho. I’d get supply passed down to me to sell onto the street dealers. Occasionally I’d sell to higher profile contacts.”
“Who was in charge of you?”
“No idea. I never met the guy. Or woman. They always sent a person to me with the supply and when I was out I always had a guy who would go back to them with their portion of the profit. I took a 35% cut. It was a good deal.”
“Didn’t you ever want to know who you were working for? That sort of setup would freak me out a little.” Gavin replied, shuddering a little in his chair.
“I didn’t care, I was making money. I was never out of pocket.”
“So you never took drugs?”
“Oh no, I took drugs,” Ryan admitted openly. “I had to make sure my eventual customers were getting a good product. I wouldn’t call my drug taking a habit, merely quality control. If there was one drug that I’d call a vice, it’d be weed. Not that I needed that per se. I just enjoyed it. It was nice to see a day out with a joint and a glass of whiskey.”
“I’m surprised you’re so forthcoming with this information, Ryan.” Gavin admitted, inching his chair closer to Ryan.
“What’s the point of hiding it? The whole, horrible truth may as well come out now rather than when I’m being subjected to ECT as a last resort and I run my mouth.”
Gavin considered Ryan’s response. “Fair enough. Were you ever high when you killed?”
Gavin was always reluctant to ask Ryan about his crimes. It was then that he turned from a deadpan, withdrawn individual into someone downright… creepy.
A horrible smile crept across Ryan’s face. “No.” he said. “I didn’t need it to feel good. In fact, it was better when I was sober. I was so much more in control. I could really enjoy it, enjoy it for what it was. Do you want to know what my favourite method was?”
No, Gavin thought immediately, but for his notes, his case, his career reputation, he had to know.
“Go on.”
“Choking was pretty good, but I rarely had the proper time to indulge in that. That required setup. Stabbing is fun too. I know there’s a whole can of worms to be opened with that, because it’s penetration and a substitute for sex or something, whatever. No. The best one was snapping someone’s neck. Because it was quick and efficient and they never see it coming. Sure, when you bring someone home with you for the night and you watch them slowly cotton on to your plan, that’s a whole lot of fun, but snapping a neck is like junk food. Quick, easy and satisfying. And the sound is great too. It’s like popping bubblewrap.”
Gavin could feel the bile rising in his throat, but he swallowed it down painfully. With trembling fingers he made vague notes on his iPad. This guy better win me a Nobel Prize for dealing with sociopaths, Gavin thought to himself.
Suddenly, the sick grin from Ryan’s face fell away.
“Gavin, are you okay? You’re pale.”
Gavin gulped and mentally shook himself. “I’m fine, Ryan. I’m just not used to such graphic description.”
“Oh.” Ryan stared blankly at Gavin before looking briefly at the floor. “Sorry,” he muttered.
“No! Don’t be!” Gavin said. “It’s part of my job, after all. It’s just been a while since I’ve worked with someone…” Gavin trailed off, not sure how to put what he wanted to say into words.
“Like me?” Ryan offered. Gavin nodded. He wanted to avoid using that phrase, but it couldn’t really be avoided.
Haywood capable of at least feigning regretful behaviour. Progress? Gavin typed out on his iPad.
Ryan reached to his intact bedside table and took the bottle of water sat on it. He offered it to Gavin.
This simple gesture threw Gavin into panic. Ryan wouldn’t have poisoned the water. Surely not? Even so, was he ready to share water with a serial killer?
Reluctantly, Gavin took the bottle and drank from it. He maintained eye contact with Ryan throughout. Ryan’s expression remained neutral.
“Thank you,” Gavin said, handing the bottle back to Ryan, who placed it back on the bedside table. Exactly in the middle, Gavin noticed. He made a brief note of the interaction on his tablet and as he went to his plan for the session, his watch beeped. Their time was up for the afternoon.
“You gotta get going?” Ryan asked. Ryan asked that same question every time Gavin’s watch beeped. Maybe insanity really was doing (in this case, asking) the same thing over and over and expecting different results.
“Yep,” Gavin replied. “I won’t see you til Monday now.”
Mentor sessions weren’t held on Sundays, Ryan found out. They were “days off” for patients. For most patients, this meant spending their time in the Common Room. Ryan spent his last Sunday in the Reading Room, reading through old furniture magazines. All literature available to patients had to be vetted and deemed fit for reading by hospital officials.
Gavin pressed the button on his iPad and got up to leave. Ryan copied, standing up too.
“Until Monday, Gavin.” He said, outstretching his hand. They had shaken hands before, but it was Gavin who had been initiating it before. The gesture threw Gavin for six. Apart from the initial greeting, he wasn’t actually supposed to make any physical contact with the patient apart from in case of an emergency. He was pretty sure that drinking Ryan’s water was a violation of some kind of rule, too. On a whim, he took Ryan’s hand and shook it.
“See you,” Gavin said, before the door to Ryan’s room was opened to let him out.
***
Back in Gavin’s apartment, Gavin went over the events of the day.
There was something about Ryan’s… humanity that was bothering him. The medication and talking therapy couldn’t have been working that well already… could they? He couldn’t think of anything else. He had noticed that he maybe had a better connection with Ryan than anyone else at North Ward, but that didn’t explain Ryan’s “kind” gestures. He decided to put it out of his mind. He had a meeting with his boss between sessions with Ryan on Monday, he’d bring it up then.
But for the rest of the night, as he cooked his dinner, as he watched TV, as he read, as he bathed, he couldn’t get Ryan out of his mind. He wanted it to be Monday. He wasn’t sure if it was because the case and the subject were interesting and he wanted to learn more, or if it was because there was some small, morbidly curious part of him that sort of… liked Ryan? Found him to be a likable person? He told himself that it was because the work he was doing was fascinating and Ryan just happened to be the subject. He loved his work. He hadn’t been this enthusiastic about a case in years.
That night, he had a dream about Ryan again. Set outside of North Ward, this time, Gavin was trudging through the desert, sun beating down on his face (and nose). He was tired, exhausted and dehydrated. In the distance he saw a figure, and after what felt like a year, he reached the figure. It was Ryan, holding the same bottle of water Gavin had drank from. Ryan offered the bottle to Gavin, who again was reluctant to take the bottle. Ryan’s hands were bloody, and there was blood smeared on the bottle.
“You’ll die if you don’t drink,” was all Ryan said.
Gavin looked at the expanse of desert before him and looked at the bloodied bottle. He glanced up at Ryan, whose face was expressionless, but there was something about his face that Gavin could trust.
Gavin took the bottle from Ryan’s hands and drank as if he had never tasted water before.
warnings in this chapter for mentions of suicide, choking. nothing too horrendous. i hope.
rated m for mature (sensitive material etc etc)
___
The first night Ryan spent in the “Comfort Room” was hell.
He was mad at the guards for throwing him in there, but for the first time in long, long time, he was mad at himself for acting out. His rational brain knows that for misbehaving, there are punishments, but he’s not had to suffer consequences for his actions before – until a few weeks ago when he was first arrested. For a few seconds, he blames himself for ending up in the Comfort Room and wishes he didn’t act out, but then the anger comes back and all he wants to do is get out and show them just how angry he is.
Had his fingernails not been clipped upon committal, he would have tried to claw at the stupid padding on the walls. He had tried, but instead burned his fingertips red raw on the material of the wall. He wasn’t the screaming type, but had come very close to being one. He threw himself at the wall as hard as he could, to see just how padded and soft it was, and had eventually tired himself out enough to sleep. He wasn’t sure if he had to spend three whole days in the Comfort Room, or just spend three nights there, but either way, he hated the place and wished he never had to see the place again.
At zero six hundred hours, North Ward security opened the door to his cell and escorted him out. He was told that at six hundred hours every morning, apart from Saturdays, he would be woken up and taken to the bathroom. He had ten minutes shower time, five minutes dressing time and then another ten minutes to comb his hair and brush his teeth before walking down to the dining room for breakfast, which was served between zero six thirty and zero seven thirty hours. Patients were encouraged to take time eating breakfast, as it was the most important meal of the day. It was also the time when a lot of patients took their medication. Ryan had been prescribed Risperdal, Anquil, and Zyprexa. He wasn’t convinced that drugs would fix him.
Shower time was awkward and degrading. He wasn’t sure if it was routine, or if it was just because of him, but he did not enjoy being watched by security as he stripped and washed himself under the lukewarm water. He could only imagine what the more paranoid patients would make of that, if it were a regular occurrence. He had been previously charged a fine for public indecency (he’d been caught giving someone head in what he thought were private woodlands – this had been years ago, but it was still on his record, hence the “anti-sexual deviancy” drug) but still, he did not enjoy being naked and wet in front of complete strangers.
When he was clean and dressed, he made his way down to the dining room for breakfast – which was today a selection of cereals, some toast and a bowl of porridge with a scoop of jam in it if you wanted. Ryan didn’t want. He ate his breakfast and took his tablets fairly quickly, but was not allowed to leave the dining room until zero seven thirty hours. He was told that usually, morning Game Time would follow breakfast, down in the common room, but because of Ryan’s behaviour, he would miss out on it and return to the Comfort Room until ten hundred hours. Ryan rolled his eyes. He felt like child being sent to the naughty step. Sure, he may have a few screws loose, but he was still an adult and wanted to be treated as such. He got angry and nearly lashed out at a guard, but saved it for when he was in the Comfort Room. He was thrown in and the door was closed behind him. The slat in the door opened up and guard spoke to him as he stood up after landing on the mattress.
“Doctor Free, your mentor, will be here shortly.”
“He better be!” Ryan yelled at the door, but his cry was answered with the slat slamming shut.
I fucking hate this place, he muttered to himself, taking off his sneakers and starting to pace. I’ll top myself, that’ll show them. Then they’ll be sorry-
Ryan caught himself mid-thought. He looked around him. There was no way, even if he wanted to, that he could kill himself in this room. He didn’t particularly want to, thinking about it.
“It would show them, though.” His subconscious told him.
I know it would, Ryan replied, but then I’d be dead and gone, and I wouldn’t be able to do anything. God, I’d like to wring those guards dry. Choke ‘em until their eyes pop out of their skulls…
Ryan was lost in the fantasy for a minute or two before there was a knock at the door. His head snapped upwards at the noise.
“Come in?” Ryan asked, not sure if he was in a position to make a decision about his visitor.
The door opened. Ryan was expecting an old, miserable-looking bespectacled man carrying a clipboard to walk in, but instead he was greeted by a young man, with unruly hair, a rather large nose and a goofy smile. He was carrying an iPad. He closed the door behind him and sat cross-legged on the floor, in front of Ryan.
Pretty, Ryan thought. He sat down and mirrored the doctor’s pose.
“Hi Ryan. I’m Gavin Free, and I’m going to be your mentor.”
Doctor Free had a British accent, an accent Ryan hadn’t heard for a long time. He liked it.
“It’s nice to meet you, Doctor Free,” Ryan drawled. Gavin stuck out his hand and Ryan took it. Ryan knew he had a good, firm handshake, and he could tell from the look on Gavin’s face that he was a little bit intimidated by it.
“Call me Gavin. I’m not here for formalities. I’m here to help you work through your problems and to get you out of here.”
“You really think I’m going to get out of here?” Ryan asked, stifling a laugh. “Do you even know why I’m here?”
Gavin shrunk back. “Ah yes, well… you never know. If you show signs of real improvement, you might get out. It’s possible.”
Ryan smirked. “I don’t think I’ll be getting out anytime soon.”
“That may be the case,” Gavin replied, “but don’t let that put you off.”
Ryan chuckled. The kid was so naïve. Ryan knew exactly what he was – evil, insane, lucky to have escaped the death penalty – he’d been cast the role of the villain. He knew exactly what he had done, and given the chance to go back and change it, he would not have changed a single second of all the atrocious things he’d done.
“Do you know what I was thinking about before you came in here?” Ryan asked.
“Uh… no, no I don’t, Ryan. Do you want to tell me?”
“I was thinking about how great it would be to choke one of the guards. To death, I mean. It would be so good, to wrap my hands around one of their necks and just, y’know, crush their windpipe. Watch ‘em struggle. It’s fantastic, having all that power. I can make it slow, watch their faces go red and purple, and eventually they go slack. Or I can make it quick and dramatic. I don’t like that so much. They flail about too much. When it’s slow, I like looking them in the eyes. They’re so scared of me, but they can’t look anywhere else. And slowly, but surely, the light in their eyes just… goes away. It’s so satisfying.” Ryan bit his lip, smiling at the image. “Write that down on your fucking iPad. I’m sure that’ll make interesting bedtime reading.”
Gavin was dumbfounded for a few seconds, not quite sure how to respond to Ryan’s tirade. Working with this man really is going to be a challenge, Gavin thought to himself.
“Do you think about that often?” Gavin asked.
“What? Choking someone? Or killing in general? I suppose. Today I’m angry that I’m stuck in here again. I’m missing out on Game Time. Boo-fucking-hoo. But I do fucking hate being in here.”
“How did you end up in here? You’ve barely been here a day.”
Ryan sighed. “I smashed my bedside table.”
“And why would you do a thing like that?”
“Because I was angry.”
“And why were you angry?”
“Jesus, what is this, fucking Twenty Questions or some shit?” Ryan snapped. “I was mad because I was told my mentor was coming around to see me. And you fucking didn’t, so I was lied to, and I don’t like being lied to.”
Silence.
“I’m sorry, Ryan. I had a lot on my plate last night, and by the time I had finished, it was late. So late, I should have been out of the office for at least two hours.”
Ryan seethed silently. He stared Gavin down, but Gavin returned his gaze confidently, before turning to his iPad to look at his notes.
“Now, I will be with you twice a day for the foreseeable future – around this time of day, and mid-afternoon. If you show signs of improvement, then these visits might be cut down in the future. How does that sound?”
“Thank fucking Christ.” Ryan muttered.
“You’re pleased?”
“Someone sane that’ll actually talk to me and not treat me like a baby. Did you know I’m pretty smart? I’ve got a degree and everything.”
“I’ve seen. I’m impressed. That’s really impressive for someone from your background. In animation, was it? Why’d you give that up?”
“Because it’s a tough industry to crack and I was getting fed up of going to interview after interview and not getting anywhere. It’s when this whole thing started,” Ryan said, gesturing his hand to the room around him. “And now I’m here.”
Gavin smiled sympathetically. He was lucky that he’d had job security since day one. Although he couldn’t imagine snapping to the point where he resorted to murder. That thought didn’t need to bother him now – he had a job, and his job was to help people like James Ryan Haywood.
“What do you prefer to be called? James or Ryan? It says Ryan here, but if you’re looking to reinvent yourself-“
“James,” he spat, “no one’s called me that since my mother. Ryan is just fine. I’ve always been a Ryan, and always will be.”
“Alrighty then,” Gavin said, making a mental note. “Ryan it is.”
The rest of Gavin’s time with Ryan was spent going over the rules. No smoking in the building, he had to get smoking permission from the guards on duty. He had to be prompt for meals and cooperate at all times, lest he end up in the Comfort Room again. Strictly no physical contact with other patients or staff members, and any form of abuse will not be tolerated.
As their time drew to a close, Gavin pressed a button on his iPad.
“What’s that for?” Ryan asked.
“Just letting the guards know to come and let me out.”
“They’re not outside?” Ryan responded, sounding genuinely surprised.
“No. This is about trust, Ryan, and I don’t think that having those guards outside does anything to help us.”
Gavin got up to leave. Ryan stayed on the floor. As Gavin turned his back, Ryan spoke up.
“Doctor Free?”
“I’ve said, call me Gavin-“
“Gavin?”
“Yes, Ryan?”
“I’d like to choke you, one day.” Ryan declared, smirking. “Not to death. Just to see what you’d look like. I’d like to rough you up a bit.”
Gavin gulped and felt his face burn bright red.
“I’ll see you later, Ryan.” Gavin said, trying not to convey any fear in his voice.
***
“So, how was he?” Gavin’s superior asked when Gavin returned to the staff room. Another doctor shoved a cup of coffee in his hands – clearly they were all eagerly awaiting his return.
“Hard to get used to. He’s very… superhero villain. All smirks and creepy smiles. But I can tell it’s going to be interesting. Hard, challenging, probably disturbing, but interesting.”
“He didn’t threaten you? Or make any unsavoury remarks?”
Gavin paused.
“No, sir.”
***
That night, Gavin dreamt of Ryan. He dreamt he was locked in the Comfort Room, with Ryan smiling an odd, genuinely friendly smile at him. They were both kneeling. Gavin craned his neck upwards as Ryan outstretched his hands.
(I will say right off the bat that this fic will be dealing with sensitive issues. There are some parts that I have experience with, but I know this doesn't make me the authority on these things. So if you're not comfortable with mental health issues, mental health institutions and such, maybe this fic isn't for you! I'm hoping that I've dealt with these things in the best way possible. If you think something needs changing, please just leave a (preferably nicely-worded!) message and I'll edit as best as I can.
I hope you enjoy reading! <3)
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Fake AH Crew, Freewood (eventually)
rating m for mature
tags: mental institutions, mental instability, description of violence, insanity
___
“Why do you feel compelled to kill strangers?”
“Because it’s a damn sight easier than killing people I know.”
Ryan knew that when he became a gun-for-hire, if confronted with a situation where the police could viably make an arrest, he’d be the one to take the fall. It was sort of in the contract. It was often why people hired out guns – to have someone to take the rap should something go wrong.
Ryan knew that something in his head didn’t quite work the way it was supposed to. Because he didn’t just kill when he was getting paid. Like how some people needed a cigarette when stressed, or in need of relief, he killed. He knew he was supposed to feel remorse. He knew that eventually one day, he would get caught, and sat in the interview room at the North Ward Criminal Asylum, he was amazed he was left alive. They probably wanted to run tests on him. Find out what made him tick.
When he was arrested, it was after a bank heist that he was a part of, after being hired by a one Geoff Ramsey, leader of a crew that would stir fear in the hearts of those who had any common sense. Ryan knew that they wouldn’t outrun the cops this time, so instead of allowing the whole crew to get locked up, he acted as a diversion and got himself arrested. Which usually wouldn’t be a big deal, but what he didn’t know is that his DNA was tied to several murders throughout Los Santos. The LSPD had accidentally managed to capture one of the biggest threats to the city, but of course, in the papers, it was all meticulously planned out and was not an accident at all.
Luckily, Ryan would dream of the day he’d get caught. He had it all planned out. He’d plead insanity, because he was, he supposed, insane, that is. If he was clinically insane, he’d be right at home. If he wasn’t, well, he’d have to act weird for a few months while planning his escape.
His psych evaluation proved that he was clinically insane. “Subject to uncontrollable, compulsive behaviour,” is what he was, and Ryan believed it without question. He was told he was a sociopath, because of his lack of emotion, social conscience and moral compass. He was not surprised when he was told this, and the medical examiners were not surprised when he barely flinched when presented with the news.
It’s how he ended up with hands handcuffed behind him, in plain navy sweatpants with a plain navy t-shirt, a serial number crudely embroidered onto a little white square where the breast pocket ought to have been. He wasn’t aware of it, but a smirk was stuck to his face. Even as he answered.
“Why do you like killing so much, Ryan?” The doctor enquired.
“It’s relaxing. It’s just like working out. I’m in control. I can choose how I want to do it, how much power and effort to put into it.” Ryan spoke calmly, which made him a hell of a lot scarier than some of the current patients at North Ward.
“Do you feel like it’s something you have to do?”
“Not always. I’m not constantly needing to kill. But when the urge arises… I have to do something about it. Do you know what I mean?”
The doctor said nothing. He wrote something down on the paper in front of him before putting them into a folder and standing up. Two guards either side of Ryan stood up. One held onto his arm as the other undid the handcuffs keeping him attached to the chair. They were securely back on his wrists before the doctor allowed him to be escorted out.
Ryan’s room was surprisingly un-asylum-like, in that it wasn’t padded from floor to ceiling. The first thing he noticed was that there were no sharp corners. The bedsheets were very thin, and a gross salmon colour. There was a chair in one corner of the room. There was a small chest of drawers for clothes and a bedside table. That was it. The door was made from a heavy metal and had a window in the top for constant surveillance.
“So this is my humble abode?” Ryan asked, feigning curiosity as he stepped into his room. Room 93.
“Make yourself at home,” one of the guards rumbled. “Your mentor will be around in a bit to say hello.”
***
“You really want me to take this guy?” Gavin asked. “Isn’t he going to be a bit… severe?”
“If you don’t want him Gavin, then that’s fine, but I think you’ve got real potential – I think he’ll really connect with you. Your portfolio of work and reform is very impressive and I’d like to assign you to Haywood.”
“If you’re sure,” Gavin mumbled, trailing off, unable to complete his sentence. He’d just come over to Los Santos as a mental health mentor after a successful track record of working as a prison mentor in the UK. He wanted more of a challenge in Los Santos, but wasn’t expecting to be assigned to the most dangerous person there for his first case.
“Gavin, if you’re not happy, just say,” his superior urged – “But I really think this is the challenge you were describing in your job interview. Remember, if at any stage, it – he – gets too much for you, we’ll take you off the case. Sound good?”
Gavin’s superior extended his hand.
“Fine.” Gavin said, taking the hand and shaking it. He didn’t want to admit that he was a little bit excited to take on Haywood – he’d never seen the guy, but even if he was physically terrifying, he was going to be fascinating to work with. There was something exhilarating about getting to pry into the mind of one of the most dangerous men alive at the moment.
***
Ryan sat by himself at dinnertime, which he was told was at nineteen hundred every day. He joined a queue of weary-looking shufflers, light plastic tray in his hand. Again, all its corners had been rounded off.
“What’s with all the guards?” he asked a scared looking woman stood in front of him. It took her a second to formulate her answer as her thoughts ran wild, amazed that someone had dared talk to her.
“You.” She said bluntly, before turning around again. He glanced at all the guards and did notice that all eyes were on him as opposed to his fellow inmates. He smiled at one of them. The guard noticeably gulped, and shifted his gaze to the floor.
Dinner wasn’t bad. A decent enough stew, cold enough water, tasty enough chocolate mousse for desert. It was all pleasant enough.
Ryan went back to his room after dinner. He was told it was movie night in the common room, and that he really ought to be there instead, but he still had his mentor to meet. People were too scared to argue with him.
Gavin decided not to go and see Ryan that night, leaving the hospital at around midnight.
Ryan, who had stayed up to meet this mentor of his, was not happy that he was lied to. He was told his mentor would be there to see him. Ryan did not like being lied to. He picked up the stupid little bedside table and smashed it up against the wall in anger. How dare they lie to him?
It earned him three nights in a room that was, in contrast to Room 93, very asylum-like. Padded from floor to ceiling, the bed being a mattress on the floor.
I’m only missing the straightjacket now, Ryan thought to himself.
something i dreamt up at work because i was so very tired at work and could have fallen asleep right there on the cold, hard floor.
with jack it’s almost like an on/off switch. she can fall asleep anywhere, at any given moment if she wants to sleep. she has, on more than one occasion, fallen asleep during a getaway. at first, geoff (who usually drives if jack doesn’t) found it a little weird, but now he takes it as a compliment. he drives so smoothly jack can sleep through it. little does he know, jack could probably sleep through a hurricane (and has done before when she was on holiday once).
ryan is one of those guys you’d find asleep with a book over his face. he’s not one to settle down and sleep. he reads until his eyes can’t physically stay open any more. sometimes, when they’re all together in a safehouse, they can sometimes hear the fluttering of ryan’s breath against the pages of his book. it’s oddly soothing.
gavin’s like a parrot. he sleeps when a towel is thrown over him aka it has to be pitch black in the room. which is why he wears an eyemask when he sleeps. michael used him about it. he bets gavin to go a week without the mask (michael bets he can’t - gavin knows he can but he knows that michael won’t like the result). after a few days michael’s already regretting it. gavin’s cranky and argumentative and not focused at the jobs at hand. michael caves in, gives gavin his eye mask back (and the bet money) and he’s never mocked him about it since.
on the subject of michael, he’s a foetal sleeper. usually curled around a pillow he needs to have his arms wrapped around something, and if lindsay’s not around, a pillow will do. other things he wraps himself around have included sofa cushions, bottles of alcohol (after parties), a giant stuffed dog that lindsay won him at a fair, a bottle of frozen milk wrapped in a teatowel (during a particularly hot summer when there was no air conditioning). being a foetal sleeper, it also means that similar to jack, he can fall asleep anywhere, as long as he can curl up. sort of like a cat.
when they’re together in a safehouse, geoff sleeps when he knows everyone else is asleep because of strange, adapted parental instincts. when they’re not around eachother, usually geoff needs a nightcap, most of the time accompanied by a phonecall to one of the crew. just to put his mind at rest. he trusts his crew to keep themselves safe, but it is nice to know that they’re safe for another day. sometime’s he’ll read if there’s a lot on his mind, but usually, when he gets into bed, he falls asleep as soon as his head hits the pillow.
tags: dirty talk, office sex, teasing, sexual tension, mentions of voyeurism, light bondage & dom/sub, it’s just filth okay.
“They usually met up on weekends. One of them would go to the other’s house, they’d order food and spend the rest of the weekend in bed together. Geoff had been away on business over the last weekend, meaning that Ryan spent the weekend unfulfilled and frustrated. It was the Tuesday after Geoff’s business trip, and Ryan was being as whiny as possible in order to wind his boss up.”
“Fuck – God, yes, Geoff” Ryan stammered as he fucked himself down onto his boss’ cock. The office was unusually empty – even for a lunchtime – and Geoff wanted to take the opportunity to show Ryan who was boss after a morning of Ryan acting like a little bitch.
***
They usually met up on weekends. One of them would go to the other’s house, they’d order food and spend the rest of the weekend in bed together. Geoff had been away on business over the last weekend, meaning that Ryan spent the weekend unfulfilled and frustrated. It was the Tuesday after Geoff’s business trip, and Ryan was being as whiny as possible in order to wind his boss up.
Ryan was a diligent worker and always came in early to work, and Geoff felt he ought to in order to make up for the weekend. It had started right from the get go.
“How was your weekend?” Ryan had asked, as Geoff had thrown him a can of diet coke.
“Good! We had a load of meetings with potential sponsors. I suppose the thing is about working with video games is that weekends are still workdays. But we might have additional funding in the pipeline, and some more exclusives coming the way of this office,” Geoff answered enthusiastically. “How was yours?”
“Pretty frustrating,” Ryan said, “I mean, I spent the whole weekend fucking into my own hand because you weren’t around. Not quite the same as having you with me,” Ryan responded in his usual deadpan demeanour. He’d said it so casually that Geoff had to take a second to realise what he’d actually said.
“I’m sorry, hon,” Geoff said, wandering over and planting a kiss on Ryan’s forehead. “I’ll make it up to you over the weekend.”
Ryan raised an eyebrow. “You better.”
No one in the office really knew about Ryan and Geoff’s arrangements, so when Ryan started making moves on Geoff in front of everyone, Geoff knew Ryan must have been really frustrated. They were subtle moves, but moves nonetheless.
The first had been when Geoff had been examining possible games for Go! As he studied the library of games, he felt a presence behind him, and realised who it was as soon as he saw a well-defined arm hold onto the bookshelf-turned-gameshelf over his shoulder, keeping him fairly well in place. He felt Ryan’s crotch lightly brush against his ass, the slight sensation sending a shudder down his spine.
“Hey,” Ryan growled into Geoff’s ear, pretending to examine games too, everyone else too engrossed in editing to realise just how close the two men were.
“Mmm, hey,” Geoff said, instinctually lifting his hand to run over the bulk of Ryan’s muscle, thankful that no one had noticed.
“I missed you,” Ryan said, his lips lightly grazing the shell of Geoff’s ear as he spoke, causing Geoff to inhale sharply. Ryan had pulled away, a game in hand, before Geoff could respond, leaving Geoff stood alone, a little tingly from the encounter.
The next move was when Ryan got up to get another drink from the kitchen. Placing a hand on the back of Geoff’s neck and lightly stroking with his thumb, which he knew full well was something that Geoff enjoyed far too much, he asked Geoff if he wanted anything to drink. Geoff’s brain went to mush when Ryan touched him like that. After responding with a dumb-sounding “uh, maybe,” Ryan went off to get his drink, trailing his fingers over Geoff’s neck as he left. Geoff knew that Ryan knew exactly what he was doing, and it excited him a little.
The third was what pushed Geoff over the edge. Ryan had ordered more HDMI cables for the office, after they had determined that the current ones must have come from a faulty batch. The company that made them had sent them replacements free of charge, and although Ryan seemed happy enough to just give everyone a new cable for them to sort out themselves, he insisted on fitting and replacing Geoff’s. Knowing that Geoff wasn’t going to leave his desk as he was in the middle of an important edit, he manoeuvred himself under the desk, flashing Geoff a wicked grin as he got on his haunches. They kept some consoles under their desks that needed to be connected up to the monitor, and although it was a hassle to do, Geoff did not appreciate Ryan’s slow and deliberate movements as he fixed up Geoff’s setup. He was wearing the boxers that Geoff liked, which Geoff knew thanks to Ryan’s shirt riding up his back, exposing the waistband and the small of Ryan’s back, which showed faint scars from time when Geoff had gotten waaay into scratching him up. Ryan knew that Geoff admired the marks, and Ryan loved showing them off for him. The noises that Ryan made under the desk as he stretched and moved around would not have been heard as sexual from everyone else, but to Geoff, who was now thoroughly wound up could not hear them as anything else. He blushed as he felt himself harden a little, the morning being too sexually charged for him to handle. It was when Ryan finally stood up again that Geoff was going to do something about it. Ryan used Geoff as leverage to stand up, running his hands flat up Geoff’s thighs and over his crotch as he pulled himself up. Geoff had to bite his lip to stop him from making a noise he’d regret as he watched his lover saunter over to his own desk, a smug grin plastered to his face.
It was when everyone apart from Ryan and Geoff went out to lunch that Geoff decided to regain a little control. Unable to escape the sexual tension, he pulled Ryan down into his lap and started to grind up against him until Ryan was just as wound up as he was.
***
Which is how they found themselves in that position. Geoff sitting low in his chair, legs spread, jeans and underwear pooled around his ankles, one hand balled in Ryan’s hair, yanking his head back, the other wrapped around Ryan’s dick, jacking him off as Ryan bounced in his lap, naked from the waist down, Geoff thrusting up into him to help satisfy his apparently insatiable lover.
“G-Geoff-,” Ryan gasped. Geoff pulled on the younger man’s hair as he bit into his neck, sucking at the skin, determined to leave marks there, not caring about whether people would see or not.
“You want people to hear you?” Geoff asked breathily, moving his mouth away from Ryan’s neck to examine the mark he’d left. “You want Burnie or Joel to walk in here and see us fucking? You’d like that?” Geoff asked harshly, not really knowing what answer he was after. He too lost in the moment to care.
“Yes… no… I don’t know,” Ryan moaned, gasping a little as Geoff yanked on his hair again. Geoff stopped thrusting for a second to Ryan’s dismay, who took that as a sign to still.
“No… I want people to see you marked up, but those fucking noises you make, those are for me… Grab that tie,” Geoff said, motioning to the Achievement Hunter tie that had been lying on the couch since Christmas, “or I swear to God I am not going to touch you for the next month.”
Ryan obeyed immediately, walking over to pick up the tie. Geoff stood up as Ryan walked back to him, silently ordering him to turn around, giving his ass a firm slap before applying the gag.
“Now baby, if this gets too much, I want you to reach up and take it out of your mouth, or if that’s too much, just reach your hand up and I’ll do it for you. Understand?”
Ryan nodded. Geoff turned him around to look at him, drinking in the sight of his usually dominant lover all sweaty, marked and gagged. It was beautiful, and it wasn’t long before Ryan was in his lap again, taking all of him in, Geoff’s hand grasping at Ryan’s hair, Ryan’s muffled moans like music to his ears.
“You miss me, huh?” Geoff asked, sitting up slightly, pressing his chest against Ryan’s back, pulling Ryan’s head back to lean on his shoulder. Ryan nodded, his eyes closed, face an expression of ecstasy. “Oh baby,” Geoff growled, “I would have loved for you to come with me but I wouldn’t have left the bed. We’d have been too busy. But I thought of you baby, in that big bed by myself. You know what I thought of? You fucking me while I’m on my back, I fucking loooove when you do that to me, when you fuck me so hard I can’t move the next day. But I gotta say, baby, you’re so fucking beautiful bouncing on my dick. You’ve been so needy today, you’ve been wanting this dick all weekend, huh?”
Geoff knew that Ryan liked dirty talk during sex, and the stifled noises from behind the tie confirmed that. Ryan’s back arched beautifully at Geoff’s words, his movements becoming more desperate, causing the familiar heat to pool in Geoff’s stomach. He lay back in his chair again and allowed Ryan to do all the work. For a while all the noise coming from the office was the sound of skin slapping against skin and Geoff’s low moans. Geoff could tell by how slick his hand was, that Ryan was close to coming too.
Geoff leaned forward again, this time untangling his hand from Ryan’s hair to slide up his shirt. He splayed his hand out over Ryan’s sweaty chest before using his thumb and forefinger to lightly pinch and twist Ryan’s nipple.
“Baby, I’m so close,” Geoff moaned into Ryan’s ear, rolling the bud between his fingers. “You want me to come in you? Fill you up?”
Ryan nodded and again the office was filled with muffled moans (in hindsight, the gag didn’t really supress the noises – just made them a little more difficult to make out) – and from the way Ryan’s hips were starting to jerk, he could tell Ryan was close too. He pinched Ryan’s nipple again and a small spurt of precum coated his hand – he smirked knowing at how easily he could make Ryan come apart.
“Oh, Ryan,” Geoff moaned into Ryan’s neck, “come for me.”
At Geoff’s command, Ryan came. His back arched beautifully as Geoff pumped him through his orgasm, strained moans coming through the tie, his chest heaving as most of his release coated Geoff’s hand, his eyes squeezed shut, his legs turning to jelly as his orgasm sucked all the energy out of him. Geoff thrust up into him through his orgasm, and the feel of Ryan going lax against Geoff’s body was what pushed Geoff over the edge, spilling into Ryan, the frustration of the morning being released all at once. Ryan groaned at the sensation at being filled, the feeling being something he loved, especially after he’d just come himself.
They stayed like that for a few minutes as their heart-rates started to settle, as they waited for their breathing to return to normal. Geoff desperately wanted to fall asleep there and then, but knew that their coworkers could burst through the door at any minute.
After a few minutes, Ryan raised his hand. Confused for a second, Geoff laughed as he realised that the tie was still in Ryan’s mouth. With heavy arms he pulled the gag from Ryan’s mouth, kissing the side of his face as he did so. Ryan chuckled and allow himself to sit like that for another minute or so, before tentatively standing up.
“That feeling will never get less gross,” he said, wrinkling his nose as Geoff’s release ran down his legs. Geoff laughed. Ryan wasn’t usually one to complain. He gingerly pulled some tissues from a box on Geoff’s desk to clean up before throwing the box to Geoff. After they cleaned up and got dressed again, Ryan took the bin bag with the incriminating tissues out to the big skip out back, neither of them too keen on the idea of dirty, come-covered tissues lying in the bin for the next week.
“Man, it smells of sex so much in here,” Ryan said as he walked in again, still red in the face, the bruises on his neck blossoming beautifully. “And I’ve just seen the guys arrive back, so, uh, act normal I guess.”
There was no way that the rest of Achievement Hunter were oblivious to what had gone on, but at least they had the decency not to mention it. In fact, it wouldn’t get mentioned until an office party a few months later, where a drunk Geoff would go around bragging about the incident, causing a sober Ryan to go bright red and bury his head in his hands.
Five Times The Scariest Man In Los Santos Got Scared (3/5)
1 2 3 4 5
Ryan “The Vagabond” is renowned throughout Los Santos for being a merciless killing machine. But, he is human, and gets scared sometimes, just like everyone else.
Rating: M for referenced sex
Pairings: Ramwood yoooo
Tags/Warnings: arachnophobia, mentions of drug use, referenced sex things
___
As the fog of the afterglow cleared from Ryan’s mind, he realised how quickly he could go from boneless, breathy mess to cold, sweaty and sticky.
The bed was comfy, and Geoff was lying, still breathing heavily, in his arms, the contact sweat not helping the gross, tacky feeling that was covering Ryan. He sighed audibly to give a warning to Geoff as he swung his legs over the bed to get up and shower. He enjoyed energetic, tantric sex as much as the next guy, but he enjoyed being clean too.
“I’m gonna go shower,” Ryan muttered, voice hoarse. “You roll up. Won’t be long.”
Geoff hummed in agreement as he rolled over to pull the beat-up Bob Marley tin from under his pillow. It was a novelty souvenir that Geoff had bought when he was thirteen and was of such importance to him that Ryan had been tasked to fix the hinges several times (“Dude, it cost you like, $5, you can afford proper classy ones now-“ “Yeah, but it’s mine, and I like it, so fix it.”) Geoff opened the tin and sat to give himself a sturdy workspace as he heard the sound of water flowing from the shower head.
Tearing the cardboard from his pack of papers and rolling it up, he started to assemble the joint, having perfected the ratio of baccy to weed many years ago. Just as he was about to start rolling, he heard a yelp, followed by a crash and a ripping noise. As Geoff put his joint aside to investigate the source of the noise, a naked Ryan wrapped in a shower curtain emerged from the bathroom, hair plastered to his face, which was very red.
“That shower curtain really suits you,” Geoff remarked, “really goes with your eyes. Tell me why you’re wearing it again?”
“There was a spider and I didn’t see it until it started crawling on my foot and I freaked out and here I am,” Ryan said, clearly very embarrassed that he had chosen this time to reveal one of his worst fears. Geoff tried to hold back the laughter.
“I’m sure it’s just a house spider trying to get out of the rain.” Geoff reasoned.
“Incy wincy or not, I don’t want that fucker in the shower. Also why is it hiding in the shower to get out of the rain? Idiot.” Ryan responded, adjusting his shower curtain.
Geoff snorted. “Did you fall?”
Ryan blushed again. “I may have fallen backwards onto your shampoo, ass first and by doing so, uh, empty the contents all over the ceiling. You had to be there, it was a pretty impressive display if I do say so myself.”
Geoff sighed as made sure everything was put aside before getting up. “Open the window,” he told Ryan, “I’m not killing the poor guy.”
“Alright, but I’m leaving the room when you come in here with that thing.”
In Ryan’s defence, it was quite a big spider, just about the size of a CD. Geoff was surprised that he hadn’t noticed it before it started crawling on him. He picked the creature up in his hands, talking to it quietly as he carried it over to the open window, placing it gently on the windowsill. He watched it scuttle away before he closed the window.
He called through to Ryan, who had run into the lounge, to tell him it was safe. He emerged, for more red in the face than he was when he had left.
“It’s okay man. Loads of kids are afraid of spiders.” Geoff said jokingly. “You look so embarrassed.”
“Ah, yeah. Gavin and Michael are in the lounge eating breakfast, I’m not sure they were expecting me to come hurtling in wearing only a shower curtain.”
Five Times The Scariest Man In Los Santos Got Scared (2/5)
1 2 3 4 5
Ryan “The Vagabond” is renowned throughout Los Santos for being a merciless killing machine. But, he is human, and gets scared sometimes, just like everyone else.
Rating: M for language
Pairings: A dash of Freewood
Tags/Warnings: thunder and lightning (fear of), language, fluff... that’s about it really
___
II.
The wind rattled the windows in their frames. That was bad. Ryan could still hear the thunder despite having his headphones on and music playing full blast. That was even worse. But the worst thing about it was no matter how hard he had his eyes squeezed shut, he could still see the faintest flash in his vision whenever the lightning struck. That was the worst by far. It fucking sucked.
He’d excused himself from the day’s activities, claiming he had an upset stomach (“I like excitement in my day, but I don’t want to actually, literally shit myself”) when all he’d done in reality was check the weather forecast. He could put up with strong winds and heavy rain and oven-like heat. But storms? No way. He hated every single aspect of them. He put it down to reading a load of freak-lightning stories when he was younger, but for as long as he could remember, he had been scared of storms, especially the lightning.
He was huddled under his duvet in the safehouse when he sensed a presence in the room. Someone was sat on the bed.
“If you’re going to tell me that it’s just angels bowling I swear to God I’m going to punch you in the fucking jaw.” Ryan yelled, not opening his eyes, not taking his headphones off.
In a few swift movements, the duvet was pulled from over his head, his headphones ripped off. He felt naked and exposed and angry with whoever had done such a thing to him. Refusing to open his eyes, he groped blindly in the general area of the person and was greeted with soft hands and a softer voice.
“Jesus, Ryan. Really? Are you four years old?” Gavin asked.
“Shut up,” Ryan replied loudly, jumping a little when the next roll of thunder shook the windows. Gavin chuckled.
“News just in! Terrifying criminal curls up into fetal position when confronted with the weather!” Gavin sang in a mock journalist voice. Still with eyes shut, Ryan slapped the Brit on the thigh.
Still laughing to himself, Gavin apologised and lent down to press a kiss to Ryan’s temple. It was a nice gesture ruined by a flash of lightning, which made Ryan whimper.
“I don’t know if this helps, Ry,” Gavin said soothingly, “but my mum always told me that you can tell how far away a storm is by counting the seconds between the thunder and lightning. One second for each mile. It might put you at ease.”
He didn’t want to admit it, but it did put him at ease. I’m a man of science, Ryan told himself, science doesn’t scare me, even if it is loud and terrifying. Gavin stayed with him as he whispered Mississippi’s to himself, until eventually the sky was brightening up and the rain was as fine as mist.
Feeling safe once again, Ryan opened his eyes and looked up at Gavin, imagining that he probably resembled a startled cat. His facepaint that he had applied before checking the weather was now smudged on the pillow that he had buried in face in, and his tears hadn’t helped that either.
Gavin wiped a tear from Ryan’s face and smiled down fondly at him.
“It’s at times like these I forget that you’re several years older than me,” he chirped, beaming down at Ryan, who’s blank expression conveyed his distaste at the comment.
“Okay, I’m sorry,” Gavin said quietly, kissing Ryan’s forehead again. “Would you like a hot chocolate?”
Ryan tried to keep his expression neutral as he said “yes please”, but couldn’t help a little smile from emerging.
greetings friends. just a quick update to tell you about things that you probably don’t know are happening but that bother me a great deal
if you enjoy my writing i would recommend you check out my ao3 page. more often than not, i post my works there, as with my old laptop it was a lot easier to put them on there than on here. however, i’ve got a new laptop, so that might change a little. but i post absolutely everything on ao3 so it’s worth checking that out
the “writings” page on my blog has been updated to include all my ao3 fics. it probably won’t get updated every time i post something new (either on here or on ao3) but will get updated whenever i get a big enough backlog.
if you do follow my ao3 page, you might have noticed that i haven’t updated american trash in quite a while. unfortunately that’s going to stay that way - for now. atm i’ve lost all the drive and interest i had in the story and fleshed it out further than originally intended. basically i wanted it to be 50/50 porn and plot but now it’s like 25/75 porn and plot. i won’t officially call it abandoned because i do want to wrap it up, updates just might be few and far between.
at the moment i’m really enjoying just writing oneshots and small series - so watch out for them!
and to end on a great note, what i would probably call my “breakout” fic, strange hours, has passed 3000+ views on ao3. what the fuck.
thank you all for following and reading and i hope to keep entertaining you. <3
