#rooster teeth x reader

[rtscrobbles]

28 w/ jon risinger?

"Put me down!" You scream, Jon had you over his shoulder and he was carrying you around despite your protests and softly hitting his back. You couldn't be mad, you were laughing as he tipped you gently on the best and hovered over you.

"Are you going to make up for that?" You were making out beforehand so you knew he was hot and flustered too, and needed a bit of a release.

“Make me” Jon smirks, bending down and planting eager kisses trailing from you neck down.

[bellshellsrage]

Spooky Slap

Word Count: 631

Pairing: Miles Luna x reader

Prompt: “I’m not picky, just something with Miles Luna” (for @jeremythewhiskeygoblin )

[A.N. I haven’t written for a LONG time, so it’s short and kinda bad... thank you for sparking my motivation again!]

    The night was already taking its toll on you, so you sat on the floor watching the Werewolves game. You cringed as Miles chose to kill Alfredo once again, knowing that the younger man would regret all of his life decisions that lead him to this point. The sound of the slap echoed through the broadcast room and met your ears, making you shake your head as you rose, your curls brushing your skin.

Wandering over by the table, you leaned against it slightly before finding a seat on the bleachers. Miles glanced over at you and nodded slightly, a sly smile on his face.

“What was that smirk?!?” Barbara glared as Miles’ head whipped back around.

“Am I not allowed to smile now?” Miles replied with a faint squeeze in his voice.

Cole pointed a finger. “Only if you’re the werewolf!”

The crowd murmured and was shushed by Kyle. The game continued and soon it was just Cole, Chad, and Werewolf Miles. He was arguing with Chad, and they stood as another leet donation rolled in. You laughed at his indignant face, knowing that he would most likely be angry at the bells later. After the round finished, you stared as Miles took off his shirt.

“Come on! Just do the paintballs!” you cried, hoping that he could hear you over the others who were cheering him on.

Miles shook his head and readied himself. “Nope. I gotta do this!” The sound of skin impacting skin was deafening, and the crowd had a collective wave of sympathy. “Okay. That was bad.” Miles squeaked out before another slap made him clench his jaw. 

“Miles! Go get a paintball!” You yelled, this time sure that he would hear you.

He nodded slightly, but took the hit anyway. “Okay! That was the last one, right?”

“No. You have one more.” Someone replied, making him glance your way. 

You shook your head as he smirked. “Give me the last one!” he regretted his request immediately, and turned to walk towards you off the set. “I am an idiot.” he muttered.

“Yeah, you are. Good thing he won’t be around for 2spooky.” You chuckled as his eyes went wide. “You didn’t even think about that, did you?”

He deflated slightly. “It could’ve been so much worse!”

You nodded and left the set with him, waving slightly at Jack and Caiti as they sat at the command center table. Leading the way to the kitchen, you sat at an empty table and waited for Miles to join you. When he finally sat down, he handed you a cookie and a bottle of water before placing the same things in front of him. A comfortable silence fell before you glanced over at him.

“So… last year with the spooks, huh?”

Your voice was low, but he heard you clear as day. “I feel like it’s time. I mean… we’re all running out of ideas and it’s all the same things.”

“Except for this year with the fucking dolls.” you murmured, earning a glare.

“Yes. Thank you for that reminder. I could’ve gone for the rest of the night without remembering that.” His voice was deadpan, and you couldn’t help but laugh. That made him glare more, and you burst out laughing.

When you had finally composed yourself, you put your hand on Miles’. “You know that I’m here for you regardless.”

“Even if I get haunted?”

You paused before nodded. “Yeah, even if you get haunted.”

He grinned, brightening up the tired atmosphere. “Thank you for being here with me.”

“Of course. There’s nowhere else I would want to be today.” You paused. “Except maybe in bed.”

Miles laughed heartily. “Yeah. Bed would be nice.”

[aplaceforrtprompts]

Holiday Flash Fics: Day 4

Pairing: Jeremy Dooley x Reader

Prompt: “I’m too short to get the star on the top of the tree and oh my, you’re lifting me up.”

Word Count: 662

Requester: @whysamwhy123

Holiday Flash Fic Prompts Here!

You gave Jeremy a shy smile as you both came up to the Achievement Hunter Christmas tree to hang ornaments. Jeremy waggled his eyebrows at you and held up a Garbo decoration a fan had sent in.

You giggled, “Why am I not surprised?” You leaned in a little closer, “That’s actually really well made.”

“A popular choice for fan made ornaments but this is one of the nicer ones. Hey, did you see yours yet?” Jeremy asked placing the decor on the tree and turning back to his pile.

“My what?” He gave him a confused look as you placed your ornament.

Jeremy shuffled around in the pile beside him before turning and handing you a small ornament. It took you a moment to see what it was but you gasped as you realized it was your GTA character that you occasionally played in videos. It wasn’t the best made piece ever sent in but it was the first one you had gotten of your character. You hugged the ornament to your chest.

“Can I see yours?” you asked.

Jeremy smiled knowingly, “I don’t have one. None of us do, at least not by that fan. The card is really sweet too.” Jeremy passed over a handmade Christmas card.

You took it carefully, reading over the kind words of a fan who mentioned how much they loved seeing you on camera and would love to see you more. You tucked the card away and made a mental note to write back. You hung your ornament up and stepped back looking at the finished tree.

“All it needs is the star,” Michael smirked, nodding at your handy work. You held out your hand but Michael shook his head, “No. This honor is all Jeremy’s.” He passed the tree topper over.

Jeremy just shrugged and went to reach for a chair. That was until Gavin pulled out his phone and challenged him, “Bet you can’t get it on top without climbing on anything.

“Oh. Ho. You’re on,” Jeremy smirked and instantly tried throwing the star at the top of the tree.

After a few attempts, Jeremy started making a jump for it, though all that he managed to do was knock a good amount of ornaments off and bend the star. He started looking for something he could shoot the star to the top of the tree when you decided enough was enough.

You grabbed Jeremy and lifted him to the tree, him shouting the entire time. You knew he didn’t like being picked up but for the camera, he could deal.

“Oh, shut up and just put the star on. You’re heavy,” you told him. You were so thankful for Lindsay pushing you to go to the gym because that man was a lot of muscle packed into a small body.

The room busted up laughing as Jeremy grumbled, “There it’s on.”

“Oh thank you,” you sighed and took a step back to let Jeremy down but your foot landed on one of the baubles he had knocked down earlier. You slipped and both of you went tumbling to the ground.

“Oh my god! Are you okay?” Jeremy asked as he tried to scramble off of you but basically ended up straddled over you.

You smiled and laughed a little, “Actually pretty good.”

Jeremy chuckled and got off of you, “Come on. Let’s get you up.” He held out his hand. You sat up and took his hand but he pulled you up a little too hard and the two of you came chest to chest. His hands coming around your waist to steady you. You started to lean in and so did he until a loud whooping caused the two of you to jump apart and remember you weren’t the only ones in the room.

“Oh smooth, Gavin,” Michael tossed a pillow at him, “They were finally going to kiss!”

The two of you looked away from each other, blushing madly.

[rosegoldachievement]

Where Good Girls Go To Die (Chapter 3)

pairing: fahc x reader

word count: 2,316

series: Where Good Girls Go To Die

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

chapter 1 / chapter 2 / chapter 3 / chapter four

Chapter Three: Bittersweet

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, it was pretty rough.”

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

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

“You were at the robbery.;;”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“This is what makes Los Santos worth wild?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It was nice.”

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

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

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

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

“So, you admit it had some sap?”

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

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

[rt-reader-inserts]

To Protect You

Pairing: Cib x Reader

Word Count: 1,706

Prompt: Angsty Cib imagine? Por favor? (A/N: This was requested around the time ‘akrasia’ was released, so that’s when it takes place. Sorry it’s months late!!)

Warnings: Swearing, minimal violence.

You sigh as your phone continues to buzz, eventually turning your attention away from your laptop so you can check whatever is so important that it can’t wait until tomorrow. After the terrible day you’ve had, especially after all the arguments with Cib, you honestly just want to zone out on Netflix, but you aren’t able to do that while someone continually lights up your phone.

As you check your lockscreen, you’re greeted with several notifications, all from Steven and James.

3 missed calls from Steven S.

2 missed calls from James D.

Steven, 11:02pm: (Y/n), pick up the fucking phone

James, 11:03pm:  There’s an emergency, we need to talk

     Please, you gotta answer

Steven, 11:04pm: This isn’t a bit, you need to call us back right the fuck now

     I can’t say this over text, please look at your goddamn phone

     Don’t let anyone inside your apartment

At that message, you stop reading, your blood running cold as a wave of anxiety hits you, and you quickly swipe the notification to call him back. Hands shaking, you bite your lip, standing to your feet and pacing back and forth as the phone rings, unable to keep from wincing when you hear Steven’s voice.

“(Y/n), thank christ, listen, I— I don’t know how to say this, but… fucking hell…,” his voice breaks slightly, and you hear him sniff before continuing, “Parker, he— Parker’s dead, (y/n), he’s fucking dead and…”

You can hear his voice, still talking, still panicking, but your phone slips from your hand, falling to the hardwood at your feet, and you stand there, frozen. You can’t even begin to process what’s happening, your mind repeating the phrase over and over, but still figuring out nothing. Slowly, you kneel down and pick up the phone, your fingers almost numb as you do.

Steven is still going, and you begin to listen again as he says, “...and Cib, he ran off, we don’t know where the fuck he is, but he’s out of his goddamn mind and we— we don’t know what he’s doing.”

You don’t even bother getting up from the floor, slumping back against the couch as you pull your knees to your chest. “Dead… Parker is— Parker— ” you can’t get yourself to say it, the words caught in your throat.

“Listen, (y/n), keep your door locked, alright? If he’s gonna end up on anyone’s doorstep, it’ll be yours.”

You nod numbly, the thought that he has his own key popping up somewhere in the back of your mind, but it went mostly unnoticed amidst every other thought running through your head. “Steve, what do we do, where do we—”

A pair of feet appear in your line of vision, and you freeze, hesitating before looking up to see the figure looming over you. Cib’s eyes are sunken, tired, and he’s breathing heavily as he asks, “Is that Steven?”

Meanwhile, you hear persistent questioning in your ear, all along the lines of, “what’s going on?” but you can’t bring yourself to answer either voice. Instead, you rise your feet, legs trembling and almost collapsing beneath you.

“Cib… what did you do?” Your voice is shaking as you ask the question, a question you really don’t want an answer to. You see the blood on his hands, the look in his eyes, and you can’t help but wince as he takes a step toward you, unconsciously inching away until you hit a wall.

"Babe, listen," he continues to walk toward you, but you cut him off, your hands held out in front of you as you weakly warn him,

"Don't— don't take another step closer."

But he doesn't listen, moving forward, grabbing your wrists and pulling them down to your sides so he can stand in front of you, look you in the eye as he says, "I did this to protect you. I did this for us,” his breath reeks of alcohol, and you’re leaning as far against the wall as he continues, “for you.” "I never asked for this," your voice breaks as you speak, and you struggle to pull yourself out of his grip; but he's far stronger, his grip becoming almost painful, and your continued attempts to escape weaken. “He was my friend, and he was your friend too, wasn’t he?” There’s no response from Cib, not that you were expecting one. “He didn’t—” you close your eyes for a moment, sniffling as you try to force away the tears, “he didn’t deserve this!” "(Y/n), we can just forget about this, alright? We'll just, we'll keep going, like it never happened." His voice is desperate, and he leans down to your level, one of his bloodied hands moving to cup your cheek as he adds, "Please." He’s crying, tears rolling down his cheek, and your chest feels heavy. The moment feels like it might never end, his gaze piercing, his thumb brushing away the tears that streak down your face. Eventually though, you tear yourself away, ducking around him and running to the door with no clue of where you’re going. You can feel the smear of blood on your skin, hear him calling after you, and you just keep running, refusing to turn around.

That is, until you reach your car, and realize you have nothing on you but the phone in your hand. The sound of Cib’s footsteps only get closer, and you take a shallow breath before turning around, shuddering when you see him.

“(Y/n), please— please, don’t be afraid of me. I’m not gonna hurt you, I would never—”

“You killed him… he was your friend and you killed him; Cib, how could you, how could you kill anyone?” You find yourself shrinking in as he moves nearer, your hands moving to wipe away both the tears and blood that stained your cheeks.

“I couldn’t, I— I didn’t,” he runs a hand through his hair, gritting his teeth as he goes on to say, “all I could think about was you, and how he was always thinking about you. The fucker said he loved you, and I couldn’t— I couldn’t fucking stand it. He was trying to take you away, I couldn’t just let him.” His voice had grown to a shout, but at the sight of your trembling figure, his tone softens, “Friends don’t cross each other like that.”

Before you can say anything, he continues, “I just… I just wanted to teach him a lesson, and then— I looked down, and— and there was so much blood and he wasn’t moving and I, I, I didn’t know what to do…” He falls against you, pulling you close against him, and you can’t bring yourself to struggle against him. Sobbing softly into your hair, his fingers cling to the fabric of your shirt and you find yourself frozen in his arms. “I didn’t mean to, I didn’t mean to, I didn’t mean to,” he repeats it like a mantra, his voice barely a whisper.

Against your better judgement, you wrap your arms around him, your hand rubbing his back as he somehow holds you tighter. The blood on his hands stains your pajama shirt as it had your skin, and you can feel your ribcage shrink around your already straining lungs, crushing your pounding heart.

Hands trembling, you try to pull away, but he doesn’t let go, and you can’t find the strength to struggle as he leans almost all his weight against you. “Please don’t leave me,” he mumbles into your hair, his nails slightly digging into your back as he holds you to him, “I can’t lose you.”

“Cib, I—”

“Just let go of her, dude.”

You both hear James’ voice, and while you try to glance over to where he is, Cib just turns away, pulling you with him. His arms are almost crushing you now, and you’re struggling to breathe, trying to push him away as you say, “It hurts, Cib, please, just—”

“No! No, no, no, no, you’re not taking her away from me,” he almost growls, and your panic grows, pulse pounding in your ears as you begin to hit him. “Babe, just calm down, I got you—”

“You’re hurting me, let go!”

“If I let you go, they’ll take you,” he murmurs into your ear, pulling away to look you in the eye. His hands easily grip your wrists, both stopping you from hitting him and holding you in place. “I’m not letting anyone take you away from me.”

Your voice is weak when you respond, holding his gaze as you remind him, “You said you wouldn’t hurt me.”

He freezes at that, looking at you almost in shock, not saying a word, his grip still not loosening in the slightest. However, James makes quick work of that, easily removing Cib’s hands from you and pushing you in Steve’s general direction. You can’t keep from stumbling slightly, your legs shaking as you listen to the chaos behind you, James doing his best to calm, or maybe subdue, Cib.

And then you finally notice Steven’s presence, and how he’s looking at you with sad eyes, and how his arms are open just slightly; and then he’s gently wrapping an arm around your shoulders, telling you something. You can’t process any of his words, but they’re softly spoken, and you lean into your friend’s side as he starts to walk you away from the scene.

“You can stay with me and Alyssa tonight…”

“Don’t fucking do this, man.”

“…we’ll figure this shit out in the morning…”

“Let me go, dude, you can’t— you can’t take her!”

“…hopefully.”

Steve ushers you into the passenger seat, and as he closes the door, you look out the window to see an almost rabid Cib, fighting against James and slowly tiring himself out. Hugging your arms around your torso, you sink into the seat, body still trembling.

“We’re gonna figure this out, alright?” Steve assures you, reversing out of the parking lot as James struggles to push Cib into his own car. You know he’s not sure, though, he’s just trying to make you feel better, calm you down. Somehow, it still helps.

“I know.”

[vidderinserts]

Can’t Fake It | Jon Risinger

Summary: Soulmates, Fake Ah Crew, and an artist

Warnings: I use the word cunt

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

<b>Enjoy!</b>

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

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

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

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

Geoff Ramsey always did enjoy hocking a good forgery.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t push it.”

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

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

“Every night, Risinger.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Can I call you my date for Friday?”

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

[chezzkaa]

Me reading smut: I feel nothing.

Also me reading fluff: I CANNOT LOOK I HAVE STOPPED BREATHING. WHAT THE FRICKITY-FLIPPIN'-FUCK IS THIS? RIP ME.

[rtscrobbles]

Wait ok so have you seen the rooster teeth "prank" on achievement hunter where rt set up a whole carnival in the ah office??? And Chris does the "Chrissing booth" and has people pay him $5 to not kiss him.. but like what if the reader wants to kiss him and I just cant stop thinking about it

+ prompt 26

A/N: Yes I have seen the prank video, was probably one of most wholesome video

Today was the day of the elaborate prank against achievement hunter, an entire circus in their small office, fit with a petting zoo as well. You were helping Blaine grab some finishing touches for decorations and other props to make the whole scene feel more authentic. You were just an intern so of course you got the not so fun jobs, but Blaine made it more interesting.

"Hey Y/N?"

"Yeah Blaine?" You were preoccupied with shoving a bunch of circus-esque props into a moderately sized cardboard box, which would do the job.

"How do you feel about Chris?"

Your heart stopped for a second, you thought you were very good at keeping your slight crush on Chris just a secret. "He's, uh, nice I guess. Why do you ask?" You hoped he couldn't tell you were panicking just a bit.

"Oh no reason," you could hear the lie in his voice. "Just uhh, don't pay him $5" Blaine elbows you on the way out, you follow him with your box in hand. What on earth was he on about?

Eventually it all made sense when you arrived into the achievement hunter office and there Chris was with his "Chrissing Booth" where you could pay him $5 to not kiss him. You felt the side of your cheek perk up releasing what Blaine meant. He eyed you off from the other side of the room, making body gestures towards Chris's direction.

You walked toward Chris and had to hold back, composing yourself. Okay now maybe it wasn't a secret you liked dorky Chris but you couldn't careless at this moment.

"Hey Chris, what happens if I don't pay you $5?" You proposed, he arched his eyebrow cockily in response.

"Guess you'll find out huh?"

You stood there for a second, lost for words. You couldn't make out any words, his response just froze you in place.

“Just shut up and kiss me.”

You stood on your tip-toes and placed a small kiss on his lips, your heart racing. You pull back only to see that Chris was beaming at you with wide smile...

and your co-workers cheering.