I know shipping isn't as big of a thing in the RT/AH fandom as it was a few years ago, but I'm curious to see what everybody's feeling nowadays and how much the fandom has changed since then. I only included one ship per person just to keep it fair, so sorry to all the Gavin ships out there.
Also this is just for fun and if anyone sends me anon hate about me including this in the AH main tag I'm gonna take you out by the kneecaps :) If you don't like it then pls scroll past it!
I like the idea that when fahc matt’s concentrating on a game he responds to questions completely honestly (and usually without even realising it). It’s all fun and games - especially for gavin and his neverending questions - until they’re talking about jeremy one night and jokingly ask “what, are you in love with them?” and matt responds “yeah a little”
Awww this is so sweet!! I love the idea that it takes concentration from Matt to lie. It doesn’t come too easy and he overthinks his lies so they can never be found out. Which usually makes it hard to know if he’s ever telling the truth. But take that concentration away and add the annoyance of Gavin buzzing in his ear as he’s playing and of course that’s how any truth comes out haha.
And of course that’s how people learn of Matt’s lil crush on Jeremy haha. Though I’m sure Gavin wastes no time in telling Jeremy. As I’m sure they’ve been whining about their crush for a long time haha
It’s been a minute but it’s time for @rtwritingcommunity secret springfairy! Happy Springfairy, @shadeofazmeinya !
Prompt: Recovering from an injury (nothing drastic). And of course the best medicine is cuddles and comfort food in bed. Could be an injury from an accident, a fight (like in fahc au), or in protecting one another.
Summary: When a heist fails in a big way, no one is exactly pleased. But Michael notices that Gavin is even less pleased than the others, and decides to investigate what's got his friend down.
Preview:
To say the heist didn’t go well would be an understatement. The Fake AH Crew had had their fair share of chaotic heists, but this was a new record just for how poorly things could go. It hadn’t even happened in a fun way that they could laugh about later, but in a just downright Not Good way. Somehow, the cops had gotten tipped off about their plan, so the crew aborted Plan A in favor of Plan B before they’d even started. This normally would have been fine, as none of them could remember a time that something hadn’t gone wrong, except this time, they’d been on a time crunch. Plan B was nowhere near as well researched or planned as Plan A had been, and thus, a whole bunch of their information was just plain wrong. This would also normally be fine, since improv was what they did best, except the universe was extra not in their favor that day. Their comms system hadn’t been stable, and every warning they tried to yell at each other sounded like they were going through the world’s longest tunnel that was also somehow underwater. To add to this, no one felt at the top of their game physically, which could most likely be blamed on the intense Wii Sports competition the night prior.
So yes. The heist had ended before they’d even made it to their prize. Not the finest day for the Fake AH Crew.
“That sucked,” Michael declared to the silent car for the fifth or sixth time as they drove lazily around the upper hills of Los Santos. They didn’t know if anyone was following them, and as much as everyone wanted to get to the penthouse and sleep for the next year, they needed to make sure they weren’t leading the cops right to them. Jack had taken half the crew in her minivan for a tour down by the water, while Geoff had taken the other half and squeezed them into a small hybrid car to venture into the hills. “How did that go so bad?”
Cullen looked up from the map on the war table; they’d been discussing the upcoming plans now that they Templars had been recruited. They hadn’t yet arrived, having their own dealings to sort before leaving Therinfal Redoubt, but the Herald and her party already returned a couple days ago.
Leliana stood across from him, keeping her eyes on the Commander and ignoring his fiddling with the metal map pieces.
“I know you do not like speaking of it,” she began, “but you are the only one here who has an idea of what she went through.”
He broke his gaze, looking back down and resting his palms on the table. His cheeks took on a shade a pink, as did the tips of his ears.
“I can’t.”
Her boots clicked against the stone floor as she adjusted her stance to mirror his.
“She won’t discuss what happened beyond what she shared in the report,” she reminded him. “She’s holding it in. She’s the face of the Inquisition. We need her mind clear.”
A sigh was his only response for a time. His eyes darted from piece to piece, and his cheeks burned brighter.
“I... You’re right.”
“I know I am,” she replied, offering an encouraging smile. “You don’t have to share your experience. She only needs to know you understand.”
“All right,” he said. He let out another sigh and pushed off the table, leaving Leliana alone in the war room.
Rosalayn sat on the bed she’d first woken up in after attempting to seal the Breach. The Inquisition decided to leave the whole cabin to her alone; it was easier to guard, and Josephine insisted the Herald deserved privacy, foreseeing the chaos that would surround her as the rumors of her divine savior circulated.
Having guards standing outside her door reminded her of being back in the Circle, but it was comforting knowing they were there to protect her from the outside, and not the other way around.
Her fingertips plucked the strings of the lute Maryden let her borrow; she played a simple song her aunt had taught her when she was a child, but there was little heart behind the tune.
The usual sounds of Haven were simply white noise, but she always caught the sound of someone walking up the steps near her cabin. It was a nice warning, and it gave her a few moments to perk up, or at least appear to.
When she heard the sound of heavy boots on the cold wood, Rosalayn took a deep breath and continued playing the lute, trying to breathe life into the dark circles under her eyes.
“Commander,” one of the guards greeted, her voice muffled.
“I’m here... Herald. ...in?” was all Rosalayn could make out.
The knock on her door was more obvious.
“Come in,” she called out, strumming a few notes before putting the lute down next to her.
There was a pause before the door creaked open.
“Heral--Rose,” he said.
She smiled, thankful he remembered her request. She understood being called Herald in front of the refugees and Inquisition forces, but she wanted the title dropped in private.
The commander stood in front of her, rubbing the back of his neck. She moved to sit on the edge of the bed and pushed the lute behind her.
“Do you, uh, want to sit?” she offered, gesturing to the desk chair.
“Sure,” he replied. He pulled the chair out and sat; his discomfort was palpable.
Neither spoke for a few moments, and the awkwardness grew unbearable.
“So,” Rosalayn began, drawing out the ‘o.’ “What, uh, brings you by? Is it about the Templars? Did something happen?”
“No!” he quickly assured. Cullen leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees and intertwining his fingers. “Last we heard, their travel is going smoothly. I came to just, er... talk.”
She raised a brow. “Okay... about what?”
“Therinfal Redoubt,” he said, letting out a sigh. “I just... wanted to see if you were all right.”
“I’m fine,” she responded, a little too quickly. “It shook me a bit, but I’m fine.”
His brows furrowed a bit, and his lips parted to sigh. “I--I read the report.”
“Obviously,” Rosalayn said, forcing a smile. “What about it?”
“When the demon was... You only spoke of what the demon had planned,” he said, not meeting her gaze. “Taking your form, the assassination, the demon army. In my--what I’ve read about demons... they take what’s personal and use it against you.”
He paused and glanced up at Rosalayn who was watching him, unblinking. Her fingers were folded together in her lap, twisting, and popping when just enough pressure was placed on the joints.
“You hadn’t mentioned anything like that i-in the report,” he finished.
She remained silent, still watching him, remembering something her Aunt Lucille told her. ‘If you’re lying, keep eye contact. Looking away means you’re not sure of your own words.’
“I shared all that happened,” she told him, sounding more curt than confident.
“Rose,” Cullen said, exasperated, whether at her or himself, Rosalayn didn’t know. “Having a demon inside your mind... it takes a strong person to walk away from that. And you are.”
“What are you getting at, Cullen?” she demanded.
In that moment, she wanted nothing more than to disappear under the covers of her bed and pretend she alone again. Alone with her own thoughts of the Envy demon, alone with her own nightmares. It seemed Cullen wouldn’t let her so easily.
“I-I’d rather not go into detail,” he explained, “but I understand. Demons, they... reach for anything they feel they can use against you. And an Envy demon would certainly do so more fervently than most.”
He leaned further forward, still holding her gaze.
“Whatever it showed you, whatever it made you feel, it wasn’t real,” he insisted. “It was a twisted form of your reality. Trust me, I’ve... I’ve felt that manipulation, and it changes you. I refused to speak of it--I still do--but it can’t be ignored. It festers. It breaks you. It...”
Cullen sighed and let his head fall, breaking their eyes’ hold. The tips of his ears were red; he’d gotten himself worked up, Rosalayn noticed.
“If you want or need to speak to someone who understands,” he began, his eyes back on hers. “I’m here for you.”
summary: Adrenaline is one hell of a drug.
(Alfreyco Week Three Prompt: Red Web actual investigators au + “Run! You have to keep running!”)
word count: 5,817
pairing: Alfreyco (Alfredo/Trevor)
It was as Trevor was half-helping, half-pulling an injured Alfredo to their vehicle that Trevor thought: if he ever found the fucker that was responsible for tethering a spirit to this decrepit house and then leaving it up to whoever came along next to clean up the mess, it wouldn't be pretty.
He had sympathy for the poor spirit of course. He wouldn't want to be chained to a dilapidated house at the edge of town, on an isolated piece of property that was only visited by curious teenagers either. But that sympathy had been hard to come by when he and Fredo were being chased throughout the two-story farmhouse.
It had all started with an accident. A kid had been dared by his friends to go into the house, a common story that Trevor'd seen in multiple investigations, but this one took a serious turn. The online article Fredo had read out to him reported that the kid, just some innocent 15 year old trying to impress his friends, ended up getting severely hurt and sent to the hospital with possible brain trauma. The local police had searched the house, but found it to be empty of any suspects. This was the third time in as many months that the same incident had occurred with some kid getting hurt and the local police coming up empty handed as to what could’ve caused this kid harm.
That's where Red Web came in.
Because a ghost haunting a house is one thing - a normal thing that Trevor has come across many times and has lived through himself a few times. Maybe there will be some furniture moving at random intervals or inconsistencies in the house temperature, but when that spirit becomes violent and resorts to hurting children? Then it becomes a problem.
Could it have been a case of just a kid coming across some failing architecture in an abandoned house? Absolutely. But the reports from the victim's friends stated that they clearly heard the victim screaming before they ran into the house. Loud, blood-curdling screams; the kind that sunk into your bones.
With the knowledge that this spirit was prone to violence Trevor and Alfredo had headed to the house with every tool they could think of.
summary: As if the storm had heard him and his quick dismissal, another deafening boom shook the room and a flash of lightning filled the sky once more, this one closer to the building he resided in than the last strike. A squeak of surprise escaped him as he burrowed further into the bed and pulled the covers over his head.
After being under the safety of the blankets for several minutes he finally realized what felt off about the bedroom, other than the semi-hurricane raging outside. He was the only one in the bed.
Which could only mean that Michael and Jeremy hadn’t made it home yet.
word count: 2,069
pairing(s): jeremavin (jeremy/michael/gavin)
also available on AO3
With a resounding boom a clap of thunder shook the room Gavin had been, seconds before, sleeping soundly in. The younger man woke with a start, a small gasp escaping him from the sudden eruption of noise. The lightning that followed seconds after illuminated the room around him and the city below for a few seconds, while the torrent of rain battered against the windows of the apartment relentlessly. He laid his hand on his chest to try and quiet his thumping heart, when his brain finally caught up to the fact that it had been the storm that woke him and not someone setting off an explosion. A sigh of relief left him as he laid back against his pillow. It was nothing but a thunderstorm.
As if the storm had heard him and his quick dismissal, another deafening boom shook the room and a flash of lightning filled the sky once more, this one closer to the building he resided in than the last strike. A squeak of surprise escaped him as he burrowed further into the bed and pulled the covers over his head.
After being under the safety of the blankets for several minutes he finally realized what felt off about the bedroom, other than the semi-hurricane raging outside. He was the only one in the bed.
Which could only mean that Michael and Jeremy hadn’t made it home yet.
The thought of the two of them being out in such a storm sent Gavin’s heart hammering against his chest again. He instantly scoffed at his anxious thoughts, arguing internally with himself that it would take more than a thunderstorm to take down two of Los Santos's most fearsome criminals.
Fredo on his back meds has had me thinking- imagine the boys after an investigation goes wrong, battered and bruised and exhausted, too exhausted to head home so they camp out on the sofa in the RW office and watch old black and white creature features, not wanting to let each other out of their sight & not able to fall asleep. Fredo absolutely loopy on pain meds & Treh half wanting to film this for future amusement, but not wanting to have to get up to to grab his phone & leave their huddle
Ooh anon this is so good!! Also sorry about the late reply 😅
But yes, I can totally see this happening! Like the two of them are just absolutely exhausted, especially Alfredo, who took the brunt of the bad luck during this case. And the two of them are just happy they made it back to HQ in one piece. Of course neither of them have let the other out of their sight or stray too many feet away from them that night because nothing makes you feel fear quite like almost losing the person you love you're closest to when you feel helpless to stop it.
And I can totally see those two leaning on each other on the worn in HQ sofa with an old black and white creature feature on the TV. They're a couple hours in when Trevor is totally contemplating getting up and grabbing his phone when Alfredo starts mumbling about a movie completely different from the one they're watching. And I mean, this man has not even been watching the movie that's on because his eyes are mostly closed and have been for the last hour. But as Trevor starts to get up to grab his phone, because honestly this is just too good of an opportunity to pass up on for future teasing purposes, he jostles Fredo and the other man's eyes fly open, finding Trevor immediately and grabbing his hand with his own and there's just something that flashes across Alfredos face. Something that makes Trevor's chest twist and not want to leave Alfredo's side for as long as he's needed. So he softly reassures Alfredo that hes not going anywhere and presses into the other man until he's sure that he himself and Alfredo can feel the constant ressurance that they're both alive and breathing.
summary: When a member of the royal family turns 25, it is tradition for the kingdom to hold a festival in celebration. On one night a ball is held and on the following night a competition is held to see who is worthy of the royal's hand. This year its Trevor's turn. Many have come from all over the land to show their worth, but Prince Trevor can only choose one.
[written for the @rtwritingcommunity Secret Sunshine event for @uy8hg]
"So how are you feeling about tomorrow, my prince?" Gavin says Trevor's title with a hint of mockery and it takes all Trevor has in him not to cuff his advisor aside the head. He opts to shoot him a glare from behind his mask instead.
"You know we're supposed to be keeping our identities a secret, right? That is the point of a masquerade ball after all," Trevor whispers to him. Fortunately none of the guests seem to hear Gavin over the sounds of idle chatter and music that fills the grand ballroom. People from all walks of life and from all over the country have come to fill the King Geoffrey’s ballroom tonight. Gavin chooses to snicker in place of answering Trevor as the two move through the colorful crowd of visitors. Trevor snags a glass of red wine, light with age, from one of the passing staff just to give his hands something to do.
It was tradition for the kingdom to hold a ball and festival once the prince or princess reached the age of 25 to celebrate their birth, but Trevor had decided to change up the tradition- as he was prone to do, by turning it into a masquerade ball. How else would he be able to see a person’s true self if they knew who he was by seeing his face? Whether they were simply here to socialize or to take part in tomorrow’s competition for his hand, the prince wanted to get to know the people of his country. He figured this would be the best way to do that. After all, it would be hard to be favored by the other guests if his face was hidden behind a mask.
Trevor’s gaze sweeps over the masked faces of the people, their colorful outfits joining together in a rainbow mixture. It appears everyone has put their all into what they would be wearing for tonight's occasion, he guesses if he was in their shoes then he too would want to look the best he could for the occasion. It’s not every year that the kingdom hosts a celebration on this scale.
The prince was thankful that he wasn’t responsible for his attire for tonight’s event. His typical outfit of a white button-up shirt and black riding pants would have most likely rewarded him an exasperated expression from his fathers. The two mean well, they always had Trevor’s best interest in mind, but both the king and his consort, Jack, had been raised within the castle’s walls while Trevor had only been adopted into the castle life when he was a child after his own parents had met their demise from a bad strain of black fever. No matter how many years he has lived here, and the many more he would spend here in his lifetime, he will always prefer the feel of soft dirt beneath him and the open sky above him.
