Summary: Lindsay had a feeling the place would be a bust the moment they walked through the front doors.
Warnings: Gun, Minor Violence
Word Count: 1,271
Lindsay had a feeling the place would be a bust the moment they walked through the front doors. Vale Jeweler’s had only opened a month ago, and it was just ripe for the picking. The question was not if they would get robbed, but when. Meg had come to Lindsay with the job, and the two had picked a nondescript Wednesday to scope it out. The outside had looked nice enough, with clean white paint and simple red scrawl for the name of the store.
The inside looked like someone had tossed bleach all over everything to suck any color or life out of it. Despite the store’s promising veneer, there were only two or three other people in the shop besides a bored attendant. Lindsay glanced at Meg, who shook her head discreetly. The place was filled with gaudy, fake jewelry– something Meg had a gift of sniffing out. “Ruby, look, such beautiful engagement rings!”
Lindsay leaned over the case with Meg, turning her face away from the attendant, “I thought you said this place was promising, Neon.”
“The reviews on Yelp were!” Meg defended, pretending to look closely at a particular ring, “Besides, look at these prices. People are too stupid to think this is fake. More money means authenticity.”
“You think there’s take behind the scenes?” Lindsay shot the attendant a saccharine smile, and she was pleased to see the tips of his ears color.
“Let’s find out,” Meg grinned, sauntering over to the man, “Excuse me…sir?”
The man didn’t have a chance to answer before the front door imploded, glass shattering inwards. Lindsay’s hand flew to her thigh, her stomach lurching when she realized she’d had to take her holster off before they came. Meg swore, glancing at the attendant and then at Lindsay. A man with unruly curls and a brown leather jacket slowly stepped inside, holding a large black case in one hand and a handgun in the other. “Listen up,” he shouted to the room, surveying the shaken customers, “I’m gonna make this real, real simple. Everybody gets tied up, nobody tries to be a goddamned hero, and everybody gets out of here just fine and dandy, alright?“
He let the case thump onto the ground, and Lindsay squinted, trying to see if there were any markings on it. Meg was slowly inching away from the attendant, but the man saw what she was doing and shook his head, storming over to her. He grabbed her arm and pulled her toward the boy behind the counter, "Look, dude, if you don’t want anything to happen to this pretty girl, then you’ll take your fucking hands away from that alarm and let me in the back.”
Lindsay almost felt bad for the boy, but this was Los Santos, and his employers must have let him know at least a little bit of the risk, right? The guy in the leather jacket twitched and she saw him shake his head slightly before starting to shout at the whimpering attendant. Meg must have noticed too, because she jerked her chin toward the man’s head, her lips curling up in a sneer.
Lindsay realized he was wearing some sort of bluetooth, and people must have been talking to him through it. She rolled her eyes, and then made a step toward him. He turned toward her, his mouth still open, but Meg interrupted him, “Hey, asshole! Let go of me!”
The man rolled his eyes and pushed her away, letting her stumble back into the cases. He pointed at Lindsay, “You start tying people up,” he pulled out a spool of twine from his pocket, and then tuned back to the attendant, “You hurry the hell up, kid.”
Lindsay caught the spool with wide eyes, shaking her head at Meg. The man turned around again to see if she had moved and let out an impatient sigh, pointing the gun at Meg, “Do it now or I’ll glack your friend! Come on!”
Meg just rolled her eyes, giving Lindsay a look she’d come to recognize. Lindsay turned away from her and knelt to the nearest hostage, “I’m not going to make it tight,” she murmured, glancing at the man again. He had hopped over the case, pushing the attendant into the wall. Meg had righted herself and held her hands out to Lindsay, who barely tied the twine around Meg’s wrist.
“Should we wait until he comes back out or when he gets the take?” Lindsay murmured, gesturing to the empty doorway. They could hear faint shouts, and both of the women strained their ears to hear. Lindsay could only make out a few swears before one of the other hostages squeaked, “Please, please, I’m at Vale Jeweler’s, there’s a robber, god–”
“Ah, hell,” Meg rolled her eyes, and sighed, bouncing on her toes, “Hey! Hey, asshole! This lady’s callin’ the cops!”
The shouting in the back stopped, and the hostage up front sent Meg a look of terror. The man came barreling over the counter, shouting, “Who the fuck was it? Let’s go or I shoot you all!”
“I- I’m sorry!” The gun went off, the bullet hitting its mark. The man didn’t even flinch, and Lindsay stepped forward, “Hey.” She still had the twine.
The man swiveled, turning his gun on her. Lindsay bristled and glanced at Meg before slapping the man’s wrist, and yanking his gun away from him. “Don’t fucking point this at me, asshole.”
One of the other hostages who wasn’t permanently in shock whimpered, “Thank God, we’re save–”
Lindsay shot him without even looking, leaving only one hostage left besides Meg and the attendant who hadn’t resurfaced. The man was looking at her with awe and a little bit of fear. She liked his freckles. “Where’s the money?”
The man smirked, rolling his eyes. Impatient, Lindsay fired the gun at the ceiling,“Asshole. We don’t have time, where’ s the money?”
With wide eyes he said slowly, “It’s in the back with the kid. And the name’s Mogar, not Asshole.”
“How charming,” Meg rolled her eyes and shrugged out of her restraints, hopping over the counter.
“Turn around,” Lindsay ordered, shifting the twine with her other hand. Mogar raised an eyebrow, but obliged, holding his wrists behind his back. She noticed a tattoo on his forearm, and as she was tying the twine around his wrists she murmured, “I like your tattoo.”
Mogar laughed, his shoulders shaking with it, “Thanks.”
They heard Meg shout, “Got it, let’s go!” She came blazing through the back, a sack over her shoulder.
“Where’s the kid?”
“Killed him,” Meg shrugged, “Let’s go, po-pos should be here any minute. Kill the other one.”
Mogar turned around sharply, “Hey, hey, don’t shoot me, okay? This whole thing was a dare anyway. Look, I just brought my minigun in case of emergency, right? I wasn’t gonna kill you two.” He jerked his head toward the black case.
Lindsay shook her head and shot the last hostage, turning back to Mogar. Meg was grabbing something behind the counter, so she leaned closer to him, “I’m not gonna shoot you,” she grinned at him, “but we are taking your mingun.”
“What? No! Just shoot me then! Come on!” Mogar whined. Meg made her way to the door, picking up the case in her other hand, waiting for Lindsay.
“You can have it back after dinner at Ellis and Heyman’s tomorrow night,” Lindsay winked, backing out the door. She let the shattered door swing to a close, leaving a grinning man behind. Maybe it hadn’t been such a bust after all.
Summary: Ray overhears Ryan singing in the shower which he has never heard before (since Ryan keeps this information to himself, along with the fact that he is incredibly gifted) so Ray asks Ryan to sing him a lullaby later that night.
Warnings: Swearing, Mild Descriptions of Violence, Temporary Main Character Death
Word Count: 2,822
There were many things about Ryan that were a mystery to Ray. Especially since he kept his private life tucked away and hidden from the rest of the crew, only opening up for brief moments on occasion. Thankfully, as the crew became closer and the men became less like a crew and more like a family – which was dangerous in this business, but they were all too attached to just abandon each other like they would have, should have – Ryan had changed from this cold, masked mercenary to someone who tried to make bad jokes about physics but ended up flubbing the words. Not to say that he wasn’t still just as scary and effective when the Fake AH were out on a heist, but around the guys he was able to let his walls down.
So when Ray escaped with Ryan after a particularly dangerous heist – he wasn’t thinking about that right now, nope, not gonna happen – he didn’t know what to expect when he was taken to Ryan’s apartment. Some sketchy place looking over an alley filled with knives and an assortment of other weapons? An impressive, way too expensive modern condo that had no personal touches at all? A secret family? (Although that one was a little far off, cause Ryan? A father? It seemed absurd.)
Instead Ryan took Ray to one of the middle floors of an unassuming apartment complex, but that wasn’t the end to Ray’s shock. Ryan seemed to be on friendly terms with every neighbor they crossed paths with on their way up, regardless of the fact that they were both covered in blood and carrying suspiciously shaped duffle bags. The first thing he noticed when Ryan opened the door was how homey it all was. Dishes in the sink, a well worn couch, pairs of shoes by the door. The next thing he noticed that Ryan seemed to have an affinity for houseplants. There had to be at least 10 in the main room alone (which doesn’t seem like a lot but hey, it’s a small room.)
“Make yourself at home.”
Ray snapped his mouth shut, turning to face Ryan, who was now standing in the kitchen with an apple.
“Nice place.” He manages to get out. Nice one Ray- he totally doesn’t think you’re an idiot now.
Ryan just smiles at him sweetly. Sweetly. With a face covered in smudged face paint and blood covering his jacket. Ray was in too deep to ever go back.
“I’ll see if I’ve got some extra pillows and stuff laying around, it’s pretty late so I’ll be off to bed soon. Grab something from the fridge if you’re hungry. We can do some cleanup tomorrow but it’ll all be good for a few hours.” Ryan told Ray, leading him to the couch. “You’re stuck on the couch though, I’m not used to having guests around.”
“That are alive…” Ray muttered under his breath. (The guy had a dartboard with knives stuck into it okay?) Ryan barked out a laugh at that, and Ray shot him a nervous grin. Shaking his head, Ryan walked away to find some blankets, leaving Ray alone. He took that time to set his weapons bag and sniper rifle on the coffee table in front of the couch.
Deciding to leave cleaning his weapons until the morning, Ray unpacked the rest of his bag, and laid everything out on the table. There wasn’t much left, a couple grenades, a pistol, some extra ammo. Thankfully the rest of the crew had the cash left from the heist, so Ray and Ryan didn’t have to worry about it.
Sitting down on the couch, Ray pulled out his pocketknife and started wiping it off. Usually he was lucky enough to never have to use the thing, being a sniper usually meant that you were out of the way enough to not get stabbed in the throat. But some unfortunate soul had actually managed to make his way up to Ray’s perch today and thought that he had the jump on Ray. The poor guy never knew what hit him. Well, what stabbed him.
“Hey Ryan, what’s taking you so long? You still in the closet?” Ray called out, tucking his knife into his hoodie pocket. He failed to stop the grin coming to his face at the joke.
A choked noise came from behind him, and Ray turned around to see Ryan standing in the doorway with arms full of blankets and pillows. A plain-faced, blushing Ryan. (Ray told himself he was only red in the face because it was warm in his apartment. That’s the only reason.)
“You took off your face paint.” Ray stuttered out.
“I’ve learned not to sleep with it on over the years. It’s a bitch to get off the sheets.” Ryan coughed awkwardly, “Speaking of, here are yours.”
Ray took the bundle from Ryan.
“Thanks man.”
There were a few moments of awkward silence before Ryan cleared his throat. “Well I’m gonna hit the hay here…”
Ray looked up from scuffing his feet on the carpet. “Oh yea, don’t let me keep you up.”
Ryan turned around and walked back to his room. (Ray definitely wasn’t admiring his back muscles what are you talking about) When he was out of sight Ray let out a huge sigh and flopped down onto the couch, letting the blankets rest on his lap in a pile. He rubbed his hands over his face.
Ray what the fuck have you gotten yourself into this time?
“Oh hey.” Ryan’s voice came from the doorway, snapping Ray out of his trance. He turned his head towards Ryan’s room, where he was greeted by the somehow absolutely adorable image of Ryan’s smiling head peeking out around the wall.
“Just holler if you need anything.” Ryan grinned at Ray, and then closed his bedroom door.
He was totally fucked.
~
It was just a run-of-the-mill heist. An easy hit on a couple of convenience stores, some quick cash and some thrills to get their minds off the more serious business.
But being the Fake AH Crew, nothing ever went as planned.
When the crew got to the second store everyone was on edge. There were no sirens from their prior robbery and no one was around for blocks. But they brushed it off and proceeded anyway.
Ray was distracted; feeling like someone was behind him every time he turned to look through his scope. His hands twitched, wanting to pull his knives out of his pockets, but he tried to focus on sniping. Even if there was no one around.
When the crew had gotten out of the store and were heading into the escape vehicle, everyone started to relax. The hits had gone off without a hitch, and they were just about on the home stretch.
Just about doesn't cut it in Los Santos.
Cops suddenly surrounded them. SWAT teams filing out from seemingly empty buildings, cop cars flying out from alleys, guns up and aiming to kill.
It was chaos. The crew dropped the loot and took cover before the gunfire started. Ray went into reflex mode, taking out person after person, the next bullet on its way before the last body hit the floor.
After what seemed like years of close calls and explosions The Fake AH Crew had finally taken out the majority of the cops and had commandeered a SWAT van. Ray took this moment to refill his rifle and take a glance behind him. He couldn't shake the feeling that someone was going to sneak up on his perch.
He looked back through his scope at the guys getting into the van. Ryan was the last one outside, firing a couple shots at the final cops. When it seemed like they were all clear, everyone was screaming at Ryan to 'get the fuck in the van right now goddammit'
Ray felt that presence behind him again but did his best to ignore it until the guys were on the road to safety. He was no use to the crew if he was distracted.
Ryan finally let up, turning back to the van and closing the van door on the far side. The sight of a person on the other side of the door gave everyone a shock. It wasn’t until Ray heard the shot of a gun that he pulled his own trigger.
But it was too late.
Someone screamed but Ray didn’t recognize the voice until he felt the rawness of his throat and felt the lack of air in his lungs.
Time seemed to slow down. It seemed like his eyes were glued to the image of Ryan’s body jerking, and then crumpling down to meet the pavement.
And although Ryan was already still (had already been still for too long, too long) Ray realized too late that he himself had fallen. And somehow that’s exactly how he felt. But less like a fall, and more like someone was dragging him along sandpaper. Like had clawed his heart out and was dragging it through his lungs, into his stomach. He couldn’t breathe. He stomach was twisting but nothing came up. Choking, unable to move.
He had fallen, but not from his perch.
Ray opened eyes he didn’t know he had closed. The body was still there, mocking him. He willed it to breathe, to move. Something.
Anything but lying there like that. Black spots danced around Ray’s vision but he couldn’t look away.
Ryan.
Ryan please wake up.
~
Ray woke up paralyzed a in a cold sweat. ‘It was just a dream,’ Ray told himself, ‘Nothing new.’
Except that this was different. It wasn’t just him in danger; wasn’t just him getting killed. Ryan was the one who died. And Ray wasn’t able to save him.
Overcome by an irrational urge to see if Ryan was okay – Of course he’s okay Ray, it was just a dream don’t be an idiot – he crawled off the couch, clutching the quilt around his shoulders, and snuck over to Ryan’s door. He just needed a glimpse and he would be okay until morning. He probably wouldn’t sleep, but he would be okay.
Pushing Ryan’s door open a crack, he peered in. He could just make out the outline of the bed and other pieces of furniture around the room. On the wall to the left of where Ray was standing in the doorway was another door that he assumed led to the bathroom. It was closed, light flooding out onto the floor from under it.
Telling himself that it was just to see if Ryan was okay, Ray walked over to the door. Before he could press his ear to the door he heard the sound of Ryan’s voice drifting out from the bathroom. But he wasn’t speaking, or yelling at anyone like Ray suspected.
He was singing.
The door muffled the sounds quite a bit, but over the sound of the shower and the faint music, Ray could hear the familiar sound of Ryan’s voice. And it was one of the most amazing things he had ever heard.
Maybe not the way we thought we’d planned, but both of us will take this hand...
Ray lent against the wall next to the door and closed his eyes. He had no idea Ryan was such a good singer. And if he was being completely honest with himself, it was making him feel a lot better. His emotions winning over, Ray let himself slide down the wall to sit against it. He pulled the quilt tighter around his body, telling himself that he would sneak out before Ryan finished shower and no one would be the wiser.
We don’t have to talk of where we go from here, my dearly departed…
“Ray?”
Ray started, hands flying to his pockets for his knives, before he realized who it was who woke him.
“Ryan you son of a bitch. Give a man some warning next time.” Ray straightened his glasses before realizing he was still sitting on the floor in Ryan’s room. “Shit. Well this is awkward, I’m just gonna go…” He grabbed the quilt and started to move past Ryan.
Ryan grabbed Ray’s arm stopping him before he could move any further. “Ray, what were you doing in my room?” He asked, somewhat menacingly, obviously jumping to the worst conclusions. People in their line of business had more than enough reason to be overly cautious.
Avoiding Ryan’s gaze, Ray sighed. He knew there was no way Ryan was going to let this go easily, and he was in no way up for an argument.
“I… was having a, um, rough time sleeping.” He replied, voice trailing off into a whisper. “But I’ll get back to the couch, don’t want to be a bother.” The last words came out in a rush in a poor attempt to hide how choked his voice was getting.
This time when Ryan grabbed his arm to keep him from leaving, there was no threat behind it. It was meant as a comfort, but to Ray or to Ryan they couldn’t tell. And it showed how much Ryan had changed, how much they had both changed, that when he told Ray to stay in his room for the night he only nodded and laid down face first into the pillows.
He was barely able to stop himself from jumping when he felt the side of Ryan’s body against his. He stiffened when he felt a hand on his arm, but quickly relaxed into it. Just when he thought Ryan was about to let it go, Ryan spoke up.
“Does this happen often?”
Ray almost laughed at that. It was almost more unusual in their work for someone to not have regular nightmares. In Ray’s case they happened nightly for a couple weeks after a big hit, and then tapered off to every other night or so if not much was going on. But he suspected this was Ryan’s way of asking if he wanted to talk about it without asking directly.
Ray flipped around so that his back was on the mattress before responding.
“Heh… yea you could say that.” Ray replied with a smirk. He felt a nudge from Ryan signaling him to go on.
“Okay you nosy asshole…” Ray took a deep breath before continuing. “It’s usually us on a job, and I’m up somewhere sniping. And while I’m up there, I’m obviously paying attention to you guys, and not enough to my surroundings. So some guy will get the jump on me and we’ll duke it out for a bit until he gains the upper hand. Then I’ll either be flying off my perch or wind up with a knife in my side.”
Ray shrugged, purposely not finishing off his story. And this time he did jump when he felt an arm wrap around his shoulders and pull him in towards Ryan. He could feel the muscles of Ryan’s chest against his arm, and smell his body wash-
Ray what the fuck you’re having a moment don’t ruin this.
“So if that’s what usually happens, what was it this time?” Ryan, of course always observant, asks, “You know it’s okay if they freak you out. I get bad ones every once and awhile too.”
“Uhm, well this time I thought someone was gonna jump me already, so I was all jumpy and distracted,” Ray started, knowing it was pointless to try to deflect Ryan at this point. (And also because it does really help to let out your fears once and awhile) “And there was this huge firefight. Like a crazy amount of cops. And, uh, one of you guys went down and it really shook me up.”
“Who was it?” Ryan asked.
“It was… uhh. Well it was you.” Ray replied, voice getting so quiet at the end that Ryan had to really strain to hear him. He was actively ignoring the sudden flush in his cheeks.
“Oh.” Came Ryan’s intelligent answer.
“Yeah.” Ray yawned suddenly, and his eyes started to droop. “Hey Ryan?”
“Yes?”
“Can you sing me a song?” Ray said, turning his head into Ryan’s chest. “It helped me sleep earlier.”
Ryan pushed away his swirling thoughts of what Ray’s dream could mean in favor of responding.
“I think I can make that happen.” He started running a hand through Ray’s hair before deciding on a song.
“You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. You make me happy when skies are grey.” Ryan could already hear Ray’s breaths getting deeper. He glanced down at Rays face and smiled at the peaceful look he had.
“You'll never know dear, how much I love you. Please don't take my sunshine away.”
He placed his lips to the top of Ray’s head and then laid his head back on his pillow.
Summary: The man tells Ryan that he is a sailor, and Ryan believes him; with those tattoos, he couldn’t be much else.
WC: 1,645
T: Gore
Flowerless by somespontaneouswriting
AO3
Summary: Flowers in a Tattoo shop is not a good combination but they didn’t care (or that florist/tattoo artist au that no one asked for).
WC: 12,335
Be Obscene, Baby, and Not Heard by lemwrites
Summary: “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.”
