If you’d told Geoff a few months ago that he’d be sitting around his penthouse surrounded not only by his own crew but also all three members of the infamous Cerberus he’d never have believed it. Could neither imagine trusting those killers within his inner sanctum nor winning their favour so completely that they were prepared to trust him back.
It’s bizarre, seeing them here, now, looking like any dumb 20 year olds as they flop all over Geoff’s couches and steal his booze. Michael, Gavin and Jeremy are still made of sharp edges sure, still gravitate to one another, still sink into cold calculation when they’re on a job, but there’s no denying the way they’ve opened up. The way they come to the penthouse to socialise rather than simply to collect missions, will drink and laugh and mess around, the way they’ve more or less stopped waiting for Geoff to tightened a noose around their necks.
On any given day one might find Jeremy and Ryan talking shop about various weapons, enthusiastically joined by Michael from time to time though he’s just as likely to be with Jack comparing specs on their cars. For his part Geoff seems to have acquired a Gavin shaped shadow, nosey and overbearing but endearing in his determination to discover everything there is to know. What a ridiculous leap they’ve made since that first meeting.
It happens at an old warehouse, pretty standard for a first meeting where everyone’s on edge, out of the public eye and in reasonably neutral territory, dim and dingy enough to appeal to even the most ludicrous of overdramatic crooks.
And Cerberus are dramatic; dressed all in black as they slink out of the darkness, perfectly in sync and moving so quietly Geoff almost misses their arrival. Might have all together if he didn’t have Jack in his ear, calm and steady as she plays sentry out the front. Even the clothes Cerberus wear stink of intention, a blazer, a hoodie, a leather jacket; casual but sleek, nothing ratty or worn out but not fancy enough to make Geoff think they’re looking to impress him. They aren’t subtle, though, not with the way they’re all wearing that stylised snarling Cerberus emblem of theirs, printed on Jones’ jacket, the buckle of Dooley’s belt, hanging from Free’s neck. They clearly know what people say about them, what Geoff must think of them, and it seems they’re more than willing to drive their identity home.
Understandable, really, considering their appearance doesn’t quite match the stories. Confident and openly armed, yes, standing before the infamous Ramsey without a hint of trepidation, but Geoff had expected them to be older. Taller. Maybe slightly less theatrical, though with a name like Cerberus really that was a bad call on Geoff’s part. Still, the most frightening thing about Cerberus was always going to be their reputation, the rumours of what they had done, what they would do, the level of utter depravity they joyfully excelled at.
For all their many talents Cerberus were best known for outlandish robberies, absurd property damage and disturbingly imaginative wet work; deadly, merciless, and utterly impossible to shake once they’ve got their sights set on something. Each of the three have their own talents, complementary and seamlessly overlapping when need be but distinct enough none the less. The Bostonite specialises in long range and trick shots while Jersey is bombs and heavy weapons, but everyone best knows the pair for their fists, born brawlers with fire in their blood. The Brit works in words, in deals and threats and silken promises and, when all else fails, the ruthless application of knives and poisons. With that in mind it’s little surprise when he’s the one who steps forward and catches Geoff’s eye, smirking as sharp and wicked as a razorblade, and speaks.
This was a risk, and Geoff knew it. He wanted to grow his crew, wanted the best of the best, but all too many would tell him this recruitment was doomed to fail from the start. Doomed to more than simple rejection, given how volatile and bloodthirsty his chosen recruits were known to be. Geoff wasn’t worried, exactly, he’d won over the Vagabond after all, everything else should be easy sailing, but he was certainly cautious. Anyone with half a brain is cautious, when it comes to Cerberus.
Everyone knows Cerberus are assholes. Cocky, obnoxious, outrageously antagonistic and generally unpredictable, the group has a pretty chequered reputation. They’re a roving crew, running jobs wherever they fancy regardless of territories and it’s made them more than a few enemies, but they are efficient. Creative. The kind of vicious that kingpins covet like jewels, if only anyone could keep them. It’s their other key character flaw; apparently unshakably devoted to one another, more loyal to each other than most blood relatives, but iffy on any outside input, impulsive, defiant, bad with authority.
They’re a curious trio, a tiny gang with no aspirations of growing their numbers, no apparent interest in carving out a stationary home and absolutely no intention of bowing to anyone. Which will make Geoff’s proposition a difficult one, to be sure, though he hasn’t given up hope. Geoff’s nothing if not inescapably persuasive when properly motivated, and if all the rumours have done this group justice this is an opportunity he has no intention of missing out on. If for nothing else than because he doesn’t want to be in their sightlines when some other gang inevitably snaps them up.
Given the inherent risks of this particular endeavor Ryan was always going to insist on coming along as backup. Not that Geoff was going to complain, he always did like to have Ryan loom into view halfway through initial meet and greets, a little test to see how people reacted when faced with the walking nightmare that is the Vagabond.
Considering how they’d been treating the negotiations so far, definitely lacking some of Geoff’s experience but still loftily tag-teaming their way through a scathing dismissal, Geoff has Cerberus pegged for a standard flinch and rally, some shock or maybe a flash of fear before they pull it together with a sneering show of indifference. He couldn’t have been more wrong.
When Ryan appears, ghosting out of the dark unannounced in his full Vagabond glory two things happen in quick succession. First, clearly clocking the movement if not the identity of the interloper all three leap into action, Free stepping back without fanfare as Jones and Dooley jerk forward, guns drawn and aimed so quickly Geoff genuinely thinks he’s gone and gotten Ryan killed. Before he can even open his mouth to explain the weapons are lowered again, all three faces lighting up with recognition and as one they grin. Sharp and shark-like and anything but friendly, somehow looking even more dangerous than they had with guns drawn, radiating glee as Free leans forward again and purrs out an overly familiar Well hello Ryan. Which, no. Unacceptable.
For a brief horrible moment Geoff thinks Ryan must’ve been stupid enough not to mention some prior history with the group before realising that this was, of course, simply a demonstration, Cerberus making a little power play of their own. It’s a good one too, considering how few knew the Vagabond’s name, fewer still who’d be brave enough to taunt him with it. Not that Ryan gives them any sort of satisfying reaction, far too professional to even flinch, simply inclining his head in an unfazed greeting.
Geoff holds back a sigh, knowing the moment they’re back home he’s in for a rant about kids these days. Or perhaps an entreatment about adoption, lord knows Ryan has always liked his pets dangerous. Not that the three before them were the type to be kept like that, nothing more clear than their outright refusal to ever again be beholden to anyone but each other.
Everyone knows Cerberus had a master, once. The one who shaped them, who named them. The one who’d called himself Hades with all the arrogance of a man made of money and power, who’d thought himself untouchable, his control absolute. Cerberus were Hades’ most trusted minions, his favourite pets, and outside the ridiculous melodrama of it all the name was certainly fitting, the trio becoming so wholly interlaced, thinking and talking and fighting with such undeniable synergy, that they could almost be mistaken for three heads of the same body.
Distinctive as they were it wasn’t long before Cerberus’ reputation preceded them wherever they went. It was not a pleasant reputation, not when they were doing all of Hades’ dirty work, nothing deemed too terrible, too cruel, no order they wouldn’t follow to the letter. Hades’ was the kind of man who demanded nothing less, saw scruples as weakness and gave unforgivable orders meant to test his own people as much as punish his victims. The kind of man who’d thought his dogs dumb and docile until they tore out his throat.
Hades was no small fish and the news of his downfall spread like wildfire, but with the only living witnesses staying silent everyone’s heard a different version of how that night played out. There are those who say Cerberus were traitors, the lowliest of deserters. They say Hades’ loved them, gave them all they could ask for and still their greed demanded more. Say Cerberus took Hades for all he’d give, then banded together to take the rest, dishonest, treacherous dogs biting the hand that fed them. They were the only ones who could have gotten beyond Hades’ impenetrable security to get at him, they were a large portion of his security, and between their skill and the man’s favour, his faith in their unwavering obedience, killing Hades must have been child’s play.
Others, though, have a darker version, one arguably more fitting with Hades, the rich, nasty piece of goods who dealt in anything from drugs to guns to flesh, knocking off anyone who stood in his way. In those accounts Cerberus were bound to Hades, all chained one way or another, as captive as their namesake. They say Jones was traded as payment for a debt, young enough to stay loyal even to those who didn’t deserve it, made loaded gun for Hades to point wherever he pleased, blood on his hands whether he wanted it or not. They say that Free was brought across oceans under false pretences, kept at Hades’ side against his will, that the sugared words he spun on command were laced with poison and his constant guards were keepers as much as they were protection. They say Dooley’s already shady contract as an underground cage-fighter was bought out under the table, added to Hades’ collection and made to swap bare fisted beat downs for loaded guns and bloody executions.
Some say the attack was just the final straw, the inevitable mutiny after years of disservice. Some believe there was one last insult, say Hades was selling his pets to the highest bidder, indentured servitude of trained killers for a tidy profit. Some think it was just impulsive, the three beaten so broken and vicious it was only a matter of time, lashing out as senseless and bloodthirsty as dangerous animals.
Whichever circumstances you believe the end result was the same. Everyone agrees that whatever went down that night it was brutal. Everyone knows Hades died slow, body taken away in pieces. No tears were shed for the man but his money was keenly missed, empire left to crumble as his killers made off with a fortune.
The three could have done anything at that point, could have gone their separate ways and dropped into wealthy anonymity, but they didn’t. They stuck together, as tightknit as they’d ever been, even kept the name Hades gave them. It was smart, playing off the reputation they’d already earned, letting the death of their master boost them into even greater notoriety, powerful, feared and free. A freedom they ran wild with, pulling jobs all over the country, following their every whim no matter who they upset in the process.
Geoff can feel Ryan’s stare boring into the side of his head, matched perfectly by Jack’s pointed silence pressing down on him over the coms, and yeah, Geoff knows alright. Geoff wants them too, can already see how untouchable his crew could be with the six of them working together. The three standing before him are so fucking young in so many ways that they make Geoff feel ancient, make him feel sad and cold and furious when he thinks about it too long, but he can’t deny the anticipation zinging through his blood when he pictures what they can do, what they will be. It doesn’t hurt that he can just as clearly imagine what a nightmare his life will be if he lets them slip away, knows Ryan and Jack will tell Lindsay, tell Trevor, get all of the support crew on his case. Knows they’d probably be right to, if he messes this up.
Because, sure, Cerberus are turning them down, showed up to this meeting purely to sneer at his offer, to dare him to try and force them, to ruin him if he thinks to use them. But they still turned up. Still curious enough to hear out the proposition, to meet with the infamous Geoff Ramsey, all bristling violence and wary eyes but here all the same. And honestly that’s all the motivation Geoff needs. He is the king of Los Santos, a former Rooster, the criminal mastermind extraordinaire, and these kids won’t know what hit them.
The Penthouse is as full and loud as it’s ever been, a cacophony of noise matched by an entirely unreasonable number of empty liquor bottles. Jeremy is sitting at the dining table with Matt and Trevor, the remains of a disastrously short lived attempt at monopoly pushed by the wayside as they huddle together and plot, shielding their notes and throwing Geoff increasingly guilty glances whenever he passes by. In front of the TV Lindsay and Jack sit on either side of Michael as the three scream smack talk at one another at the top of their lungs, death threats and personal attacks all fair game in the face of a Mario kart tournament. Then there’s Gavin and Ryan, who’ve been throwing knives at Geoff’s wall without a hint of remorse, game only called off when Gavin’s slurring giggles betrayed the way his vision had started to blur. Even when relegated to the couch Gavin’s still pulling an endless array of blades from thin air like fucking Houdini, Ryan laughing helplessly as he desperately snatches them away for safe keeping.
There are guns on the coffee table, scattered across the kitchen bench, tucked into the cookie jar. Someone’s left what is hopefully an unloaded grenade launcher propped against the wall in the bathroom. There are wads of cash stashed all over the living room, poker chips scattered everywhere in the wake of an upended card table. A nearly unrecognisably charred deck of Uno still smokes from a metal wastepaper bin and someone has definitely smuggled another stray cat into one of the spare bedrooms.
Despite all that it’s still the fridge that always grabs Geoff’s attention, entirely covered with articles and headlines cut from every newspaper in Los Santos, a variety of different handwriting artfully editing and rebutting when need be, like a living history of crew shenanigans as seen by the press. The newest addition, stuck dead centre in pride of place, is a photo taken midway through a heist pulled only last week, headline packed with delightful alarm as it heralds the apparently permanent addition of three new members of the Fake AH Crew.
do you know that feeling when you want to write a story/update your pending story and at first you’re like “yes i can do this!” but then when you started to forget the ideas and the plot and it leads to you not writing anything except endless profanities for your lazy self
i’ll be forever sad because this is how the show should be in spite of the dark things happening. corny, dorky, and lil boring has always been what the flash is about. yes i don’t expect rainbows and sunshine all the time that’s not realistic but this current torture porn is hard to watch. every flashfam member are these bright warm inviting lights but the cw got them locked in the dark cellar right now for the sake of shock value
‘But where are we going and why are there no wolves in
Prague tonight?’ she asked finally as they steered for the Prague Ring.
Apparently this entire trip has been well-planned by Riley, who had a change of
clothes for her in the back of his car and some sandwiches and coke bottles
scattered on the back seat.
‘It’s the full moon,’ he explained, ‘on full moon we
‘Run? You mean run around the forest and hunt? Like
‘Exactly. Does that scare you?’
She shrugged, finishing her sandwich. ‘As long as I’m
not the prey…’
He chuckled at that, looking away from the windshield
to his iPod. His fingers scrolled down what seemed to be an extensive library,
as he mumbled, ‘Anyway, we have a place in Český Kras, a nice cabin. Fully
stocked. Comfortable. You can hang there while we run.’
Hang at a cabin? While the wolves go out and hunt?
Staying silent she threw the empty package into a plastic bag in the back and
pulled his iPod out of its docking station, battling his hand away. ‘Have it
your way,’ she grunted, ‘but I pick the music.’
‘Oh, you do now,’ he mocked, concentrating on the road
again. It was Saturday morning, a beautiful summer day and there was a steady
stream of cars leaving the confines of the city, heading toward the
countryside. He joined one of those queues, the one leading to the forest
reservation of Český kras and glanced over. ‘What will you torture me with? One
of those popular pop songs about star ships? Or something more obnoxious like
that blonde who dated half of Hollywood?’
‘Yeah. That’s exactly my kind of music. I often listen
to it while reading my Cosmo and doing my nails. Sometimes while I take selfies
of myself reading my Cosmo and doing my nails.’ She put her own iPod in Riley’s
station and hit the play button. Her frown melted into a smile as the soft,
slow melody filled the cabin. ‘Right. Also, I like this guy. Maybe you’ve heard
Riley sighed. ‘And when I thought you couldn’t get any
sexier, here you go showing an actual taste in music. Still, wouldn’t peg you
for a grunge girl.’
‘What? Not rugged enough?’ she mumbled, relaxing to
the sound of Curt Cobain’s ruff voice.
summary: He isn’t
going to protect anyone else but her. Well. Then there’s him. HakYona.
also read on: fanfiction notes: for HakYona Week: prompt protect. (with all apologies, I offer
this short piece. (so many fandom weeks in the summer! I must admit that I’m
getting fatigued, ahhh.)
And while every single thing about Hak’s life has changed
more than he would have ever guessed in his life, the one thing that remains is
his habit of waking up just minutes before dawn comes.
Yuuri jolted awake suddenly at the sound of
A loud horn sound that he found woke him up
the best – it still confused him how Victor was able to wake up to some simple
He reached over to turn off his alarm,
before dropping back onto his bed with a sigh.
A sleepy smile found its way onto his lips
as his eyes landed on the sleeping figure curled up next to him.
“Good morning, Yurochka. It’s time to get
up,” he mumbled softly while pressing a gentle kiss to his son’s head.
The small boy groaned in protest while
burying his further into the pillow he had claimed.
“No, papa,” was the muffled response he got
from the boy.
He chuckled softly as he slowly shifted
into an upright position and stretched his feet out underneath the covers,
unknowingly nudging Makkachin with his toes at he did so.
“Sorry puppy,” he cooed as the poodle
opened one eye to stare at him.
He glanced between his son and his poodle –
though Makkachin wasn’t really his – before letting out a small sigh.
“You are both so lazy,” he mumbled with a
shake of his head. He leant down to press another kiss against Yuri’s head
before slipping out of bed.
“You both have to get up when I get out of
the shower,” he demanded, getting no response from the pair as they continued
to slumber on as he headed into the bathroom for a nice hot shower to wake
Like normal, Victor’s ‘beauty products’
covered the bathroom sink, leaving little to no room for anything. He run a
hand over his chin and cheeks before deciding that he could probably go another
day before he needed to shave – half because his stubble wasn’t too bad and
half because he couldn’t be bothered trying to move Victor’s ‘beauty products’.
He climbed into the shower, turning it as
hot as possible and stood there for a moment, letting the steaming hot water
wake up his sleeping body.
He really missed his family hot springs at
times like this. Nothing compared to a hot spring, especially not a boring hot
He turned the water off after a couple of
minutes and stepped out, wrapping a towel around his waist, only to freeze in
Written in perfect English on the bathroom mirror
the words ‘I love you’ with a heart around the letters.
He shook his head in amusement at the dorky
message left behind by his boyfriend before grabbing a discarded shirt to clear
the words and condensation from the mirror.
He set to work applying his daily moisturiser
and brushing his hair back.
“Okay, time to get up,” he demanded as he
stepped out of the bathroom and moved towards his wardrobe.
“No,” Yuri whined in protest, causing him
to click his tongue.
“Nope. It’s a school day, time to get up,”
he stated while quickly getting changed before turning towards the bed.
Makkachin stared at him curiously, he smiled at the poodle before opening the bedroom
door for the poodle, who quickly jumped off and hurried to the kitchen to wait
His little boy though, remained curled up
in the middle of the bed, face planted into Victor’s pillow, clearly not
wanting to get up.
Now that he thought about it, it was unusual
to wake up with Yuri in his bed.
He didn’t recall hearing the boy wake up
during the night, though he was a rather heavily sleeper once he was asleep.
“Yurochka?” he mumbled gently while sitting
on the edge of the bed and reaching over to gently rub the boys back, “It’s
time to get up.”
Yuri lifted his head from the pillow to send
a pout his way.
“No, papa,” the boy mumbled.
“Sorry, Yurochka,” he cooed, holding his
arms out for the boy. Yuri stared at him for a moment before slowly lifting an
arm up in response, allowing him to scoop the boy up into his arms.
“It’s time to wake up,” he said softly
while nuzzling the boy’s adorable plump cheeks with his nose, causing Yuri to
giggle sleepily in response.
He carried Yuri into the kitchen where
Makkachin sat patiently in front of her bowl.
“You hungry, Makka?” he cooed at the
poodle, causing the dog to get to her feet and tap around excitedly, knowing
exactly what she was about to get. He chuckled softly as he set Yuri on the
ground - ignoring the boys protest - he quickly gave the poodle her morning
bowl of dry food. Why Victor insisted that Makkachin needed two feeding a day was
beyond him, but Makkachin seemed happy enough with the routine.
“What do you want for breakfast?” he asked
Yuri as he opened the fridge, finding three hard-boiled eggs waiting for him.
“Cereal,” Yuri piped up, causing him to nod
his head as he grabbed the milk and cooked eggs out of the fridge.
“Cereal it is,” he nodded as he set the hard-boiled
eggs and milk down on the counter before moving towards the pantry.
“What type?” he called out, grabbing the
wheat brand and the chocolate brand from the pantry and holding it out for the
boy to pick – noting that the chocolate one was almost empty. Yuri stared at
him for a moment, staring at the chocolate boy for a moment before shaking his
“The popping one,” Yuri declared, causing
him to nod as he slipped the two boxes in his hand and grabbed the box of rice
bubbles out and setting to work making a bowl for the boy.
Yuri had multiple breakfast options, but he
made sure that the boy understood that he wouldn’t be getting any more unless
everything was finished.
Just because he finished the chocolate
cereal brand, didn’t mean he was going to get another box, especially if they
had two other cereal brands in the pantry.
Victor had called him strange when he had explained
the rule, but after explaining that it ensured that Yuri wasn’t eating sugary concoctions
every morning, Victor seemed rather pleased with the rule – though Victor had
been rather offended when he had seen the sugary brand in his pantry the first
He put the bowl of cereal on the table,
leaving Yuri to sit down at the table and eat as he hurried around, making sure
not only his own bag was packed for the day but Yuri’s was as well. Between
rushing around, he ate bites of the hard-boiled eggs Victor had left for him.
“Done, papa!” Yuri called out as he was
checking that he had enough sports tape in his bag.
“Okay! Get changed and then I’ll do your
hair,” he called out in response. Zipping up his own back before collecting the
empty dishes and moving towards the sink.
He frowned when he spotted a half full cup
of milk in the sink, something he was sure hadn’t been there when he went to
bed. He tipped the drink down the sink, concluding that Yuri must have been up with
Victor earlier which explained why the boy had been in his bed this morning.
“Papa, papa!” Yuri yelled while hurrying
“No shouting,” he said while taking the hair
brush and hair tie passed to him. He scooped the boy up into his arms before
taking a seat at one of the dining table chairs and began gently brushing the
knots caused by sleeping from the boy’s hair.
“Is Vicchan picking me up today?” Yuri
asked as he brushed the boy’s hair.
“Yes, Yurochka,” he ensured the boy, not
understanding why Yuri asked every morning when Victor had been picking the boy
up every day after school for the last month.
“Can I go to the rink after school?” Was
Yuri’s next question.
“You’ll have to ask Vicchan,” he said as he
finished untangling the last knot. He ran the brush through the boy’s gorgeous
blonde hair for a moment longer before setting to work, gently braiding it.
“I like when Vicchan does my hair,” Yuri
declared suddenly, causing him to pause.
“Vicchan use to have very long hair,” he
told the boy as he quickly tied off the end of the boy’s braiding before
setting him on the ground.
“Is that why Vicchan can do all the pretty
things with my hair?” Yuri asked, eyes wide with curiosity.
“I’m sure it is,” he said, patting the boy
on the head gently as to not mess up his hard work. “Now, go put your shoes on
and get Makkachin’s lead, we need to leave in a minute,” he said, waving the
boy towards the front door.
He hurried to his room, collecting his
phone from where he had left it after turning off his alarm earlier before
slipping it into his bag.
He moved towards the front door to slip his
own shoes on, watching as Yuri collected Makkachin’s lead and clipped it onto
the poodle’s collar.
“Okay! Ready!” Yuri declared while turning
“Don’t forget your bag,” he reminded the five-year-old.
“Oh!” Yuri gasped, hurrying to get his bag
where he had set it on the kitchen bench, Makkachin following after the boy who
still held her lead.
“Your lunch and water bottle are already in
there. You have to eat all your fruit today, Yurochka,” he warned the boy,
earning a nod in response.
“Good,” he said with a soft smile, “Now,
let’s go!” He opened the front door, letting Yuri hurry out into the hallway
with Makkachin beside him. He did a quick trouble check to make sure he had
everything before locking the door behind him.
“Come on, papa! Makkachin needs to go,”
Yuri called out as he skipped down the hallway, pausing in front of the
elevator to push the down button.
“I’m coming!” he responded while hurrying
after his son and dog.
Pairing:Taehyung (V) x Female!Reader Featuring: Jungkook Genre: Fluff | Angst | Smut Contains: mentions of cheating Word Count: 3k
Author’s Note: For my birthday I decided to push through with this chapter (and I still end up late). So here’s my birthday gift for myself to all of you? Does that make sense?
The two of you walked into the cafe. Jungkook waved you over from the back of the store. He stood up as you got close to the table, Taehyung quietly followed after you. Your head was spinning from your heart pounding so hard in your chest.
“Hey,” Jungkook greeted you and followed it up with a hard kiss on the lips.