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vampyr-bite · 4 years

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hI! can you take a picture of that Sounds article and post it? i kinda want to read it lol

Hey! The archive I’m using at the moment is text only (thanks corona) but I’ve pasted the article below. Hope that’s good and u enjoy and u have a lovely day!

Pete Makowski, ‘Def Leppard: The Leppard Doesn't Sleep Tonight’, Sounds, 6 February 1982

ROUGH NOTES/ROUGH NOTES (Prelude)

THE SOUND of Ross Halfin's bouts of self induced vomiting...Steve Clarke smashing his guitar in a Blackmoresque frenzy...The black dude with a gold tooth who offers out cocaine in a packed McDonalds at eight o'clock in the morning...Sleepless nights, trying to get some shuteye on the tour bus which due to the lack of any form of suspension feels like a plane in the state of permanent turbulence...Waking up fully clothed feeling like an over abused cocktail shaker...Nights spent paralytic in bowling alleys and truck stops willing the hours away – If the rednecks with arms the size of those slabs of meat that adorn butcher shop windows don't kill you, the infra red fried chilli will...This is life on the road!

LET ME TELL YOU ABOUT TEXAS RADIO AND THE BIG BEAT!

The Lone Star State is a place one could easily write volumes about and still nobody would believe half the stories you told them. It's a proverbial utopia and lunatic asylum rolled into one. Plenty of sunshine and healthy-looking women; in fact every form of debauchery is available at your beck and call.

This was the perfect location for Def Leppard to close their tour which had proved to be a long and arduous trek. The merciless blows endured during the six months of gigging are cushioned by the fact that the Leppard entourage are basically a closely knit family-like affair. Tour manager Robert Alan (brother of drummer, Richard) also doubles as sound engineer, and token Irish lunatic lighting man 'Famous' is a typically stocky, cheerful chap who spends half his time dreaming about his homeland where he dreams his days away with fishing rod in one hand and a proverbial pint of the dark velvet brew in the other. The band and crew eat, sleep and defecate together giving the whole thing a warm congenial atmosphere.

As I've mentioned in a previous feature the group and entourage are all so young it makes one want to retch with envy. And they are all far from being as blasé (as one might expect) in fact surprisingly enough they still come over as avid fans, although their attitude to work is surprisingly professional and they put every iota of energy they've got into their stage performances, giving headlining act Blackfoot a good run for their money.

After all these months of hard graft Leppard are beginning to reap their just rewards, meeting with ecstatic audiences at almost every show. In fact their performances are met with nothing less than fanmania from a crowd that is not short of wholesome looking nubiles who squeal in frenzied approval at everyone of Leppard's moves.

While the average Blackfoot fan can be seen lumbering around the auditorium wearing the almost uniform check shirt, hiking up his baggy denim pants, clutching some obscene piece of junk food in one hand and the obligatory doobie aka spliffette in the other, The Leppard-ites in contrast are a new breed of fresh faced kids out looking for a whole new brand of kicks.

Although Texas is supposed to be a stronghold for Blackfoot (who to be fair are a hardworking road band with no shortage of talent and energy and as people are very amiable, good time folk from Jacksonville who really enjoy their crazed life style – these dudes do walk it like they talk it) there's no doubt that this time round the lil' ol' band from Sheffield made a big impression on the locals and will be guaranteed a headlining spot the next time round.

Their best shows on the tour were undoubtedly at the tropical seaside resort town of Corpus Christi and in Houston – which is undoubtedly one of their biggest strongholds in Texas shitkickin' territory.

"Home Of The Encores" is the sign emblazoned outside the Ritz, which in reality from the inside comes over more like a pokey old cinema that should have been condemned many moons ago.

The backstage area resemble a derelict bombsite and the roadcrew were apprehensive about the voltage system, the main concern being whether the place had enough juice to feed the vast backline Leppard had put together for this tour.

At first a feeling of despondency hung thick, like an onimous cloud, in the air and people were beginning to draw straws to decide who was going to lynch the promoter. Feelings didn't improve after they saw the bathroom facilities, that resembled something that harked from the dark ages. But once they took to the stage Joe Elliot and crew demonstrated where their real commitment lay and amidst the sweat arid sawdust blasted their way through a set that had the audience frothing at the gills.

Powered along by Rick Allen's tireless drum work that gelled with Rick Savage's fluid and thunderous basslines, the frontline barrage guitar attack of Pete Willis and Steve Clarke projected the excitement and innovative soloing that was ever present with Lizzy in their Live And Dangerous days.

Elliot becomes a more proficient frontman as the days go by. With one foot on the monitor he beckons the punters on, working them into a state of euphoric frenzy while belting out the lyrics to such epics as 'Let It Roll' and 'Lady Strange' with effortless ease.

He had the people totally on his side during 'High And Dry' and rafters shook as the auditorium burst into a chorus of "Saturday night, high and dry". It was this night that convinced me without a shadow of a doubt that Leppard are going to be a giant force to be reckoned with in the next couple of years.

NEXT DAY

AS THE bus jerked its way into Houston the local radio station seemed to continually plug the evening's show touting Leppard as one of the Eighties' brightest hopes. Meanwhile, back in the sleeping area Joe Elliot sat leaning against his bunk perusing his evergrowing collection of cut out and bootleg records, proudly announcing that he almost owned the entire Matt The Hoople catalogue. The rest of the group attempted to catch up with the strain of non-stop touring by getting as much sleep as they could in between the bumps on the road that shook the road-battered vehicle with the effect of a series of land mines.

Like the rest of Texas, Houston is overwhelming and unlimited in size and possibilities. The general atmosphere seems to be warm and welcoming throughout the State although this place as it turned out seems to be that much crazier.

The first chore of the day was to attend an instore signing, a common on the road practice which involved the group going to a local record store where they meet their fans, converse and sign autographs. The ritual was performed at the gargantuan Texas Record And Tapes Store, which can only be described as a proverbial Santa Claus grotto for vinyl freaks, featuring a dazzling array of parapheranalia and owned by the very amiable and over generous Geoff Hamer, otherwise known as 'General Doo Dah' – who is without a doubt a true gonzo at heart.

As it happened the band drew a record amount of people, in fact there were more fans here than at the previous day's concert (which by the way was sold out) and that evening the group performed like troupers proving they had Houston like the rest of the US, so it seems, in the palm of their sweaty paws.

The rest of the night was spent celebrating with an end of the tour party that included an Awards Ceremony hosted by yours truly The Grand Toastmaster who presented prizes to members of this deranged crew for various offences some too obscene and illegal to mention in this respectable organ. This was followed by a totally incoherent and over the top night of debauchery, courtesy of 'General Doo Dah' which took myself, Rick Savage and Steve Clarke into the land of Never Never, making any episode of Fear And Loathing look like the teddy bears picnic. A champion finale to a fine tour.

THE INTERVIEW/A MORE SERIOUS FINALE

"We don't worry about England anymore, we're just trying to put across the point that everybody's missed out and that is that we've been shit on and people have said things about us that are a lot of bullshit." – Joe Elliot

"I always look forward to playing England 'cause that's where we're from like, but I don't think that it will do us any good at the moment because the kids, the kids meaning people like me, I'm not sure whether they want to listen to us at the moment...which is a bit of a shame because they're missing out on a good thing." – Rick Savage

WHILE LEPPARD continue to 'wow out' crowds in the US, they still seem to be at the butt of abuse as far as certain British media and fans are concerned. While groups like Saxon and Iron Maiden seem to be able to travel the world and lead a grandiose lifestyle and still retain that dubious street credibility factor, anything that Leppard do is regarded as being pompous and the general consensus of opinion from the average anglophile headbanger seems to be that they are egotistical popstars who sold their souls to the American rock and roll machine.

Which couldn't be further from the truth. It's hardly surprising that Leppard feel jaded and bitter with their audiences back home. I personally believe that they are producing some of the finest high quality heavy rock sounds around today.

They write songs, not just riffs with words loosely attached to them, with a sophistication and flair that puts some of their elder statesmen to shame and they knock the average so called NWOBHM ('scuse me while I wash my mouth out) into a cocked hat and it's unfortunate that they have to travel across the water to get an audience that actually appreciates this fact.

When we conducted this interview, the band were beginning to recover from the lunacy of an American tour which began earlier last year with Ozzy Osbourne, and the strain of the roadlife was beginning to make itself apparent. This nomadic way of life can be as strenuous as it is exciting and it may sound crazy when you hear a band yearning for the simple things in life like a good old English breakfast and a copy of the Daily Mirror, but it all makes sense once you get caught up in the insanity they've endured since the release of High'n'Dry which is already winning them Stateside acclaim.

Leppard are undoubtedly on the threshold of breaking America: everywhere they play the audience reaction is frenzied almost to the point of being rabid, but as it became obviously apparent on this drunken night Def Leppard still miss their home and feel slightly more than sore about the lack of respect they get from the press and punters alike, and seem to be constantly trying to find a reason for this unexplainable feeling of malice.

"As far as England is concerned people have got something against Def Leppard for purely non musical reasons," explained Joe Elliot, amidst a background noise of chinking glasses and people yelling for more beverage, "40,000 people bought our first album, but only 20,000 people bought High'n'Dry, you're not telling me the other 20,000 didn't buy it because they didn't like the album. I believe they didn't buy it because they read the article in Sounds saying that Leppard had changed their spots. They followed fads."

"American people don't follow fads", announced guitarist Pete Willis, "They go for what they like while England seems to follow trends. Foreigner and Fleetwood Mac are good, they write good songs while bands like Motorhead are a load of shit...don't say that because I don't want Lemmy to beat me up."

While I don't agree with the last part of this statement, I do feel that the GB is basically puppeteered by fashions which ultimately dictate taste and the majority of which come over as nothing more than a grand parade of lifeless packaging, including the new league of HM groups who I personally feel have a very limited lifespan with their generally dated and usually moronic stance.

Elliott: "There's two things you can do when you're in a band. You can go out and do what you wanna do, that's not trying to be pretentious to anybody and that's just satisfying your artistic temperament or whatever you want to call it for the want of a better saying. Or you can do things like Saxon...I don't believe anybody but Biff Byford would want lyrics like that on an album! I mean you're not telling me that he's writing those words so that everybody from people out of a mental institution to people with 'A' levels can understand them?"

"I could write lyrics like 'Denim And Leather', that's the kind of stuff a drummer could write. I write lyrics that are on a street level and that everybody can understand but they're on a different line. I'm not afraid to hide the influences that I've got."

It's a well known fact that Leppard were the first band of its genre to actually stick its collective neck out, undertake major headlining tours, sign a major record deal and venture across the water. Other bands as they pointed out followed after learning from their mistakes and generally avoiding the pitfalls somebody had to make as a kick off. They're also a rarity when you consider they haven't had any line up changes since they established themselves.

At this moment in time the group are preparing material for an album which will again be produced by 'Mutt' Lange. I wondered if they were at all perturbed by the comparisons drawn between them and AC/DC.

"I don't even think AC/DC are that hot!", exclaimed Rick Savage.

Elliot: "The only comparison is that we've got the same producer and because of that you're likely to get the same sound. We didn't use him because he produced a big album and in turn we thought we'd get a big album, we just think he's the best producer around. Anyhow, no way could AC/DC write a song like 'Bringing On The Heartbreak' or 'Switch 625'."

Savage: "We'd have been a big band in England if Mutt had produced On Through The Night because it wouldn't have got the slagging it did. It was still a better album than people made out for all its supposed commercialism for the USA. We were on the crest of a wave when that album came out and the reviews that album got, particularly in Sounds, were so bad and so anti the attitude bands like Saxon and Motorhead and their fans have got, that we totally lost it.

"If England had accepted us like they should have accepted us, things might be a bit different. I think we're a lot better than bands that are accepted more freely than us."

Here, here! C'mon you pommy bastards here's your chance to rectify...And JOIN THE ROCK BRIGADE!!!

#this is very long sjkfhs #asks #Anonymous #Def Leppard

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fawninhawkins · 6 years

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guarded 1 ~ shawn mendes

idea: reader is geoff’s sister and a human who hasn’t yet triggered the werewolf curse, when she gets pregnant from a drunken one night stand shawn vows to protect her

a/n + warnings: part one in a series language, angst, curse is triggered through killing someone or dying once (the curse runs in their veins so if they die a human they come back but after that if they die, they’re dead)

2019 words

Your stomach rumbled again and you groaned anxiously. You’d felt sick for days, constantly throwing up and with an aching back. This was a problem, you knew it was. Wolves didn’t get sick, and that included humans with the wolf gene who hadn’t yet triggered the curse.

You desperately needed to talk to Shawn, it was tradition that the alpha know everything going on with his pack but he’d been out of town for the past two weeks. Your brother Geoff would be no help, as he would just panic. So, you waited.

You heard the front door swing open and the voices of the missing members of your pack floated through the main hall and into the living room where you sat. “So good to be home.” You heard Alec, a young beta, sigh. Similar sentiments were expressed by a few others.

“Hey guys,” You called from your place on the couch, willing your weak voice to carry enough to reach them. The commotion that ensued implied that they did indeed hear you. The group of about six wolves came running in.

“Missed you!” Brian called as he ran toward you for a hug. You allowed yourself to be swallowed by his embrace and sighed into the familiarity of it.

“I missed you guys so much,” You sighed into his chest, the words coming out jumbled through the filter of cotton. Brian pulled away and you swore you saw a puzzled look pass his face before a welcome smile quickly took residence. His hug was followed by a parade of hugs from the other returning pack members.

“Our little human,” You heard your favorite voice come through, Shawn. You felt the smile light up your face as your swiveled to face the towering alpha. His hair was sticking out at odd angles and his clothes were wrinkled, it made you imagine his tall frame squeezed into a tiny economy airplane seat.

“Shawn!” You cried and ran to hug him, momentarily forgetting all about how sick you’ve been feeling. Your elated yell is match by Shawn’s wide open arms ready to catch you. Yes he was your alpha but you’ve known him for years and he’s probably your best friend.

“Missed you little human,” Shawn cooed into your hair, smoothing it down with a big hand. But as you pulled away slightly to gaze at him, you noticed the same expression Brian had and then his head snapped up to the group with a quizzical look. He held you somewhat trapped in his embrace and you tried to look around to see what his look meant to the pack.

“Hey, when you have a chance can we talk? It’s kind of important.” Your voice is low, although it’s pointless because you’re surrounded by werewolves with enhanced hearing. They all get the hint and immediately begin to mill out of the room and unpack, eat, go to the bathroom. Shawn’s brow furrows and it makes your stomach turn, this was the look he got when there was a dangerous scent around.

“Absolutely, why don’t you come with me now while I start to unpack.” There was urgency in his tone and you nod profusely, following suit as he lugs his bags up the stairs. He guided you through the boarding house to his master bedroom in complete silence.

“Hey so I’m a little worried because I’ve been sick for days now. And, I mean, as far as I know even humans who carry the wolf gene aren’t supposed to get sick. I was worried Geoff would panic if I told him so I figured I’d wait for you to come home.” You expelled your nerves all at once, immediately feeling more at peace. Shawn whipped toward you, abandoning the unpacking that he began.

“Why didn’t you call me and tell me?” His face was full of worry and he scanned your body head to toe, “You’re right, you shouldn’t be getting sick. Something’s wrong, we’ll figure it out.” His tone was more introspective as though he was talking to himself and he seemed lost in his thoughts. You felt your breath hitch in your throat, fears confirmed, and felt your eyes widen impossibly and tears pricking them painfully.

“Have you ever heard of something like this before?” You prompted him quietly, voice catching at a silent sob. Shawn’s face fell at your fear and he took a cautious step toward you, gauging your reaction and how to comfort you. Sniffling, you felt your shoulders collapse in and your chest heave with another soundless sob.

“I haven’t, but we’re going to figure this out, okay? It’s okay sweetheart, we’re going to figure this out.” Shawn’s voice was soothing, lulling you into some sense of calm. His golden eyes met your wild ones and shone lightly, a quiet call to hush your worry.

“We? You’re going to help me?” The question was stupid, of course he would, he’s your alpha. Shawn winced, your fear and desperation cutting him deeply. He wished he could take all of it away from you and it made him ache to know how afraid you were.

“Little one, I will always do anything I can to help you.” His words were soft but sure. Shawn approached you slowly and drew you into his chest.

You were still panicking but in the moment, in Shawn’s embrace, you felt safe.

You sat curled up on the couch watching a movie with the recently returned wolves when you felt your stomach turn again. Shit. If you didn’t get up and run now, you weren’t going to make it to a bathroom but your feet were all twisted in a blanket.

“Watch out Bri,” You mumbled through a suppressed gag. Brian perked up when he heard your tone, concern overtaking his features.

“What’s wrong?” You could hear his fear and uncertainty. He’d never seen another person with wolf-blood get sick.

“I’m-” But you couldn’t finish before you were racing toward the kitchen, praying you’d make it through to the bathroom where you could drown the sound of your sick out with the fan and toilet. Unfortunately, lady luck was not on your side and you resorted to the sink.

“Shit,” Curse words tumbled from your mouth as you vomited over and over again. The whole crowd of wolves gathered around you, observing in horror.

When you’d finished, your stomach began heaving and legs got weak. Black stars waltzed in your vision, a constellation of unconsciousness.

“Hey, hey, hey. I’m here, I’m here.” You heard Shawn’s calming voice cooing to you, and felt his stable grip suspending you in space, keeping you from collapsing. “Hey guys go watch the movie, I’ve got this handled.” Shawn shooed them away without so much as a glance in their direction.

“Shawn, I’m alright. I just need to sit.” You gulped down your discomfort and nodded in the direction of the kitchen table. Gripping his shirt for dear life, Shawn guided you to a chair and gently lifted you into it.

“Little one,” Shawn kneeled before you, “I’ve been thinking about it and you smell different, It smells like something I’ve only smelled a few times before.” His words were cryptic and he seemed to be struggling to present the idea to you.

“What? What was wrong with them?” You’re curiosity overtook your fear for a moment as you prompted him on. Shawn chuckled darkly and shook his head.

“Nothing was wrong with them little one, they were pregnant.” He didn’t meet your eyes until he’d uttered his final word. Your face dropped and mouth gaped.

“Pr-pregnant? I can’t be pregnant? Aidan and I are careful, and we always- fuck. The other night when I was drunk shit, shit, shit.” Your eyes welled up with tears and your throat caught.

“Do you want me to take you to get a test?” Shawn asked softly, not wanting to upset you further but wanting to find out what is putting you in this state. If you were pregnant it was something they could deal with, he could deal with, but if not you were back to square one.

“Yes,” You nodded as more tears flowed down your cheeks. Shawn held out a large palm for support as you stood and began to assist you to the door with an arm snaked around your waist.

“I can walk, I’m okay now. It comes in waves.” You sobbed on the last part, pieces falling into place. Shawn stayed silent at your side, allowing you room to think.

The car ride was quiet. Shawn helped you in, the jeep was tall and you were not. You let your thoughts go quiet as you observed the flashes of houses, trees, streetlights. Your stomach still ached slightly but that was no longer a concern.

“We’re here.” Shawn murmured, breaking you out of your trance. You looked up at him silently from under heavy sopping lashes.

A small nod. “Okay, I think I’d rather find out not in the house, I’ll take the test and come back here.” Your words were succinct, factual, but your mind was doing olympic level gymnastics.

“So you want me to stay here?” Shawn asked you without any malice, he didn’t mind either way, he just wanted you to feel okay. You nodded at him and faked a smile.

Steeling yourself you hopped out of the car and straight into the store, not looking back to see Shawn’s reaction. The store was well lit and only a few random stragglers looked for their late night candy fixes, last minute medications, and anything else that a CVS could offer. For you it was three pregnancy tests. One for now, two for if you needed insurance that the answer was correct.

“That’ll be $34.50 please.” The cashier’s unimpressed face gave you some sick solace. Her neutrality calmed you, a girl buying pregnancy tests was nothing new to her and she was sure to see something stranger happen in the the next hour anyway.

“Thanks, which way is the bathroom?” You asked her in a hushed tone. She discreetly pointed you toward the pharmacy and said to walk around the corner wall and it would be there.

You did as you were told and found the bathroom without a problem. The instructions on the box were blurry through your teary eyes and it took four tries before you could read them legibly. You followed the instructions perfectly and then made your way back to Shawn.

“That was fast.” He commented, a clear question on his face.

“Yeah, I didn’t want to see the result alone, you know?” You couldn’t quite meet his eyes but you felt Shawn grip your free hand and squeeze it reassuringly.

“Either way, you’re not in this alone.” Shawn’s voice was clear, it was his alpha voice for when he made a command to the pack, unwavering. “Do you understand me? I’m here if you want me here little one.” He cupped your chin and gently tugged your face up to look at him.

“Yeah.” You gazed into his eyes intently, feeling the intensity of the moment. “Hey, um. It’s been 4 minutes, just another one and then I know… Shit, I have to tell Aidan.” Shawn’s face contorts for a moment at the mention of your boyfriend.

“Let’s just wait until we know what is going on.” Shawn rubbed soothing circles into the back of your hand. Shawn never liked Aidan but he bit his tongue around you, Aidan was selfish and Shawn didn’t like seeing you not being worshipped.

ZZZZZ, ZZZZZZ. The timer on your phone buzzed it’s completion. You felt your eyes go wide and your hands began to shake again as you turned over the test that was laid on your purse facedown.

The little words were hard to read in the dark and you turned on your phone’s flashlight to illuminate the results.

Pregnant. It read clearly, one word.

“Shawn,” Your face was blank and he searched your eyes intensely. Tears began cascading but your face still betrayed no emotion, “I’m pregnant.”

tell me how it was please!! feedback much appreciated

#shawn peter raul mendes #shawn imagine #Shawn Mendes Imagine #shawn mendes fluff #shawn mendes imagines #shawn mendes fanfiction #shawn mendes x reader #shawn mendes au #shawn mendes headcanon #werewolf!shawn #werewolf!shawn mendes #wolf!shawn #shawn mendes werewolf au #shawn mendes angst

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mendesmakesmenervous · 6 years

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Brothers best friend - Shawn AU

A/N: Let me know any feedback and reblog if you like it!

Triggers: None, not even any smut

Today wasn’t a good day. There was no reasonable explanation for the overwhelming feeling of sadness undeniably intertwined with anger at the day slowly drawing to a close, it was just there. Despite the bitter taste in your mouth, the weather decided now would be a good time to come into its own and produce one of the most beautiful days imaginable. With the heat at nearly record highs and not a cloud in the sky, Geoff my older brother by merely a year had jumped at the chance to go to the nearby beach with his friends. Although as they all rushed out the door this morning to pile into his tiny car, the glint in their eyes hinted at its hidden (yet definitely doomed) aim of picking up girls’ way out of their league. With a scowl etched on my face, air con blasting, my day consisted of binging the new OINTB season questioning why I even bothered to watch it past the second season in the first place, it seemed as though nothing could brighten my mood. Shuffling around on my bed in an attempt to get out of the sunlight it was like every new movement was a plane trip to the Sahara, the sun following my every move. Groaning loudly I rolled out of bed, dragging my heavy feet along with me to the curtains.

“Fuck you sun.” I angrily spluttered as I pulled them across tightly “why couldn’t you have appeared on a day when I wanted to leave the house” leaving my room in total darkness.

“Jeeeeeez, who pissed you off today? I don’t want to break it to you y/n but it might take 5-7 working days to get a reply from the sun” a loud voice proclaimed across the room with a laugh almost resembling a giggle following shortly after. That voice. I didn’t even need to turn around to know who it was.

“Shawn, if you’re going to try and sass someone, don’t laugh afterwards, you lose any respect of credibility you had” I grumbled loud enough for him to hear. Spinning around on my heel I finally looked at my brothers friend….

Oh wow.

His toned torso glistened with light from the water still left on his tanned skin as he shook his soaked hair out of the way of his vision, his curls lightly sticking to his forehead. I’d be lying if I said that I didn’t stare as his unclothed biceps moved while he slowly leant on my doorframe.

“Ever the charmer, Y/N” he said as his mouth spread open to reveal his breathtaking smile.

“As much as I adore your company, Mendes” I spoke with sarcasm highly evident “why are you in my room? I’d much rather be alone”. Just because there was an incredibly good looking boy in my room, it didn’t change the fact that I was in a foul mood.

Raising his free arm to his chest he pouted dramatically “that hurt y/n. Really hurt me. I thought we were friends. I guess I won’t tell you that we brought food ho-”

Shoving his body out the way, without saying a word, I quickly bounded down the stairs to see whatever food they’d bought. Used to having my brothers friends round when my parents went on one of their many ‘romantic getaways’, I knew the fight for food was really a survival of the fittest. Long past hungry I really wasn’t in the mood to take the risk, my body long since hungry and the walk from my bed to the kitchen way too much effort throughout the day in this mood.

“Hey y/n” my brother said as I grabbed my plate, nudging my elbow with his he almost made me drop the rice I was currently piling onto my plate. Giving him a sharp glare which he seemed barely phased by, he continued to shove food into his mouth whilst attempting to talk, chicken bursting out as he asked ‘we’re going out tonight. Will you be alright on your own?”. Nodding a reply I made my way into the kitchen from the dining room to grab a cold drink from the fridge I was met with Shawn washing his hands at the sink.

‘Oh hey, sorry, I, um’ he muttered out quickly turning back to face the running water ‘just washing my hands, I couldn’t really get the sand off from the beach’. Grabbing a tea towel off the side he turned to face me, his broad body lounged against the work top, managing to even make drying his hands look like a calvin klein ad campaign.

‘I don’t need to know your life story’ I spoke moving around him to bend down to the fridge to find what drink I wanted, hiding my blush in the cold air blasting from the door. As Shawn lightly hit me with the towel, I gasped standing up straight to look at him, eyes wide with confusion

‘hey, don’t be arsey with me, what have I done wrong?’ he softly said, eyes boring into yours

‘nothing I’m just not really in a great mood today’

he raised his eyes quizzically, querying how much he believed you ‘hm, anything you want to talk to me about, you know you can always talk to me about anything’

Smiling slightly I nodded ‘I know that Shawn, I’m fine honestly, just one of those days’

‘come here chicken’ he said, pulling you into a hug, remembering the nickname he’d given you for no apparent reason since you were kids. Wrapping your arms around his wide frame, he pulled you close into him, his hands hanging low at the base of your back, his heat a contrast to the cold air still seeping from the refrigerator.

‘What on earth’ pulled you out of the embrace, your brother wandering into the kitchen with a scowl on his face, foreboding eyes judging the lack of distance between his little sister and best friend.

Quickly slamming the fridge door and grabbing my plate of food from the side I quickly shuffled away from the two of them up to my room ‘have fun tonight guys’ I managed to mutter before any questions at what just happened could be raised, my feet not quick enough to miss my brothers ‘dude, what the fuck’.

*******

The next morning my eyes shot open as sweat dripped down my face. I was far too young to be having hot flushes. Someone, I’m assuming my brother, had opened my curtains wide and as the sun shone through it heated me up, along with the mountains of blankets and duvets on top of me. I checked the clock next to my bed, and after straining my eyes to focus on the small letters I saw it was only 7 in the morning. Oh God, no one should be up this early in the day, no chance of getting back to sleep at this rate. Begrudgingly hopping out of bed dressed in only a large t shirt I strolled down the stairs, feeling in a much better mood than yesterday, even whilst waking up early. and strolled down the stairs. As my feet hit the cold tiles of the kitchen from the air con blasting all night I felt my routine cup of tea calling my name, I can never understand how people can survive the day without at least some type of caffeine to get them started. Swinging open the cupboard door, I quickly scanned the shelves to find my favourite mug my family in Ireland had given to me last time we visited. Oh for fuck sake, finding it on the top shelf I stared at it whilst mentally hitting my brother who always puts it right at the top just for a laugh. Pushing myself up onto my tiptoes and reaching as far as my arms would allow I felt my fingertips hitting the side of the cup. Sighing to myself I tried one more time, certain I was going to be able to grab it I felt myself being lightly pushed against the counter as I felt a warm body behind me, reaching up to easily grab the mug I struggled so hard for.

“You look really hot in my clothes, y/n” a familiar voice said as he spun me round, still keeping my body close to his.

“I could have reached it myself, I don’t need a knight in shining armor” I rolled my eyes ‘what are you even still doing here Shawn, and besides this isn’t even yours, I took it from my brothers’ cupboard’ I proclaimed as I stared into his eyes pulling the top down as far as the material would allow to attempt to make up for the fact I wasn’t wearing any bottoms.

“He got smashed last night so when I took him back I just decided to stay here” he spoke as he briskly looked me up and down “and I accidentally left it here a few months ago and kept forgetting to pick it up every time I came round. You can have it though, I think it looks a hell of a lot better on you than it did on me” he said with a small smirk pulling at his lips as he stared down at me, moving his hand from the counter onto my hip, raising the material a bit up my thigh.

It was undeniable how attractive he was but he was my brothers friend and I was the little sister so there was no way anything could happen.

“Shawn…I…um-” he shushed me by pressing his lips to mine. What a cliché. But there was no way I was going to stop him, as I ran my hand up his bare chest

“Do you…ever…wear a shirt” I breathed out in between hot kisses that left my heart pounding out of my chest. He moved his lips to my neck, kissing it lightly all the way up as he reached just under my ear

“Don’t complain, I saw you stare yesterday” he chuckled out

“I was not staring I wa-”

“Shut up and kiss me y/n” he huffed out as he stared into my eyes “I’ve waited for this forever”

I ran my hand up the back of his neck until my hands were in his hair and pulled him forward till my lips were connected to mine, lifting me slightly off the ground he rested me on the edge of the counter. Unfortunately, the heat of the moment left us carried away as the mug clattered to the floor smashing into pieces everywhere.

“Shit” Shawn cursed as he bent down to start picking pieces up “stay up there I don’t want you to get hurt” he said lightly touching my exposed thigh.

“I think I can pick up a piece of china, Mendes” I laughed out, my breathing still erratic from the previous moments

“No please don’t. Stay up here. For me” he smiled brightly, his wide grin and pleading eyes softening any resolve that I had

“You know exactly how to get what you want” I spoke as I kissed him lightly.

“That I d-”

“WHATS ALL THAT NOISE” my brother hollered as he stumbled down the stairs, you could basically hear the hangover following him.

“Let me take you out” Shawn whispered, as we were running out of time before my brother would appear. I nodded hastily with a bright smile as I dropped to my feet starting to pick up the broken mug as Geoff dragged his wasted body into the room with no recollection of the young love shared between hot lips just seconds before.

#shawn mendes #shawn fanfic #shawn imagine #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes imagines #shawn imagines #shawn au #college! au #college! shawn

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vagrantblvrd · 6 years

Text

Better than a Dream (1/1)

Summary: The movies have it all wrong about people like him.

It’s bullshit is what is is, because like fuck did Michael ever live in some spacious manor like something out of an Austen novel or go out in a blaze of glory in one war or another. Never fucking stood on the beach staring out to sea wondering when his hellish existence would just end so he’d know peace.

Notes: Because reasons.

AO3

The movies have it all wrong about people like him.

Although that gets tempting every now and then, especially when he’s after one of his regulars. The fucking dipshit with the unfortunate nose he seems to have every goddamn lifetime.

“Michael!”

Michael sneers as he slaps the cuffs on Gavin’s scrawny wrists and drags him out of the little coffee shop he was working as a barista in. Ignores the startled looks of the people around him as he flashes the little badge they gave him this time through.

Nice and legal and the ones who have seen something like this before go back to minding their own damn business.

It’ll end up on social media later though, Michael knows. Someone going on a tirade of how heartless people in Michael's line of work are, how nothing will change if they don’t give offenders a second chance. Let them try to atone for past crimes in their new lives, because they just don’t fucking get it.

Sure, there are a few who fuck up. Get trapped in a bad situation that spirals into something horrendous until death is the best option. Go into their next lives with the slate wiped clean and stay under the radar of people like Michael because they can make the right choices this time around.

Sometimes you get the fuckers who want to do the most damage they can before someone takes them out and do it all over again the life after that and the one after that, an endless cycle.

And then you get pieces of shit like Gavin.

Perfect blend of asshole and too fucking smart for his own good. Looks at life like some kind of challenge and sets out to make the lives of people like Michael goddamned misery.

“Shut the fuck up, asshole,” he snaps,but there’s no real heat to it the way there would be with some of the fuckers he gets sent after.

Gavin’s babbling. Wide, tearful eyes and sad, pitiful voice like he didn’t burn that strategy the first time Michael got a bounty on him.

It’s working on the people they pass though, has them stopping to stare at the spectacle the must make. Stupid British fuck being dragged off in in cuffs by the angry American asshole. Gotta be a heartless bastard not to listen to the pleas falling out of Gavin's mouth, telling him he has it all wrong,he was framed Michael, please don’t do this.

“Jesus Christ,” Michael hisses, shoving Gavin into the backseat of the rental he’s driving.

Gavin falls on his side because he’s uncoordinated as fuck this runthrough, muffled bitching as he rights himself.

Michael watches him the rearview, feels some of his anger melting away as Gavin examines the car, takes stock of things. Loses the poor, pitiful, innocent who’s been falsely accused act and meets Michael’s eyes.

“You’re looking good, boi,” he says, and smiles, the one that reaches his eyes and lights his face up and Michael snorts.

“You’re still a piece of shit.”

Different lives, names, faces, and some things never change.

Michael chasing Gavin down for one crime or another and Gavin putting up a fight just to make things more difficult for Michael.

They met several lifetimes ago, Gavin wanted for some petty crime Michael’s forgotten. Young and stupid and leading Michael on a merry little chase across Europe. Left little taunting notes when Michael just a little too slow, stupid little smirk and idiot laughter and the first bounty in a long time who hadn’t just put a bullet in Michael's heart when he fucked up.

Gavin catching him by surprise, off-guard, and the perfect chance to kill Michael, buy himself time before another bounty hunter was sent after him, but he hadn’t.

Just cuffed Michael to the radiator in his hotel room and had a chat. Asking Michael all kinds of ridiculous questions like they were old friends out for drinks or something, running up Michael’s room service bill and completely unapologetic about it all.

They keep meeting because Gavin’s a born troublemaker, pulls some shit in every life that earns him the kind of bounties that have people like Michael tacking him down.

Cheeky little bastard who makes them work for it, and harmless for the most part.

Just really, really fucking annoying.

“Have you seen any of the others yet?” Gavin asks, almost bouncing a little in excitement.

It has to be some sort of curse the way they always end up meeting life after life after life. Or maybe they delight in giving Michael ulcers, who fucking knows.

Michael reaches over to pop the glovebox and pulls out the tablet inside Tosses it into the backseat, snorting when Gavin catches it easily.

Gavin freezes when he realizes what he’s done, eyes dropping to the empty cuff swinging freely from his wrist.

“Er,” he says, looking shifty as hell. “Oops?”

“Code’s 1337,” Michael says, because the nerds at the agency think they’re hilarious.

He can see Gavin struggling not to smile as he bends his his head to unlock the tablet, little pause before he taps on the folder icons.

Bounties Michael was assigned because the agency likes to keep operatives like him on cases with repeat offenders. Feels it’s more effective when they get to know their bounty, how they think, and so he has regulars.

People like Gavin.

“Oh dear,” Gavin says, eyes crinkling with amusement as he goes through the folders. “They were busy.”

Michael doesn’t quite roll his eyes at that because Gavin’s not wrong.

Geoff and the others are goddamned menaces, and he’s unspeakably grateful for the lifetimes where they don’t team up because those are a nightmare.

“Buckle up, asshole, it’s going to be a long drive.”

Gavin looks up at Michael and grins, stupid and happy and goddamned annoying as he reaches for the seat belt.

It’s against protocol to being Gavin with him like this. He’s supposed to drop him off at the nearest branch office, let them deal with him.

“Michael,” Gavin says, glint in his eye Michael does not like the look of. “ A million dollars, but - “

Gavin’s an idiot, yes, but he has a way of making things interesting.

“Shut the fuck up,” Michael says, and pretends it doesn’t feel like a puzzle piece slotting into place when Gavin laughs, and this life finally feels real.

#ragehappy #mavin #vagrant fic #¯\_(ツ)_/¯

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ragehappysecretsanta · 6 years

Text

Author: http://teamcrazydicks.tumblr.com

Recipient: http://oxfordsemicolon-rebel.tumblr.com

Summary: It was supposed to be a reconnaissance mission. Gavin wasn’t supposed to get hurt. Now he’s stuck in a hospital room with the Vagabond, waiting to get discharged. There are a lot of things they both don’t want to tell the other about.

[For the prompt 'FakeAHCrew!AU. Person B is injured on a heist, the rest of the crew goes to comfort them. Unknown to the crew, however, is that Person A was also injured but doesn't want to reveal the injury for whatever reason.']

Warnings: Rated T, minor description of non-fatal injuries

WordCount: 5328

The Fakes didn’t go to hospitals. Not if they could help it. That was one of the unfortunate downsides to having a face synonymous with a spot on the LSPD’s most wanted list. They had the foresight to have an RN on their payroll instead, and a few industrially-stocked med kits in most places they might land after a job went south.

So when Gavin came to and, through a haze of drugs, pain, and exhaustion, blinked his eyes open and deduced he was in a hospital room, the thought that lazily floated to the forefront of his mind was, shit. His eyes tracked along the wall, the hanging TV that was off, the open window that showed it was sometime in the afternoon. He wasn’t cuffed to the bed, and there weren’t any cops at least. That was good. He relaxed again, knowing he was too weak to struggle to his feet and break out.

The next thought he had didn’t float so much as navigate through the mental debris currently clouding his brain was that it was supposed to have been a simple reconnaissance mission. Easy. In and out. Little to no chance of getting shot. Gavin was the hacker, the tech guy. He didn’t handle getting shot well. Save that for someone like –

Gavin jumped in his skin when the door banged open, grunted in pain a second later from the involuntary movement. The room had a small entryway, probably where the bathroom was, so there was a stretched pause between the door shutting again and the intruder appearing in Gavin’s line of sight.

Ryan stepped into the room. It took a moment for Gavin to realize it actually was Ryan; he had only caught the Vagabond out of the makeup and mask a handful of times, so it took a moment for his eyes to comprehend what he was seeing. That, and the guy had materialized wearing baggy jeans and a sweater, for Christ’s sake. His long hair had been cut short. He was giving Gavin an eyeful of some expression. Anger? Blame? Then he just sighed, twisting a little Styrofoam cup in his hand to take a sip from the opened top.

Gavin tried to unstick his mouth and ask if the other man had come to put him out of his misery. But Ryan beat him to the punch, speaking up in that usually dry tone of his. “Of course you wake up in the five minutes it takes me to get some coffee.” He took another, pointed sip out of the cup.

Gavin tried to eke out an apology, but all that seemed to come out was air. Ryan placed the cup by Gavin’s bedside and moved behind his line of sight. He heard the sound of water being poured and was, some moments later, presented with his own cup with a long straw. Ryan held the cup while he drank. “Michael and I are alright,” Ryan prefaced. “You were – well you weren’t on death’s doorstep or anything, but you were out of it for almost three days. Lots of superficial cuts; you’re on antibiotics for the infection on some of your deeper lacerations. They had to dig out some shrapnel in your abdomen and they were considering some physical therapy, due to the fact that they don’t want you to move around a lot for a while.”

Gavin looked up at Ryan, processing everything he said. “A while?”

Ryan shrugged. “They wanted to play it by ear, I guess. Don’t worry, as soon as you can stand I’m getting you out of here. If you need extra help, we can get somebody, do it in the privacy of your place.” Gavin nodded, leaning further against the pillows. Ryan put his water cup on the bedside table and took a seat next to his bed.

“How did you even get us in here without the police finding out?” Gavin took a breath. “I mean, I probably look like someone who survived a bomb attack.”

“Yeah, had to say something about letting off too many fireworks and not getting away in time.”

“Fireworks?”

“Considering we have a lake house and like throwing barbeques with our neighbors.”

Gavin squinted. “We do? Since when?”

“Since you needed medical attention and we’re the only two people in the Crew who can have a normal civilian identity.” He held up his left hand, Gavin noticed there was a gold band on it.

“Don’t tell me…”

“Yep. I’m carrying yours. You’re a size nine, right?”

He was. Gavin didn’t need to think long and hard about how Ryan might have figured that one out. “I don’t know why you’d even ask, as if you didn’t already size me for that and my casket, too.” Ryan smiled.

“I didn’t size you for your casket. I don’t think they even do that anymore. You think I’m making you your own coffin? I’m a busy man.”

“Not so busy that you couldn’t sit by your apparent husband’s bedside.” Finding that his hand was fine to move, he drummed a pattern on the sheets, then yawned.

“Well,” Ryan said, “I was kind of poking at what you got from the USB stick. Trying to see if I could get any damning evidence on those guys. Some locations, names.”

“Anything?”

“I found the name Lemuria, not sure if that’s their gang’s name or some drug or what. It’s all encrypted, and I can’t get any further without a cipher.”

With some effort, Gavin rolled onto his side. He sighed; despite the effort of moving, his back ached from laying that way for so long. “I made a de-encryption program a while back that uses a lot of the more popular ciphers. We can program more in too, if we can find any that might work. If you call Geoff I can tell him to bring my laptop over and –”

“No,” Ryan interrupted.

“No?”

“Not yet. You just woke up.”

“Yeah, exactly. I’m awake.”

“After being out for three days.”

“What, you think I don’t know my own code?”

“No, I just –” There was a loud rap on the door; a moment later a woman in maroon scrubs came through the door.

“Oh! Mr. Foster, you’re awake, that’s great. How are you feeling?”

Gavin blinked. “Uh, a bit sore, from… everything, yeah. But good, otherwise. In one piece.” She smiled at him.

“I’ll grab the doctor in a few minutes then. We’ll see if we can get you something for the pain. Did your husband explain your injuries?” Gavin’s eyes slid over to Ryan, who now had on an expression of worried fondness. He swallowed.

“Uh, yes, he did. Lucky he was here when I woke up, yeah? Like, like sleeping beauty. Right?”

The nurse forced a laugh. “Right. I’ll be back in a minute.” She shut the door.

“Sleeping beauty?” Ryan asked, after a moment.

“Whatever, I have to pretend we’re together, don’t I?”

“So you throw in fairy tale references? You might be laying it on a little thick.”

“You’re laying it on a little thick, sod off.” Gavin thought about turning so his back was to the other man, but the idea made most of the muscles in his abdomen twinge in pain, so he stayed where he was.

“Sod off,” Ryan echoed. “How terribly British of you.”

“W – I am British, what are you on about?” Ryan shrugged.

“You could be Welsh. Or Irish, right?”

“I could not.”

“Scottish.”

“Don’t even –” Gavin squinted. “What’s your name?”

“…Feeling alright there?”

“No you knob, I mean your – cover name, or whatever.”

“Oh, uh. Mark Forster. And you’re Thomas Forster.”

“Okay, so, Mark,” Gavin growled with annoyance. “I’ve had it up to bloody here with you.”

Ryan, surprisingly, laughed. “Did you just ask about our fake names so you could yell at me?”

“You said I was laying it on thick. Fighting is like – taking it off, then, right?”

“That doesn’t make sense.”

“You don’t make sense.”

---

The doctor had checked on him some time later, and keeping up the charade of being a naïve man that was too careless around some fireworks while his vitals were checked and the doctor not-so-subtly warned him about being more responsible had, unfortunately, taken a lot out of him. Well, that or the morphine drip. Either way, he slipped back to sleep without really noticing. He may have had a dream. Something with deserts, a mission that should have been easy but wasn’t, a trap, a bomb, sound and light melded together…

He was slowly woken by the sound of voices. Someone else was in the room. He didn’t tense, knowing that would just cause more pain, instead he laid still and tried to make out the conversation.

“…Yeah, here, don’t spend it all in one place.” A man’s voice said. There was some shuffling, stuff moving around.

“Thanks, but really – why are you here?”

“Geoff says he needs the codes, Ryan.” Gavin nearly furrowed his brow at that voice. That couldn’t be Michael, could it?

“I’m working on it.” The sound of keys being hit on a laptop.

“…Why can’t Gavin work on it?” There was a petulant edge to his tone. Definitely Michael. Gavin nearly interrupted them, wanting to make sure the other was okay and figure out why the hell he was here, but his natural drive to eavesdrop got the best of him.

“He’s a bit incapacitated, as you can see.”

“Well if you woke him up –”

“I’m not going to – Michael, do not.” There was a pause. Someone shifting on their feet.

“Thought you said you could get him out of here soon.”

“Soon. Not yet. He’s not… I don’t want to break him.”

Michael scoffed. “Look, I know Gavin is like, 130 pounds soaking wet. But he’s hardier than you’d think. He hates it when he thinks he’s laying around doing nothing. He already hates being behind the scenes all the time.”

“I know. Just… He was talking, earlier. I think he can go home tomorrow. Or the next day. Tell Geoff I’m not breaking him out until I know it won’t actually break him.”

“…Fine. Yeah, alright. You’re probably right. But as soon as –”

“I promise.”

“Okay. Um. Do you want me to – ?”

“No. I mean. No thanks, cover, and everything.”

“I’m sure even the most attentive of husbands are allowed to go home, Ryan.” There was a pause, and Michael sighed.

“I mean, it’s just – you don’t have the most airtight disguise?” Gavin desperately wanted to open his eyes now.

“What are you talking about? It’s fine.” Another pause, Gavin imagined it was full of Ryan giving Michael a doubtful stare. “Alright, well, text me if you need something. Or if he needs something. And if he gets worse, or whatever – let me know. I’ll see you guys.” Footsteps, and a door swinging shut. Gavin exhaled very slowly through his nose.

“I know you’re awake,” Ryan murmured. Gavin cracked his eye open. “I could practically feel you spying on us.” Gavin answered with a smile, and Ryan rolled his eyes, his lips twitching despite himself.

“What were talking on about?”

“Couldn’t you tell?” Gavin shrugged, content to play dumb for the moment. Ryan shut the laptop he had been using, carefully putting it under his chair and resting a tote bag – which Michael had probably given him – on top. “The rest of the Crew’s getting… antsy about what files you might have found when you got that USB drive into the computers at their base. It’s all encrypted but you can figure it out, I imagine.”

“I mean, yeah, probably. I could take a look, but you’re probably going to say no, yeah?”

“No’s right. So far as we know they were just distributing drugs; no reason to treat them like a gang going to war with us yet.”

“Even if they did set up a bomb in their sham base and have it detonate when we tried to leave?”

“So they’ve got secrets and don’t want competition. We don’t have the resources or the man power to go off on a crusade just yet.” Gavin hummed, trying to remain somewhat reasonable. Ryan had a point, as he usually did.

“So you’re trying to put off any retaliation for as long as you can?”

“Any rash retaliation.”

“Ooh, going behind Geoff’s back using me, huh? That’s dirty, I like it.”

“What? It’s not just that. I wasn’t lying about you being out of commission either. You still can barely sit up right now.”

“I can sit up. You saw me walk to the bathroom earlier and everything!”

“After I saw you fail to sit up and need me to pull you to your feet, yeah.” Gavin sighed. Stupid Ryan and his stupid points.

---

He was out in the desert. There was grit in his teeth, sand digging into the side of his face where he was laying. He squinted, seeing the fiery remains of a blown out building. The hideout he went to inspect. He knew he was injured, but he didn’t feel pain, not yet. Instead he kept staring, watching the flames crawl up in the sky, higher and higher. The glass blew out of the windows, leaving smoking holes in the building.

A figure stood in the upper floor. Somehow, their shadow was darker than the smoke. Gavin squinted, trying to breathe in something that wasn’t kicked up sand or ash.

It was Ryan. No. The Vagabond. Still in the skull mask, melting from the heat. He didn’t seem to react any other way, just standing in the window, watching him as black rubber dripped down his face.

Another part of the building exploded, chunks of brick coming right towards him.

Gavin sat up in bed, breathing harshly. He was distantly aware of how his abdomen pulled and stretched painfully from his use of those muscles. He sighed, running his hands through his hair, then pressing them to his eyes for a moment. It was a bad dream, even if it was very loosely based on real events. “Just a dream,” he whispered to himself. When he moved his hands away, he realized it was nighttime, and Ryan was gone. A dim light shining from the room’s entryway suggested he was in the bathroom, or had at least left the light on, should Gavin need stumble his way to the toilet at two in the morning.

…Which may have been the case. With a steeling breath, Gavin swung his legs to the side and stood up, hobbling over to the bathroom door. It had been left ajar, so Gavin just pushed it the rest of the way open. He squinted as his vision filled with bright light.

“…Ryan?”

Ryan’s sweater was tossed over the closed toilet lid, and the man himself stood at the sink. Gavin could see a flash of red from the mirror, and when Ryan turned to face him, he realized the color was from an angry line of broken flesh along Ryan’s side, which the other had tried to patch up with thread. It was holding, but it obviously wasn’t healing well, if the irritated look and the mess of bloodied gauze in the sink was any indication.

“I thought I shut the door,” Ryan mumbled after a pregnant pause.

“What happened?” Gavin hissed, stepping further into the room in case Ryan got the idea to shut him out.

“Nothing I can’t handle. I’m just changing the bandages.”

Gavin’s eyes grew wide, hand coming up as though he was about to reach out and touch Ryan’s wound. “You got hit in that explosion, didn’t you?”

“It’s nothing, Gavin, go back to bed.”

“It’s not nothing, Ryan. Look at it! It’s infected, or – it won’t heal right.”

“It’ll heal just fine, Gavin,” Ryan snapped. “Stop yelling so I can patch it up.”

“We’re in a hospital!” Gavin said, edging closer, hand still outstretched. “Why don’t you have them fix it for you?”

Ryan turned around, face twisted into a scowl. His mouth was opened, ready to hurl another insult, but he didn’t seem to realize how close Gavin was, or where his arm was; instead Gavin’s forearm knocked painfully against the gash, and Ryan hissed through his teeth, pressing hard at the wound. Gavin looked on for a moment, the way Ryan hunched from the pain. He backed up a step. Then another, gears turning in his head.

“Ryan,” Gavin said slowly, “I’m gonna call the nurse. And you’re gonna make up some bullshit story, and you’re gonna get actual stitches. Please.” Ryan frowned, fingers pressing harder against his side. “For me?”

The renewed pain did most of the convincing, and after a moment Ryan’s stance wilted. “Fine. For you, Gav.” Gavin internally breathed a sigh of relief. Even though Ryan had said yes, he didn’t take his eyes off the other man, backing out of the bathroom to maintain a line of sight for as long as he could. He dashed towards the bed, hitting the call button with his thumb before edging back to the bathroom’s doorway. Ryan hadn’t moved, still staring out at him.

His eyes were blue, so blue, and Gavin would have given anything to have his sunglasses on, to be able to look away without the risk of losing whatever game they were playing.

Both their heads snapped towards the entryway when one of the nurses knocked on the door and let herself in.

“My husband hurt himself,” Gavin said immediately, pointing at the side he was still holding, “and he didn’t tell anyone.” Ryan shot him a glare.

“Yes, thank you, dear, I was about to tell her that,” he supplied.

“Well you didn’t the first time around, did you?” Gavin replied, more than a little righteous.

The nurse gave Ryan a look that very much meant he’d be getting an earful later. “Why don’t we have you fill out some paperwork while we wait for an exam room to open, sir? Follow me.” Ryan hastily grabbed at the sweater still on the toilet, pressing it to his side. He glanced over at Gavin.

“Uh, is it possible that – afterwards – I can come back here? I don’t want to… leave my husband alone for too long.” She looked between the two of them.

“We’ll see what we can do.” She moved to the side, sweeping her arm so that Ryan walked in front of her.

“See you soon,” Gavin murmured. Ryan gave him another glance. It wasn’t icy or heated or annoyed. It was something else. Something he couldn’t place.

Before he could try, Ryan murmured a “see you,” before ducking out of the room. The door shut behind them.

Gavin sighed, looking down at himself. There was a small smear of blood along his forearm. He washed it off in the sink, tossing away the bandages. He splashed water on his face. Somehow, despite the drugs and residual tiredness, he had a feeling he wasn’t going back to bed just yet.

---

Gavin was refreshing his twitter feed for the seventh time when Ryan walked in, wearing a blue sweatshirt with the name of the hospital along the chest. “Hey,” he said, shutting the door. Gavin saw he was still favoring his injured side. Actual stitches probably pinched more than the gauze and fairy dust that Ryan had been using to keep himself together before.

“Hey. Nice shirt.”

Ryan tugged at the hem of it. “Yeah, well. Something about not wanting to put on an old sweater covered in dried blood, I guess.”

“Could’ve just called someone and have them bring a shirt down.” Ryan gave him a look. “What, you could have done.”

Ryan sighed, and instead of sitting down in his usual arm chair, he sat on the edge of Gavin’s bed, by his waist. He angled his body so he didn’t have to twist himself to look over at the younger man. “I’d appreciate it, if, um. You didn’t tell them about – this.”

“And miss out on prime blackmail material?” Gavin said with a smirk. The way Ryan was looking at him made him think his attempt at a joke had fallen flat. “Hey,” he started, touching Ryan’s arm. “Did you know when you first joined the Crew, that I kind of hated you?”

“You didn’t hate me,” Ryan said immediately. “You were scared of me.” Gavin felt a flush rise to his cheeks.

“Well – same thing.”

“No. Hate and fear and definitely different things.”

“The point is, either way, I wasn’t real keen on you. Thought you were, well – all the stuff that made you scary. You were the Vagabond, and you’d probably find out where I lived and slit my throat, or something. Michael said I was being a prick about it, but you know how stubborn I can get.” He picked at the jagged line of his thumbnail for a moment, trying to get his thoughts straight. “Then there was this time, after some job we did or something, and everyone went out to celebrate, got absolutely trashed, and you, ‘cause of course you don’t drink – had to take us all home. You even had to take Geoff n’ me through the door.” Watching up through his eyelashes, he saw Ryan crack a small smile. “I guess the right word’s selfless. And dealing with drunk people is absolutely the worst. ‘Specially us. Guess after that I started thinking, well, there’s more to you than a mask. You’re one of us. Really, properly, one of us.” He let out a small cough, mouth feeling dry for more ways than one. “Guess what I’m getting at is – you are more than a mask, Ryan. Even if its… convenient for you to not be, most of the time. Doesn’t mean any of us see you as this unfeeling evil mastermind or something. Doesn’t mean you should see yourself that way either.”

He could see Ryan twist his mouth the way he did when he was trying to work out a problem in his head. It carried on like that for a handful of agonizing, pulling moments, him curled up in the hospital bed he was getting increasingly sick of, Ryan hunched in that blue sweatshirt that was maybe even more ridiculous than the sweater he once had on. Is this what he looked like on the odd weekend, Gavin couldn’t help but think – did Ryan have an old hoodie and sweatpants that he’d lounge around in all day? What did he do in those quiet moments when there was no mask, no face paint, no jacket; just himself, the man, and no one else around to put on an act for? Ryan’s eyes flickered back over to him and he stiffened slightly, as though the other could read his thoughts.

“So you’re not going to tell anyone?” he reiterated.

“Uh – not if you quit being an idiot and admit if you need help,” Gavin said slowly. Ryan sucked on his teeth, nodded once, and stuck a hand out.

“Then we have a deal.” After a second, Gavin reached out, shaking Ryan’s hand once. His fingers were calloused, rough, and warm.

They parted, and the other man gingerly sat down in the hospital chair. Gavin put his phone on the bedside table, curling up on his side to face Ryan. “Stiches hurt?”

“I always forget how unpleasant they are when they first put them in.” Gavin winced in sympathy, grateful in retrospect he was unconscious when they dug around at him. “Didn’t help that I waited so long before getting them done right.”

“How’d you manage that?”

Ryan shrugged a shoulder. “Once they put you in for surgery I snuck around and found some supplies. I figured I’d be set for a few hours or so, but when they finished with you and said you couldn’t leave for a while…”

“You could have left,” Gavin said pointedly. “I wasn’t going anywhere. Wouldn’t have even known you were gone, matter of fact.”

“Gavin, we had all almost been blown up. Excuse me if I was feeling a little paranoid. If those guys somehow were able to trace our whereabouts, I mean, hell, we’re both practically sitting ducks right now. I don’t think they’re tracking us, but…”

“You didn’t want to risk it,” Gavin finished, “got it. You’re rather thoughtful, aren’t you?”

Ryan yawned, pressing a fist to his mouth. “I’m full of thoughts, might as well put some of them into action.” He slumped further into his chair. “Forgot how much getting proper medical attention will take out of you, too,” he added.

“Gonna go to sleep?”

“Might as well.” Ryan had been gone a few hours, but it was still dark outside, for now.

“Can’t be comfortable in the chair.”

“It’s not,” He shifted again. “I’ve made it this far.”

“Well now I know you’ve got fresh stitches in you – maybe we can switch spots?”

“No – you’ve got it worse than me, you need the bed.”

“You’re going to get a neck cramp or something.”

“I can handle a neck cramp, Gavin.” Ryan replied easily.

“Well – we could try to share, I guess,” he said. “You know, technically the bed’s bigger than a twin. We could squeeze.” Ryan’s brows raised minutely.

“…You sure?”

“We’re both tired, and –” Gavin couldn’t exactly explain what else. Something had obviously shifted between them in the last couple of hours. A silent admittance of something that they knew was there, but didn’t realize was a mutual feeling. They’d had a ‘moment’, as Michael probably would have said. Didn’t that count for something? He moved to the far side of the mattress and turned down the covers. “Come on.”

Gavin was half surprised when Ryan actually got up, kicking off his shoes and slowly settling into bed, facing him. Immediately it was obvious that it was a tight fit. Parts of them were either pressed together or nearly touching; Ryan’s body heat immediately flooded against Gavin’s front, and a warmth settled in his stomach. Ryan rearranged the pillows into something more comfortable. “This alright?” he asked. Gavin honestly didn’t know what bit he was referring to.

“Yeah, yeah, it’s fine,” he said, not sure where along Ryan’s face he was allowed to linger on. Instead he just closed his eyes, willing himself to the edge of sleep. Ryan was here, he rationalized. He was safe. They both were. There was no reason he had to stay up and wait any longer.

He fell asleep much sooner than he thought he would.

---

A nurse coming to check on their vitals woke them up; in the back of his mind, Gavin was thankful their cover story had them legally married. Somehow it made it a few degrees less awkward.

Even when they were alone again, Ryan stayed in bed with him, staring up at the ceiling. Gavin’s chin rested on the top of his shoulder.

“Now that we’re both patients,” Gavin started, “how’re we gonna get out of here?”

“Not up for sneaking out?” He shook his head. “I texted Michael last night, said we’d probably be ready to leave by today. I’m sure he’s planning something.” Gavin hummed in acknowledgement, staring blankly up at Ryan’s profile.

“Being here is not fun,” he managed. “Glad you decided to keep me company.”

“I guess I’m glad you forced me to get stitches.”

“You guess.” Ryan chuckled, turning to face Gavin full-on.

“It’s nice to have someone looking out for me, then. Even if I didn’t think I needed it. How about that?”

“Better.” Their noses were nearly touching, they were so close. Ryan looked soft; bags under his eyes and the sunlight hitting his hair, pillow creases on his cheek.

Gavin was still surprised to find out that Ryan’s kiss was as soft as he looked. In all honesty, he had expected something harder; Ryan trying to get a reaction out of him, or gain an upper hand, like a mind game. Or maybe he just never wanted to think about it, was too afraid to put the effort into it and feed the thought more power. He could feel the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, not because of nerves, but because Ryan’s fingers were nervously hovering just above them, wanting but unsure if he could touch.

Carefully, Gavin reached up, his own hand tucking along the side of Ryan’s neck, and then he felt fingers brushing the hair along his nape.

Gavin hadn’t really thought about what it would be like, him and Ryan. There was always… something there, but it had never been made concrete. He just got the impressions of things, how they’d clash and fit together. Their usually erratic sleep schedules; who would make the coffee. Would kissing someone with a beard feel too rough after a while? Ryan weaved the perfect couple story so easily for him at the hospital; could it have been like that? Would it have been? It was all probably too much to think of, this early in the morning with so little sleep. Or maybe Gavin would never be well rested enough to have all the answers when it came to the man that was still kissing him, holding him carefully, sharing the too-small hospital bed.

The sound of a phone buzzing drew them both apart. Ryan reached for his cell, squinting adorably at the screen as he made out the letters. His mouth turned, before splitting into a grin.

“Text from Michael,” he said, showing Gavin. “Breakout in fifteen minutes. Keep a lookout for Lindsay.”

“He’s dragging Lindsay into this?” Gavin asked with a groan. Ryan kissed him again in answer.

---

Fifteen minutes later, and it turned out Lindsay was an absolutely necessary element. She opened the door dressed in cat-covered scrubs, pushing a wheelchair. “Get in, fucker,” she said, gesturing to the thing. Gavin did not feel particularly at ease getting situated in said wheelchair, even as Ryan kept up the pace, walking by his side. Lindsay actually chatted with a doctor while they all shared the elevator going down. Then, as they passed reception, she let out a good hearted laugh. “Man, hospitals are too trusting.”

“You could say that,” Ryan answered, walking through the front parking lot. Michael was waiting for them in a nondescript car, honking the horn when they caught his line of sight. Gavin managed to slide into the back seat without hurting himself, and Ryan joined him. Michael and Lindsay sat up front, neither noticing the way Ryan very carefully drew the seatbelt over himself.

“Are we just leaving the wheelchair there?” Gavin asked, as they pulled away.

“Apparently,” Ryan muttered, looking out the back window. “I wouldn’t have minded a free wheelchair.”

“’Course you wouldn’t,” Gavin said, before tapping on the driver’s seat in front of him. “Michael! How you feeling, boi?”

“Eh, got another scar, but I’ll live.” They pulled onto the highway. “What about you? How was it being Ryan’s fake husband for half the week?”

“Did you have to kiss?” Lindsay asked.

“You always want my friends to kiss,” Michael complained.

“I mean, you could kiss your friends, but you always say no.”

“Because I’m literally married to you! Why would I try to go around kissing other people?’ That devolved into an argument between the two of them. Gavin let out a breath and relaxed into his seat. Hanging out with Ryan had been fun, but he had missed everyone else, too.

As he relaxed against the leather, his arm stretched out, catching Ryan’s hand. He nearly pulled back, but Ryan was faster, entwining their fingers and giving a quick squeeze. He looked over. The older man was staring out the window, but Gavin could practically feel the smile the other had on.

Gavin felt himself smile at the thought. He squeezed back.

#Ragehappy #Freewood #teamcrazydicks #oxfordsemicolonrebel #rhss17

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owlinaminor · 6 years

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DONNY NOVA BAND REUNION CONCERT (@ BIRDLAND JAZZ CLUB) NOTES

hello, tumblr. this is betsy’s ghost speaking, because betsy died about five minutes into that thing. i did, however, take some notes on her behalf. those are under the cut because... there are many notes.

also! i took an audio recording of pretty much the whole concert, and it’s pretty decent quality considering that my seat was not great. if you want it, dm me or shoot me an email ([email protected]); i’ll gladly send it to anyone in the fandom without a trade because this was such a fucking good concert, i think the whole world should’ve heard it.

i know a guy. the concert started with corey and nate doing donny and jimmy’s little riff from when they first meet in the show, transitioning into a version of i know a guy with original verses for each band member!!!! the best moment was that joe got about three verses to himself (since johnny doesn’t have a verse in the actual song). imagine, in the place of corey singing, “finally home”, joe singing, “finally joe”. yeah. incredible.

ain’t we proud. mostly the same as it is in the show, except that they played an extra verse which i’m guessing was cut from papermill. but man oh man it was so good to hear these guys playing together again. also nate and joey were really showing off on their solos (it was kinda hard to see nate from where i was sitting, but i think he was playing tenor? like, just for fun?).

first steps. laura’s grand entrance!! the intro to this was so fucking corny, because corey was like “hey do you want to sing a little bit laura” and she was like “yeah, of course, but first steps first”. also, during the “julia forgot the bridge” part, some of the guys told stories about lines they flubbed during the show.

firefly, an original song by joey pero!!! featuring none other than bandstand composer robert taylor on the violin!!!!!!! this was a really pretty piece; joey is so fucking talented, his skill on the trumpet honestly blows my mind every time i hear him play.

agony, a parody of the song from into the woods, by geoff and joe. about how hard it was for them, as actors, to learn their instruments. yeah. it was a religious experience. also, perfect ending (both of them singing perfectly, “at least i’m not corey cott.”)

you deserve it. everyone killed it on this, obviously.

worth it. this was the original concert song, that was cut during the show’s run at papermill and eventually replaced with love will come and find me again. it’s a bit slower and (imo) less instrumentally interesting than love will come and find me again, but it’s a really gorgeous duet and corey and laura seemed to have so much fun with it.

give me a reason. this was another cut song, originally either in place of this is life or right after it. it’s just a beautiful corey solo. and apparently laura convinced him to re-learn it for this concert a full year and a half after the song was cut because she loves it so much. if that’s not friendship i don’t know what is.

samba counterpoint. this started out like normal counterpoint... and then all of a sudden brandon and joe started playing a latin beat... and then joey and nate and geoff started doing improv over it... it was really incredible. they explained afterwards that, during band calls/tuning calls, the band would often create different versions of the songs in the show, and this one was one of their favorites. other remixes apparently included “surfer you deserve it” and “ain’t we proud but just like twice as fast”. corey also gave a great shout-out to the dancers at this point - almost all of the show’s ensemble came to watch, which i thought was truly wonderful.

nate’s solo. i unfortunately don’t know what this song was called, just that nate said it was his favorite song. he played piano and sang. he’s unbelievably talented. i’m sure anyone reading this already knows how unbelievably talented he is, but it bears repeating. (”that’s the saxophone player in our show,” geoff said afterwards. “what a jerk.”)

my funny valentine, sang by brandon, featuring nate playing bass (brandon said thirteen but actually this man plays like twenty instruments it’s insane) and joey playing a truly lovely trumpet solo. brandon has such a good voice. wow. and it was clear that he really enjoyed showing off.

talking about vets. not a song, but i wanted to give this its own bullet point. all of the cast members said something about how meaningful it had been to them to tell vets’ stories, and what they’re continuing to do for different organizations (corey plugged the fact that he’s running the houston marathon with his dad to raise money for the USO, for example). they were also selling signed cast albums and photos of the show’s veteran wall to raise money for taps. good shit.

welcome home - romantic, the extended version of julia’s rewritten verse of welcome home. laura was at her peak with this one. i don’t have much to say other than damn.

tuxedo junction, played by conductor/pit pianist matt perri! it was super cool to see the guy who’s kept the show’s music running actually featured in the spotlight, and his singing and piano playing was so good. (i also loved this one because, near the beginning, nate and geoff started aggressively head-bobbing in sync, and kept it up for the rest of the song. love these good good friends.)

love will come and find me again. laura killing it. again. also, she segued into this one by saying that there will have to be a bandstand revival and/or tour, because “love will come and find this show again”. she’s clearly still so salty about the show closing, and, well, same.

nobody. brilliant ending for a brilliant concert!!! nate, geoff, and joey all stood up during different parts of the song to do a bit of choreography, which was really fun. and of course they got a standing ovation, and calls for an encore, which led to...

white christmas (encore). because, as corey said, the donny nova band is a “real band” that has to “play stuff when people call for an encore” despite their very limited repertoire. this was basically corey’s best bing crosby impression, featuring backup vocals from geoff, nate, joey, and laura. it was very beautiful and i nearly cried.

so my face still hurts from smiling for an hour straight... this reunion concert was really really incredible, especially because everyone onstage seemed to just be so happy to be back making music together. i really hope they can do more stuff like this in the future (tour when? revival when?)

#bandstand #bandstand broadway #bandstand reunion concert #donny nova band #broadway audio #hi this is your captain speaking #honestly all i want is for someone to isolate samba counterpoint so that i can put that shit on repeat

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everythingshawnmendes · 7 years

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That One Night (Shawn Mendes x Reader)

Summary: Y/N and Shawn are both friends of Y/F/N (your friend’s name) and are each in a serious relationship they’re unhappy with. On one night, they are both invited to Y/F/N’s beach party and…

“For I have never seen true beauty till this night.” William Shakespeare

Shawn sighed as his girlfriend of two years was complaining about something again. Today, it was about the public transportation.

“I mean why can’t they just stop in front of my house, it’ll take one minute? Don’t bus drivers have one minute of their lives to spare?”

Her name was Emma. She was the same age as him, she was a model. They had met online through various flirtatious Twitter encounters and soon began to date.

A beautiful appearance did not mean a beautiful inside.

They got along well, they cared for each other. Shawn would be able to tolerate marrying her and spending every day of his life with her.

But that’s not what a relationship was supposed to be right? A relationship was beyond tolerance, and compromise. Hell, if he had to choose a girl to spend the rest of his life with he would choose Aaliyah over Emma. Because Shawn loved Aaliyah and their sibling bond was unfortunately stronger than whatever relationship he and Emma had.

He did not hate Emma, of course no, but he did not love her. However, he stayed with her, because it was comfortable and it was familiar.

“A BREAK?”

“Yes… a break.” Y/N said slowly, stretching out each letter of that last word.

“Why the hell would you want to take a break from us?” Brandon, Y/N’s boyfriend said aggressively.

“Seriously Brandon? You can’t see the reason? Our relationship is far from perfect, hell it’s far from happy!”

“Is this about me cheating on you last spring because I already apologized.”

Y/N bit her tongue, blinking the burning in the back of her eyes away. Cheating was regarded so normal nowadays in relationships, when it should be the opposite. It has become common and easier to forgive, even though it is the biggest act of infidelity. And Brandon did it, not even under the influence.

“Noo. It’s not about spring break last year. I just feel we need some time apart to, rethink how our relationship really is.”

“C’mon babe. I know we have our downs. but we’re okay yeah?” Brandon said, exiting the room.

Y/N sighed. She wished she felt something for him like she had in the beginning of their relationship. But whatever love there used to be, was gone.

Her phone beeped. It was Y/F/N, Her best friend since high school.

Y/F/N: Hey, down to hit the beach tomorrow night?

She typed vigorously: fuck yes.

Shawn’s phone beeped. It was a text from a good friend from work who was into journalism.

Y/F/N: Hey, down to hit the beach tomorrow night?

Shawn: please.

Y/F/N: Do you mind not bringing Emma? Nothing against her, we just a little tired of your bickering lol

Shawn: haha you’re not alone my friend.

Y/F/N: Feel free to invite other guys 😉

The next day, Y/F/N went over to Y/N’s with the whole gang of old high school friends. They spent the day chilling, telling old stories, binge-eating and binge-watching.

Afternoon rolled around and they climbed into Y/F/N’s car to drive down to Y/F/N’s beach house, which was about a half-hour away.

“We gotta pick up some guys by the way girls.”

“Noo problem.” All the single friends sing-songed. Y/N swallowed guiltily at the fact her stomach tingled with excitement at the idea of meeting new guys as well.

They drove down to a house and Y/F/N went out to knock on the door.

Shawn answered the door and he, Niall and Geoff came out the door.

Y/F/N whispered in his ear: “Niall too? Dang thanks Shawn.”

Shawn smiled and walked out the door as well.

Y/N stared at her phone inside Y/F/N’s car, not daring to peer at the guys Y/F/N invited.

The guys climbed into Geoff’s car and tailed behind Y/F/N’s car. Soon they arrived, and the whole gang pulled towels, umbrellas and coolers out of the cars.

The girls found a spot in the warm sand as they waited for the guys to carry the heavier stuff over.

Y/N was happy. She was positively glowing. Thinking to herself, she decided to have fun for the first time in a long time today.

She pulled off her shirt and shorts to reveal a strappy red one-piece. She didn’t care Brandon forbid her to wear it.

Shawn held the umbrella and its stand in one arm and his bag in the other. Spotting the gang, he walked over to them, his feet brushing the warm sand. His eye landed on a girl in a bold deep red swimsuit with flowy (your hair color) name.

His eyes wanted to look at her but at the same time he didn’t let himself to, thinking he was not deserving to witness such a venerable piece of art without asking.

Instead he dodged her and set his towel beside Niall’s.

He played it cool, but he secretly sneaked glances at Y/N every few seconds to make sure he wasn’t dreaming. He watched her splash around in the waves with Geoff and a couple of other girls.

“Hey Y/F/N.” he said, sitting down beside her on her towel.

“Hey Shawn, how’s it going? By the way did you read our interview on Billboard?”

“Course I did, it was wonderful. So um say who’s the girl in red?” he said in what he hoped was an aloof casual tone.

“Oh yeah! My bad I didn’t introduce you to anyone. Well I see Geoff and Niall are already getting to know them. One in red’s Y/N, and the two on her right are Cloe and Veronica.”

Shawn, not having asked for the names of the other two and who was not remotely interested in them to be honest, turned deaf after hearing the name of the girl in red.

Y/N.

Y/N swam in the waves, having a couple laughs with her girls and the guys she just met. Deciding to dry off and sunbathe a little, she left the four others and ran back up to shore.

She nearly tripped in the smooth sand when she saw the guy sitting beside Y/F/N.

She made eye contact with him for a second and immediately looked away. With pink cheeks, she took a seat on her towel, which was on the other side of Y/F/N’s.

Shawn, in alarm, having never felt so infatuated with someone, got up rashly and ran to the water. Best he not say anything to her without thinking about it first if he didn’t want to embarrass himself.

“Holy shit Y/F/N who is that?” Y/N exhaled as Shawn ran out of earshot. It’s not like she was holding her breath or anything, it was more like she forgot to breathe so much she thought about him.

“Haha that’s Shawn, he helped me get the job at Billboard.”

“HE’S the pop star that got you that job?”

“Yeah, I’ve told you a thousand times about him!” Y/F/N exclaimed shaking her head.

Y/N merely shrugged. How could she not pay attention to that! She gazed at him. He looked like a Greek god. There was no other way describing his chiseled jaw, and his beautiful tall body.

“I’m going into the water.” Y/F/N said, taking Y/N out of her reverie.

“Hmm oh yeah kay.”

Y/N watched from a distance. Shawn was an angel. He smiled at Y/F/N, splashed her playfully, and didn’t even mind holding the huge seashell Y/F/N found.

If THAT’S how he treated a friend, imagine how the hell he would treat a girlfriend… No, don’t go there Y/N, those thoughts are trouble. Were these even normal thoughts to have on a complete stranger?!

She was in such a daze that she didn’t notice Shawn running up to her and putting the huge ass seashell on Y/F/N’s towel.

“Hi.” He said.

“Hey.” Y/N turned around, and nearly had cardiac arrest when she saw who it was. “Nice seashell.”

He laughed. “Yeah Y/F/N found it and said she wanted to use it as a decoration or something. It’s Y/N right?”

“Right-o.” Well this is a good time to use that term for the first time. “And you’re?”

“Shawn. Whatcha reading?”

“Hmm oh this is only the best book in the universe. Not counting Harry Potter of course.”

“I LOVE HARRY POTTER!”

“ME TOO!” Y/N exclaimed, the way a potterhead does when they recognize another one. ( A/N: a potterhead is a huge Harry Potter fan. I, you can guess, am one.)

They both laughed.

“Well um anyways, this is Les Miserables.”

“You speak French?”

“Yeah I grew up in Canada.”

“No way me too! Pickering, Toronto.”

“Me Montreal.” Y/N smiled. Wow they had way more in common the she thought they would. “Anyway yeah, it’s a French classic, it talks about the June rebellion. The main character is an ex-prisoner who changed his view on life from hate to love because he adopts a girl named Cosette- Sorry I must be boring you.”

“Wha- no not at all!” Shawn said. Really, he meant it.

“Sorry, it’s just people don’t read as much as they used to because of cell phones and stuff, and books are now viewed as boring and long and only meant for school.”

They spoke to each other as if they have spoken to each other two thousand times before. Before they knew it, they were both talking about their relationships. They were both saddened when they heard of each other’s dissatisfaction with their current partners. They were both unaware however that their sadness was also caused of the other not being romantically available.

Shawn was hypnotised when Y/N talked, his ears being filled by only her voice, and his vision being filled by only the way her mouth moves, her hair in the ocean breeze, her body language. And Y/N was the same for him.

It was soon sunset and Y/F/N pulled cans of beer and Palm Bay (its like a Canadian cocktail drink with vodka). Y/N drank fast, wishing to leave her boring tied down regular life.

Shawn decided not to indulge and kept his eye on Y/N.

The lifeguards came down to them and invited them to a party that night. They happily agreed and set off for a bite to eat first.

The whole time, Y/N and Shawn were inseparable. They acted like long-time friends, chasing each other down the boardwalk, and trying on silly accessories at open boutiques along the way.

Shawn collapsed in laughter as Y/N was screamed at by a shop owner, for she accidentally walked off still wearing a fuzzy orange hat Shawn put on her head.

They had never laughed this much in their lives. They sat down beside each other at the restaurant and shared their food with each other.

“Jesus Y/N and Shawn seem to be getting along.” Y/F/N muttered to Niall.

“Yeh really looks like it!”

They then all drove to a drugstore, the girls all needing gum, and elastics and other toiletries. Y/N and Shawn raided all the magazines to find one Harry Potter themed. Y/N shivered in the cool AC and Shawn quickly lent her his hoodie.

On the way to Y/F/N’s beach house, the duo finally separated.

It was the boringest quiestest fifteen minutes of Shawn’s life. He missed Y/N, he actually missed her even though he was gonna to see her again in a couple minutes.

They all got to the house, and began pre-gaming for the lifeguard party. All except for Shawn of course, who wanted to think crystal clear with his limited hours with Y/N.

Y/N however went hard, wanting to forget and forget about life at home. By the time they got to the lifeguard party, she was wasted.

They all danced and moved to music, and Shawn the entire time, had eyes only on Y/N.

He had never seen anyone so pure, so majestic as her. He watched out for her, since there were a couple guys on the lookout for pretty drunk wasted girls. Toward the end of the night, it was only Y/N and Shawn standing. The others were all sitting, half asleep on chairs.

Y/N and Shawn swayed together to the beat of the music, and by the way Y/N looked at him, she was intoxicated, but no longer of alcohol.

They looked at each other and locked lips.

Two days later

The idea of each other tormented each other. The morning after when they all had to leave, Y/n and Shawn hugged goodbye and exchanged phone numbers. Five minutes after parting ways, Y/N wanted to text him.

Shawn felt the same way, and he let a couple hours pass before calling her.

They texted and called each other non stop. There was no stopping them from keeping in touch with each other.

One week later

The idea of each other tormented them.

Two weeks later, they finally decided to meet up. The sight of each other lit their already on fire insides. Y/N ran to him and they held each other tightly in a hug.

« hey » Y/N beamed up at him.

« hey best friend what’s up »

« I broke up with Brandon »

« Are you okay?? »

« Yeah »

« Well I remember you telling me you were unhappy about him back at the beach, but what led you to it in the end? »

« I think I love someone else »

« Really? »

« yeah »

« I think I love someone else too. Actually, I’m sure of it. I was somehow sure of it the moment I met her. »

« Me too. »

« I love you Y/N. »The two kissed. The fact that in that one night, they met each other and fallen in love each other was pure magic. It was a very rare thing that happened almost never. Love at first sight is very unbelieved nowadays because of the overuse of it in Hollywood, but it remains existent. Shawn and Y/N were like Romeo and Juliet, but they were going to have a happy ending.

what do ya guys think??

#shawn mendes #shawn mendes x reader #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes fluff

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amethystunarmed · 7 years

Text

Bets

Movie Trope #1: a thing happens + two people exchanging money in the back

Suffice to say, tensions were high in Geoff’s penthouse.

“WHAT THE FUCK WERE YOU THINKING!”

Jeremy cringed at the volume. No matter how long he had been in the Fakes, he still hadn’t managed to get used to all the shouting. Jack told him it was how they showed love, but…

“My job, something you should try accomplishing for once.”

“I’M FUCKING SORRY?”

He had his doubts sometimes.

Ryan and Ray were fighting again. It was happening more and more frequently (and publicly) after the crew heists. The two were standing toe to toe in the living room, neither budging an inch. Ray was red-faced and panting, angrily glaring up at the taller man, while Ryan, despite the bruise across his cheekbone and the facepaint marred by sweat, looked completely put together. Only the tense line shadowed above his brow showed any frustration. (Jeremy briefly marveled at that, knowing the Vagabond so intimately that he could see through the merc’s projected cool, but decided now wasn’t the time.)

“If you had taken the shot, I wouldn’t have had to-”

“The only shot I had was through your head, and you know that!” Ray huffed, but Ryan continued as if he hadn’t spoken.

“-move to more drastic measures.”

“Drastic! You ran past a bomb seconds from explosion!”

“I lured the cops into the blast zone! And it worked!”

“The shock wave threw you thirty feet!”

“And it looked awesome, I’m sure,” Ryan leered, sparking a growl from Ray.

“You stupid, arrogant, narcissistic piece of shit!” Ray screamed, before reaching forward and locking his hands into Ryan’s leather jacket, and pulling the other man into a kiss.

Jeremy could feel himself turning bright red. Arguing, he could deal with. This… This was a whole ‘nother animal. Unfortunately, Ryan and Ray’s makeout session was blocking the exit. He scooted to the left armrest as quietly as he could…

Only to witness a pouting Gavin counting hundreds beside an open-palmed Michael. The demolition expert smirked as Gavin handed over the cash, before winking at Jeremy and taking off, Gavin sulking behind him.

Those assholes didn’t even bother to warn me! Jeremy thought as he buried his head into the couch cushions, trying to block out the sounds he knew would scar him for months.

#here's the first one #I dunno #I like it #it's cliche as hell but thats the point #fahc #fahc ryan #fahc ray #fahc jeremy #raywood #I love crew aus with both jeremy and ray #therearenofriendshipsinuno #yo I have to take a shower then I'll do your request #I have an idea a really like for it so get ready #my writing #fanfic

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vivaciouswordsmith · 7 years

Text

RTX 2017 Retrospective

Despite all the hiccups and shortcomings, I did still have fun this year at RTX. I might post about all the faults later, but for now, I’m just gonna focus on the positives.

Friday, July 7th

Since there are so many Mad Kings who have Edgars at RTX, I decided to be an Edgar with a Mad King. Unfortunately, since it was so hot in Austin this year, I never wore my cosplay more than a few hours.

I get to the convention center around 8 am. By some stroke of luck, I managed to get almost to the front of the line for the expo hall, and my wait was considerably shorter than most everyone else’s. (At least, when the line started moving, anyway.) There were security checkpoints to get into the expo hall this year, and by some stroke of genius, there were only two checkpoints set up on Friday. However, I did end up getting hugs and pictures with Shaun Bolen from Game Attack.

The expo hall was the quietest and least crowded I had ever seen it. I took the opportunity and signed up to get a tattoo from the Black Dagger booth, and in the meantime nabbed some RT sweg. The moment I got to the registers, my appointment was up, so I hurriedly pay and get out of there. After about twenty minutes, I was 1) the proud new owner of an AH logo tattoo and 2) starting to overheat. So I went and changed.

After seeing the line to get back into the expo hall, I decided to hang around for a while until the line for the AH panel started. The wait was long, but the panel was absolutely worth it. Michael had a hot dog t-shirt cannon, which Gavin used to shoot him in the dick, Ryan is now a lord with tithes over a 1x1″ piece of Scotland, there were a few games of keepy-uppy, and Geoff has apparently picked the worst year to be sober.

After the panel, I met up with some of the people from Ryan’s Twitch chat, and ended up having a lovely dinner at P.F. Chang’s with them. That was the end of my first day of RTX 2017. Few bumps along the way, but overall incredibly enjoyable.

Saturday, July 8th

I did not cosplay today, as I felt I wouldn’t be comfortable. I’d heard on the Discord that the line to the expo hall was being better managed, so I ended up back in the expo hall at 8:30 in the morning, wandered around for a bit, and finally sat down to wait for the AH guys to get on stage. They played several rounds of GMod: Murder, and I was happy to witness a quintessential Ryan moment. Also Geoff randomly showed up to talk shit.

Afterwards, I had lunch, and waited for 3:00 to roll around so I could head over to my signing. Right when my signing started at 3:30, the line for Theater Mode Live opened. I was antsy right up until I met the Game Attack guys. They were incredibly nice, and when I asked them to “vandalize” my AH hat, they joked about pissing all over it, and ended up writing “Sorry Geoff is a drunk” and “Sorry Michael is a bad dad” on the bill.

Then I proceeded to wait in a line for an hour to get a guaranteed seat at Theater Mode Live. It would stop for several minutes at a time while the Guardians let VIPs in. By the time I got my seat, it was fifteen minutes until the event started seating, so I grabbed a snack from 7-11, wolfed it down, met up with the rest of the Vagabonds, and went to sit in the smallest nosebleed section I’d ever seen. Despite my right foot going to sleep, I had a great time. The AH guys were in top form, and I don’t think there was a single minute without laughter or shouting.

We hung out for a bit after the movie ended, and eventually ended up splitting up. I went home, had dinner, watched the new My Hero episode, and passed out.

Sunday, July 9th

I managed to hustle today, and met up with some fellow Vagabonds to do the Escape Room. Somehow we ended up getting in there by 9:30 or so. I didn’t end up doing much (there were 10 people, and not than many tasks to divvy up between them), but still, I couldn’t help but be proud when we managed to make it out with seven minutes to spare.

Our team name was “It’s Ryan’s Fault.” Because it was. :)

Our meetup wasn’t until 3:30, so I wandered around the expo hall for a while, and eventually got in line for the Million Dollars, But panel. I ended up in the back, and had to listen to two dudes bash Lindsay and Frank for far too long, but eventually the panel started, and it was wonderful. We were shown the new episode (three words: Frat Boi Ryan) and watched them talk about different scenarios. My personal favorite was having to treat weddings like funerals and funerals like weddings. Blaine talked about throwing rice in the aisle while the coffin bearers were walking to the podium, and Burnie talked about tying tin cans to the hearse and painting “Just Died” on the back.

Good times.

After some more time wasting, I headed to the meetup. There were a lot more people there than I thought there would be, and it was nice to finally put names to faces. We waited in the room for fifteen minutes or so before Ryan finally showed up. We’d previously thought that we’d mill about and maybe get to see Ryan, but instead, we lined up, and each and every one of us got some one-on-one time with Ryan. When I got up there, I told him my username - he said he remembered me, and I almost died - gave him my backpack, and leaned back to take a picture of them.

Ryan: Wait, don’t you want to be in the picture? Viva: I’ll be in the next one. Now hold still.

We took some pictures, and he told me how much he appreciated my support and all of the people who made up his community. I nearly died again. I thanked him for the same, and hung out with my new friends for another hour or so.

He ended up being late for Off Topic. Several people watched the stream, and I watched Ryan answer his phone, and hang up with a trailing “Byyyyyyeeeeee”. (When I watched the stream later, I couldn’t help but smile when the others were wondering where he was. It was like being in on some huge prank). We hung out after he had to go, I got some stickers from fellow Vagabonds, and eventually left when the Guardians kicked us out.

I went into the RT Store one last time and picked up a few bits and bobs, wandered around one last time, and eventually left.

This RTX managed to be my favorite, even with all the shenanigans. I met so many wonderful people, and I really felt like I was among friends. Despite my reservations, I already can’t wait for next year.

That’s about it for now. :)

#rtx austin #rtx 2017 #rtx retrospective #rooster teeth #achievement hunter #game attack #ryan haywood #sortamaliciousgaming #how the hell do i tag the vagabonds #vaga-misfits #look at all the real tags #are you proud of me mom

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pathfindersemail · 7 years

Text

Pregnant - Chapter 1

Summary: Marriage. Babies. Happily ever after. That’s how it went, right? Maybe for some. But for Sarianna, some of that happiness was left behind. A small piece of it was still with him, and nothing - not even her own wedding and baby on the way - would stop her from seeing him gain.

Pairing: Sara/Sarianna Ryder x Reyes Chapter rating: T for teens (mild language and heavy concepts) Warnings: future NSFW; angst; running away; cheating; heartbreak; rekindling past relationship.

*Ate = tagalog word for older sister; pronounced Ah-teh

There was no mistaking the seemingly harmless plus sign blinking on the stick. Sara was pregnant. There, at the bottom of her sink, the stick kept on blinking what should be nothing more than a sick, practical joke. Yet nobody popped from the compact storage closet next to her in impish glee. Neither did a soul peep from the bathroom door to yell, “Surprise! We fooled you!” She leaned over the counter, head sunk low into her shoulders, in dejected shock and wholly unable to even face the tired woman standing before her in the mirror. Besides, the almost clinical pallor of the bathroom light had a nauseating effect, like a tightness in her throat threatening to spew at any given moment.

Three well-meaning knocks thudded from outside the door. “Hon, you okay?” Loving fiancee and partner of three years, prim and proper Geoffrey was no doubt awaiting his turn. They had a busy day, after all, and dealing with an unplanned bastard in the making was not on the itinerary.

“Yes! Everything’s fine!” she yelled. Sara grappled with the unholy stick as it bounced around the sink in her inept rush. Shit. Her hand finally won, and it wasn’t long before she disposed of it with an unseemly contempt into the small, almost aesthetically pleasing roundness of their wastebin. She made sure to plop a few sheets of toilet paper over it for good measure. “You can come in!” The door slid open the moment the faucet hissed with a pressurized stream of running water. Sara diligently made as if she had been washing her hands.

A rather sleepy Geoffrey, his normally coiffed hair tousled in bedridden weariness, stepped into the light with a rather unflattering and squinty expression. Yawning, he inched behind Sara and placed a rather doting kiss on the back of her neck as he reached for his tooth brush. His other hand found its way to her waist in a rather backwards embrace. “Good morning to the most beautiful woman in Heleus.” The superlative was followed by a languid smile, somewhat short and saccharine for an otherwise mundane ritual before cleaning one’s teeth.

“Just Heleus?” she teased with a suspecting eyebrow. They both laughed, Geoffrey knowing in his heart that she was the most beautiful even outside Heleus (the entire universe, for that matter); and Sara not knowing why and how to juggle about the daily antics of domestic life while silently panicking at the news she scarcely had time to process. Her thoughts raced to the still blinking stick hiding under a heap in their wastebin. “What are you gonna wear?” She wiped her hands dry with the lush cotton hand towels dangling from from a sleek platinum ring next to the mirror.

Geoffrey looked at her from the mirror, toothbrush jammed into his mouth in a sidelined battle against germs and plaque. “I was thinking that suit Tann had tailored for me. Authentic cotton grown from Podromos.” Sara would’ve judged that he was grinning too widely given the occasion, but she couldn’t fault him for it, especially when he could have been just as easily widening his mouth for the necessary work of moving his toothbrush from one side to the other.

“Fancy,” she said in a low whistle. In truth, Sara hated anything that screamed so… luxuriously. To some, ten years wasn’t a very long time. Many, the ex-Pathfinder included, still remember the harsh pangs of hunger, the measly parcels of rationed food and water, and the overall hopelessness of a people resigned to the little that life dealt them. The choice of touting a retrofitted outfit made of the finest and rarest of fabrics would’ve added insult to a still healing injury.

But looking at Geoffrey, at his rather well kept shadow of a beard (the facial hair style of the month, apparently), his chiseled nose, and defined jaws, Sara realized that not all remembered the same, especially when, like her fiancee, some had the fortune to be dreaming rather peacefully in that hour of need. Geoffrey never knew need. He knew nothing but expenditure, and their rather sleek life in a prime real estate apartment on Meridian was proof of it.

“Listen, I’m going to run some errands. We have a couple of hours anyway.” She hovered next to the door as if waiting for that sure sign of approval.

Geoffrey gargled and spat into the sink. He splashed water onto his face and let the ivory foam meld in a swirl in the running water. “Just be back in time. You know how I hate being late.” He ended his concern with a rather indifferent shrug. A mere reminder is all one needed in life, after all.

Sara laughed. “Sure thing.” Her foot was almost out the door.

“Hey!”

Her foot paused mid-air as she hung by the thread of his words.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” His head bobbed to the side. On the counter, tucked away on that marbled corner, glimmered a golden band with nothing save a sparking diamond for decoration.

His trophy wife-to-be grinned in sheepish bemusement. “You’re right.” Without skipping a beat, Sara swiped a hand at the counter and grabbed her engagement ring. She slipped it on, lithe finger in full view as Geoffrey watched from the mirror. And when he garnished the moment with his own satisfied smile, Sara planted a delicate, dutiful kiss on his stubbly cheek. “I”ll see you later.”

She barely heard him shout “Love you!” as she spirited away from the door.

The almost harsh ringing, incessant as it was as it screeched through her omnitool was filling Sara with dread. C’mon Scott… The line continued, yet no answer gave her a reprieve from the monotonous beeping of a call that was yet to be answered. It took only a few clicks, and she was once more redirected to his voice mail. “Hey, Scott Ryder here. Busy at the moment, but hit me up by the *BEEEEP*.” Sara hung up before the call could record any further.

Shit. Dread was coiling in tight, stifling knots in her stomach. And it was just her luck that her normally available twin brother was somehow unreachable at that very moment.

Vetra? No, she’d be in the Remav right now still rooting out derelict mines.

Liam? Cora? But both would be gone with Scott as part of the new and rebranded Pathfinder team, seeking out more exploits in neighboring clusters. A bitter note seemed to ring just saying it out loud. New. Pathfinder team. Many didn’t think of Scott filling in for Sara as some kind of affront, but in a way, she did. Complications with cerebral lesions be damned, she didn’t want to have to be replaced - least of all by a brother who somehow came out less damaged than she.

The list moved on. Jaal maintained work with the Resistance as one of its three generals. Though in truth, she suspected he’d be the most pleased with news of her untimely conception. Suvi, on the other hand, was much too far on the Nexus and no doubt stressed enough as it was with her new pet project - classified, unfortunately (one of the many channels Sara was no longer privy too). There was Gil, who parented as best he could from Podromos, and Kallo was on the Nexus training more pilots now that Scott had paved the way. Peebee too, last she checked, was lost in some vault with an archeology team. The asari would be more amused than panicked, Sara thought. And Peebee was always more prone to pithy banter than any real, solid advice.

Drack? Surprisingly enough, he would have made a good shoulder to lean on. But his grave was much too far, and the dead could hardly impart their wisdom to the living. There was always Lexi and Dr. Carlyle, but having been immensely happy and proud for her when news of her engagement with Geoff spread, she doubt she’d find likely allies in the two, well-meaning doctors.

Suddenly she found herself missing SAM - the AI implant once inextricably woven into the very tissue of her nerves. But he too left her for better, brighter things, as everyone eventually did.

Her hands stayed quietly on her lap through it all. Sitting as she did in the atrium, pleasantly blending in with the very inanity of the bench and happy folk crowding around on such a beautiful and busy day, Sara found it rather difficult, actually, not to fidget. A trembling of her lip seemed to hint as much. That, and a well suppressed tear building up in the corner of her eye.

A ping notified her of a sudden change. Sara hurriedly fiddled for her omnitool, hoping Scott at least tried to call her back.

An email.

To: Sara From: Geoffrey Richards Commemoration is in an hour. Where are you?

Sara didn’t really read the email - sparse as it was. All she needed to see was the question mark demanding of her something she didn’t really want to give. She shut it off before any sort of argument could sway her.

More and more civilians seemed to crowd out as high noon signalled the morning’s passing into lunch. Laughter now echoed in the main hall, and the Hyperion was abuzz with newfound life. How quickly time went by, forgetting the formative seconds that built up to it.

Be somewhere else. Anywhere but here.

Another ping.

A call.

“Hello?”

“Sara?” Scott’s concern was more audible than her name. Static pervaded their channel, and even the pauses had a brush of white noise. “Sara, what’s going on? You called me like five times!”

The initial trembling soon devolved into fingers winding and curling tightly in a ball. A scrunched fist on her lap. Sara sucked in and bit her lip. She tilted her chin upward up so as to keep withheld tears from falling as she emphatically nodded her head.

“Hello? Sara?” The line was threatening to cut.

She inhaled a sharp breath, finally relenting with the allowance of a single tear to drop from large, unbelieving eyes. “It’s so good to hear from you little brother.” She sniffled through the words, a mistake she didn’t really want to make.

“Sara are you-... are you crying?!”

“What?! No!” She wiped her eyes and sniffed again. Around her, intermittent eyes from the amorphous crowd of people began to notice too. The jury was out. She was indeed crying.

“What’s wrong? Tell me!”

The urgency was slightly intimidating, if Sara had to be honest. She remembered a time when Scott wasn’t always in such a rush, and when he would gently call to her in their hour of need. “Is there something wrong with wanting to talk to my baby brother?”

A radio silence told her he didn’t really buy it.

“Did Tann yell at you?”

“What?! No-”

“Do you owe money?”

“Of course not! I-”

“Is it Geoff? Did you two fight?”

It was so typical of Scott to never listen. Not a word. But still he was always the one who could come closest to understanding a little of what had been plaguing his sister through all these years. “Scott, listen to me,” she commanded. A more stern voice suddenly took over. “I just… I just wanted to ask how you were doing.”

Another pregnant pause followed. This time, she could hear him breathe with a nervous, almost quickened rhythm, even through the static of their omnitools. No doubt he was processing things; trying his best to maybe figure his elusive sister out. “I’m fine.”

“Good!” She almost laughed at how feigned her excitement was. “Where are you now?”

“We’re actually back in Heleus. Kadara, to be specific, and- … Hey, Sara, listen. If something happened, you’d tell me right?” Scott was pleading this time. Impatience could never stop him from worrying.

Again, Sara laughed off his concerns. “Scott, I’m your Ate. Listen to your Ate.” Her knuckles wiped at the watery beads pooling in the corner of her eyes. “I’m telling you. I’m fine,” she declared, smiling as if to an unconvinced audience. “Now, tell me. What brought you to Kadara?” There was an eagerness to her question that she didn’t quite expect. It was puzzling, to say the least.

“Well…” Scott hesitated as he let out a sigh. His exasperation was more than pronounced in it. “We needed something. It was for a mission, actually.”

“Oh?”

“I-... I really can’t tell you about it.”

Sara felt her heart crumble a little; like a withered flower quivering from the pressure of an unwitting yet nevertheless callous thumb. “I see.”

“I’m sorry, Sara.” But Scott was never one for protocol - least of it all when it came to his dear sister. “But you know, we came to Kadara, because we needed something a little special for it. It’s classified, and all that bullshit. But if you want…” He paused to listen in for her withheld breath. “Why don’t you come over? Let’s hang out. I have five days of shore leave, and I’m sure the crew would love to see you. SAM included. I just figured you’d be busy with wedding stuff, and all. I didn’t want to bother you.” A string of excuses erupted from his end of the line, which did not at all reach Sara. There was something latent in his reasons. It was palpable from the nervous ticks of his inflection, but neither of them were going to push it.

Her hand fell gently on her stomach. Somehow, sitting where she was in an almost Edenic slice of Meridian, the world itself was beginning to feel small. Something of a rush overtook her. The offer was a surprise, to be sure, but it came with the prospect of a tantalizing freefall - that sort of thing pregnant women like her shouldn’t partake in.

“I’d love to.”

Five years ago.

“I heard the news. Are you alright?”

She ran an agitated hand through the knotted curls of her hair. The purple dye was running thin. Anemically pale.

“Sara.”

“As fine as I can be.”

He sat by her side. The bed always sank when he put his weight in it.

“I’m fine. I promise.”

He held her by her ear. The line of her jaw was soft in his palm. “You’re a bad liar.”

“And what does that make you?”

He laughed, at a loss for the unexpected snark. But there was something more important to discuss. “Stay with me.”

“Reyes…”

“You have everything you need here. A home, Dr. Nakomoto, your turian friend-”

“There’s nothing for me here. I… I’d just get in your way.”

He had no argument for that.

“You can come with me.” This wasn’t the first time she made that offer.

“And the Collective? I need to be here.”

The same circular reasoning. Sara opted for the other debate at hand.

“It would look bad for the ex-Pathfinder to shack up with a smuggler. And, who knows what that might mean for you.” The word ‘you’ always took on different meanings when speaking with him.

He scoffed. “Who cares about that?”

“I do.”

“And that’s it?”

“That’s it.”

He left the bed shortly thereafter.

#fanfic #Sarianna Ryder #Reyes Vidal #Reyder #Reyes x fRyder #pregnancy pic because why the fuck not publish an angsty one on mother's day

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goddamnedamericanjedi · 7 years

Text

Classic Rock Magazine Interview With Sebastian Bach

It wasn’t the greeting that worried me. During the 13 years that I’ve been interviewing Sebastian Bach, there have been a variety of headlocks and bear hugs. Fortunately, today it’s just a super-firm handshake. Although in the past he’s spat huge globules of phlegm across the room to express disgust at certain subjects, and once even called to talk on a mobile phone whilst taking a piss, neither was I overly concerned about the former Skid Row frontman’s behavior during our encounter.

My biggest reservation was how this particular conversation might conclude. Last time we spoke face-to-face, during a press tour for Skid Row’s 1995 album ‘Subhuman Race’, matters concluded prematurely after I stated the journalistic consensus that the album was considerably below par. “We’ll see who’s still doing this in ten years time,” raged Seb with a face like thunder, before booting the back of my chair, storming from the room and cancelling the rest of his interviews for the day.

That decade he referred to isn’t yet up, but thankfully we’re both still here. “What you said back then hurt so much because I considered a writer like you, who’d written a lot of our early press, to represent the British media,” confides Bach while preparing for Classic Rock’s photo session. “It was hard to take, dude.”

The Canadian had joined Skid Row after being spotted jamming at the wedding of photographer Mark Weiss, and a support spot on Bon Jovi’s ‘New Jersey’ tour gave the fledgling quintet their breakthrough.

Unfortunately, Bach’s dark side was soon revealed and he claimed to have “punched the shit out of Jon, decked him on his fat little ass” when a dispute about a contract Skid Row had signed with Bon Jovi’s Underground publishing company was leaked to the press.

Seb’s wild man credentials were further emphasized by a string of antics, some amusing and some irresponsible. He wiped his derriere on a copy of the Daily Star at Docklands Arena (his tackle flying free in the process) and incurred a lifetime ban at Wembley through playing the song ‘Get The Fuck Out’ when warned not to. Even more regrettably, however, he also wore a T-shirt emblazoned with the slogan ‘Aids Kills Faggots’, and in front of MTV’s cameras threw a glass bottle back into a Massachusetts crowd after it had hit him on the head. A female 14-year-old required 125 stitches.

Finally, Skid Row’s patience snapped, and the relative failure of ‘Subhuman Race’ enabled them to dismiss Bach at the end of 1996. The last time he spoke to Classic Rock, in Issue 13, Sebastian claimed to have no idea why he’d been ‘let go’, adding ruefully: “I’ll never understand why we dropped the ball.” Now a solo artist, his 1999 album ‘Bring ‘Em Bach Alive’ has just been reissued, and Bach has a variety of projects on the go.

DL. You’re here for an appearance on the Never Mind The Buzzcocks, the BBC1 game show. Do you know much about British pop music? SB. Ha ha… no. Well, Iron Maiden had a No 1 record, so that’s pop music, right?

DL. So how will you act when they inevitably take the piss, as they did to Megadeth’s Dave Mustaine and Bruce Dickinson from Iron Maiden? SB. I’ve been on that show twice in America, but the American version flopped - hopefully that wasn’t my fault. I don’t know how a host on British game show could go after me… they’re the retarded ones for paying me $1,800 to come over for 45 minutes work. Dude, everyone says he’s gonna be horrible, but I’ll show him fuckin’ horrible! I can rewrite the fuckin’ level of horrible. I’ll give him a taste of horror.

DL. You recently posted an extremely touching tribute to your father, David Bierk, at your website. Which characteristics good or bad did you inherit from your parents? SB. My dad was a painter who had shows all over the biggest galleries in New York. Elton John, Bon Jovi, Axl Rose and Gene Simmons all bought his paintings. He just let me know that nothing was impossible. My intensity, the way I talk, he made me realize that singing wasn’t a vocational choice, it was a life choice. My only regret is that I’ve been on the road from the age of 13 to now, aged 34, and I missed out on so much family life. I never just got a bowl of popcorn, sat down with my dad and watched the TV. He told me on his deathbed, ‘Everybody in this world is too busy’. I’d say to readers of this magazine, if you’ve got somebody - whether it’s your brother, your mom or sister - just enjoy life with them for just a fuckin’ second, because I look back and God… [trails off].

DL. Since being kicked out of Skid Row in 1996 you’ve spread your wings into TV presenting and appearing in the Broadway versions of Jekyll & Hyde and The Rocky Horror Show. SB. One of my idols, Geoff Tate [of Queensrÿche], keeps calling and asking how I got onto Broadway. The honest truth is that Broadway came to me. I never in a million years thought I’d have the braincells left to memorise the Jekyll & Hyde script. I shit you not, it’s like War And Peace. How it happened was that Jason Flom at Atlantic signed Skid Row in 1987, and Atlantic also has a theatre division. Jason called and said I had the meanest voice and the personality to do it, and believe me when I was Edward Hyde I became Edward Hyde. It was cool music, I swear, some of it’s like ‘Sad Wings Of Destiny’ [the 1976 Judas Priest album].

DL. When a woman in the first row handed you a rose, you bit the head off. Why did you do that? SB. It was my way of saying, ‘I’m on Broadway, but I’m still Sebastian Bach’.

DL. By the time this article is printed, you will be on a year-long US tour playing the lead character in Jesus Christ Superstar. SB. Andrew Lloyd Webber requested a stack of Skid Row CDs, and all my pictures, I swear to God. And he came back and said, ‘Hello, is Jesus Christ there?’, so he made the decision.

DL. Some might say that this is a role you’ve spent your life rehearsing for. SB. [Sounding slightly hurt]: I must be a fucking moron. I never thought you would’ve said that, dude. Sometimes I’m so confused by other people’s perception of me.

DL. Well, they say that you’re an egomaniac. SB. Dude, you have to be on of those to go on stage. What do you want to see, some fucking guy singing [in nerdy, apologetic voice]: ‘We are the youth gone wild’? If I didn’t have my ego I wouldn’t be doing it. I don’t think it’s misplaced though, I hope not. I wake up every day and hope I’m gonna have a great day, be the nicest guy ever. But if someone’s a dick to me, I’m gonna be a fuckin’ dick back to them.

DL. You’re an ass-kicking rock dude from the 80s that’s now playing Jesus. Could you imagine Axl or Vince Neil doing the same thing? SB. Absolutely not, and that’s not a slight against them, Axl has already proved he can’t be on time. I love Axl Rose, but let me get this through everybody’s head: we’re talking eight shows a week for 42 weeks. That’s tough work.

DL. Would you someday like to follow your old rival Jon Bon Jovi into the movies? SB. I don’t differentiate ‘movies’ or ‘Broadway’, what I care about is presenting my fans with something that entertains. And if I’m entertained by it my fans will be, too. So if I got a great film role, yeah, cool.

DL. What do you think of Jon’s acting abilities? And would he work you him in an acting role if the part demanded it? SB. I’ve never seen him really act. There was one movie where he was a pot dealer, and I saw a little bit of that, but he’s a very good actor because he doesn’t smoke pot! I did have acrimony towards Jon for years, but on my Forever Wild TV show I interviewed Tico Torres [Bon Jovi drummer], we played ‘Lay Your Hands On Me’, had a brew at the bar and talked about the old days. All I was ever mad at Jon for was to let me have my own life. That was it. Please, I don’t need someone to hold my fucking hand.

DL. We didn’t get to see your VH1 rock show Forever Wild before it was cancelled back in April. Care to tell us about it? SB. It was kinda obscure, I got to go through the VH1 vaults and pick the videos. We had ‘You Really Got Me’ by Van Halen on the first show, and W.A.S.P.’s ‘I Wanna Be Somebody’… but it was my show!

DL. That explains why it ran for just five months. SB. Yeah, but it was fun. I got to go to Ted Nugent’s 200-acre farm and shoot wild boar, and eat it, of course. I went car racing with Vince Neil and golfing with Tommy Lee. I was in the studio with Rob Halford while he was recording the song ‘Crucible’… waaaaaah! It was 16 episodes, which was twice as long as the [first series of] The Osbournes. Maybe a fifth of the people watched it, but it was a midnight rock show. They offered me another show, at four in the afternoon, but they would be picking the videos and it was cheesy things like Quiet Riot, stuff to laugh at. I will not make fun of heavy metal, or patronize people.

DL. You then resurfaced on - of all things - the Learning Channel’s The New Sideshow, which was described as “a not-for-the-weak-of-heart documentary on today’s more outrageous carnival acts” that included human pincushion The Impaler. Do you do these unusual things to keep you in the public eye, or because you enjoy them? Of course because I enjoy them… doh! Let me offer this piece of advice, I’ve not changed my home phone number since 1989. Never make yourself too inaccessible, it’s good for business when people know where you are. I wake up, press play and it’s, ‘Hey Sebastian, do you want to do this?”… next message, ‘Hey Sebastian, how about this?’ You just have to play the cards that are dealt you, it’s a very different world than it was. I’m in this to sing, so if I can get my voice heard in whatever fashion then that’s what I’ll do. Ozzy is the most famous he’s ever been, not because of his music but because of a fucking TV show. I’m not being flown over to England to sing, I’m being flown over to go on a gameshow. That is fucked. What you also have to consider is that the venues I’ll be playing Jesus Christ in are the same ones that Skid Row headlined for ‘Slave To The Grind’ tour… the Paramount in Seattle, the Fox in Atlanta. But instead of doing one show, I’m now doing eight shows in the same venue. So I’ve finally topped what I did in the past.

DL. C’mon, you must admit you’d rather be coming here to play rock music? SB. I’ve just saw in your magazine that Alex Lifeson says no British promoter wants Rush. Hey, I’ve been asking British promoters since 1996 to come over and they just laugh! I’ve done two full American tours, 104 shows on the first tour, 90 shows on the second, a sold-out tour of Japan. I’m dying to play here, man, but the offers they give me are like… restaurants! Don’t you have to suck first? I’ve never played England and flopped - not fucking once! Thank God for the USA.

DL. You just mentioned The Osbournes. Can you imagine the footage MTV would have got if they’d followed you around in 1992? SB. Ha ha ha, there wouldn’t have been a TV show made out of it. You couldn’t air it. But there seems to be a perception that as soon as we woke up and did drugs and drank, and that’s not true. I never did a show drunk - ever.

DL. Am I right in thinking you’ve cut out most of those antics? SB. I hate that shit, I’ve not done a line [of coke] since 1993. I have no desire to. A part of me still has that personality when I get too sad, when my dad died I was drinking way too much, but just beer. Back in those days everybody was fucking doing it, you were the weirdo if you weren’t.

DL. You were recently involved in what was dramatically reported as “making terroristic threats” to a New Jersey bartender who refused to let you take your drink outside his club, then for having marijuana and rolling papers on you when you were arrested. SB. I’d been shooting an episode of Forever Wild with Vince Neil, who’s always a bad influence on me; they talk about the bad boys of rock, I’m like Queen Elizabeth compared to Vince. But there’s a side of me that can get down and dirty. I was with Vince for a week down on south beach in Miami, waking up each morning and just getting ripped. When I got back to New Jersey, my chick was giving me shit on the phone because she wanted to party with Mötley Crüe. And I was like, ‘Babe, it’s my job, I get paid to party with the Crüe. This is how I feed our kids, so let me party with the Crüe, you stay home and everything’ll be fine’. And she was like, ‘Grrrrrrrrr’. So I go, ‘Fuck you, I’m not coming home’ and tell the limo driver to turn around because we’re going to Broadway. I get a hotel suite and get VH1 to pay for it, order up fucking booze and some other things, and all my friends come over to party. I stayed there for like two days, until she called and was nice to me. It’s a two hour limo drive home and by then I’m so fuckin’ drunk, my chick gives me a little bit of shit. So I take a bunch of Molsons [beers] and walk to this bar, I never drive while drunk. I’ve been going to this bar for 12 years and all these chicks, dudes and businessmen are excited to see me, so then I’m holding court. This guy suggests we go outside and bust a joint, but the bartender says he’s gonna call the police if I take my beer - I told him to go ahead. He fucking rails me, punches me right in the fucking head and I freaked out, so I tackled him around the waist brought him into the one wall, stood on his neck and said, ‘I’ll fucking kill you, mutherfucker’. The whole bar was freaked out, but he threw the first punch. I had a couple of joints in my pocket, so I got busted for marijuana. And the next day’s headline was, ‘Sebastian Bach Busted For Drugs And Terroristic Threats’. Dionne Warwick was arrested for having seven marijuana cigarettes, and I had a joint… someday maybe I can be as wild as Dionne fuckin’ Warwick. What fuckin’ bullshit.

DL. If Skid Row came back to you - and I stress those four words - would you someday agree to rejoin them? SB. It’d all depend on the music, that’s the only reason I joined them in the first place. But Rachel [Bolan, bass] and Snake [guitar] were the best fucking songwriters I ever fuckin’ met, and they just don’t do it anymore. Anyone can go on the internet and find out what happened between me and the guys, just download the Ozone Monday record [make with singer Sawn McCabe]. That was supposed to be the fourth Skid Row record. The reason I’m not singing on it is that it fucking sucks! I mean, Andrew Lloyd Webber or Ozone Monday? Well [chuckles maliciously]…

“Kids think that music is free. My 14-year-old son downloads Arch Enemy and Cradle of Filth songs and I’m the asshole dad who says, ‘Bands worked really hard on those’”

DL. Do you even have any interest in hearing ‘Thick Is The Skin’, the album they’ve made with your replacement, Johnny Sollinger? SB. No. But what fucking year will it come out. Those guys have been saying, ‘We got a whole album done’. Well, let’s fuckin’ hear it. I’m giving you two fucking albums, I’m giving you three fucking musicals, five tours. I’ve got nothing to hide, dude. You may not even like ‘…Bach Alive’, but at least I’m delivering product.

DL. Why do you feel that the band made such a phenomenal early impact, from the Marquee to Hammersmith Odeon in a matter of months? SB. Just the songs and the way we attacked our music. Revolver magazine recently said Skid Row was one of the best metal albums of all time because they played a song like ‘Youth Gone Wild’ like they were playing ‘Angel Of Death’ by Slayer. Would they be so successful now? In the year 2002 kids think that music is free. My 14-year-old son spends all day downloading Arch Enemy and Cradle of Filth and I’m the asshole dad who has to say, ‘You shouldn’t be making those CDs, those bands worked really hard on those’. He looks at me like, ‘What the fuck is your problem?’ I get like emails that say, ‘Sebastian, I went to five shops looking for ‘Bring ‘Em Bach Alive’ and couldn’t find it, but I downloaded it and it fucking rocks, dude’. One the one hand I wanna go, ‘Thanks man’, and on the other hand I wanna hold my head in my hands, but everybody’s in that same situation.

DL. So you were in agreement with Lars Ulrich on the Napster issue? SB. Oh, definitely. I even did this CD called ‘Bach To Basics’ because somebody told me to go onto Napster and when I saw what Sebastian Bach stuff was available I almost fuckin’ committed suicide. The whole The Last Hard Men CD was there, before I even fuckin’ played it for my friends. So I ripped my own CD off Napster and now I sell it on the web.

DL. The last time we were in a room together you lost your temper in a row over ‘Subhuman Race’. Can you now stand back a bit and understand why fans felt it wasn’t as good as the first two? SB. Yeah, but how can a writer say what a record should sound like when they’re not even in the band? What I find humorous is that nobody liked that record, but 12 years later we’re still talking about that fucking record. When I hear ‘Subhuman Race’ now I hear more Bob Rock [producer], because he did the same thing as he did on Metallica’s ‘Load’. He changed things. I remember him saying, ‘Everybody knows you can scream, Sebastian’, and suggesting I sing like Scott Weiland [of Stone Temple Pilots]. Why don’t you just take a thoroughbred racehorse and hit him on the fuckin’ kneecap with a baseball bat? I do like that album, but it’s not a fun record. ‘Youth Gone Wild’ was fun.

DL. Let’s imagine you can go back in time and change three events in your life. If you don’t mind, I’d like to guess that they would be: a) signing away such a large percentage of your royalties to Jon Bon Jovi, b) the bottle-throwing incident and c), not having hit Jon harder. Am I right? SB. Awww, I have more good memories of Bon Jovi than bad ones now. I’ve bashed Jon relentlessly in the past, but I don’t feel that way any more. When I think of those times when I was touring with Bon Jovi and living at his house for two weeks… okay, maybe the deal we signed wasn’t the most equitable of all time, but it’s possible that if we hadn’t, you might never have heard of me. And I respect his tenacity in an industry that devours its young and old alike. So to answer your question… I did wear a really ridiculous T-shirt, and I can’t believe I’m bringing it up again, but it was really rotten, really stupid. And the bottle throwing thing, yeah, I’d change that. Then again, if somebody cracks you in the head with a bottle, what do you do? You ain’t thinking rationally. If somebody hit me with a bottle in the head again I’d probably knock the fuck right out of them.

DL. You even turned down Playgirl? SB. Twice. I already get known for things other than my voice, like my hair or going to jail or whatever, and I want to be known as a singer. That means more to me than anything.

Apart from your Broadway activities, what’s the delay in following up ‘Bring ‘Em Bach Alive’? Atlantic Records signed me in 1987 and they still have first right of refusal [on my work]. ‘Bring ‘Em Bach Alive’ has the Atlantic logo and the Spitfire logo because Atlantic technically owns Sebastian Bach, and they license to certain territories where Atlantic didn’t put it out - including Britain, because Mary Hooton, my great friend, fucking rejected the fucking record.The next record will be done when it’s done. I want to deliver a product that’ll get the proper exposure; I don’t want it coming out three years later in one country than another. I’m doing it, but the fans have to realise how the internet has taken the wind out of the sails of the music industry. There’s always trepidation and anticipation about delivering a CD in this climate.

DL. How do you think you’ll feel aged 65 with 'Youth Gone Wild' tattooed on your arm? SB. I’ll just get “I was the” tattooed on my bicep. Right up here, dude. I got that space reserved.

P.S. Dave says...

Larger than life and twice as unpredictable, Sebastian Bach has now been out of Skid Row since 23rd December, 1996, the day that co-founding guitarist Dave ‘Snake’ Sabo sacked him after receiving a torrent of hate in answerphone form. The parting of ways between singer and the New Jersey band had been a long time coming. Notorious for short-fuse temper as for chiseled cheekbones and multi-octave voice, Bach drove the group’s instrumentalists mental but was accommodated by the rest of Skid Row for as long as their patience would stand. Post-Skids, Bach hasn’t exactly stuck to the traditional route. He acted in the musical versions of Jekyll & Hyde and Jesus Christ Superstar and went on to appear in various TV shows, though age and luvviedom have failed to mellow him. Sebastian recently completed a whirlwind tour of the UK and a new album – his first set of all-new solo material – is due next year. (17th December, 2004)

#Sebastian Bach #Skid Row #The Bazmanian Devil #interview

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fjorrd · 7 years

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gotta get with you (nothing new) - jerevin college au by yours truly! rated teen / chapter 1 of ?? if people like it, there may be more???? this is also on ao3 if you’d rather read it there

Their room was a fucking, and complete, mess.

Jeremy had never wanted to gouge his eyes out so much in his goddamn life.

Coffee cups were everywhere, especially covering the desk that was in the corner of their room. Crumbs everywhere like his roommate had no clue what a shitting garbage can looked like. Not to mention, a condom sitting near one of the wrappers that looked like it just had been taken out just for show. Jeremy wasn’t going to touch that.

To say the least, his fucking roomie, Gavin Free, was not making any good or lasting impressions. The jackass wasn’t even there. Their “first” impression was shooting Jeremy off the deep end. Gavin was going to get a stern talking to when Jeremy could get to him. Kick him out of their room altogether, perhaps.

Unfortunately, it was only still the first week of whatever deep shit Jeremy was getting himself into by doing this. Maybe he could change roommates. Or, if he had to, he’d transfer. He wasn’t sure he could live with someone like this—slob, a jackass who threw condoms everywhere, and someone who had the money for three fucking monitors on a crammed computer desk.

Walking further into the dorm room, Jeremy spotted the one pristine thing in the room: a folded up notebook paper taped to the wall reading “JEREMY” written in dark, black expo marker. If the jerk was stupid enough to write it on the wall and have the ink get on it, Jeremy was not going to help him scrub it off.

Ripping it off the wall, Jeremy unfolded it.

“sorry for the mess. visa messed up. i’ll be back in a couple days.”

It was going to take fucking forever to clean up the mess. Indeed, it did.

Jeremy spent his whole first day chucking shit over onto his roommate’s side that had wandered on his phone. He gave up halfway, and went to packing his own stuff away and moving in. The kid was going to leave their room. Jeremy was going to stay. He wasn’t going to budge.

The first week was as good as it ever was going to get. Jeremy knew that. After taking a day to clean up after completely unpacking and another couple to relax before classes started, there was no Gavin in sight. Whatever the prick looked like. As far as Jeremy was concerned, he wasn’t sure he wanted to see what this Gavin looked like, anyways.

Hell decided to break loose exactly a week after Jeremy had found the letter taped to the wall—after Jeremy promptly threw the letter into the trashcan.

Blankets piled on Jeremy’s bed, and pillows surrounding it, he was comfy amongst the little nest. It was his perfect retreat. It had been a great week too of enjoying having no classes until they were suppose to tomorrow. Orientation and shit. Jeremy was planning to spend his last day of freedom playing as many games as he could until his paradise would be ruined.

Laptop firmly on his legs, Jeremy jostled the sticks of his controllers and pressed down on the buttons. The game was going great. He was a slaughtering everyone until the door swung open and it smashed against the inside of the room.

That was going to leave a mark.

“Shit, my bad,” came a voice. A very British sounding voice.

Jeremy looked up with narrowed eyes. That was, until the moment he saw who it was, eyes going wide.

Gavin Free, presuming this was him, wasn’t bad looking… Lanky and tall— Jeremy wouldn’t admit he definitely had a type— the kid looked like he could use a haircut and a little bit of a scruff going. Big nose, but it almost complimented him.

Gavin’s choice clothing was almost snobby. Salmon colored shorts and comfortable, soft looking t-shirt that made it obvious Gavin was skinny. It looked good on him. Gavin... was cute. Jeremy wouldn’t ever fucking say it, hell no. So far, impressed with his looks, Gavin was making up for the mess that he had been a couple days earlier. That was until he opened his big fucking mouth.

“You’re a lot shorter than I thought. Are you like, what, 5’2”?” The kid said.

Jeremy hated him.

“Shut the fuck up.”

In reply, the lanky kid smirked and shrugged his shoulders. “Oh, cheeky, too.”

Rolling his eyes, Jeremy pressed himself against the wall and turned back to his laptop.

Gavin pulled his suitcase in and unpacked it in silence before sitting back down on his own bed. He sat up a little straighter, trying to see if he could see what game Jeremy was playing on his computer.

“I’m Gavin,” he continued, as if it wasn’t apparent Jeremy didn’t want to hear it. As if he thought Jeremy was really listening, too. “My visa got messed up because I changed my major. I would have gone to uni back in England, but, I’ve made good friends here.”

Jeremy glanced in his direction. Gavin took that as a signal to keep talking.

“Geoff’s from Alabama. He’s a junior. I think you’d like him. Maybe Jack and Ryan, too. Jack’s great, real nice, Ryan’s like a murderer or something. He probably has a dead body in his closet or something.”

Stretching his arms over his head, Gavin tilted his head to the side. He stared at Jeremy for a little bit before he started to look at the changes that he had made to their dormroom.

“You should maybe play Halo with me sometimes!” Gavin said, smiling. “It’s not a lot of fun when there’s just like four of us playing, and it’s just me and the gents. They’re old. Geoff’s not the only junior since Jack and Ryan are too, but still. Think about the offer. Sometimes Ryan’s boyfriend comes on and plays with us, but not too often. You’ll probably only really play with us.”

Silence settled between them, and Jeremy glanced over. Gavin had his head tilted up to the ceiling, eyes almost hollow and Jeremy wanted to consider that the kid actually looked lonely. It was only the first day of them meeting. He wasn’t going to start feeling sympathy for some cute kid who made their room a complete mess.

“Think about it. Please?” Gavin said, voice quieter. There was that lonely tone again that tugged at Jeremy’s heartstrings. Instead, Jeremy huffed and quickly glared daggers at him.

Gavin sighed. He scratched at his beard, grabbed his phone, and turned his back to Jeremy.

Finally, he had gotten the hint. Jeremy wasn’t going to talk.

It didn’t stay like that for long, though. Gavin left soon after and did come back until the morning after. Even then, the Brit didn’t talk. He got dressed in silence, played on his phone for a while, before he picked up his book bag and disappeared outside their room.

That went on for two days. Gavin didn’t try to talk to him, and Jeremy made no move to try at all. It was almost a tense atmosphere, so Jeremy wasn’t surprised when Gavin would leave just as Jeremy was falling asleep. Maybe it was just better not to be both aware of each other while they lay awake, waiting for sleep to take them away.

It started to get to the point, three days afterward, that Jeremy became curious as to where Gavin would go for the night. Jeremy, as much as he didn’t want to admit it, hoped that Gavin wasn’t sleeping out in the hallway or something.

Maybe it was that kid, Geoff, that the Brit had been talking about, whom he ran off to and slept with until he had to scramble back here to get dressed and go to classes. Maybe Gavin had a boyfriend or a girlfriend, or someone he was dating that he headed out with. Had sex every night before he ran back to their room.

On the fourth night, Jeremy couldn’t take it anymore. He felt bad. Gavin left and came back. Jeremy was keeping him out of the place they were supposed to sleep in. Maybe he had been too mean. Or, maybe the guy was just a prick and deserved the couple days of silence.

“You know, Gavin, you don’t have to leave,” Jeremy sheepishly spoke into the silence of their room.

The Brit sat at his computer desk, folding his laptop up, and about to slip it into his messenger bag to leave for the night.

“What?”

“I said,” Jeremy spoke, pushing up against his bed and sat up. The blue light of Gavin’s desktop computer illuminated the Brit’s face. His features were sharp, hair falling in front of his face, and eyelashes falling low as he waited Jeremy to continue his sentence. Something in Jeremy’s heart gave. Something in the moment made Jeremy take a deep breath and steady himself.

Fuck Gavin Free. He was going to turn him into a softie.

“You can stay. It wasn’t my intention to kick you out of our room…” Jeremy said, averting his eyes as Gavin turned to face him. “I-I mean, if you’re leaving because of me, I’m sorry? I didn’t mean to give you the thought that I wanted you gone—”

“It’s okay.” Gavin cut him off. “I’ll stay.”

Jeremy smiled. It was the first time he looked happy since Gavin got back.

“You’re a fucking piece of shit!” Jeremy howled.

Gavin laughed loudly, shaking his head in Jeremy’s direction. “What?!”

“I refuse to use this garbage can. This is so fucking stupid. I hate you so much.”

Next to their door was the new garbage can that Gavin had bought some time. Jeremy had noticed. He had gone to throw something out, and instead, it opened. It was fucking trash can with motion sensor.

Jeremy had been throwing a tissue across the room, at least get it close to the closed garbage lid, when it opened as the tissue flew past it.

“It’s a cool bin! Leave it be! You can’t hate me for that!” Gavin laughed, staring at Jeremy in his own bed whom was staring down the said garbage can.

“I can, and I fucking will.”

“Jeremy,” Gavin whined, “you can’t do that.”

Gavin pulled his laptop closer to him.

“You’re a real piece of shit, Gavin.” Jeremy groaned, huffing at the other lad. Playfulness, however, danced in his eyes and the tone of his voice. Gavin seemed to recognize that.

“Jeremy, Jeremy, look at this,” Gavin grinned. Climbing onto Jeremy’s bed, he brought his laptop with him, cracking it open again for Jeremy to see.

It was some clip from Hitman. Jeremy had already come to learn it was Gavin’s favorite after he had heard him ramble about it every now and again. It was of Gavin’s character’s doing something stupid, and Jeremy couldn’t help but grin as Gavin laughed at his own stupid mistake.

“And you can’t call me a piece of shit, Jeremy. I know you secretly love me,” Gavin smirked, tongue poking out of his lips as he leaned close to Jeremy and pulled the laptop back into his own lap.

“Sure thing, Gav. Whatever you say,” Jeremy shook his head, smiling softly. Gavin was really turning him into a softie. “But you show me all this shit and it makes me think you’re not good at Hitman. I know you’re really good at it.”

Gavin laughed, rolling his eyes, but his eyelashes fell low. “It’s because of my spontaneity.”

“Oh really?” Jeremy laughed. “I mean, you’re not wrong.”

“You’re not supposed to agree.” Gavin grinned.

“Don’t you have work to be doing?”

“Doesn’t mean I’m gonna bloody do it.”

Gavin snickered and threw his laptop, almost carelessly, onto the his bed. He came after it, laying down in the dim light of their dormroom. Jeremy pressed his back against the wall, folding his arms over his chest as he walked Gavin pull up a paper.

As Gavin went back to work, so did Jeremy.

After their streak of silence and Jeremy shunning Gavin when they had first really met, Gavin seemed to fall back into place, as if nothing had ever happened. He was nicer now, as he had been initially rude. Jeremy was surprised by the turn of events. Gavin seemed to be taking care to actually clean his side of the room or not let his books stray too far onto Jeremy’s side. Whatever he was trying to do, Jeremy appreciated that it was benefitting him in some capacity. Jeremy appreciated the effort.

In comfortable silence, this time, they both worked, respectively.

Gavin was the first one to finish. Putting on his headphones, Jeremy didn’t notice as the Brit entered into a game and pulled up Discord on his computer. With one earbud out, Jeremy didn’t catch what Gavin was saying (he zoned out easily), but he was clearly speaking to someone else. And once Jeremy had finished what he was doing, he looked up and watched as Gavin talked animatedly and played at game as the Brit got cozy in his bed.

As if sensing Jeremy was watching, Gavin looked up and smiled.

“I’m playing games with the gents. Did you want to play with us?”

Even in the dim light of their room, Jeremy could see Gavin’s puppy eyes and hands pressed together as if he was playing to God, or whatever deity, that the stars would align and Jeremy would play.

Jeremy hesitated for a moment. His heart thumped loudly, not that he wanted it to, and he internally pushed away the thought that Gavin had made his heart go crazy.

“Sure.”

Gavin’s smile was worth everything in the world.

#blah.exe #i write shit #jerevin #um #enjoy??????#jerevin college au

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