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babyshawwn · 4 years

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If The World Was Ending

Masterlist

Word count: 3.8k.

Based on If The World Was Ending by JP Saxe and Julia Michaels.

It just ended when his name appears on the screen of your vibrating phone. At first, you think you might have hit your head during and are imagining things that aren’t happening. But as the vibrations continues, you finally figure you aren’t going insane.

You haven’t spoken to Shawn in nearly a year but you never did get yourself to delete his number from your phonebook. Somehow, erasing the last memories you have of him is too much for your heart to handle. Keeping his contact in your phone is your way, at least to some extent, still have pieces of him in your life.

You still haven’t quite figured out, how to think about him without it ripping your heart out. It’s a slow-moving progress but you are doing your best to move on from things that went down back in the days.

Your mind knows it’s a stupid idea to pick up the phone, but your heart is too curious as to what he has to say at this hour. You know there’s a fair chance you’re going to regret your action, but you won’t have to deal with the regret until tomorrow and due to tonight’s events, who the hell cares.

You hold your breath while your finger presses the green button on the screen to answer his unexpected call.

“Hey.”

Your heart drops when you hear his familiar voice at the other end of the phone. Nothing’s changed. He sounds exactly the same as the night he walked out your front door and never came back.

Your stomach flips, but whether it’s a good or a bad reaction, you aren’t aware of. But this strange feeling begins to stir in your veins.

“Hey.” You mutter, leaning your back against the wall to hold your balance.

While you wait for an answer, your eyes wander around you. Your apartment is a mess, the mirror in your halfway is shattered, broken glass covering the floor and your entire bookshelf is scattered on your living room carpet.

Your hands are shaking and you’re feeling slightly nauseous, there’s a lump in your throat making it harder for you to breathe. You keep supporting yourself against the wall, unsure whether or not your legs might not be able to carry you much longer.

“Did you feel it too?” Shawn asks, his worried words blurring from his mouth.

He sounds a bit hoarse and you can’t help but think that maybe he has a sore throat. It’s the season for that and Shawn always catches something. He’s unlucky like that.

“The earthquake? Yeah, I sure felt it.” You reply with a stutter.

You’re lightheaded and slightly frighten, somehow staying on your feet is getting harder as the seconds pass and your body becomes less numb from the shock.

You hear Shawn breathe calmly through the phone and you shut your eyes to allow yourself to fully remember how he sounds. It makes your heart pound less, hearing him talk, it calms you down. But then again, he always did have that effect on you.

“Are you scared?”

“Kinda, but it’s fine.” You lie but you’re aware Shawn can tell otherwise.

There’s a moment of silence between you, it’s not uncomfortable but it’s slightly painful. There are unspoken things forcing a tension between you. The last time you had a talk, you both said things that crossed the line.

“Why did you call, Shawn?” You ask him, feeling knots forming in your stomach.

You don’t want to think about the day he left, but your mind wanders there on its own as your eyes flicker to the white couch. There’s still a small stain from the spilled wine. Sometimes, late at night when you’re having trouble sleeping, the arguments haunt your mind.

“I just remembered how terrified you are of earthquakes.” He finally says with a softer tone.

His warming words makes your cheeks burn and you feel vaguely embarrassed, even knowing Shawn can’t see your face.

“Are you safe?”

“Yeah, I’m okay. I have a small cut on my hand but otherwise.” You assure him, your eyes looking down at the blood dripping from your palm. You hardly feel it, but you’ve never been good with injuries.

“You aren’t looking at it, right?” He jokes with a small laughter. It’s not sincere but it warms your heart anyways. “You’ll be on the floor within seconds.” You giggle unwillingly at his mocking.

“How about you? Are you okay?” As the words roll from your tongue, you feel the worry nagging in your stomach. If anything were to happen to Shawn, you aren’t sure you’d ever get over it.

“I’m okay too.” Shawn promises, knowing your tendency to overthinking. “No need to worry.”

You know it’s dumb but his voice makes you feel at home and you haven’t felt like that for months. But deep down, your heart is aching because Shawn doesn’t sound bothered by talking to you at all. He seems just fine, in control of his emotions and here you are, all over the place and not just because of the earthquake.

“Where are you?” Shawn asks you and you wonder how much he’s been thinking about that during your time apart.

You hate to admit it, but you tend to think about whether he’s out drinking with friends or home alone chilling and watching television on a Friday night. You don’t mean to, you know it’s over, but somehow your mind travels to those thoughts when you aren’t paying attention.

“I’m home. I’d just gotten home when it happened.” You manage to whisper back.

“That’s good. Being on the streets would have been dangerous.”

“And you?”

“Home too. Been staying in all day. I know it sounds weird, but I had that strange feeling. You know?”

“That’s your thing.” You reply and it’s true.

Shawn always have a hunch when something bad is about to happen, it’s like he feels it in his bones without really being able to explain it.

“I was actually about to call you when it started.” He admits and you lose your breath. “Tell you to stay in, but I was too late.”

You don’t know how to react to the fact that Shawn is thinking of you. It makes butterflies appear in your stomach, but it also makes you feel somewhat sad. You chew on your bottom lip while your heart flicker.

“Is the power out?”

“No, it’s still here.”

“Good, mine is. Everything went dark. I guess the bad weather isn’t helping.”

“And I bet you have no candles.” You say and hear Shawn laugh within seconds. This time, it’s real.

“You’re correct. You were always the one constantly buying those.”

“Because you didn’t see the point in having candles.” You fire back while you hear another sweet laughter at the other end of the phone.

“Guess I’m no good at surviving on my own.”

“Clearly not.” You agree with him.

You feel tears form in your eyes without fully knowing why. Maybe because you’re still scared, maybe because you miss him or maybe because you didn’t think you’d hear his voice again. Whatever the reason, it’s messing with your mind.

You struggle to breath as you feel the panic in your body, the anxiety rushing through your veins. It makes you close your eyes to focus on your breathing. You clench your teeth, swallowing a sickening lump in your throat.

“You sound tense.” Shawn points out and you can’t help but laugh.

“Yeah, my entire body is shaking.” You confess, still feeling the coldness down your spine. Your breaths are strained but at least some air is getting into your sore lungs.

You aren’t from around here and you highly doubt you will ever get used to the earthquakes. You’ve only ever experienced two others, both of them with Shawn there to guide you through and keep you somewhat calm.

It sounds dumb, but the first time - you in all honestly - thought the world was ending. Shawn joked about it for years but he also did promise you, that if the world was actually ending one day, he’d come over and hold you tight while the skies would be falling outside.

“Are you sitting down?”

“I’m leaning against the wall, haven’t gotten further than that.” You joke with him, but when he tells you to slide down to the floor, you do as he says. You cross your legs while the back of your head rests against the wall.

“How much of your stuff is broken?” He asks again, but you don’t even have the energy to think about that. Cleaning up this mess is going to take forever and it’s the last thing on your mind.

“I know what you’re doing, you know?”

“What am I doing?” Shawn replies and you’re certain he’s rolling his eyes. Thinking about it makes a small smile spread on your lips.

“You’re distracting me with questions to calm me down.”

“Is it working?”

“Slightly but not fully.” You admit, your heart still racing.

With your free hand in your lap, you force deep breaths into your lungs to feel less dizzy. There’s a silence between you but it’s nice to hear Shawn breathe. It’s calming and it’s familiar, making you feel safe.

To be honest, you have forgotten what Shawn sounds like. It’s nice to be reminded of the softness in his tone, to remember how his tongue caresses his words in such a particular way, how his laugh warms your heart in ways you never imagined.

“You remember that first night we went drinking?” He asks you suddenly.

Though his question comes completely out of the blue, you know exactly what he’s talking about. You are also aware he’s still trying to prevent you from thinking too much, but you go along because you do need the distraction.

“The first week I met you? I remember.”

“Tequila night.” He interrupts and you share a laugh when the both of you reminisces stumbling from bar to bar while sharing a bottle of really bad tequila.

You remember being extremely nervous and pouring down the alcohol to calm yourself. You sort of remember dancing on tables and singing along to John Mayer, those stolen looks and warm smiles.

“Or at least I think I remember.” You correct yourself, because looking back there’s a couple of blank spots as well.

“You were such a bad influence on me.” Shawn says innocently and you roll your eyes at his comment.

“As far as I remember, you brought the liquor.”

“You wanted to make it a competition.” Shawn defend himself quickly, denying all responsibility of the state you were both in by the end of the night.

“Excuse me.” You interrupt him. “You went along with it all on your own.”

“Well, you went home with me that night to continue to the party.” He points out with a small laughter. “Apparently, someone wasn’t done drinking by 5 AM.”

“Oh god,” You mutter as flashes of the cold October night hits you. “We stumbled through your house and made a complete mess.” You recall, while a blurry memory of knocking a plant on the floor appears.

“And we didn’t even make it past the kitchen.” Shawn blurs with no control over his words.

You know he didn’t mean to say that aloud, knowing those hazy memories forces your heart to drop to your stomach. You can tell he regrets it because you’re met with dead silence for a couple of seconds while he mends the ache appearing in his chest.

You remember drunkenly stumbling into the kitchen, falling over your own feet while Shawn desperately tries to remove the white t-shirt from your body. Sloppy kisses and hands exploring each other while falling to the tiles on the kitchen floor, remember sharing laughs while taking each other’s clothes off.

You press your lips together to prevent a sob from escaping as a couple of tears silently run down your cheeks.

You don’t want to remember because it hurts too much, but you want to remember because your heart can still recall the happiness you felt at that moment.

No matter how much time seems to pass, you still have a weak spot for Shawn and it never fully goes away. It’s always in the back of your mind, haunting you in your weakest moments.

“I’m sorry.” He whispers, his voice is trembling. “I shouldn’t have brought that up.”

You can hear he’s in tears and it makes you feel sick. He sniffs to fight them but you’re certain it doesn’t help.

“It’s okay.” You tell him, your heart boiling in your chest. “We weren’t meant for each other, it’s fine. That’s how it is.”

You’re lying, though. You are down for forever as long as it’s with Shawn, but shit happens and people split for no good reason. You can’t go back now, but you still want to.

“Sometimes… I wish we were.” Shawn mutters, forcing a breath into his lungs. “Meant for each other, I mean.”

His words sting in your chest and you don’t know how to react. You don’t know whether or not he’s being real, maybe he just feels lonely tonight or he’s freaked about the earthquake. You have both done this before.

You get drunk and call about a hundred times, saying things you don’t even remember in the morning. Sometimes, you toy with each other. You don’t know why or how you even end up doing it, it’s just too hard to fully let the communication die out.

You’re both too young and too dumb to really know how to deal with your situation. You want each other, but you constantly mess things up between you.

“I don’t know what to say.” You tell him and you hear a sigh through the phone.

“You shouldn’t say anything. I shouldn’t have said anything.” He hurries to interrupt. You can tell he panics and that his mood changes.

“Shawn…” You immediately regret not going along with his thoughts, but it’s too late and he’s already moved on in the conversation.

“How are you feeling now?” Shawn says, not giving you a chance to speak. “Is it better? Have you calmed down a bit?”

“Yes, it’s better.”

“And you’re sure you’re okay? What about the cut?”

“I’m okay, Shawn.” You say, your eyes gazing down to your hand. “It’s stopped bleeding, I’ll survive it.”

“That’s good.” Shawn says as a few silent seconds pass by. He distant and colder now. “Just clean it before putting a band-aid on to make sure it doesn’t get infected.”

“Sure, I’ll do that.” You promise, looking down at the cut on your hand. “Though it’s really not that bad. I’m just being my dramatic self.”

You don’t get even a small laughter from Shawn. All you he gives you is a tiny sigh and you know he’s shut himself down to avoid feeling anymore.

“Well, as my mum always says, it’s better to be safe than sorry.”

“Karen’s a clever woman.” You agree with him because you don’t know what else to say.

You don’t want the conversation to end, but you don’t have much more to say. It’s either too little or too much and it forces a silence between you. Your heart is begging you to say something but your mind knows better by now and you stay silent.

“I guess all I wanted was to make sure you were good.” Shawn breaks the silence.

“I appreciate that. Thank you, Shawn.”

“No worries. I guess I’ll hang up then. Take care.” Is all he says, his words are flat and detached.

“Take care, Shawn.” You say and the call ends.

It’s sudden and it messes with your mind, you don’t know how to feel nor how to react to what just happened.

The white iPhone slips from your hand and you feel your body collapse entirely and sink further together on the cold, messy floor. You can hardly breathe when the tears begin to fall followed by sobs rolling from your mouth.

Your body is shivering and though you’re not completely of the reason, it feels utterly uncomfortable. You’re not quite sure how much times passes but your body feels too numb for you to move, there’s a pressure on your chest and you find it hard to breathe normally.

You don’t think you have ever felt as lonely as you do right this moment, sobbing on the floor in your dim apartment. You close your eyes and wrap your arms around your knees bended in front of you, rocking slightly back and forth in attempt to calm yourself down.

When you hear rough knock on the door, you ignore the sound not wanting to deal with neighbours asking for help cleaning up or helping you look for their cat that disappeared during the earthquake. You don’t feel like being social and though it’s rather selfish, you don’t feel like helping out.

When the hard knocks continue you mutter swearwords under your breath as you force yourself to get on your unsteady feet.

You’re still lightheaded but you manage to drag your body across the wooden floor and towards the hallway.

It’s windy and raining loads, you can easily hear while making your way towards the locked front door. You avoid some shattered glass from a vase you bought in Italy, stepping carefully to not fall or get yourself hurt.

You wipe away tears sticking to your face and hurries to push your hair back with your fingers and then, you unlock the door to open it. Your heart drops to your stomach when you catch his familiar stare waiting outside.

“Shawn…” You hesitate, eyes darting in confusion. “What are you doing here?”

“I couldn’t stand the thought of you being alone.” He stutters, hands in his pockets while the rain is pouring.

His wet curls are flat and dipping into his eyes, his hoodie is soaked and he’s shivering cold. Shawn is mad for not wearing more clothes but you think he might have left his house in a hurry without thinking further ahead. Shawn scratches the back of his neck while shaking his head lightly.

“Who am I kidding…” He mumbles, mostly to himself. “I don’t have a reason to why I’m here. I guess here was where I wanted to be.” Shawn’s eyes fall on yours and you feel the air being punch out of your lungs.

The heat raises in your cheeks while you struggle to breathe properly. His lank body is tense from the cold and his lips are beginning to turn somewhat purple. Even in this state, he’s beyond beautiful to you.

You feel vibrations rushing down your spine while allowing goose bumps to travel your skin, you’re not supposed to be affected, but your is heart racing.

“You don’t need a reason.” You finally say. “We don’t ever really need a reason why.”

You step aside and let him walk into your apartment. You watch silently while Shawn takes his shoes off and forces his wet curls back on their place by pushing his fingers through his locks. Your skin lingers and you can hardly breathe.

Being in the same room again is weird, it brings back memories. Some you hope never leaves your mind, some you wish you could forget.

You have been carrying a heartache around for the past year but at this moment, where Shawn is standing next to you, your heart finally feels at ease.

Shawn reaches for your hands and you immediately feel the coldness from him. It rushes down your spine and leaves you with goose bumps. His dark eyes stare at yours while Shawn holds his breath.

You wonder if he feels the electricity as well or whether it’s only in your head. Shawn lets your hand go to embrace each side of your cheeks, his thumb brushing your warm lips softly. You feel your heart pound, unable to remove your stare from Shawn’s warm eyes.

Without a warning, with no time to gasp what’s about to happen, Shawn leans forward to attach his lips to yours.

They are freezing cold but exactly as soft as you remember. He sucks all air from your lungs when he spreads your lips apart and slides his warm tongue into your welcoming mouth.

You moan in response to his taste and feel the familiar flip your stomach does whenever Shawn kisses you. He breaths into your mouth while you deepen the kiss, eager to remember his sweet taste.

His fingers slip into your hair and tugs back to expose your mouth fully, forcing another whimper to escape. Your hands move behind his back, feeling his muscles move slightly as you lock your arms around him. His broad chest is rubbing against yours and you can almost feel his heart beating in a steady pace.

When Shawn breaks the kiss, he’s out of breath. You press your forehead against his, arms still locked around his waist to keep him close. He can’t help but smile as he pushes his forehead closer towards yours, his lips brushing your tender skin.

Shawn reaches for your hands to intertwine his fingers with yours, giving you a small embrace. Both your eyes are shut to allow yourself to get high on the intimacy growing between you. Shawn leans closer and attaches his lips to your ear, sending vibrations through your entire body.

“If the world was ending, you’ll always be my first thought.” Your heart skips a beat when the words leave his mouth and you feel a pool in your stomach.

You tip toe to kiss him a few times, your body craving feeling close to Shawn again. His skin against your skin, his hands in your hands. It’s heavenly.

When all comes down to it, all your fears are irrelevant and you never really need a reason why to reunite with each other. It’s unspoken but words aren’t needed. You’re magnetic and always find your way back to each other when it’s really needed.

“Are you going to stay the night?” You ask him, your eyes finding his.

Shawn puts a tot of your hair behind your ear, his fingertips nipping your earlobe. He nods once before he lowers his face to kiss you.

It doesn’t take long for him to deepen your kiss, Shawn’s as desperate as you are to feel connected to one another. It doesn’t take much for you to give in and get lost in him all over again.

And once again, you stumble through the apartment and you don’t make it past the kitchen. The world might not be ending, but you are going to love him for the hell of it anyways.

#Feedback is appreciated #<3 #shawn mendes #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes fanfiction #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes one shot #shawn mendes angst #shawn mendes fluff

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nat-roman0ff · 4 years

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lover - pt. 2

lover, pt. 2 - the first kiss take me out, and take me home. -- words: 2k warnings: fluff, more gin and tonic, snow

The early winter chill cuts you to the core as a gust of wind blows by, knocking the air from your lungs. It had been a hell of a day at work, and you stomp as quickly as you can to the bar to meet with your sorta-kinda “friend-boy”, Shawn, for drinks.

It was new. So new, in fact, that you weren’t quite sure what to call it yet. You were definitely exclusive, but exclusively what was still up for debate. The lamp posts that line the city streets twinkle, wrapped in Christmas lights and the air is sterile and crisp with the smell of the upcoming winter.

Another gust slices you while you struggle with the front door to the bar you’re meeting Shawn at. He’s already there, and you feel like an asshole for being late, but also grateful that he reserved a spot for the two of you towards the back of the room. Work had been stressful, and you were ready to swig back a couple drinks and eat some greasy bar food.

You spot him first, tapping away on his phone, brows scrunched and that one little S curl hanging in the middle of his forehead. He’s chewing on the inside of his cheek, something you picked up on quickly as a nervous habit for him. His eyes scan the room nervously, melting when they lock on you.

Shawn waves you over and pulls the seat out at the table by the picture window. It has just the right amount of glow and the he looks absolutely divine in the dimly lit bar (although you could argue he just about looked divine anywhere). You shrug off your coat and plop into the seat across from him.

“Rough day at the office?” He asks with a chuckle.

You groan, “that obvious, huh?”

Shawn laughs, “when you texted me ‘I need to fucking drink tonight’ I figured it was a trying time. I hope you don’t mind, but I already ordered us some beer.”

You breathe a sigh of relief, “oh thank god. As long as it’s not Corona.”

Shawn’s face goes white.

“So I ordered myself some beers,” he answers.

You laugh, “it’s fine, drink your piss water. I’ll have a big girl drink.”

He smirks and the two of you sit in a sort of comfortable silence. It takes your fingers and toes a few moments to warm up, and your senses start to clear as your body melts from the freezing cold outside to the toastiness of the bar. The quiet doesn’t make either of you uncomfortable. He’s the first person you’d ever met that didn’t need to fill a room with noise or chatter. The two of you, sitting together with the harmony of the jukebox and clinking glasses brings peace.

“So what was your day like?” You ask when your drink arrives, “anything exceptional going on in the world of Shawn Mendes?”

He shakes his head, “if laundry and leg day are exceptional, then yes.”

“Everything you do is exceptional,” you let out, not even mad that your lips spoke before your brain had a second to edit.

Shawn tilts his head, his lips curling up at the corners, “you really think so?”

You nod, “of course. You’re probably the most down to Earth and normal person I know. Which is terrifying considering you’re, ya know, you. I’m sure you find my office talk very boring when you’re Snapchatting John Mayer.”

His smile fades, “oh.”

“No not like that!” You defend, “Not like, ‘oh you’re normal for a famous guy’. I just mean…I don’t know, I’ve never known someone that’s had success like you before. I just figured you’d have a big head or something. Like your head physically is quite large. Maybe it’s the hair. Shit, I’m fucking rambling. Sorry.”

You pick at your chipping nail polish under the table, looking to your hands and avoiding Shawn’s gaze at all costs.

“It’s just hard to get to know people,” he starts, “It’s hard to get to know people who are genuinely in it for me, or in it for everything that comes along with it. I can’t hide who I am or what I do or pretend that it doesn’t exist. But I certainly hope that you’re here because you like me.”

You smile, “I do.”

Shawn’s eyes catch yours, and though you both don’t know it yet, it’s not the first time he’ll hear you say those words.

The winter never suited you. Despite living your entire life in a place with a frigid winter climate, there was something about the bone chilling cold that just hurt. You huddle as closely to Shawn as you can while you walk the short distance from the bar to his condo. He holds your frozen hand tight in his, occasionally rubbing the soft skin at the back of your hand with his thumb.

The treetops shine with Christmas lights, some even zigzagged across the road, illuminating the streets below while the early winter snow dusts the streets. Your body shakes involuntarily against the cold as you feel it seep through all your layers.

“I could give you my coat if you want?” Shawn says, feeling you shiver beside him.

“No, s’fine. Just a wuss when it comes to the cold.”

“Hold onto my arm,” he says, “come in a little closer, you’ll be warmer.”

There’s a blueprint of a smile when he says it, but it goes as quickly as it came.

Have you ever been able to pinpoint a single moment in your life where you know it’s the beginning of a radical change? An absolute millisecond of realization that nothing going forward will ever be the same?

It happens as quickly as blinking, you think. One second he’s the boy sitting across from you and the next he’s the man you’re going to fall in love with (although neither of you know that just yet). It’s something like electricity, a sort of static that buzzes and you know the universe is colliding with all it’s little atoms and although you can’t see it you can feel it. It’s in the air, in the way that it pricks your skin and leaves your hair on edge. It’s in the unrhythmic beating of your heart, in how it surges the blood in your veins. Every particle is thick and palpable and you can feel the universe shift around you, for you.

“You okay?” He asks, his hand giving yours a quick squeeze.

You nod. He lets you stay quiet, and you think that’s what you enjoy the most about him. He doesn’t need to fill the air with noise or words, doesn’t have to fill the space between you with promises of tomorrows and Sundays. Just the buzzing of the air and the flurry-lined streets of Toronto are enough to satisfy.

“We’re close, my place is right here,” Shawn says, pointing to the building across the street.

Breathing a sigh of relief you loosen your grip on him a touch, giving him space to fish out his keys. He’d never taken you home before, on the few dates here and there that you had been on. Usually you just parted ways wherever you were meeting your he ordered you an Uber to get home safely. It had been his suggestion that you go back to his, and with the promise of fuzzy blankets, a comfy couch, a fireplace, and Christmas movies, it was a hard offer to pass up.

The condo surprised you, but not in a bad way. It was much smaller than you’d imagined. A simple one bedroom; modern with clean lines but nothing over the top. It was unusually clean too, but then you remembered he was rarely home enough to get comfortable before taking off again to live the life that came along with being him.

That was going to take some getting used to.

“This is different than what I expected,” you say, shrugging off your coat and placing it on the hook by the door, neatly lining up your shoes beside his.

Shawn couldn’t help but think how perfect your things looked beside his, and it wouldn’t be for another year and a half when he’d ask you to leave them there permanently.

“Different?” He asks, “Like, bad? Were you expecting a waterfall? Trophy case? A renaissance style portrait of Drake above the fireplace?”

You laugh and pinch his side. In one swoop he pulls you into his arms, pressing his forehead against yours, the tip of his nose brushing yours. You think he’s going to kiss you but instead he lets you go and takes a half step back, worried he’s moved too fast, too soon.

“It’s...cozy. It’s simple,” you point at the streamlined kitchen, “but also unequivocally you.”

He follows your gaze to the array of photos on the wall of friends and family. There’s even a photobooth strip of the two of you from the wedding you met at just a couple months ago.

“Do you want a drink?” He asks, pointing to the bar cart in the living room.

You scoff, “is that even a question?”

Shawn smirks, “Gin and tonic, right?”

You nod, and he starts to busy himself with making your drinks. You scan his gallery wall, smile so wide it hurts your cheeks as you look at childhood photos, recognizing old faces in younger days.

“So what are you doing for the holidays?” He asks when he hands you a drink.

You shrug, “just a boring Christmas at my parents. Presents in our pajamas, a good home cooked meal and some movies. Nothing crazy, we keep it pretty low key.”

Shawn smiles, “that sounds perfect.”

You take the first sip of your drink. Honestly, it’s shit.

“What about you? Any big plans?”

He shakes his head, “not really. We keep it pretty quiet on Christmas day. But, my parents do throw a big party on Christmas Eve. The whole family is there, close friends, things like that,” he pauses for a second and chews the inside of his cheek, “I was...wonderingifmaybeyou’dliketocome?” He says in one quick breath.

You purse your lips together to try and hide the shit eating grin on your face, “I’d love to.”

Shawn looks at you, like really looks at you. He’s searching for something in your face, eyes focusing on yours and a deep crease forms between his brows. Before you can ask what he’s doing, he speaks.

“Can I show you something?” He asks.

You shrug, “sure.”

He plucks your glass from your hand and places it on the coffee table next to his. With your hand in his, he brings you to the other side of the living room, where a small desk studio is set up overlooking the city lights of Toronto. He sits down and starts clicking around the computer’s desktop for something, opening a program with a bunch of notches and lines and nothing that makes sense to you.

“Can I play you a new song?”

All the air is sucked from your lungs before you can speak, “absolutely, yeah,” you manage to choke out.

Shawn smiles wide and clicks play, turning up the speakers on the desk. It starts slow, a wedding band type of slow that you picture slow dancing with your Lover to. It makes you feel...warm, and safe, and happy, and at home. The room melts around you as the tempo picks up into the chorus and Shawn’s voice is so delicate and raw that you almost feel embarrassed for listening in. You stand facing the floor to ceiling window, watching the snow blanket the city and swirl around you like a living snow globe. You’re not sure at which point Shawn stands next to you, but his fingers intertwine through yours as you both stare out of the window in front of you, his song echoing off the walls.

It ends on a single chord that leaves your ears ringing and he waits a few seconds before turning his head to look at you.

“So what did you think?” He asks, his voice shaky.

He doesn’t have the nerve yet to tell you he wrote it for you the day after you first met.

“Can I kiss you?” You respond.

Shawn relaxes a touch, a smile tugging at his lips, “yeah, I think I would love that.”

#shawn mendes #Shawn Mendes Imagine #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes fanfiction #lover #shawn mendes blurb

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inspiringwhilerespiring · 4 years

Text

Get to know me?

Yoooo - yall remember Myspace, and people would blog survey posts lol. Well thats me, I’m people. And I just wanna write my lil heart out and avoid all of my real life responsibilities. So found a lil questionnaire thing and I’m gonna fill it out. Also lowkey like doing this every so often so I can look back on it and reflect and see how much I may have grown/changed/shifted viewzzz ya feel? :)

Sooo here yall go <3

1. Who was the last person you held hands with?

My neice maybe?

2. Are you outgoing or shy?

People who know me would tell me to put outgoing, but I honestly feel shy on the inside, so it just depends.

3. Who are you looking forward to seeing?

Literally anyone lmao fuck this quarantine

4. Are you easy to get along with?

Definitely

5. If you were drunk would the person you like take care of you?

Lets hope so

6. What kind of people are you attracted to?

Kind souls <3 always notice how they talk to their friends and family, but even people they don’t know like servers or janitors, etc. that shit matters heavy.

7. Do you think you’ll be in a relationship two months from now?

Probably not

8. Who from the opposite gender is on your mind?

A few homies

9. Does talking about sex make you uncomfortable?

Nah not really, just depends

10. Who was the last person you had a deep conversation with?

Not sure -it’s been a min since I had a “deep” connection or convo that I can remember - but was probably with my bestie R’Bo

11. What does the most recent text that you sent say?

“Google that shit” lmao me, giving advice to my friends

12. What are your 5 favorite songs right now?

TOUGH!!!! After Hours by The Weeknd is up there, Cayendo by Frank Ocean (been jamming his shit HAARD lately) and Inside Friend by Leon Bridges & John Mayer….but also been listening to albums - like Childish’s new album, Floreyyy for lo-fi shit, and also got into 070 Shake recently just to name a few.

13. Do you like it when people play with your hair?

FUCK YA

14. Do you believe in luck and miracles?

Yeah budddyy

15. What good thing happened this summer?

Idk, my bday party was lit?? And lots of river floats happened

16. Would you kiss the last person you kissed again?

Lol

17. Do you think there is life on other planets?

Cant deny that there isn’t so yaaa

18. Do you still talk to your first crush?

19. Do you like bubble baths?

Yes

20. Do you like your neighbors?

Just moved, so don’t know em

21. What are you bad habits?

Procrastination lol and biting my nails

22. Where would you like to travel?

Literally ANNNYY-fuckin-WHERE!

23. Do you have trust issues?

Hmm I wanna say generally no, but I also always keep it one hunnnid with myself, and as much as I’d like to say I don’t have any - I think I def have insecurities with myself, that have the potential to become “trust issues” in certain relationships, but overall no. I live by the whole “you have my trust til you fuck it up” mantra

24. Favorite part of your daily routine?

Coffee in the morning lately, missed it and forgot how energized it makes me - gives me time to wake up and reflect/set daily goals

25. What part of your body are you most uncomfortable with?

Stomach forever :((((

26. What do you do when you wake up?

Scroll on my phone, pee usually, or feed my cat lol

27. Do you wish your skin was lighter or darker?

Tanner maybe?

28. Who are you most comfortable around?

My mom or my best friend R’Bonney - but any of my close friends and fam honestly

29. Have any of your ex’s told you they regret breaking up?

Not directly

30. Do you ever want to get married?

Lol ok, so this is always changing…but lately (and by lately I mean the past few years) its been a no. I’m open minded though and am aware that I’m always changing my mind sooo who knows

31. Is your hair long enough for a pony tail?

yeppperoo

32. Which celebrities would you have a threesome with?

Honestly, those aren’t my “thing�� lollike id prob laugh or be awkward or just have to be hellllla drunk - but like I wouldn’t mind Jason Momoa and Tom Hardy tossin me around

33. Spell your name with your chin.

hjaylkee

34. Do you play sports? What sports?

Scocer back in the day - actually went and kicked it like a week ago for the first time in YEARSSSS - felt so damn good

35. Would you rather live without TV or music?

TV, music forreeevverrr

36. Have you ever liked someone and never told them?

Lol story of my life

37. What do you say during awkward silences?

“Soooo” then probably ask a question or some shit lol

38. Describe your dream girl/guy?

Hmmm…definitely have to be funny/have a good sense of humor. They’d have to be open-minded for sure. Up for trying new things, places, cultures, food, music, etc. Just have an adventurous spirit I guess when it comes to that. Have a good line of communication/openness - and just be able to have a deep/intellectual convo about anything and everything. Bonuses: taller than me, likes cooking, and going to music shows.

39. What are your favorite stores to shop in?

Amazon lol I hate shopping

40. What do you want to do after high school?

To go back to high school :( lmao so much id re-do, cant believe its almost been a decade

41. Do you believe everyone deserves a second chance?

Hell yeah, this is life my dudes, dont take it so seriously - we all fuck up at some point or another

42. If your being extremely quiet what does it mean?

Something is on my mind for sure, or im just tired lol

43. Do you smile at strangers?

Yeah

44. Trip to outer space or bottom of the ocean?

DAMNNN WHAT so hard - I guesss if I had to pick, space…just because it’s more rare/harder to do I’d think.

45. What makes you get out of bed in the morning?

My cat lol with his meowing ass

46. What are you paranoid about?

Lowkey a lot lol

47. Have you ever been high?

48. Have you ever been drunk?

Who hasn’t????

49. Have you done anything recently that you hope nobody finds out about?

naw

50. What was the colour of the last hoodie you wore?

Black probably, like half my wardrobe

51. Ever wished you were someone else?

Of course

52. One thing you wish you could change about yourself?

My bad habits

56. Favourite colour?

Yelllllow :)

57. Favourite food?

Oh gaaawwd, literally anything - lately: PB&J’s, fries, wings, Mediterranean, Mexican, pickles, ice cream, ramenzzzz

58. Last thing you ate?

Pistachios

59. First thing you ate this morning?

Cofffeeee w creamer

60. Ever won a competition? For what?

Idk, not off the top of my head - maybe something back in elementary

61. Been suspended/expelled? For what?

Nah

62. Been arrested? For what?

Yeah lmao

63. Ever been in love?

Yes

64. Tell us the story of your first kiss?

No its really not that interesting and idc to type it out

65. Are you hungry right now?

24/7/365

66. Do you like your tumblr friends more than your real friends?

Lol yes a few of them <333

67. Facebook or Twitter?

68. Twitter or Tumblr?

Tumblr

69. Are you watching tv right now?

Noooo

70. Names of your bestfriends?

R’Bonney is number 1

71. Craving something? What?

Foooood, and companionship? Lol

72. What colour are your towels?

Idk, random, mostly blue

72. How many pillows do you sleep with?

A lot lol

73. Do you sleep with stuffed animals?

Lol no, but I have my one from my childhood in my room

74. How many stuffed animals do you think you have?

1 - shout out to you Mr.Fluffy

75. Favourite animal?

I am fascinated by sharks; and like gators/crocs. But I have mad respect for elephants, they’re sooo damn smart and beautiful.

76. What colour is your underwear?

Dont have any on

77. Chocolate or Vanilla?

BITCHHHH CHOC

78. Favourite ice cream flavour?

All of them

79. What colour shirt are you wearing?

Tie-dye

80. What colour pants?

none

81. Favourite tv show?

Game of Thrones prob

82. Favourite movie?

Avatar or Shawshank Redemption

87. First person you talked to today?

Sissy

88. Last person you talked to today?

Friend on FT

89. Name a person you hate?

No one, maybe Trump? lol

90. Name a person you love?

Everyone, fr fr

91. Is there anyone you want to punch in the face right now?

Nah

92. In a fight with someone?

Nah

93. How many sweatpants do you have?

Not enough <3

94. How many sweaters/hoodies do you have?

Not enough <3

95. Last movie you watched?

The Decline on Netflix, short lil foreign oil, was deep/interesting

96. Favourite actress?

Not sure-Sandra Bullock? Or Meryl

97. Favourite actor?

Denzel or Morgan Freeman

98. Do you tan a lot?

Nah not anymore honestly

99. Have any pets?

Yessss

100. How are you feeling?

Mediocre

101. Do you type fast?

102. Do you regret anything from your past?

Im sure

103. Can you spell well?

104. Do you miss anyone from your past?

Lol im nostalgic af, so yes

105. Ever been to a bonfire party?

Yes litttty tittyyy

106. Ever broken someone’s heart?

Probably :(

107. Have you ever been on a horse?

Hell yeah brother, I’m from TX

108. What should you be doing?

So much shit lol

109. Is something irritating you right now?

The fact that I ain’t doing all the shit I should be lol

110. Have you ever liked someone so much it hurt?

Yooo yes

112. Who was the last person you cried in front of?

Prob my sister or my mom?? Lol I cry a lot, idk and idc

113. What was your childhood nickname?

Hayls?

114. Have you ever been out of your province/state?

Yes

115. Do you play the Wii?

Back in the day

116. Are you listening to music right now?

Surprisingly, no

117. Do you like chicken noodle soup?

Nah, unless maybe if its homemade

118. Do you like Chinese food?

Yeah occasionally, more of a Thai food chick or Japanese

119. Favourite book?

Kite Runner

120. Are you afraid of the dark?

Low-key sometimes lol

121. Are you mean?

Hell noooo

122. Is cheating ever okay?

Ok, this is an interesting one lol I mean no, it’s not “okay” - since it usually constitutes lying/hiding/hurting someone - BUTTTT, for a lack of a better term - I wanna say it’s “normal”? But thats because I, personally, am on the fence about the concept of monogamy. Like no, I’ve never cheated nor experienced that in return - but the whole concept of monogamy and like that a person can love and only love or be with one person is WILLLLDDD and I can’t help but note that its a social construct that we, as a society, are conditioned to from the time we are born. Idk if that makes sense bc im high af lol but those are my thoughts…like to sum it up - cheating is fucked up and sucks, but at the same time its not all that surprising/shocking anymore, like borderline “normalized” just as divorces are and shit, so I feel like bc biologically we aren’t made to be with one person lol. I don’t condone it tho. Thanks for coming to my TedTalk.

123. Can you keep white shoes clean?

Hell to the naw naw

124. Do you believe in love at first sight?

Hmmm idk about that one, but also can’t deny it

125. Do you believe in true love?

Yeah of course, you’re talking to a hopeless romantic

126. Are you currently bored?

I guess we could say that

127. What makes you happy?

Food and close, loved ones

128. Would you change your name?

Nah, too much paper work

129. What your zodiac sign?

Cancer, with my lil moody, sensitive ass

130. Do you like subway?

I did lol

131. Your bestfriend of the opposite sex likes you, what do you do?

Story of my mf life lol literally all my exes are “best friends turned lovers” situation, so guess it would just depend lmao

132. Who’s the last person you had a deep conversation with?

133. Favourite lyrics right now?

Lol oh godddd; ok off the top of my head - Tupac - Keep Ya Head Up is what comes to mind; just a timeless song and the lyrics are still relevant/apply to this day and idk just really resonate with the message behind that song <3

135. Dumbest lie you ever told?

Idk, but it was probably SO dumb, and told to my parents lol

136. Do you sleep with your doors open or closed?

Either or, lately open so my cat can go in and out lol

137. How tall are you?

5’6 mayyybeee 5’5 actually lol

140. Summer or Winter?

Fall!!

141. Night or Day?

Def a lil night owl, always have been

142. Favourite month?

April and October for weather at least

143. Are you a vegetarian?

No but I try, and go through phases, I’m definitely mindful the older I get and more focused on my health I become

144. Dark, milk or white chocolate?

FUCKIN ALLLLL

145. Tea or Coffee?

Coffee but I like tea too, just seem to drink coffee more regularly

146. Was today a good day?

The grateful-to-just-be-alive in me wants to say yes lol but idk, felt off/unaccomplished and cried a lot, so no.

147. Mars or Snickers?

Snickers

148. What’s your favourite quote?

“This too shall pass”

149. Do you believe in ghosts?

Sure why not

150. Get the closest book next to you, open it to page 42, what’s the first line on that page?

“After all, what he had always wanted was just that: to know new places.” -The Alchemist, Paulo Coelho

#survey #about me #haylee #thoughts #mine #questions #ask me anything #ask #lets chat #be my frieeennnddd

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aescapisms · 4 years

Text

Hello!!! So I just reached a milestone and I want to celebrate it????

I honestly cannot thank you guys enough for all the support that you have given me. I was so used to people reading some of my stuff and moving along but you guys stayed and I’ve never been happier. Thank you all so much.

GUIDELINES:

TAG @geosaurusrrex and #seasaur’s2kmilestone

-If you want to join send me an ASK. - You can write for any MCU character. - Reader inserts only. -I will not accept incest, dubcon or noncon. - For the love of everything that is holy please use the Read more function if you’re submitting over 500 words. - if you are writing a series tag me in the masterlist!!

- Also, no word limit (minimum or maximum) use proper warnings people!!!! -you can do one shots or social media aus or what ever the hell you want - you dont have to follow me but it would be nice

DEADLINE: December 4. (If you need more time it’s alright!!! Just post and tag me hehehe)

AU Prompts:

1. Ice Skating AU @maarrvveell [BUCKY]

2. Coffee Shop AU @jamesdeerest [BUCKY]

3. Demon and Angel AU @starspangledmuse [BUCKY]

4. College AU @hey-its-grey [WANDA] || @bearsbeetsbarnes [BUCKY]

5. Library AU @anyabarnes [NATASHA]

6. Soulmate AU (you can choose what kind of soulmate au you would want) -@piper-koko-barnes-rogers [BRUCE] || @vacant-writings [BUCKY]

7. Roommate AU @funkyspacewizard [BUCKY]

8. Princess AU - @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory [s.rogers] || @ashtheteenagewitch [BUCKY]

9. Bodyguard AU @superinclusiveimagines [s.rogers]

10. Best Friends to Lovers AU @evanstanwrites [STEVE]

Dialogue Prompts:

1. “I saved you a seat, behind me because you’re short as fuck.” “I fucking hate you” - @chloerinebarnes [b.barnes]

2. “I need your homework because a goose ate mine. DONT ASK HOW” - @rorynne [CLINT]

3. “Punch me in the face so he’ll notice me” @thatsuperherosidekick [BUCKY]

4. “OH GOD I WASNT CHASING YOU!!! IT WAS DARK AND I WAS SCARED PLEASE STOP SCREAMING.” @the-omni-princess [BUCKY]

5. “I didn’t steal your wallet this cat did!” @jamesdeerest [BUCKY] || @valkyriesryde [CLINT]

6. “How much did you drink last night?” - @criminal-cookies [BUCKY]

7. “I didn’t want to see you cry.” @barnesjamcs [BUCKY] || @mypassionsarenysins [SAM]

8. “You need to go the fuck to sleep. It’s 4 in the morning.” - @thelibraryoffanfiction [CLINT]

9. “I want your face to be the last thing I see before I go.” - @bluerorjhan [BUCKY]

10. “You tHREW A FUCKING CAKE AT ME” - @criminal-cookies [BUCKY]

11. “No I will not share a spaghetti strand with you. It’s not romantic, it’s disgusting.”

12. “Fuck you.” “Please let me buy you dinner first.” @spiderrpcrker [STEVE]

13. “Okay look, I know it looks weird but I have a perfectly good explanation for this.” “Alright, what is it?” “Uhhhh” @lightscamera-ohshit [BUCKY]

14. “YOU TOLD ME YOU WERE A DOG PERSON!” “Well...” “YOU’RE A FUCKING WEREWOLF.” @lokibringsmejoy [BUCKY]

15. “Don’t give him time to think. He’ll come up with something so stupid and make everything worse.” @dontuseyourealname [PETER P]

Song Prompts:

1. sanctuary - joji - @sunmoonandbucky [BUCKY]

2. like real people do - hozier - @softhairbarnes [BUCKY]

3. still feel like your man - john mayer @captain-kelli [STEVE]

4. somebody to die for - @lightscamera-ohshit [BUCKY]

5. Taylor Swift [I don’t want to live forever] @dianadov [WANDA]

6. One Direction - Strong @40sstucky [BUCKY]

#seasaur's2kmilestone #sea talks: bad ideas

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harryandmolly · 5 years

Text

Change of Pace - 8 (Summer 2019)

cowritten by @achinglyshawn

summary: Shawn and Maya meet again 10 years after life got in the way of love

warnings: language, NSFW

wc: 11.3k

------------

Maya knocks her knees together rhythmically, watching her white topsheet catch the ray of sunshine coming in from her window and release it again.

Her window is open. She can smell the sea. And when she closes her eyes she can hear it.

She swears that’s more valuable than any hour of the expensive therapy she’s had in 12 years.

When she wakes up in the morning in her bedroom in the house she bought herself in her happiest place, she gets to feel proud. She hasn’t felt true pride like this in a long time, not since she first started working in finance and felt like she had made a smart, adult choice that would support her and create a good, solid life.

She looks at it now and wonders how she got there, how she managed to convince herself that words like “solid” and “adult” would ever be enough to describe the life she really wanted.

So yeah, Maya’s proud. She’s proud she sacked up and left. She’s proud that she hasn’t gone running back, especially with all the emotional tumult she’s caused herself with this whole unexpected Shawn situation. It would’ve been like her, once, to shut this down and go running back to Manhattan where she could control everything and not hurt anyone.

Not anyone but herself, at least.

But hurting herself is not what she’s doing anymore. She still doesn’t really know what she’s doing in Avila other than surfing and painting and sleeping. Maybe that’s what she’ll do with her life now, forever. Maybe that’ll be enough. Maybe she’ll need something else.

The point is she doesn’t know. She can’t know now. She can’t control it, so she must embrace it. Embracing Avila means more than just enjoying its beaches and the occasional farmers market. It means learning what Avila can really give her, can really make her.

Maya’s ready for her Avila makeover.

Maya frowns at the eyeliner pencil between her fingers. Was it always this clumpy? When the hell did she buy this?

When did she last wear eyeliner?

She lifts her eyebrows and sighs. She can’t honestly remember.

She swallows and puts it down, shaking a hand through her hair and adjusting her loose-fitting sheer button-up. She unbuttons one button at the chest, then buttons it back again. She makes a face. She’s never thought this hard about her appearance around Shawn in her life. She knows he doesn’t care. So what the fuck is she doing?

She just… she really likes to stun him. For him to stare at her with that slow-growing smile like he’s thinking about how fucking lucky he is. He hasn’t looked at her that way since the night they were together. She thinks she’d like him to look at her like that again.

Breakfast felt like a turning point, but she can’t explain exactly how. Since she got home that afternoon, she’s been a churning, overflowing cauldron of artistic output. She wakes up, surfs, draws or paints all afternoon and surfs again at night. And it feels fucking great.

Feeling great has been unfamiliar to Maya for so long. She’s gonna chase it. And right now, the feeling’s got her seeking out Shawn.

She feels good about the decision to ditch the eyeliner when she walks through the front door of his shop, signaled by the little ding of his bell. She wants to feel like herself around him. Just… a vibrant, sexy version.

Sawdust overwhelms his senses as he lies on his back beneath his piano. He glides sandpaper along the not-quite-perfect edges of the underlying framework. He doesn’t mind the extra time it takes with the paper, because he can’t get the finesse, the perfection with the electric sander at this angle.

He hums along to the new John Mayer album playing over the speakers as he brushes dust from his work goggles, before reaching for a particularly tricky edge whose perfection has been evading him.

The sandpaper falls on his face when the door to the shop opens, the little bell chiming over Mayer’s voice. Shawn blows at the paper until it slides off his face and lands on the floor.

“Be right there! Picking up or dropping off?” he calls as he rolls himself out from under the piano. He stands up and keeps his back to the door so he can brush himself off before greeting a client.

He shouldn’t wear black to work anymore. It does nothing to hide sawdust.

He gets himself as clean as he possibly can with dirty hands and a kind of clean rag, then turns to the doorway to the front of the shop.

“Oh—“ fuck.

Maya. He blinks at her, then looks down at himself, then back to her. He swallows; there’s absolutely nothing he can do about the fact that she looks gorgeous and he looks like he spilled coke all over himself like a desperate drug addict.

“Hey— hi. Hi,” he walks out of the back, into the doorway as wipes his hands on his rag again, “I didn’t know you were stopping by. Did I know? Shit, I haven’t looked at my phone all morning.”

The shop is empty. She gazes around at his instruments, each one of them holding a piece of him. It makes her indescribably happy and comfortable to be surrounded by them like this. She doesn’t even mind the smell of lacquer and sawdust. It’s as personal to her as her acrylic paints and turpentine.

He comes hustling out of the back room before she can answer his question. She beams at him, at the sweat matting his curls to his forehead and the sawdust that covers him. He looks like she’s knocked him out of an intense focus. Maybe she should feel a little guilty, but god, he looks so cute.

She lifts her hand from the back pocket of her little shorts and waves delicately, tilting her head like she’s flirting with him. The idea is funny to her, flirting with Shawn. Like he doesn’t know all her tricks. She bites her glossy lower lip and walks up to the counter. She props her elbows up and doesn’t regret leaving that one button undone.

“No, I was feeling spontaneous. I’d hug you, but you kind of smell like power tools,” she jokes, blinking up at him, hoping he touches her anyway.

She’s… different. Good different, he thinks. Confident different, like maybe she doesn’t feel like a total stranger around him anymore. She’s more familiar, he guesses. He smiles, throws his rag over his shoulder as he steps down from the doorway of the workshop and up to the counter.

Shawn leans down on his elbows and smiles at her, shrugging a little.

“This is how I always smell now, unfortunately.”

He wets his lower lip and lets himself study her. She did herself up a bit, for Maya standards. He knows when she puts thought into a look. His heart stutters. Why would she put effort into an outfit if she wasn’t trying to impress him or, you know, woo him or something?

That familiar feeling of hope flares in his chest. He bites his lip as he looks down at her.

“So, suddenly interested in picking up an instrument, Lu?” he asks with a teasing smirk and a tilt of his head.

Shawn mirrors her position over the counter. He’s a little overwhelming so close up like this -- Maya’s out of practice. Her breath catches in her chest. She decides not to tell him that she thinks the workshop smell thing is actually really sexy in a very classically masculine way. But she thinks it. Boy, does she think it.

Maya giggles and looks around the shop, nodding at the walls. “Mhmm, came in for a private lesson.”

… What? Where the fuck did that come from?

She floors him. The last time Shawn saw her, he practically broke her heart. But she’s here now, blinking up at him with her pretty brown eyes and— and flirting with him.

She didn’t even flirt with him before they had sex the other week. This is different. He’s not complaining.

“I charge double for walk-ins, sugar,” he murmurs with a wink.

Maya nearly melts into the counter when he winks at her and lowers his voice into that register that always made her knees weak. God, she’d walk into fucking fire for him.

Before she can let herself panic over that comment, she squares her shoulders and smirks at him instead.

“Want to show me what you’ve been working on back there?”

Oh yeah, his work. He told her to come over to see his work. He supposes he’d convinced himself she wasn’t going to.

He likes when she proves him wrong.

He raises his brows, then looks over his shoulder into the back, where the piano waits for him to stop fucking around.

“Yeah, totally,” he says with a grin as he looks back at her, “There are a few things back there, actually.”

“C’mon,” he says as he walks to the end of the counter and holds his hand out for her.

She takes his hand eagerly, giggling as she walks around the counter like she’s being naughty and going where she’s not allowed. She squeezes his hand, a silent additional greeting, an extra little “hey, I missed you.”

As he guides her into the back room, she sees nothing but the piano at first. It’s enormous, of course, so it catches her eye, but it’s more than that. It’s so sleek and elegant, even unfinished. Maya gasps through a grin, dropping his hand to circle it, admiring from every angle.

She examines his piano like she would a Botticelli at the Met. His heart clatters against his ribs as she watches her admire his work, like it’s really something exceptional and not like, a pretty basic piano considering it’s his first.

He’s clever though, so maybe it’s a little more unique than that. Maybe he sells himself short, too.

It really is magnificent. It’s beautiful, masculine somehow, poised and welcoming. It’s like if Shawn were an instrument, he’d be this piano. The thought makes her smile wider.

She turns away from him to place her hands on top, to feel its solid weight. “It’s extraordinary.”

He smiles and leans back against the desk behind him, still focused on her.

“Careful,” he murmurs, “I still need to sand it down up there.”

It’s actually pretty smooth but. He’s picky. And you really shouldn’t touch it with bare hands until it’s lacquered and dried anyway. Splinters fucking suck, so it’s too risky.

“But, you know, thank you. I guess it’s not bad for a first try.”

He glances down at the ground and smiles to himself, the tips of his ears turning pink. He’s always liked impressing her, always felt warm and bright from her praise. He preens for her. He’s easy.

Even after all these years, she’s still Maya Lu, junior art star and charismatic orientation leader and someone he just wants to know, so he trips over himself to impress her, to get her to be proud of him. To notice him.

He shoves a hand into his hair and tugs.

Maya lifts her hands and wiggles her fingers playfully to prove she hasn’t gotten any splinters. She turns to face him with a soft smile.

“I totally get it, you know. I see you everywhere in here. It makes so much sense to me that this is what you do. I mean, beyond being meticulous or whatever, you’ve always loved everything about music. So I get wanting to be so deep in it that you build it from the ground up like this. It’s… so you.”

She bites her lip and clasps her hands behind her back, walking back toward the other pieces in his work studio. The harp catches her eye. She touches it gently, admiring its curves and angles. She grins at the idea of him sitting down to play it. She thinks that would be a sight to see. A shiver shoots down her spine. She covers it by turning on her heel to face him again.

“I hope you still write music, though.”

She talks about him like she’s read a diary he doesn’t keep. She knows his facade and can see right through it, into the depths of who he really is, or whatever.

She’s held his heart in her hand and because of that, she can see him from the inside out.

It doesn’t scare him. It gives him a reason to keep hoping for the future he could have with her.

“I—“ Only about you. “I do, yeah, but not as often. I just don’t have the time, you know?”

It’s not really a lie, it’s just not the entire truth. He doesn’t have time, but he also doesn’t have ideas unless he’s thinking about her, in one way or another. Even if he doesn’t write a love song, Maya’s still the inspiration that guides his words and melodies.

It’s so cliche, that she’s his muse or whatever. He’s kind of disgusted with himself. That’s probably (definitely) why he pretends he doesn’t write very much.

He flirts with the idea of telling her, though. Like one desperate appeal to her emotions to convince her to stay in Avila forever and learn how to love him again.

He digs his fingernails into his palms to cool himself down. He’s always too willing to jump the gun with her, and today he doesn’t want to ruin this good thing that seems to be happening.

“I like to write little tunes for the different pieces I fix up, though. Like that harp. I’m not much of a harpist, but it’s fun to fuck around.”

He’s babbling like an idiot. He hopes she comes to shut him up before he says something totally incriminating.

Maya nods, watching him realize how much she still knows about him. After all, he’s still Shawn and she’s still Maya, even after everything. She imagines there’s plenty she doesn’t know about him but the fundamental things that make him who he is? Yeah, she still gets those.

“I’ve been… painting a lot,” she says carefully. It’s not something she needs to be wary of telling him, really, but she hasn’t told anyone that she’s dived back into her art. She hasn’t talked about art in so long. It’s like her mouth has trouble fitting around the words, or like she’s trying to speak a language she hasn’t spoken in many years.

Maya speaks like she’s telling him a secret. He smiles, wetting his lips before he murmurs, “That’s good.”

She deserves to paint. To do something for herself and not for her career or money. Painting, surfing, falling back in love with him. You know. That kind of thing.

He only hates himself a little for thinking it.

She takes little steps closer to him almost unconsciously, watching his chest rise and fall as he breathes. It’s meditative.

“I actually bought watercolors the other day. I haven’t worked in watercolors since I was about 15. It’s wonderful. It’s so… light.”

She wiggles her nose and chuckles to herself. “You and your harp and me and my watercolors. I guess some things never change.”

He chews on his lip, considering. “Yeah, actually. I don’t think I’ve ever seen any watercolor pieces of yours. And you’ve never seen me play the harp.”

She reaches out and taps his arm playfully but it sets her ablaze.

She’s such a dork. He grins at her, ignoring the way his stomach flips as she draws closer to him. He keeps himself steady, cool enough to catch her wrist in one hand before she can pull away from him.

He pouts. “Ouch, Lu.”

Maya feels like the way she’s creeping toward him seems maybe a little too much like a handler approaching a wild animal. He doesn’t scurry away from her though. He stays put.

He reaches out for her. Her heart breaks into a sprint.

Maya takes another step forward. He smells like sweat and sawdust. His eyes are curious and a little sleepy. And he feels like home.

Maya steps forward again. She’s right up against him now. She holds his gaze as she lowers her lips to the spot on his bicep that she tapped, kissing it gently.

“There,” she murmurs, “All better?”

Maya has always been a little too good at teasing him. He presses his fingers into her pulse as she presses her lips to his arm. He mashes his own lips together as he watches her.

“I guess,” he says, glancing down at his arm, then back to her. “Though I don’t think that’s standard medical protocol.”

He was not about to say something disgusting like, but that’s not the only spot that hurts. Even though he really wanted to. Like, what an easy opening. Maybe he should’ve said it. Maybe that’s what she’s angling for. He’s not used to this flirty version of Maya anymore, hasn’t seen her in 12 years and now she’s here in full force, like she never left.

Carefully, he lifts her hand until it’s resting on his shoulder. He drops her wrist in favor of curling his hand around her waist instead.

“But I won’t tell anyone,” he finishes with a smirk.

Shawn is warm and responsive. He holds her around the waist and brings her up against him gently, carefully, because neither of them is too sure how far to push this right now. It feels like they’re on a precipice again. One good gust of wind could knock them both over.

But he’s teasing her back and she missed it so much. So maybe this time she’ll be the breeze.

Maya lifts her other arm to curl them both around his shoulders. She doesn’t care that he’s covered in work dust and has some paint under his nails. She always wants him. She wants him even more now after being in his sacred space getting a special introduction to how he spends his time.

Maya comes up onto her toes and brushes her nose against his. “Our secret, then?”

It’s a little pathetic, how easy it is for Maya to drive Shawn crazy. To make goosebumps prickle his skin and his heart throb in his chest. She knows how to play him better than he does any instrument.

His eyes close, fingers curling tighter into her waist. He purrs, “I love keeping secrets with you, sugar.”

He brings his free hand to her neck, cupping her just beneath her ear and tilting her head back with a firm press of his thumb to her jaw.

“M’gonna kiss you now,” he breathes, before doing exactly that.

It’s a delicate, teasing brush of his lips against hers as he slides his thigh forward, pressing between hers.

When he holds her like this, when he kisses her like this, it feels like their world is their secret.

This kiss isn’t like the ones from the other night, frantic and a little neurotic because neither of them knew really what the other was thinking. This kiss feels more like the ones from Maya’s memory, the ones that came with years of experience. It’s not the first kiss, it’s the millionth and it feels so good.

She gives in easily, practically melts against him as she grips his thigh with hers. He hums into her mouth, tongue licking carefully at her lower lip.

Maya tilts her head, holding him where he is. She slots her mouth against his so she can suck on his lower lip, soft at first, getting firmer as they breathe together and she snuggles a little closer against his leg.

She’s in little denim cutoffs. The feel of his jeans pressed up against her bare legs is tantalizing. She squeezes her thighs around his, smiling into his mouth before she pulls away slightly.

He’s getting into it when she pulls away. His breath catches in his throat and he almost chases after her.

She looks up at him, smoothing the curls down against his neck.

She tilts her head and whispers, “You bring all the girls back here, Mendes?”

He chuckles, leaning in to nip at the angle of her jaw, just beneath her ear. “Oh yeah, Lu. This is the hottest hook up spot in Avila. I thought you knew,” he smirks, nosing carefully at her earlobe.

Maya chuckles but it doesn’t quite cover the shiver she feels at his sexy teasing. She holds on a little tighter around his shoulders, very sure that he’ll hold her up if her knees give.

That does remind her, though, that she hasn’t been on her knees for him. She misses that.

His tongue snakes out to lick her soft skin, slowly at first, before he gets worked up and starts pressing open-mouthed kisses behind her ear.

Maya aids him by sweeping hair off her shoulder. She mewls at the feverish press of his mouth to her skin. As a 21-year-old, she’d have begged him to leave a mark. Now she’s more interested in letting him do what he wants when he wants. She thinks of it as a way they can get to know each other again. She knows he liked it when she got bossy before, though. That part of her isn’t lost.

Maya closes her eyes and leans into him when he catches a certain spot on her neck that makes goosebumps break out over her whole body. She inhales sharply, right in his ear, and hums.

She strokes a hand down his back and back up, rucking his shirt up with her fingers. His skin is soft and sizzling warm all over. She grins, knowing he’s hot for her.

He focuses on tasting as much as of her skin as he can get to, has to use his mouth for something other than babbling her praise or telling her how much he loves her.

Tiny explosions sting his skin in the wake of her wandering hands. Her soft, panting breaths in his ear have his cock twitching in his jeans.

He rocks his thigh up against her, gripping her hip tightly so he can pull her down onto his firm quad. His lips find their way back to her ear and he catches her earlobe with his teeth, giving her a little tug.

“Lu,” he coos after he kisses the shell of her ear, “What do you want, sugar?”

They’re grinding hard where they stand like the horny kids they still are at heart. Maya can feel herself already a little wet in her panties for him as he drags her along the thick, muscled length of his thigh. He feels so fucking good.

She hangs on him, lets him spoil her with every touch, every nip, every kiss. When he asks her what she wants, she’s almost too overwhelmed to answer. She groans and looks around the room. There’s a couch against a wall that looks welcoming. Maya drags her fingernails down his spine and nods at it.

“I want you to go sit. I want you to let me spoil you a little,” she murmurs, turning her head to plant a kiss on his cheek as she releases him.

Waiting for him to obey, she starts tugging at the buttons of her shirt.

He’s imagined something incredibly similar to this happening to him time and time again. It’s one of his go-to shower fantasies. He should probably be a bit ashamed of that.

He pants as he looks down at her, hand dropping to the desk once more. He grips the edge, has to get his bearings first so he doesn’t trip over himself.

“What did I do to get so lucky?” he asks with a raise of his brow as he finally pushes off of desk and drops down on the couch, sinking into the plush leather while he drapes his arms along the back.

His dick aches in anticipation, and he spreads his thighs in an attempt to calm himself down as he looks up at her.

Maya wets her lips, reaching the last button on her shirt. She tugs it out where it’s tucked into the front of her shorts and lets it fall open over a sweet, sheer lace bralette. She drops it off her shoulders, wasn’t really planning to give him a little show, but, while she’s here…

Maya turns away from him and slips her fingers into the waistband of her shorts, thumbing around her hips teasingly. She glances at him over her shoulder and inhales slowly, tugging at her zipper. She pulls them down slowly, wriggling out of the tight fabric, turning back around to show off her little matching panties. She’s putting her cards on the table -- Maya didn’t often bother to match her bra and underwear. She’s showing him that she put in some effort in the vain hope that this was where it might lead.

She planned this. Maya fucking planned this. He knows because her panties match the pretty bralette she’s wearing and she only ever wore matching lingerie when she had a plan. He squeezes his eyes shut and groans a little. He’s not complaining. She makes good plans.

She takes a couple steps forward and kneels between his legs. His cock is already getting hard in his jeans, she can see it beginning to strain against the fabric. Maya runs her hands, fingers spread wide and hungry, up and down his quadriceps from hip to knee, digging her thumbs in to massage the muscles. She looks up at Shawn, blinking innocently.

He opens his eyes again quickly, not keen on missing anything, and sees her dropping down to her knees.

“Shit,” he breathes as she presses her small hands into his thighs, fingers scratching over his muscles. His cock twitches and his legs part just a bit more as he rolls his hips forward. His head tips back and he pushes a hand into his hair, trying to find some way to ground himself.

Maya watches his body react without his mind’s permission, canting his hips up because he knows what he’s getting from her and knows how good she can give it. She’s flooded with power and pride, imagining no one’s ever made him feel this way. Maybe she’s wrong, maybe she’s not the best he’s ever had, maybe her ego only gets this swollen when he’s looking at her like that between his knees but she wants to believe it.

He’s that for her, anyway.

“Sweetheart,” she rasps, “You miss my mouth?”

A rough laugh rumbles his chest as he shakes his head. “God, baby. You know I did.”

I missed everything about you.

He manages to choke on the sentiment instead of admitting it. He moves past it, babbles on with, “Missed your pretty lips and hot tongue. Missed how good you always are.”

His lips loosen, praising the attributes of her mouth. She hums in agreement, flushing a little as she reaches for the button of his jeans. She pulls on them, biting her lip as she watches him rake a shaky hand through his gorgeous curls.

She wastes no time, taking his boxer briefs down with his pants in the same motion. She wets her lips at the sight of his cock stiff and pink and nearly ready for her. She sits forward, resting her chin on his thigh and blinking up at him sweetly. She takes his cock in her hand and strokes him slowly, light pressure, because she loves driving him crazy and she’s damn good at it.

“What else did you miss?”

She loves watching him run his mouth when he’s getting worked up like this. She wants to see what kind of picture he can paint for her.

“Ah-- ah, shit,” he growls when she digs her chin into his thigh and wraps her perfect hand around his cock.

Missed the way you looked at me when you told me you loved me.

He can’t fucking say that, or anything remotely like it. His hips twitch and he closes his eyes, breathes in slowly through his nose to calm himself down. After a moment, he’s able to look at her, sees the glint in her eye and the sweet little smirk on her lips as she slowly works his shaft.

“Missed how you suck my cock, Lu. Missed how you moan around me, how you rub your thighs together as you get wet with my dick on your tongue. Missed watching you touch your clit while you suck at me like a popsicle.”

He’s panting by the end of it, his lips wet and swollen as he fucks his cock up into her fist. He’s got no shame with her, can’t bother acting like they don’t know each other like this, inside and out. Maya’s well aware of what this coy little act of hers does to him. He doesn’t mind that she uses it against him.

“Love how wet you get while sucking my cock, sugar,” he growls, pushing both hands into his hair and tipping his head back, watching her from beneath his thick lashes.

Maya’s enchanted. He’s so fucking sexy. He’s always sexy, he was sexy when she bumped into him on the beach today, he was sexy when she walked in to see him covered in sawdust, he was sexy when he was blushing at her artwork 15 years ago.

But when his lips are wet around the filth he’s moaning about loving how turned on she gets by getting him off, he’s so sexy she doesn’t know what to fucking do with herself.

Maya’s head feels heavy. She tilts it so her cheek is resting on his bare thigh, tightening her grip on his cock as he starts to fuck up into it. She knows it’s not nearly enough for him, she knows it’s not at all the best she can do to drive him insane, but the best is yet to come.

“Mmm, can’t help it,” she sighs, turning her face to leave a biting kiss on the inside of his thigh. She sits forward and forces his hips down with a press of her hand, watching his head fall back. She stares up at him, licking a hot, thick stripe up the underside of his cock. She follows it up with sweet little kitten licks around his swollen head, scooting forward on her knees.

“Getting you hard gets me so fucking wet,” she confesses, but he already knows. She hums again, dipping her head to drop the tip of his dick into her mouth, swirling her tongue around slowly.

“God, Maya,” he grunts when she gets her tongue on him. Her confession is something he’s aware of, but hearing her say it sparks lightning in his veins. She’s so gorgeous like this, settled comfortably in his lap with her mouth on his cock. She’s always prettiest when she’s the most comfortable around him.

“That’s it, sugar,” he practically slurs as her hot little tongue circles the head of his cock. He tugs his hair as he focuses on her mouth, watching her plump lips stretch around him, just barely covering his tip as she teases him the best way she knows how.

Maya’s lashes flutter at the sound of his voice, hot and smooth like syrup as he purrs at her. It makes her moan around his cock as it throbs against her tongue.

The sounds her mouth makes around his dick are so obscene -- wet, slurping pops as she sucks at him like she might never get the chance again.

“S’this why you came over here, Lulu? Missed sucking my cock like this?” he coos, but his voice is rough, fucked from her lips and her hands and the smell of sea salt in her pretty brown hair.

“Missed getting your thighs all wet with my dick in your mouth, didn’t you?” he asks, so he doesn’t ask her something like, Did you miss the way I used to make love to you when you couldn’t sleep at night?

Now is not the fucking time.

She blinks up at him and takes him back further down her throat, starting to bob her head as he speaks. She groans again, nodding, pausing on an upward pass of his shaft to kiss the tip of his dick and take a breath.

“Yeah,” she pants, “Wanted you in my mouth so bad. Miss how good it feels having you down my throat. You haven’t even touched me and my pussy is soaked.”

She’s a lot filthier than she used to be. All those years of his dirty mouth must’ve rubbed off on her. It’s incredibly fucking sexy, mostly because it’s so goddamn honest.

He believes she means every word. She’s not just trying to be sexy, and that’s the sexiest part.

He drops a hand from his hair to reach for hers, cupping the back of her hair as she sinks her mouth further down the length of his cock. She’s warm and velvety around him, and absolutely fucking incredible. He throbs between her lips.

With another gentle kiss on his twitching head, she grips him firmly, stroking while she holds his gaze and dips her hand down the front of her panties. When she pulls it back out, he can see she wasn’t fucking around. She’s so wet.

She grins and dives back in, using the hand that was stroking him to reach down and cup his balls, squeezing and rolling them between her fingers.

“Oh, fuck, sugar, oh my fucking god,” he growls when she shows him her sticky wet fingers then plays with his balls.

“That’s so sexy, baby, Jesus Christ. Gonna let me taste you? You taste so fucking good.”

Maya thrives on this, on hearing how completely wrecked he sounds when she really starts going to work on him. Truthfully, she was nervous -- she hadn’t had her mouth on a man in a really long time. Shawn’s eager whimpering and words of praise tell her for certain she hasn’t lost her touch.

His hand in her hair has her pumping him a little faster in and out of her mouth, meeting where her gag reflex resists him with little groaning purrs from the back of her throat.

She slides back up his cock again, tonguing at his slit. She reaches up and offers him her fingers to suck on, knowing what he wants.

She shivers, pulling off his shaft and kissing down the beating vein on his cock to press teasing kisses all over his balls. She wants to make him lose his goddamn mind. After all, it’s what he deserves.

“Suck on my fingers, baby,” she encourages, breath rough and hot on his thighs.

It’s a little pathetic, how he scrambles for her fingers. He wraps his hand around her wrist and tugs her to his mouth, licking her fingers carefully before sucking them past his lips. He groans around her, pulling her fingers from his mouth with a pop before kisses her fingertips.

Maya could watch him lose his mind like this for her forever. He holds her wrist steady so he can savor the sweetness on her fingers and it reminds her just how desperate he can get for her. He could never get enough of the taste of her. But she was similarly affected -- she used to drag blow jobs out until he was begging, pleading to come, it was too much to take, but she liked pushing his limits.

Her lips on his balls have his cock aching, leaking for her, dripping down his shaft and onto his abdomen. He squeezes her wrist and drops his head back, hips fucking up, cock grinding against nothing.

“Shit-- shit, Maya, my god. You’re-- fuck, you’re so sexy. So good-- so fucking good at this, so good to me, Christ,” he hisses, nipping at her fingertips again before looking down at her, his eyes glassy.

He wants to tell her he loves her so badly. His heart is hammering against his ribs and the feeling of it warms through his entire body as his hips rock back and forth on the couch. He feels like he’s vibrating with need, but he’ll never be satisfied until he can tell her how he really feels.

He nibbles at her fingers and mutters hopelessly like he’ll never have it so good again in his life. It makes her stomach swirl. She’s so eager to get him off now. She wants to make it unforgettable.

“Sugar, Maya, I’m-- ah, fuck, I missed you,” he rasps, holding on just enough to choose his words wisely.

I missed you.

He’s been saying it since they started making out. Hell, he said it the last time they fucked. It just… it sounded different this time, like he was trying to say something else. Maya pulls away from him to look up, past his heaving, panting chest and his swollen lips to his big brown eyes. She closes her eyes, turns her face into his thigh and slowly, affectionately noses at the soft hair there. With one last little kiss, the only thing she can give him in return, she sits up and takes his cock down her throat, bobbing her head quickly, soaking his dick.

Maya squirms, moaning around him hot and hard in her mouth. She reaches down between her thighs and rubs her clit quickly with the pad of her middle finger, swallowing him down as far as she can, ready to make him fall apart.

“Holy fuck,” he chokes out, curling forward over her head as she takes his cock deep into her mouth and sucks at him like her life fucking depends on it. He pushes his hands into her hair to hold on, not to guide or direct her, but to steady himself as she completely overwhelms him.

He looks down at her and realizes her hand is between her thighs, sure her fingers are flicking her clit like she always loves to do as she tries to carry him to the edge.

He wants to come in her mouth, but he also wants so much more. He’s feeling crazed for it, maybe overly emotional and nostalgic, but he wants to come with her. He wants to make her come all over his cock before he finally lets go himself. He wants her to know how he feels without having to say it.

“Baby, baby--” he growls, tugging at her hair, grinding his hips into the couch. “Maya, sugar, I’m-- you got me so fucking close, but I don’t-- I wanna feel your pussy, sweetie. Please.”

Shawn wants more.

Before Shawn, no guy had ever refused the opportunity to come in her mouth. He was the first to show interest in getting her off with him. It seems he hasn’t lost the desire.

She’s sure he’s practically dangling on the edge of an orgasm, so the willpower it takes to reel it in and do what he can to get her there with him is pretty stunning. Maya whimpers, overwhelmed by his desire for her, and sits back on her heels, running a hand through her hair.

“Ok,” she murmurs, clearing her throat, “Yeah, baby. Wanna feel you inside me. Always.”

The “always” was maybe a little much but her brain is fried. She stands, giggles as she nearly tips over on shaky legs, and ditches her soaking wet lace panties.

She stands before him flushed and needy as she slips out of her sticky panties. He can see the wetness dripping down her thighs as she crawls onto the couch, legs spreading so she can straddle his lap.

He’s breathless, staring at her with his hands tangled in his own hair. He lets her take him how she wants, touch him how she wants, use him however she wants.

He’s hers.

Shawn watches her from the couch. She does what she can not to leap on him, instead lowering herself into his lap and sitting forward until his cock is pressed against her pussy and she can roll her hips to grind against him.

“Oh fuck,” she whines, scrunching up her nose, tightening her grip on his shoulders.

Shawn doesn’t know how he went twelve years without this. Without her. She fits perfectly against him, curves perfectly into the lines and divots of his body, so well sometimes that he can’t remember where he ends and she begins. He’s really so fucked that he thinks about her in cliches and he doesn’t even care.

Finally, she slides forward; her pussy is hot and slick over his cock as his hips jerk up in response to the sweet sensation.

“Yeah, baby,” he growls, dropping one hand to her thigh as he looks her up and down, from her slick pussy dripping on his shaft to the smooth curve of her belly, to her hard nipples that strain against the pretty fabric of her bra.

“God, you’re gorgeous,” he says, his voice more awestruck than sex-fucked in this moment, as he gazes at her resting atop him like she belongs there and nowhere else.

How does he not tell her he loves her? How can he not? She should know, she deserves to know. He can’t just keep doing this with her and pretending like it doesn’t mean the world to him.

He pushes himself away from the back of the couch and presses his chest to hers, cupping her throat with his hands and gliding his thumbs along her jaw. He presses his forehead to hers and looks her in the eye, searching for something, though he’s not sure what.

“Maya,” he breathes, nudging her nose as he grinds his cock up against her, brushing the head over her swollen, sensitive clit. “Missed how good you feel like this, sugar.”

Maya sobs a breath when he lurches forward and presses up against her chest, holding her face in his hands. She wants to close her eyes so badly, it’s too much having him so close and staring at her like this like he’s considering not ever letting her go again. But the way he’s holding her, pressing his nose against hers gently while he finds an angle that will make her gasp (which he does easily), it makes her hold his gaze.

Her breathing is ragged. She’s half a heartbeat away from tears. How can he treat her this way, after everything? It’s not to be denied now, not at all. There’s still something very real here between them that neither of them is doing a good job ignoring. And Maya’s not running from it.

Maya lifts her fingers into Shawn’s hair, surrendering. She tips her head onto his shoulder, takes a slow, deep breath with her hips still rocking into his and wraps her arms around him.

“Take me, Shawn. Please.”

“I got you,” he murmurs, pressing his lips to hers as he wraps his arms around her waist and reaches up the length of her spine to cup her shoulder blades and rock her down against his cock. “Lu, I got you, I’ll take care of you.”

He kisses her again to shut himself up, then rolls his hips forward, smoothly sliding his length along her slit and nudging over her clit before pressing up against her tight entrance. He rocks again, pushing his tip shallowly into her pussy, her velvet walls immediately clenching perfectly around him.

He swallows her up into his chest with the way he curls his arms around her. Maya’s never felt so safe, ever. The kiss keeps both their stupid mouths occupied, which she’s so grateful for. But when he slips inside her, hard and thick and everything she’s wanted, she groans, loud and unabashed into his mouth.

“Fuck, sugar,” he purrs, sucking at her lower lip, giving her a little nibble. He then mouths along the sharp angle of her jaw until he reaches her ear, giving her earlobe a kiss.

“So fucking wet for me. Can’t believe how wet you get, can’t believe how fucking good you feel,” he mutters in her ear, voice rough with need. “Feels perfect, Maya, you know that. Don’t you, sweetheart? You know you feel so perfect on my cock.”

He emphasizes his words with a flick of his hips that slides him deeper into her slick, welcoming cunt.

“Oh my god, oh Shawn,” she gasps between his sweet lips as he starts to break away for her jaw, mumbling to her quietly like he doesn’t realize he’s doing it. It makes a sharp shiver tear down her spine so she squirms hard in his arms.

His hips flick up. Her head falls back, her mouth drops open in a silent scream as her hips start to rock of their own volition.

“Never been so good, never been so fucking good with you,” she chants, shaking her head, “It was always perfect but, fuck, it’s never been this good, baby, you’re so good with me. It’s perfect, baby. It’s perfect.”

Her words are repetitive, a stream of consciousness of the hot, torrid thoughts in her head. She scrunches her fingers in his hair and tugs to show her urgency because words simply aren’t enough at this point. Plus, if she opens her mouth now, she just knows a poorly-timed I love you will come tumbling out.

She’s right, it’s never been this good. He’s never felt so desperate for her before, so determined to use his body to show her the depth of his feelings for her because they’re too much to vocalize. He whines against her ear as she praises him, praises them both.

“Just wanna make you feel this good as much as I can,” he admits on a choked off breath, his fingers digging into her shoulder blades as his hips stutter beneath her soft, slick thighs.

God, everything he says right now feels like an atom bomb. But he’s giving it to her so good she really can’t stop and think too hard about it. She can’t really think at all.

Shawn wisely silences himself against her neck, at least temporarily, busying himself with marking his former territory. She’s far from stopping him. If she can walk around with his love bites on her body for a few days, she’ll welcome it. They’re like a badge of honor.

He rocks his cock deeper and deeper into her sweet pussy, licking and sucking along the column of her throat, down to her clavicle then back up to her ear, nipping at the sensitive shell of cartilage.

Her tits bounce as he thrusts hard into her. She clings to him, fingers sinking into his neck and his hair to keep herself from smacking into him as their bodies take over control. There’s nothing gentle or meticulous about it the way Shawn sometimes is with her. That’s equally as wonderful, of course. But this, this raw need for her that controls the flicking of his hips and has him so deep inside her that her toes curl, this is so fucking good.

“Jesus, sugar,” he pants, hips snapping harder and harder as he bounces her in his lap, working her on his dick. “Fucking-- love it, love having you on my cock, baby.”

He bites down on her shoulder, squeezing his eyes shut after a close fucking call that he can only blame on the ambiance of the sunset shining through the windows and panting the room in golden amber light.

Maya doesn’t notice him fumble over his words, instead gasping and twitching when he bites at her bronzed shoulder like he doesn’t trust his mouth. She cradles the back of his head and whines, the pain and pleasure setting something off inside her.

“Baby, I’m gonna come. Gonna come soon. Wanna touch my clit for me?” she whispers, tonguing at the shell of his ear in time with the roll of her hips.

Something snaps inside of him when she purrs in his ear, asks him to help make her come with his fingers. He growls and wraps a thick, sturdy arm around her waist so he can lift her from his lap and settle her down onto the couch instead.

Maya mewls in his ear when he lifts her and repositions her on the couch. She lets him take over her hands — as much as she likes to hold him, she knows she’s taken care of right now.

They stay connected as he shifts around, knees on the couch, thighs pressed against the back of hers as he reaches for her wrists and pins them above her head so she’s arched beneath him, pretty tits straining against her bra.

Shawn starts moving again, making sure this orgasm is going to overwhelm her to the point of total, unadulterated bliss.

Her sensitive nipples arch against his chest and drag against the fabric of her bralette. Her feet are planted on either side of his legs so she can give as good as she gets, but the rhythm of her hips is starting to fail as she gets closer and closer.

“M’gonna make you come so good, sugar,” he pants, keeping her wrists pinned with one hand while the other ventures down her body, fingertips tripping over her skin until he reaches the wet, hot apex of her thighs.

He snaps his hips once, twice, thrice, changing the angle each time until the head of his cock finally brushes her g-spot, just as he slips his middle finger between her pink folds and flicks at her swollen clit. He presses down on the stiff little nub before slowly working her in tight circles, the rhythm of his finger slower than the snapping cadence of his hips as he stretches her pretty pussy with his cock.

He knows exactly what she needs like he always has. He tilts his hips to rut against her g-spot with every stroke. His finger swirls tight but tantalizingly slow against her swollen, twitching clit.

He kisses along her throat until his lips meet her chin. He moves to her mouth, sucking her lower lip between his teeth. He gives her a little nip before pressing their foreheads together. “C’mon, Lu, come all over me. Feels-- fuck, fuck-- feels so fucking good when you come on my cock.”

She can’t keep the air in her lungs. She’s panting and writhing beneath him, thrashing like a desperate caged animal. Until he settles his forehead against hers and whispers.

Maya goes rigid, crying out into his mouth, arching extraordinarily as she soaks his thick cock. Her body holds him in as it riots, orgasm reaching up through her until she’s rolling, slow and tortured, like she’s clinging to every piece of her release.

He’s not sure how he manages to make it through her rippling, overwhelming orgasm without completely falling apart himself. He kisses her through it, rolling his hips faster as he picks up speed with his finger on her twitching clit.

It’s hard to keep up with her thrashing, but he tightens his grip on her wrists and lets himself settle more of his weight atop her. She’s fucking dripping all over him, soaking his dick and his lower abdomen, along with his thighs.

He pulls back when she starts to come down, slowing his hips as his cock throbs inside of her spamming cunt. He watches her chest heave as he clenches his jaw, forcing himself still as he pants along with her.

It’s one of the longer orgasms she’s ever had. When it begins to fade, Maya blinks her wet eyes open and stares at him, so in love he must just see it all over her face. She coos and kisses his swollen lower lip.

“Your turn, honey. Come inside me. Wanna feel you so deep, baby.”

His eyes flutter shut when she kisses him, purring with a loving clenching of her pussy. He groans into her mouth, his snapping tightly, just once, before he lets himself kiss her properly.

“Gonna give you what you want, Lu, gonna—“ he cuts himself off with a moan, dropping his head down to her shoulder as he fucks her faster, hips rabbiting down and slapping her thighs.

He goes quick and shallow, can’t help but focus the head of his cock over her g-spot with every frantic stroke, the angle ingrained in his muscle memory.

Maya’s heart rate has just started to normalize when he starts stroking hard again. But she can’t help but get worked up again -- she anticipates his orgasm as much as her own, if not more.

Maya holds on, wrapping her legs around his hips as he slams them into her. With each quick thrust, he bumps up against her sensitive spot that has her grunting and squirming.

“May— Maya, shit,” he bites at her collarbone to shut himself up as his balls tighten and he finally lets go. He groans into her skin, coming deep inside of her as his hips come to a clenched stop against her wet thighs.

He sinks his teeth into her clavicle when he buries himself and comes hard, letting go inside her. She groans, low and deep, at the dual sensations. She slides a hand up to cradle the back of his head, letting him rest against her chest while he comes down. She strokes his hair and lets her clenched legs slide off until she’s limp and wholly satisfied beneath him.

“That was… god, Jesus Christ,” Maya sighs, running her pointed toes down the back of his leg as she tries to remember how to talk.

Shawn’s a little out of his head. He’s pretty sure he’s never come so hard in his life. His face is buried in her neck as he finally begins to relax, legs and hips unclenching as he collapses on top of her, settling between her thighs.

Maya’s eyes are closed as he noses at her, strokes her fiery, goosebumped skin and recovers from a truly epic orgasm. She relishes the weight of him against her, so familiar and comforting like he’s her favorite giant blanket. She scooches around beneath him until they’re both comfortable and tucked up against each other.

His chest is heaving, pressing into hers while they breathe together, basking in the warm afterglow. Shawn carefully releases Maya’s wrists and glides his fingers down the length of her body until he reaches her waist. He mouths slowly at her throat when he finally gets his breathing under control.

He doesn’t trust himself to speak yet, though, still shaken from the heat of his orgasm. He rubs the tips of his nose across her skin and paws at her sides with his needy, wandering hands.

She’s not doing much better than he is.

“You’re the most incredible woman I have ever known,” he pants into the soft skin of her neck when he decides he just can’t keep quiet. He’s lame and hyperbolic and probably too much, but an orgasm is a hell of a drug. And Maya is a hell of a woman.

His words have her eyes snapping open. She clenches her jaw and blinks quickly, trying not to gasp for breath but she’s having trouble oxygenating her brain.

After a moment or two, she speaks.

“You really always have been too good to me,” she murmurs, turning her face so her nose brushes up against his sweaty curls.

Maya’s overwhelmed. Part of her wants to spill her guts, tell him all the lovely things she’s been thinking for so long, tell him all the ways she’s missed him. The other part knows it’s not the time. Not now, not even when he’s said something so unbelievable.

He smiles into her skin. She says it like she doesn’t believe him, like he’s just nice to be nice. But he would never say something like that just to be sweet. He nudges her jaw with his nose, kisses her just beneath her chin.

“No,” he hums, kissing along her jaw lazily, “No, I’m just trying to give you what you deserve. Even if you don’t think you deserve it.”

It’s strikingly honest, but it’s true. She deserves the fucking world, and she doesn’t seem to know it.

Maya exhales sharply. She’s still getting used to this idea that he doesn’t hate her breathing guts. She’s also getting used to not hating her own breathing guts. So him laying it on this thick for no other reason than because he truly believes what he’s saying?

It’s a lot.

He breathes out after a moment, letting his head drop onto her chest.

“I know you think-- maybe you think I’m a glutton for punishment and you probably think I should hate you or something, but. I don’t. I never did. I was--” he lets out a gruff laugh, “I was fucking pissed, for a while. But I--” I always loved you, “I could never hate you. And I could never not think the sun shines out of your ass, because it does. You have, like, the best, shiniest ass.”

He rests his chin on her sternum and looks up at her, biting his lip through a sheepish smile.

He snuggles up to her chest and continues talking. She listens carefully, smirking at his comment about her ass. He props his chin up between her breasts. She plays with the curls on his forehead, twirling them around her slender fingers.

“Shawn Mendes, I think only you have a big enough heart not to hate me after what I did. I hated me. I think I’ve only recently stopped hating me. I think you’ve been part of that.”

“I don’t think you should hate yourself at all,” Shawn murmurs. He wants to kiss her, but if he kisses her, he’ll definitely blow it. He’s getting too close to ‘I love you’ with ‘I could never hate you’ as it is. Instead, he presses a gentle peck to her chest before looking back up at her.

She’s quiet for a moment or two before booping his nose with the tip of her finger. “You know, at some point, not now but maybe soon, we should talk about what it is we’re doing here.”

He wrinkles his nose, then closes his eyes at her suggestion. He only hates her a little bit for being the adult.

We’re falling in love again, right?

That’s what he wants them to be doing, even if it’s rash. Realistically, he knows that it can’t be what they’re doing. They haven’t seen each other in so long, and she has a job and a life and a completely different city to get back to. But she’s keeping the house here, so it’s not like she’ll be disappearing all over again. He could do long distance for a little, if need be, and they could learn how to love each other again.

He can’t say anything like that.

She continues toying with, bouncing the curls against his forehead like she’s a cat and he’s her ball of yarn. When he closes his eyes to think, Maya stretches back, folding an arm under her head, letting herself get even more comfortable with him. She ignores the idea that maybe that’s dangerous.

Instead, he blinks his eyes open and smiles crookedly at her. “We’re helping you relax after being so uptight in New York, obviously.”

It’s such a cop out. It’s cowardice, and he hates himself for it.

She chuckles at his answer to her question and strokes a hand through his hair from crown to neck, scratching him gently with her nails.

“You’re doing an excellent job of that,” she purrs, “I haven’t come this hard in… uhm, years.”

He closes his eyes and sighs, brushes one more sweet kiss to her chest. “We’re doing whatever you want to do, Lulu. I’m just-- I’m here. For you. However you need me.”

He kisses her chest again. She swallows sharply, her lie on her mind. He still thinks she’s leaving. He thinks at worst, she’ll be a temporary dalliance and will leave him alone again to live his life unburdened by her.

He doesn’t know what he’s getting himself into. She hasn’t let him.

She takes a deep breath, trying to free herself from the creeping guilt and gloom. She can be mature later.

Shawn loves the comfort of settling his whole weight atop her while she plays with his hair, even though it’s sweaty and like, pretty full of sawdust. He likes the familiarity of this, the comfort and warmth. He likes how she loves cradling him between her thighs, even long after they’ve both come down from their peaks.

He starts spreading kisses along the length of her sternum, down between the valley of her breasts then back up again, nipping at the soft fabric of her bralette every now and then.

“I hope you weren’t expecting any customers,” she murmurs, glancing around his work studio with a lifted eyebrow. She totally derailed his process.

He laughs, looking up at her, then around at the shop, now dark under the sparse light of dusk. He shakes his head as he looks back down at her.

“Nah,” he says with a shrug, “Most foot traffic actually happens in the morning, or right after lunch. By the end of the day it’s usually just me, obsessing over some project I don’t have to actually finish for like… weeks.”

Maya’s trying not to let herself fantasize about the idea of getting used to this. But she can see it so clearly -- installing a board rack outside. Walking up after a session to squeeze out her hair before she walks inside because he gets pissy about the saltwater on his fine hardwood floors. Riding him on the couch while the sun sets.

Yeah. Ok. The fantasy took hold. Too late.

He blinks down at her, then carefully pushes himself up onto one arm, lifting his hips from hers so he can slip out of her. He reaches down for his briefs and pulls them back up before he wiggles in between her and the back of the couch.

He pulls her into his chest, so her back his flush against his front, then reaches for the blanket over the arm of the couch and wraps them up.

Maya grunts gently when he slips out of her but he doesn’t go far, wrapping them up in a blanket on the couch. She’s so comfortable she’s a little worried about passing out right here up against him. He probably wouldn’t even mind. He’d probably be happy.

She wants to make him happy.

Maya snuggles in, tucks herself so the proportions of her body fit neatly into his. Spooning has never truly felt like spooning with anyone else, not when she fits so perfectly into him. She always rolled her eyes at the puzzle piece metaphor people like to use, but now she gets it.

She doesn’t try to wiggle away or excuse herself by pulling her panties on. She lets him move her, then cuddles back against him like a satisfied cat who wants to bask in his body heat. It’s his favorite feeling.

He sighs, presses a kiss to the back of her shoulder. “Better,” he murmurs. “Sometimes I sleep here. Like, if I lose track of time and don’t feel like walking home. This couch is really comfy.”

He’s babbling, now, like if he finds more shit to say, the longer she’ll stay.

Maya closes her eyes. “I don’t like the idea of you sleeping here all by yourself on this couch. It’s not even that comfy. Stop doing that,” she scolds with a smile.

He so busy plodding kisses along her shoulder and towards the back of her neck, that he doesn’t really care she’s fussing. He smiles into her hair as he noses the base of her scalp.

“It’s either alone here or alone at the apartment. Not much difference, Lu,” he says with a thoughtful hum. One of his hands finds her leg under the blanket, and his fingers slowly tease the curving slope of her thigh until he reaches her knee. He trails back up, then, stroking her skin until he reaches the ripple of stretch marks that bloom at her hip. He loves them. He’s familiar with each one, has spent hours tracing their path as they wrap around her body with his fingertips.

Maya lets him spoil her, dropping kisses all over her shoulders, sore from hunching over a canvas and paddling out to catch waves. She sighs at his words and goes to speak.

But his hand is so distracting.

God, his hands are so huge and yet so graceful. She just basks in the feeling of his touch after starving herself of it for so long. She hums and tries to remind herself what she was going to say to him next, before he started caressing her hip like he loves her stretch marks as much as he loves the rest of her.

“Will admit, though,” he murmurs, taking a calm breath through his nose as he presses his lips to the top of her head, his cheek cradled by his own bicep, “This couch is exponentially comfier when I have you here with me.”

He disgusts himself, sometimes. But he can’t help it. Maya brings it out in him.

Maya opens her eyes and lifts a hand to cup his jaw from behind her, stroking along the cut of it with her thumb.

“You know what I bet is comfier than this couch with me? Your bed with me,” she points out, glancing over her shoulder at him.

Shawn presses his jaw into her hand, like a dog nudging into a pet. His brows raise as he pushing himself up onto his elbow, looking down at her. She’s really on a roll with awesome ideas today. He grins.

“I dunno, Lemon,” he says, lips quirking, “You kinda steal the sheets. And sometimes you kick me when you have that soccer dream from when you were in third grade.”

He’ll take any chance he can get to remind her he knows her, knows the small details and close-kept secrets whispered between them in the dark as well as he knows the back of his hand or the chords to Back to Black by Amy Winehouse.

He drops his nose to her shoulder, kisses her gently.

“Do you really want to?” he murmurs, his voice gruff as he breathes into her skin and keeps his eyes closed. It’s a question bathed in doubt, but he can’t help it. This is the first time since she’s been in Avila where she seems truly receptive to folding herself into his life. He doesn’t want that to go away.

He’s teasing her but she can pretty much tell by the cadence of his voice that he’s stalling, a little bit in disbelief, maybe even a little nervous about letting her in that far. Or maybe he’s nervous that if he does she’ll run again.

She’s so fucking tired of running.

Maya carefully turns over and does a 180 to face him on her other side. She slings a leg over his and scooches up the couch so her face is level with his.

“If I can deal with you clinging to me like a leech in the middle of the night and talking in your sleep like a weirdo, you can deal with my occasional light kicking and hogging of sheets.”

She swings an arm around his neck and flattens her lips against his with a smile for a brief, loud kiss.

“Take me home, Mendes.”

----------

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lookninjas · 4 years

Text

So this is the piece I wrote for the last issue of FUCKIT, and I’m posting it here for a couple of reasons. A -- I always kind of wanted to and it’s mine, so I’ll do what I want. B -- As a word count case study, this is 1309 words or so, and it’s about four pages long. Which seems bad, but it also depends on how I format, what font I choose, and honestly this last issue was 32 pages and still pretty slender, so my point is don’t stress the length too much unless you’re at, like, 5,000+, in which case we’ll have to have a discussion about giving you your own little thing.

And then, C -- if anyone out there feels like what they wrote is too off-the-cuff or messy or goes into too many tangents or just isn’t formal enough or whatever:

This is what I deliberately chose to write, as the person making the zine. This is what I felt best encapsulated the feeling of FUCKIT. And honestly, even though I almost kind of cringe at some of it, I still feel that way. We are saying FUCKIT. This is the point.

So:

The problem is wanting to write the perfect thing.

The problem is wanting to write the perfect thing when your subject inherently is imperfection. The glorious messiness of life in all its bitterness, all its frustrated lashing out and bad decisions, too much and then again not enough and then too much again, petty jealous miserable misanthropic messy messy messy because at the same time I still want to somehow get it right. To be understood. To make some kind of a damn sense.

It's hard.

Of course it's hard. Every damn thing is hard.

That's not the point.

Anyway. This is a tribute to Robert Smith.

It isn't just that Trent Reznor probably said it all first, and arguably said it better. It's the problem of saying any of it without it coming off worse than it should. It is 2019 and at no point are any of us to aspire to be any less than our best selves. To live our best lives. Instagrammable soups in designer bowls we got for cheap on Amazon with free next-day delivery and I swear to God I will get to the point here soon I'm just trying to establish some context.

So.

For context: I am a forty year-old woman aging awkwardly in a world I understand less with every passing day. And I don't mean antifa, and I don't mean memes, and I don't mean this modern music or the clothes or the slang or the tattoos or the funny hair colors. I mean, mostly, contouring. Contouring and everyone's weirdly identical eyebrows. The fetishization of names like Apple. And Tesla. Mindfulness. Fucking mindfulness. And manifesting. What the fuck is manifesting and why the fuck does Alyssa Milano think that's the way for us to get the game show host out of office and for the fucking record how the fuck did the game show host wind up in office and what the fuck made the United Kingdom go "Oh, we've got one of those! Let's elect him Prime Minister!" and why the fuck does Alyssa Milano (Alyssa Milano!) think we should instead be manifesting into office a goddamn faith healer with a Course In Fucking Miracles and why the fuck am I supposed to care what Alyssa Milano (Alyssa fucking Milano!) thinks to begin with and how much of this can I blame on John Mayer because I'm fucking blaming some of it on him at least fuck you and your Waiting for the World to Change, Johnny-boy, fuck you straight to Hell --

But Robert Smith still exists, and I guess that means there's hope for us yet. A specific kind of hope.

Black-clad. Hair a graying bird's nest of tangles. Eyeliner unfashionably heavy, lipstick smeared, guitar festooned with stickers like the hatchback of my niece's hand-me-down Subaru. Bursting into tears at the end of a concert, bursting into tears in the middle of "Disintegration," bursting into tears because boys might not cry but Robert Smith goddamn does and I guess if he does, then maybe it's okay if I do too. Maybe I can go back to dying my hair black if I want to, maybe I can wear eyeliner if that's the mood of the day, maybe I can pile on jewelry or maybe not, maybe I can do what the fuck I want to because Robert Smith goddamn does and he is perfectly fine. Better than fine. Robert Smith got inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame by Trent fucking Reznor, and I get that that's never going to be my life story (I'd have to take up an instrument other than euphonium, for starters), but still.

Maybe I don't have to think about the right way to age, the right way to eat, the right way to shower or take a nap or tie my shoes. Maybe I don't have to compete against my weird imaginary Best Self living her Best Life in total wellness and inner peace, this race I can never win, this high score I can never catch up to. Maybe I can just, you know, be a fucking person. Human and strange and spiky and flawed. And it's okay. I'm okay. So are you, while we're at it. We're not okay, but you know, we still are.

Maybe this still isn't the best way to explain it.

Maybe it's the only way there is.

It's hard. All of it is hard.

That's not the point, but then again it is, too.

Look at your imaginary Best Self, living their imaginary Best Life. Looks pretty easy, doesn't it? Looks like it all just kind of happens without trying. Without smudging the makeup, without rumpling the clothes or messing up the hair. No unflattering wrinkles, no bulges distorting the line of the dress. Simple and clean.

Now look at Robert Smith. Rumpled, messy hair, smeared lipstick, thick black eyeliner. Living his life, his only fucking life, and tell me it's not a hell of a life? It sure as fuck is. Married to the girl he fell for as a teenager, still in a band with his best friend, still in the Cure after over 40 years of it, playing festivals, recording music, maybe even releasing it someday (we kid because we love, Robert). No one could accuse him of making it look easy; looking back, it sometimes seems a hell of a lot harder than it should've been. But you know, he fucking got there. On his own terms, in his own inimitable style, he got there.

Doesn't it all kind of make the whole Perfection Quest seem kind of pointless? A distraction at best, a modern-day Soma at worst? I'm not saying don't do what makes you happy, just -- do what makes you happy, not what you think will make you happy at some point in some future where you've finally got your shit together. Where you've completed every quest, beaten every boss, finished every level. Because we don't. Or I don't think we do. I don't think we get our shit together. I don't think we ever feel adult, or mature, or ready. I don't think it ever gets easy.

I don't think you ever say it the way you mean to.

I don't think that's the point.

The point is that, sometime over the summer, YouTube suggested I watch a video of the Cure performing at Glastonbury, and I did, and it hasn't been the same since then. Or rather, it's been more the same than it ever has. Or both at once. Or neither. It's hard to say. A lot of things are.

The point is that it helped.

The point is that it's still hard, and it's always going to be hard, and that doesn't really matter and then at the same time it absolutely does.

The point is, go listen to "Fight" if you need to. Go listen to "Faith" if you need to. Go listen to "Friday I'm in Love" if you need to.

Wear black or don't. Smear your lipstick or fill it in perfect with a brush or don't wear any. Listen to the Cure. Listen to Lizzo. Listen to the birds or the river or the wind howling against the windows or top fucking 40 radio. Be as clean as you want, be as messy as you need to, be the you that is you right now and not any other imaginary you because that you doesn't exist and it never will. Live the life that you are living right now because that's the only life you get and it might be the worst sometimes but at the same time it is still the best. It is the only.

Write something, even if it's not as perfect as it ought to be.

And fuck the point, anyway.

#fuckit #robert smith #kind of #fuck it it's sort of about him it counts #also i really do stand by this all 900%#FUCKIT: the zine

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shes-soparticular · 5 years

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I adore you for all of the music references in your fics. Do you have a playlist?

I adore you for noticing and asking this question! Like mostwriters, I rely on music BIG TIME for inspiration. I don’t have any playlistscreated, but here’s a little masterlist of songs I’ve referred to in my writingthat usually play some kind of role. Warning, it ended up way longer than Irealized lol

Darling, So it Goes“Can’t Help Falling in Love” by Elvis Presley – Okay, don’t we ALL fantasizeabout Shawn singing this song to us acapella? That old clip of him singing it?Kill me. The title of this one-shot comes from that song as well, of course.

Take Me Back to theStart“The Scientist” by Coldplay – I think this would be Shawn’s go-to breakup song,the one he’d play on repeat to try to process his feelings. Which is exactly whatI had him do when he and Alex hit the rocks. Naturally, that’s where the titlecomes from as well.

Every Little Part ofMe is Holding on to Every Little Piece of You

“End of the Road” by Boyz II Men – Just as The Scientist isShawn’s go-to heartache song, Alex’s is End of the Road. Her mantra is “if thelove don’t feel like 90s R&B, I don’t want it”. Also, I have to admit I kindof stole this from my OG crush Seth Cohen, as that was his “play on repeat”breakup song.

“Water Runs Dry” by Boyz II Men – Alex’s backup song to cryto, which is playing when Shawn shows up.

“I’ll Make Love to You” by Boyz II Men – Sensing a theme? Luckily,Boyz II Men is there for you both in times of sadness and times of makeup sex. Andas Shawn knows, Alex cannot resist a slow jam.

“Tough” by Lewis Capaldi – I took the title from the lyricsof this song. Lewis Capaldi is one of my favorite artists to listen to forangst/fluff inspiration.

Wouldn’t Fall forSomeone I Thought Couldn’t Misbehave

“Nobody” by Hozier – This one-shot is all about Shawn’sjealousy over her fangirling for Hozier. So it was a no-brainer to choose aHozier lyric as the title, which comes from this song.

“Movement” by Hozier – I don’t call this song out by name,but it’s the one I imagine her teasing him to in the car. It’s just a hell of asultry song and would have definitely driven Shawn even further up the wall.

Put in Work

“All Mine” by Kanye West – As we ALL know by this point, Kanyeis Shawn’s go-to gym music. When it comes to a one-shot that’s literallyuncalled for fantasy gym smut, what song would have been more fitting? Yeah, you supermodel thick, damn, that assbustin’ out the bottom, I'ma lose my mind in it. Definitely the wordspounding through Shawn’s airpods while watching Alex on the stair climber.

Bonus: “Skin” by Rihanna – Alex is a freak too, let’s bereal. Although I didn’t mention it in the fic, her gym play list is 100% heavyon Rihanna. This is the song that ends up on repeat anytime she watches Shawnlifting.

Might Just Be MyEverything and Beyond

“What’s Your Fantasy” by Ludacris ft Shawna – If you’re alate 90s baby and don’t know this song? You won’t understand how ridiculous itis that it’s Alex’s go-to karaoke song.

“Beyond” by Leon Bridges – For one, this is an altogetherbeautiful song. I listened to the acoustic version non-stop while writing thisone-shot and thus it’s where the title comes from. Just the kind of fluffyboyfriend vibes I imagined Shawn feeling waiting for his girl to come home.

“Lost in Japan – Remix” – Okay, ya’ll know this one. But I’mmentioning it anyways since it pops up in the insta story of Alex jamming outto it pool side, a proud girlfriend hyped for her man.

Slow Burn

“There’s No Way” by Lauv ft Julia Michaels – This songinspired the entire fic, tbh. It’s the definition of a Slow Burn song.

“American Girl” by Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers – Only mentionedin passing, but Shawn and co realize at some point early in the European legthat if you play this song? Alex loses her fucking shit. Even if she’s having abad time, cranky, pissy, argumentative, what have you – this song gets her to shoutalong and dance like the happiest little bean on earth. So it becomes a runninggag for them to play it whenever possible, just to watch the only American chickin the bar go nuts.

“Free Fallin’” by Top Petty and the Heartbreakers (but alsohave the live John Mayer cover in mind) – As slightly established in the firstchapter, Alex is a huge Petty fan. In chapter six, this is the song Shawn isattempting to teach her on the guitar. The one she’s too impatient to learn andmakes him just play for her instead.

“Feels Great” – Cheat Codes ft Fetty Wap & CVBZ – I couldn’tthink of a better song for the “young crew” to be listening to during a heated pre-showping pong game in the green room. It’s just a fun fucking song about beingyoung. That’s all.

“Outta My Head” by Khalid ft John Mayer – This is the songAlex is mumbling in the elevator before everything…intensifies. No deep reason here, I just bet they’ve all beenlistening to Khalid’s new album a ton and that song is a bop. Oh, and I GUESSthe lyrics are kind of fitting…. Can youfeel the tension? You’ve got my attention, I know we’re just friends but I’drather be together.

“Power Over Me” by Dermot Kennedy – These are the lyrics Iuse in the opening of the second chapter and a song that definitely inspired my interms of Shawn’s feelings for Alex. Especially early on, when everything isstill completely unspoken. Honestly, Dermot’s music has inspired me A LOT whilewriting this fic, so check him out if you’re not familiar.

“Uh Huh” by Julia Michaels – First off, Julia is a QUEEN. Hervibe is something I picture for Alex so I listen to Julia a lot particularlywhen writing more deeply from Alex’s point of view. Hence using it as theopening lyrics for chapter three. This is definitely a song that demonstrateshow Alex’s mind and body are at odds over her feelings for Shawn.

“Lost” by Dermot Kennedy – Again, on a constant Dermot kick.His lyrics are so poetic and it’s impossible not to take inspiration from him.I used his lyrics to open chapter four and I think they perfectly describe theatmosphere of that night in Krakow. I particularly love the lyric “since thatnight the moon has never looked the same” which I think perfectly puts the wayShawn and Alex both feel after that turning point of a night, dancing oncobblestone streets in the moonlight. Yep. Lost in feels again.

“Can I Be Him” by James Arthur – The perfect song about aguy falling for a girl that’s already attached. Because using TYB would havebeen to on the nose, haha.

“Peer Pressure” by James Bay ft Julia Michaels – If you’veread chapter six, it’s pretty obvious why I used these lyrics to start itoff. Generally, it’s another song I’ve listened to a lot while writing Slow Burn.It seems fitting for two people that are used to being in control of themselvesand their emotions but losing that control and giving into one another.

Look How They ShineFor You (Slow Burn Bonus)

“Yellow” by Coldplay – This song is a HUGE part of this littleblurb and I highly recommend listening to it while you read that one. It’sbeautiful as a piano cover and if you’ve ever heard the Vitamin String Quartetversion??? Jesus. Let’s just say that’s going to be the song Alex walks downthe aisle to someday. Now I’m all in my feels.

BONUS: Current Songson Repeat While I Write

Pretty much all of Lizzo’s “Cuz I Love You” album. It puts me in a kickass mood. That’s all.

“Falling like the Stars” by James Arthur – It’s just a sweetsong that makes me want to write Shawn and Alex all loved up.

“Wilderness” by Jon Bryant – See above. A song that makes mea soft little puddle of inspo.

“Can I be Honest?” by Anatu ft Zubi – I don’t know how Istumbled across this song but it’s fucking fantastic and you should listen toit.

“Night Moves” by Bob Seger – Alex is a classic rock junkie,if she could time travel she’d head straight back to the 70s (possibly the 60sso she could live through both decades). That’s her entire aesthetic, honestly.This is the type of song she puts on to dance around her hotel room while Shawnbegs her to hurry up and get ready to leave.

“Drive” by The Cars – Honestly, this is just a personalfavorite of mine because there’s something so 80s RomCom about being drivenhome by a guy you have romantical tension with. Maybe it just very, veryspecifically relates to my high school experience. A song that puts me in a starry-eyed,butterflies in the stomach type of writing mood.

#slow burn fic #shawn mendes fic #music masterlist #shawn mendes imagine

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sportsnightnut · 5 years

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double chocolate muffins and cigarettes

My Valentine’s Day Fic Exchange entry for Charnette (ScullyLovesQueequeg on AO3). A little angst, a little unrequited love, and not a lot of fluff, per her request. :)

Nicole ( @gaycrouton), thank you so much for setting up these fic exchanges. They are delightful and fun and I love this so much. <3

the you I miss does not exist, but I’ve never wanted anybody more than this -john mayer

It’s 5:53 on Thursday morning, and Dana Scully’s first thought is that she really, really, really wants a cigarette.

Her alarm isn’t supposed to go off for another seven minutes. She could’ve had seven more glorious, unconscious minutes where she wasn’t awake and she wasn’t thinking about him or it or anything . But her internal clock decided that wasn’t necessary, so now she’s here, awake, staring at the ceiling and contemplating which expletives best fit her mood this morning.

Scully throws the covers off, sliding off the bed and right into her slippers. She pads out to the living room and turns on the television, which is still on The Weather Channel from yesterday morning. She throws the remote unceremoniously on the couch and makes her way to the kitchen.

While she starts the coffee, she listens for the infamous “Local on the 8s” segment to advise her on what to wear today. For the end of February in Washington, it’s been unseasonably, and somewhat obnoxiously, warm. As she suspected, high of 51 today, which is practically balmy after last week’s snow showers and highs in the low 20s. Her sinuses are furious.

Scully’s shower this morning is quick, partially because she doesn’t care that much today, and partially because there’s been a lack of hot water in the building lately. She’s not about to risk an extra five minutes just in case it turns to ice

Black suit, white shirt, black heels, a swipe of lipstick, and she’s out the door at 7:06.

She doesn’t feel like driving today, so she takes the Metro, Yellow line to the Archives station. There’s a bakery she likes about a block in the opposite direction of work, and since it’s the kind of morning that calls for a muffin the size of her face, Scully stops there first before ducking into the pharmacy next door to grab a pack of cigarettes and a lighter.

She smokes two on the walk back. At first, it burns her throat and her lungs, but then she decides she kind of likes the feeling, so she finishes the first and shakes out a second. Scully finds an odd sense of pleasure in grinding a cigarette butt into the concrete sidewalk, something she would normally find repulsive.

When she steps off the elevator and into the office (their office? his office?), she’s surprised to find that Mulder is already there, digging through a file cabinet. He turns around when he hears her open the door.

“Eight o’clock on the dot, Agent Scully,” Mulder remarks with a smile, the kind Scully can’t decide if she loves or hates because she can’t decide if it’s endearing or annoying. This morning, in particular, it feels annoying.

“Mmm,” she replies as she hangs her coat. Since he isn’t currently at the desk, Scully decides it’s hers for the moment and takes a seat, tearing open the paper bag to reveal the double chocolate muffin inside. She takes a bite, wiping the crumbs off her skirt onto the floor, before she reaches for her travel mug of coffee and takes a drink.

“Are you okay?” Mulder asks, and it’s this, this question, this seemingly innocent yet not so innocent question that causes Dana Scully to snap.

And she’s not sure if it’s because he asked it or if it’s how he asked it or why he asked it, but if she were asked to detail everything leading up to this moment that led her to react the way she did, here is what she would tell you:

One: she’s been surrounded by alpha male figures her entire life, the most notable being her father. Captain William Scully. Sometimes she wonders what it might’ve been like to grow up away from the military, away from the structure, the rigidity, the “you’ll do what you’re ordered to do” culture that dictated their family. What would it’ve been like to have a more benevolent father? Would it have made any difference? For her? For her brothers? For Maggie?

When she’d asked Maggie whether or not he was proud of her, all Maggie had said was: “He was your father.”

What was that supposed to mean? Was it just assumed that he was proud of her? As much as Scully doesn’t want to admit it, she was desperate for his approval, and she really needed to hear it from him. But now he’s gone, and she can’t ask that of a dead man.

Two : Sometimes it is really fucking exhausting to be a woman in a male-dominated field in a male-dominated organization in a male-dominated government in a male-dominated society. Could Dana Scully run circles around half the men in the FBI? Absolutely. Is she a better shot than half the men in the FBI? Absolutely. But does she also have to prove herself every day, far more than any of the men she works with ever have?

Absolutely.

Three: Maggie cannot seem to stop pestering her about “settling down,” especially now that she’s gasp turned thirty.

They had dinner for her birthday last Sunday; a nice, quiet, mother and daughter meal. Scully ordered a fancy salad with grilled salmon and an expensive glass of pinot grigio, and almost as soon as her fork pierced those first bites of lettuce, Maggie said “So, Dana…” and Scully tried so desperately not to roll her eyes because she knew exactly where Maggie was headed.

Maggie means well. Scully knows that she means well. It’s just that if Scully hadn’t already been slightly self-conscious about celebrating her thirtieth birthday by having dinner with her mother, she was as soon as those two words left Maggie’s lips.

Scully is a doctor. A board-certified physician who is also a badass, gun-wielding Special Agent for the FB-fucking-I and all she can think about right now is the fact that she isn’t married and she’s having her thirtieth birthday dinner with her mother.

Four: Speaking of that whole doctor thing.

Scully knew early on in life that she wanted to be a doctor. Heavily influenced by her parents, of course, though she felt she’d come to the decision on her own. She loved science and logic, and she also felt called to serve others; practicing medicine was the perfect blend of two things she truly loved.

And sometimes Scully would daydream about becoming a doctor; getting that white coat, making rounds in the hospital. Maybe specializing in surgery, maybe pediatrics, maybe pediatric surgery. And she’d meet a handsome fellow physician, and they’d be an absolutely adorable couple, eating lunch together in the cafeteria and consulting on each other’s cases.

Now she’s found herself in the basement of the Hoover building, daydreaming instead about the man sitting just feet from her. He’s not a doctor, no, but he’s incredibly well-educated in his own right, having attended Oxford and graduated with honors from the academy.

But that’s just it: all she’s done so far is daydream.

Five : Speaking of Mulder.

Sometimes he’s irritating. Really irritating. For a few different reasons, of course, one being the fact that he is obnoxiously tall. All six feet of him towering over her five-foot-three frame. Mulder likes to stand behind her, often when she’s performing autopsies. He’d tell you it’s because he finds it--and her--fascinating. Scully doesn’t know that, so it feels alot like he’s watching her every move, waiting for something that’ll prove he’s right and she’s wrong.

And Mulder can also be a bit of a condescending asshole.

But here’s the thing: he’s also really, really attractive. And really, really smart. And did she mention attractive?

Six: Scully finds herself coming to Mulder’s defense more often than not.

They’re not dating or in any kind of relationship other than “work partners,” yet Scully finds herself defending him and/or having to defend him. Regularly. To their colleagues, to Skinner, to random strangers who don’t know him. And having to do this all the damn time is starting to get irritating.

It’s not only because she’s tired of defending him. She’s also tired of other people not understanding Mulder; not knowing her partner well enough to see how intelligent he is and that really, he doesn’t need her to defend him. Sometimes people will listen to her more than they’ll listen to Mulder because she’s the logical, rational one, without stopping to consider that Mulder might actually have a point. Playing the role of defender is, quite honestly, wearing on her.

Seven: Scully has made some hints, both subtle and not-so-subtle, that she likes Mulder as more than a work partner.

But he’s either an idiot or he’s missed every single one of them.

Does she really need to stand so close to him? No.

Does she need to purposely touch his hand every time he passes over a file or gives her a pen? No.

Does she need to sit on the bed in his hotel room and pass takeout containers back and forth while they compare notes and work on their reports? No.

Does she need to linger even after they’ve finished their work and talk with him late into the night? Definitely not.

Does she need to wear that one suit she knows he really likes because she’s seen him look at her appreciatively in it several times? No.

Although she’d be lying if she said she didn’t do it on purpose and that she didn’t enjoy the butterflies-in-her-stomach feeling that accompanied Mulder’s appreciative (but not creepy) gaze.

Eight: Scully got stood up last night. On her birthday.

She shouldn’t have planned a date on her birthday. She knows better. It’s just that she was supposed to go on a date with this guy named Peter and he said he was available on Wednesday, so she agreed, deciding not to tell him it was her birthday.

He’d chosen an Irish pub for their date, which was a little out of Scully’s first date (and overall) comfort zone, but she decided to give it a go anyway. Why the hell not. Except, of course, for the part where Peter never showed up and never called to explain why.

So Scully sat at the bar, alone, with a few pints of beer and something called Irish Nachos to keep her company. She decided that if she was going to be stood up, she may as well make the most of it with a plate of waffle fries covered in cheese.

Along with the fact that she was stood up last night, she’s also thinking about the fact that yet another Valentine’s day has passed without a man. Without a partner, a significant other, someone to buy her a cheesy card and a box of chocolate and maybe some flowers.

She hates that she wants these things.

Eight point one : Cheap beer and cigarettes.

The cheap Irish beer was good last night. It was appropriate for the situation. It wasn’t a glass of “I’m on a date” red wine. It was three or so pints of “I don’t give a fuck” beer.

And something about this cheap beer made her crave cigarettes for the first time in over a decade. She knows they’re terrible for her and she shouldn’t want them, but she’s been frustrated out of her goddamn mind and they just sounded good.

She used to sneak cigarettes as a teenager, simultaneously exhilarated that she was breaking the rules while being terrified that her father was going to find out. It was rebellious, and it was wrong. It’s still wrong, both because smoking is terrible for you and because Dana Katherine Scully is a rule follower.

But she’s tired of following the rules. Tired of worrying about what’s good for her or bad for her. She just wants to do something without considering the consequences.

Which leads her to buy that giant double chocolate muffin, that pack of cigarettes, and that lighter.

Nine: Scully wishes, more than she would ever admit, that Mulder would just ask her out already.

She sees the way he looks at her. She knows the way she looks at him.

She’s mad about this, too, though. It’s adhering to these typical gender roles and procedures of “guy asks girl out.”

It’s 1994, damn it. She could ask him out if she wanted to, you know? Just walk into the office and say “Mulder, would you like to go to dinner with me?” And he’d say yes, and that would be the end of that. The end of that frustration and tension and that “will they won’t they” dance they keep doing around each other.

Ten: Scully doesn’t say that last part.

Instead, she says this: “Fuck off, Mulder.”

Mulder blinks several times, very slowly, as if he can’t process the words that have just come out of his partner’s mouth.

“I…” he starts, but doesn’t know what to say. Because he doesn’t know what he’s done. Because all he’s really guilty of is being hot and brilliant and really fucking distracting . Because he has nothing and everything to do with the nine other reasons she’s exhausted and frustrated and smells faintly of cigarette smoke.

Scully thinks maybe she should apologize, except she wouldn’t know where to begin. She’d have to go through all ten point one steps of everything leading up to her telling Mulder to fuck off. So she doesn’t. She takes a bite of her muffin and says nothing.

“I’m sorry,” Mulder says. “I didn’t...I didn’t mean…” he trails off. He’s apologizing and doesn’t know what he’s apologizing for.

Scully sighs. “Yeah. Me too. It’s fine. Let’s get to work, okay?”

It’ll be a long, long while--years, in fact--before Mulder finally understands what all of this was about.

#xf fic #my fic #early seasons unrequited love #sportsnightnut

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thetaylorfiles · 4 years

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I honestly think the reason Taylor was so hurt over John was because she was such a huge fan and admired him so much. They seemed to have gotten very close and John talked very sweetly about Taylor before it went to hell. He then went on to make little unflattering comments about her over the years whereas most of her exes just kept their mouths shut. Idk about being abusive, but rather it was not an ideal situation for Taylor to have CHOSEN to go into. John was a player, Taylor naive.

This sounds like a highly plausible explanation. And from all I’ve heard about Mayer, from tabloids and from friends (one of whom dated/hooked up with him) he could be a real dick. Super, super charming and soft and makes you feel very special and is good to you and great in bed and all that. But then can turn on a dime, no warning, and treat you either badly or just with such indifference that you’re totally blindsided in the worst way possible questioning everything you thought you knew to be true about your relationship with him.

I knew guys like that. And I have dated a couple. They knock you flat on your ass with how uniquely and unexpectedly they hurt you.

Anyway, we’ll most likely never know how their relationship went. And Taylor may, at some point, explain that it was more than just dick behavior. Maybe she will say it was abusive. I’m not ruling that out. I’m just not condemning someone with a very serious, very awful title based on the lyrics of a song. I’ve seen abuse, I’ve been abused (not physically). I think a lot of us have, sadly. And it’s not something to accuse someone of lightly. It’s a very specific treatment of another human being that we should condemn and shame. It’s not simply bad behavior. It’s much, much worse.

Anyway, thank you for your take. I wasn’t a Taylor fan back then so I appreciate hearing from you.

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shawnsruins · 5 years

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take action | pt. 1

THIS WAS PREVIOUSLY NAMED “do something about it”

whats up ladies im back with pt 1 of a series (ion know how long it’ll be yet but lmk if you wanna be added to the taglist!)

summary: shawn’s a little too late and you’re a little too tired, but maybe it’s not too late for things to change?

“She has a what?”

Geoff sighs exasperatedly at his friend, who’s eyes look like they’re about to burst out of his head.

“A boyfriend, Shawn. She has a boyfriend.”

The poor boy looks like he’s run a marathon, his hair unruly from the countless amount of times he’s ran his fingers through them. His usually rosy cheeks are noticeably more flushed, although Geoff can’t tell if it’s from anger or stress. Both would be a safe bet, he thinks.

Honestly, he wasn’t that surprised when Y/N casually mentioned a new boyfriend during their little catch up a few days ago. She and Shawn had history for sure, if you could even call it that. It wasn’t exactly a friends with benefits situation—no, it was more a “I’m not ready to commit but I want love” kinda thing. At least on Shawn’s end. Geoff was certain that Y/N was ready ages ago, but Shawn just never bothered to go beyond whatever strange relationship they had.

“No, no, you’ve gotta be fuckin’ kidding. I swear to god, Geoff, if you’re messing with me...”

Geoff meets his gaze sympathetically, “You guys were never even officially together, were you? The poor girl probably got tired of waiting around.”

Shawn glares at his friend, huffing, “No, but I thought we both knew, you know? You don’t see me going out with random girls!”

“Maybe you should’ve done something about it to make sure she would continue not seeing other guys. It’s really your fault if you think about it,” Geoff points out. He’s being a little harsh, he knows, but it’s what Shawn needs to hear. He’s in deep, but he’s got absolutely no clue what to do with himself. Shawn doesn’t respond to his observation, however, instead opting to chew on his lip and sulk in silence.

“What are you scared of? Commitment?” He probes. Shawn looks up at him frustratedly, eyes tired.

“No, it’s not-it’s not that!”

“Then what?”

“…I don’t know,” Shawn admits, voice low. Geoff feels bad for his friend, he really does, but he can’t help but sigh. There’s nothing he can do if Shawn wasn’t even ready to accept that he needed to figure out his own problems before confronting Y/N about…whatever it was between them. He licks his lips, choosing his words carefully before he speaks.

“Why don’t you ask yourself what it is, then? Figure it out, understand why it never worked out. Then maybe you can sit down and talk to her about it,” he offers. Shawn meets his gaze resignedly and he nods slowly. Geoff stands and pats him on the back, checking his pockets for his phone and keys, “I’ll leave you to it, then.”

Shawn isn’t sure what it is about her that’s gotten him so hooked. She’s pretty, yes, but she’s not the model type that he so often finds himself surrounded by. Regardless, he finds her beautiful in a different kind of way that was just so uniquely her, and it draws him in in a way that he just can’t seem to escape. It isn’t just her looks that he finds attractive, though—he isn’t that shallow, his parents raised him better—but who she is. They just click together so well, balancing each other out where one runs a little short and the other has a little too much. (That’s what couples are like, right? They match each other.) He supposes it’s only fitting that he’d want someone like her so bad; no one understands him quite as well as she does and there was certainly no one else that had been there for him through thick and thin. She had seen both the worst and best parts of him (and he can say for sure that the worst parts were truly bad), just as he had seen the best and worst parts of her (he can’t quite say the same for her, but maybe he’s just biased?). Sure, sometimes they argue because she’s just a bit too closed off and he’s just a bit too angry, but he honestly wouldn’t change a damn thing.

Well, maybe not a damn thing except for the fact that she was dating someone who wasn’t him.

Shawn groans in annoyance, tugging at the roots of his hair for what must’ve been the umpteenth time in the past hour. Ever since Geoff left he’s been sitting and thinking, just like he told him to. ‘Figure it out,’ right? Sounded simple, but with his luck, it turned out to be just that much harder. He thought it’d be easy for him to sort out his feelings; for someone who so often wore their heart on their sleeve he didn’t think there would be so many conflicting thoughts bouncing around inside his head. At this point, he can’t even distract himself with anything. He’s tried writing, he’s tried picking at his guitar, and he’s even tried stress baking (ironically, that was an idea he got from Y/N, so he figures there’s really no point in trying to avoid thinking about her since it’s clearly not working out), despite knowing that he can’t bake. At all.

So here he is, moping around by himself in his dirty kitchen with a disaster that could barely pass as a meager attempt at sugar cookies. He’d say the silence was suffocating, but truthfully, he just wants his brain to shut up because his thoughts are getting too damn loud.

“I need to get a fucking grip,” he mutters.

Decidedly done with sulking in his condo, Shawn brushes off as much flour as he can from his clothes and hair before grabbing his keys and making his way outside. Thankfully there don’t seem to be any stalker fans waiting for him today (He still didn’t understand—how did they even know where he lived? And didn’t they have better things to do than camp out just so they could jump him? It gives him the creeps just thinking about it). Starting up his jeep, he begins the short drive to that little cafe he always seemed to frequent. Caffeine probably wasn’t going to help his situation at all, but he needs to be somewhere that’s not his apartment.

He rolls the window down a little, the cool breeze a welcome change. Shawn loves tour life, really, but there’s just some things about being home that can’t beat tour life. He absolutely adores driving, and that’s something that he just can’t do on tour. But at home? No one gets to drive his jeep except him, and he’d be damned if he didn’t drive everywhere. Relaxed, he hums along to the radio, John Mayer blasting through the speakers at nearly full volume. Soon enough, the recognizable sign falls into view. The spot he always manages to park in is empty as usual, and he’s glad that something seems to be going his way, at least. Unfortunately, Shawn finds that he’s a little quick to say anything, given that he nearly does a double take when he sees someone he’s a little too familiar with inside the cafe.

There’s a girl inside that’s undoubtedly Y/N, except she’s not alone. The other guy—the other guy looks familiar too, although he can’t quite place it. Wait…

“Nathan?” he says aloud, confusion lacing his tone. For a second he completely blanks out, not even believing what he’s seeing. There’s no way, he thinks, no way in hell this was happening. He’s sure his expression is nothing short of comical at the moment, but he’s just so fucking perplexed. Was it really Nathan, as in Nathan from high school? The very same Nathan that had a fling with Y/N before moving away to Vancouver? All the way across the fucking country? Shawn rubs his eyes a little harder than he should’ve, in hopes that he was mistaken and Y/N really wasn’t with her high school sweetheart (Did it even count if it only lasted a month?). He really, really hopes that he saw something else. But no, when he opens his eyes and squints through the window into the small shop, there she is, with Nathan fucking Sawyer.

He’s quick to park his car, not even bothering to pay the meter. Stumbling hurriedly out and pushing the door to the cafe open a little harsher than necessary, the ringing from the bell atop the door seems to stop him in his tracks. Luckily, the patrons inside don’t bother paying attention to his strange entrance, which he’s grateful for. The one person Shawn cares about does look up to meet his gaze, however, and he catches himself smiling and walking towards her before he even realizes what he’s doing.

“Shawn?”

“Hey,” he greets, a grin on his face. Her eyes are bright and surprised, and he’s relieved that there doesn’t seem to be any animosity lingering in them. He holds his arms open for a hug, which she readily accepts. She feels right in his arms, he thinks, and he tightens his grip just a little. The hug lasts a bit longer than what any two, 100% platonic friends should share; fitting, since he knows that they’re far from just a platonic relationship. A cough interrupts their little moment, however, and Y/N is quick to pull away after that. Shawn’s eyes shoot up to the culprit, who, as he dreaded, is indeed who he thought he was. He plasters a fake smile on his face, not wanting to appear rude for no apparent reason.

“Oh, Shawn, you remember Nate right? From-“

“From high school, yeah I remember,” he cuts in. Y/N furrows her brows and gives him a weird look, but doesn’t say anything about his strange behavior. Nathan on the other hand doesn’t even seem to notice, and instead offers a brief smile.

“Hey man, what’s up? You’re like, famous and all now aren’t you?”

Shawn shrugs, though his shoulders are tense, “Yeah, I guess you could say that.” There’s something about Nathan that just pisses him off, even though he hasn’t even done anything outright (Deep down he knows it’s because he’s here with Y/N and he’s not, but he pushes that thought aside because it’s easier to pretend it’s not the case).

“Never woulda thought you’d turn out like this. The Shawn Mendes, huh?”

Shawn only shoots him a tight lipped smile, the other boy completely oblivious to his hostility towards him. Granted, Shawn’s passive aggressive response is uncalled for, but nonetheless his not so subtle body language seems to fly over Nathan’s head. The same cannot be said for Y/N, however, who knows Shawn like the back of her hand and is quick to try to defuse the situation.

“So, what’re you doing here?” She questions, inserting herself into the conversation, “Are you on break?”

“Yeah, I’m back for two weeks. I don’t wanna talk about me, though. How are you? Anything…new going on?” Shawn raises a brow at the end, almost as if he was daring her to deny that she and Nathan were back together. Y/N eyes him curiously for a moment before tilting her head and grabbing Nathan’s hand, their fingers interlacing. Shawn can feel the jealousy pool in his stomach, his heart dropping. The tips of his ears burn in an unfamiliar mix of embarrassment and anger—a combination he finds he does not like. There was a small part of him that had so desperately clung onto the notion that maybe Nathan just happened to be in town and they were catching up as friends, but clearly that was not the case.

“Nate moved back to Toronto recently and we decided to catch up. See if that old spark is still there, y’know?”

Her reply is innocent enough that he can’t find it in himself to be angry at her specifically, but the very idea of Y/N dating someone that wasn’t him—especially Nathan of all people—leaves a sour taste in his mouth. He thinks back to what Geoff told him earlier, about how he should’ve “done something about it” and that “it was his fault.” He was right, it was his own fault and he should’ve done something.

And Shawn knows, that at this point it’s really not his place to interfere. It’s really, really not his place to do anything. A part of him is screaming, telling him that if he does something it’ll just end up fucking over any remaining chances he had with Y/N. That it’s one hundred percent the absolute shittiest move he could pull on anyone, much less the girl he holds so close to his heart. But the larger, irrational, angry, jealous monster that is the rest of him has been whispering in his head nonstop ever since Geoff broke the news, and it just won’t shut up no matter how hard he tries to quell it.

And of course Shawn knows that he should listen to that rational voice, the one shouting at him from the recesses of his mind to just back off, to just deal with it and suck it up. But right now, in the moment, he can’t help but listen to the voice hissing, “take the goddamn shot, coward.”

So he takes it.

“Yeah,” Shawn narrows his eyes, gaze burning into their intertwined hands, “I get what you mean.”

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