#actap

[nat-roman0ff]

iv. sex & candy, among other things

 series of blurbs // a certain time and place (read full series in my masterlist!)

 iv. sex & candy, among other things

the one where they almost say ‘i love you’.

wc: 3,214

warnings: cursing (but in a good way), smut (see title), & melted chocolate (gross).

---

She always does this, thing. Despite however many times he’s seen her naked (which Shawn counts at about 285 at this point) she still hides herself. He isn’t sure if it’s like, a confidence thing. Because he’s pretty sure she’s the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen. And not in that, facetune Instagram kind of way either. She doesn’t obsess over her hair or having the perfect winged eyeliner. She’s beautiful in the way her face lights up when she sees someone walking their dog, or seeing a cute baby despite absolutely hating children, or when she’s reaching for his belt (okay that last one was a bit of a stretch, but they’re both naked and who are we kidding, he’s hoping round two will happen once she wakes up). 

 Shawn begins by tracing her shoulder; he’s basically obsessed with the way that her skin prickles when he touches her, even when she’s asleep. His cheeks heat up when he reaches her neck, his fingers trailing over the purple marks from the night before. He’s sure he’s got a few on him as well. Neither of them had been exactly gentle last night. 

 “Stop doing that, it makes my nips get all hard,” she says, not bothering to open her eyes as a chill shivers down her spine. 

She feels the breath of Shawn’s laugh graze her neck, “maybe that was my intention,” he smirks, she can feel it against her skin when he kisses her there.

 She rolls closer to face him, “you’re gross,” she says, poking at the divet in his cheek.

 “You seem to like me enough.” 

 Her eyes roll, “only sometimes.” 

 Shawn cuts her off by giving her a kiss. It’s soft but so goddamn yearning, as if he hadn’t gone to town on her for hours and hours just a short time ago. It doesn’t take long for his mouth to open and their tongues to mingle. She hitches her leg over his hip and rolls him onto his back, straddling him. She breaks the kiss and sits back, allowing him to take in her full bare upper torso, her bottom half covered only by a tiny pair of lace underwear that sits dangerously low on her hips. 

 He resists the urge to fucking rip them off of her.

 She blushes while his hands take inventory of her body, starting at their resting point on her hips and moving slowly up her sides and back, moving to the front to give her breasts a firm squeeze then roaming the front of her soft stomach. She won’t make eye contact and he notices. Her hands do this weird thing where he can’t tell if she’s trying to stifle a cough or hide her face. She lets him see all of her but she won’t watch. 

 Shawn notices and he hates it. It’s the thing. He grabs the side of her face firmly and forces her to look at him.

 “Do you not feel good about yourself?” Shawn asks while the fingers of his free hand ghost her hip. 

 She scoffs, pushing away his hand from her face, “why would you fucking ask me that?”

 “You don’t have to be perfect,” He starts, and he already hates what he’s saying, “not that I think you aren’t or are. Fuck, this is all coming out so wrong,” he pulls at his curls “I’m just trying to say that if you’re insecure that’s okay. I’m not here to fix that but I want to know why and I want you to want to feel better about yourself. Regardless of what me or anyone else says or how we feel about you.” 

 She wasn’t insecure about her body - at least, not insecure more than the average girl. She had her bad hair days, or the zit from Hell that just doesn’t go away but she rarely felt unhappy with her looks. And she supposes she’s a very lucky person in that sense. She understood that her body was hers and hers alone, a vessel that gets you up and puts you down to sleep every day. That not all of them looked the same and she was never going to be the flawless model on the cover pages of the magazines she stole from her mother’s nightstand as a girl. She understood that her curves were her own, that her stomach rolled when she sat down and that was okay. It didn’t make her any more or less of a woman. 

 What she was insecure about were her feelings for Shawn. She knew if she had to watch the look in his eyes every time his hands covered her body in the most delicious way that she would absolutely lose it. Probably cry a little, scream, even. The two of them were so caught up in this not being a thing that it became a thing and the lack of answers and knowledge about the future was beginning to drive her batshit crazy.

 He looks for answers in her eyes but she won’t look at him. He’s thankful they’re in her bed instead of his, it’s smaller, so it forces them closer together when they cuddle at night. In fact, he can’t really remember the last time he spent a night in his own bed. At least a night in his own bed without her by his side.

 “You don’t have to be my anti-hero, Shawn. I know I’m not what you’re used to. I know this just is what it is for you. Just be you and don’t fucking complicate it by telling me I’m beautiful-” 

 “But you are,” he cuts off, sitting up, his chest flush with hers, “and you deserve to be told that you are.”

 She rolls her eyes again, “just shut up and fuck me already.”

 Shawn’s hands smooth up the side of her, “really fucking eloquent for someone who can’t look at me when I touch her.” 

 She tries to get off of him but he plants her across his lap, “we’re not doing this right now.” 

 “Then when are we?” He pleads, “when are we finally going to do this? Whatever the fuck this is in your mind.” 

 She doesn’t say anything and instead leans down slowly, letting her pert nipples skim across his chest, “I will literally fuck you until you shut up,” she whispers in his ear before biting and tugging on the lobe. 

 Shawn puts his hands behind his head, “go for it. You know how hard it is for me to shut up.” 

 She raises an eyebrow and crawls backwards a smidge, kissing his chest and working her way down his stomach, tongue swiping at the V that disappears under his boxers. Shawn prides himself on having an excellent poker face, and watches her with a cocky smirk. 

 “So what are your thoughts on this Communist Manifesto?” Shawn starts. 

 She’s not gentle when she rips Shawn’s boxers down his thighs. He’s only half hard, so she licks her palm and wraps her fingers gently around him. He twitches in her hand and she can see the heat rise in his cheeks and flow to his chest. 

 She pumps him slowly at first, getting her wrist into a rhythm that she knows will both torture Shawn, and also get him hard in like, thirty seconds flat. He takes in a deep breath and holds it when her lips slip over the tip of his cock.

 “When did you first figure out Albus Dumbledore was gay? For me, it was-” 

 He grunts and clears his throat, his voice a little higher pitched now, “ittttt-it-it,” he struggles, “was in Goblet of Fire.” 

 “That’s easy, knew it from Chamber of Secrets,” She licks the underside of his cock, tongue tracing the prominent vein that protrudes from it.

 Shawn’s a little uneasy now and she’s winning, but Shawn also isn’t a quitter. She lays out flat now between his legs, massaging his thigh with one hand as she uses the other to edge him. She’ll start and stop; twist, lick, anything unpredictable. Finally, she takes him fully in her mouth, gagging a little when he hits the back of her throat and Shawn swears he goes full stupid for a second. She’s so wet and warm around him he’s finding it hard to concentrate on anything else except maybe what her pussy is going to feel like later. 

 “You ever see a bat before? They’re really hideous. My sister got one stuck in her hair once when it was flying around the backyard.” 

 She pulls back up, releasing him with a pop. He’s fully hard know, his cock a pretty pink and wet with her spit. She can already feel her own wetness pooling between her thighs and she kisses soft little pecks into his thighs and back up his body.

 “You want my ass or my pussy?” 

 Shawn chokes. 

 “P-pussy?” He isn’t sure why he says it like a question. 

 She reaches over him and into the nightstand for a condom, “are we already out again?” 

 He just nods.

 She shrugs, “I’ll just let you finish on my face then.” 

 “You kiss your mother with that mouth?!?”

 She kisses the side of his face, “only on major holidays.” 

 Shawn grabs her hips, squeezing at the bare flesh and situates her back on top of him. She rubs her clothed center against his cock and it’s just the perfect fucking amount of friction that he’s pretty sure he’s going to bust if he doesn’t get inside of her right now. 

 He wraps his whole hand around the dainty fabric of her underwear and rips it completely off, tossing the fabric aside. 

 “Hey!” She slaps his arm, “Those were one of my favorite pairs!” 

 Shawn lines himself up with her, “you’ll get over it,” he says before slamming into her. 

 All the breath is knocked from her lungs and it takes her a moment to adjust to his size. She places her hands on his broad chest and starts to rock herself. Shawn loves the way she feels around him, so tight like she was made just for him, their bodies the perfect fit for one another. He’s felt that ever since the first night in the bathtub.

 “Fuck, Shawn,” She gasps, “I can’t tell, are we in a fight?” 

 He fucks up into her, loving the way his length disappears entirely inside of her, “now who’s the one who won’t shut up?” 

 “Fuck you.” 

 He grasps her hips so tightly she’s positive there will be marks in the morning, “already am.” 

 They find their pacing eventually, her on top and Shawn’s hands guiding her movements. She feels that familiar feeling start to sprout in her belly. It warms her veins and spreads so quickly she thinks she might pass out.

 Shawn swears he’s never seen something so brilliant in his life; her hair a mess, cheeks pink, body shining with sweat and her breasts bouncing with each thrust. She throws her head back, and he allows one of his hands to slide up her body and around her throat. He gives a gentle squeeze and she nods.

 “If you’re horNAY let’s do it, ride it, my pony,” Shawn sings at the top of his lungs. 

 She stops all movement, “are you really singing Pony while you’re inside me?”

 “I couldn’t think of anything to talk about and it’s too soon to cum.” 

 She rolls her eyes and she can feel him twitch inside her when she does, “so I win?”

 He sits up and nips her chin, “you’ll never win, Baby.”

 “You wanna bet?” 

 She pushes his chest and he falls back down onto the pillows, she leans forward with force, probably a little too much, and her hand goes straight through the wall behind the bed. 

 Shawn snorts, and she pulls her hand out of the wall, “well, I hope I get my security deposit back now.” 

 He plucks the pieces of drywall from his hair and tries to pull himself from her but she grabs his wrist in protest, “oh, we aren’t stopping!” She states. 

 “There’s nothing sexy about asbestos,” Shawn deadpans.

 She gets off of him and winces at the feeling of losing him between her thighs. It’s then that she notices the blood between her knuckles. It’s warm and falls down her wrist, mixing with the dusty powder from the drywall on her hand. 

 “Shit,” she mutters to herself, “I’ll be right back.” 

 She grabs a shirt from the floor and throws it over her head before scurrying to the bathroom, clenching her bleeding hand to her chest. She locks the door behind her and isn’t quite sure why. It doesn’t take long to clean up, it’s just a couple of minor cuts and she bandages them quickly. It isn’t until she looks up at herself in the bathroom mirror and sees the fading fingerprints of where Shawn’s hand was around her neck that she begins to cry. 

 It starts as sort of a bubbling, like a pot of water that foams and spits onto the burner just before spilling all the way over. She’s not always like this, but it happens most of the time after she’s with Shawn. The intimacy is the hardest part. She can be friends and banter with him until the cows come home, but it’s not until it’s three in the morning and they’re naked in her full size bed that he barely fits on that she just can’t fucking handle it. 

 Some days she thinks she should end it, to just be friends, whatever that meant to them at this point. She knows herself better than that though, she knows how badly her body, mind and soul crave him until the point where it physically hurts not to be around him, holding him, fucking him. She’s addicted, in a way. It’s exhilarating in some ways to never have an answer. It means it’s never quite tangible, there’s always something to chase after.

 She lets the tears fall and she knows Shawn will see right through her the second she gets back to him. It’s a feeble attempt, but she washes her face and dries her eyes and works up the courage to back back to the boy she wants to scream I love you to at the top of her lungs. 

 Something strikes her then; she could say it to him. There’s plenty of different types of love that exists in human existence. 

 “I love you, Shawn,” she says to herself in the mirror, her hands white knuckling the edge of the sink, “I. Love. You.” 

 Bile rises in her throat at the thought of his reaction. She doesn’t think she could stand it if he rejected her, which she knows is a very reasonable outcome. She just doesn’t fit into the big picture of his life, she was the friend with an empty bed and open arms every time he came home. She’s sure there were plenty of other girls in between her that Shawn didn’t talk about.

 When she returns from the bathroom, Shawn’s got his boxers back on he’s eating a chocolate bar. 

 “I have many questions for you. First, where’d your boner go?” She asks. 

 Shawn’s eyes pan to a discarded towel on the floor, “...don’t touch that.” 

 She grimaces, “you’re gross.” 

 “You were in the bathroom for like twenty minutes! It hurt!” 

 She rolls her eyes and his heart skips two beats in a row, “second question, where’d you get that chocolate?” 

 He takes a bite, “it was in the back pocket of my jeans, it’s a little melted though. Want some?” 

 She clears the room and jumps on the bed, taking a bite from his hand. He’s sitting up against the wall behind the bed, his feet still dangling off the bottom edge of the mattress. She curls into him and he wraps an arm around her, “why were you crying?” He asks, kissing the top of her head.

 She hides her face in his shirt, “my hand hurts.”

 “I once watched you literally get hit by a moving car and you got up and said ‘all good mate’, a bloody hand doesn’t make you cry. What’s wrong? Did I do something?” 

 She shakes her head.

 His fingers trace where his fingers held her throat, “was it the choking? We don’t have to do that next time, I just thought-” 

 “No you can choke me anytime.” 

 Shawn snorts and she side eyes him, “I’m just thinking too much lately.” 

 He raises an eye, “oh? About what?” 

 She shrugs, “I don’t know...maybe getting in a relationship would be nice. Maybe it’d be nice to be choked by only one person in my life.” 

 “Who the fuck else is choking you?” 

 She glares, “no one, Shawn. That’s the point.” 

 His mind is blanking. Shawn always thought he was good at reading people. The two of them had always been blunt to each other about everything; there were no lines to read between, no double meanings. This was the first time in the entirety of their friendship that Shawn didn’t know what she was talking about. 

 “What do you mean?” 

 She pulls away from him and rolls over to face away from him, “nothing, never mind.” 

 “Do you - do you not want to do this anymore?” He asks, “if there’s someone and you want to be with them I want that for you. I just want you happiest.” 

 With me, he thinks. 

 She rolls over, “no, there’s no one, Shawn. It was just a stray thought in my stupid after sex girl brain. It’s called hormones.” 

 Her heart races, and she thinks that now is the perfect time. The perfect time to grab his big stupid face and look him in those honey eyes and tell him everything she’s wanted to tell him since the first time they met. 

 Shawn’s heart breaks a little thinking of her with someone else. He’s sure that comment had a second meaning and gets a surge of jealousy that weakens his bones at that thought of someone else holding her like he does. 

 She’s here though, in bed with him, fucking him, wearing his teeshirt. That has to mean something for now, that for now she’s his but not really. That whoever this mystery person is, is just a fleeting thought in the here and now and he is the here and now. 

 This is his chance, he thinks. This is that moment when the walls are down and it’s time to lay it all out on the table. Shawn tugs at the sleeve of her teeshirt and rolls her over onto her back so he can get a look at her. 

 “What?” She asks, pinching his chin between her thumb and forefinger. 

 He moves her hand to his chest, his heart beating beneath it so rapidly and harshly he can hear the way the blood surges through his veins. His breath comes in short gasps. It’s her turn to take his hand and press it to her chest. 

 Their misguided hearts beat in synchrony beneath each other’s palms, but neither have the gall to say the words that are on the tips of both their tongues. 

[cumbriacrack]

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[goswagcollectorfire]

CARL’S BLOG: ARKANSAS HILLBILLY

1-8-21, My Superintendency Begins in McNeil, Arkansas

 On the first day of my tenure as superintendent, I felt

compelled to have an assembly for grades seven through

twelve. I wanted both my staff and students to get to know

me and know what I expected of each of them in their role as

student or teacher. I wanted to challenge each one to use those

talents that God had blessed them with to promote McNeil’s

school and make it one of the best in Columbia County.

One of my immediate goals was to appoint a student

bi-racial committee as well as a community bi-racial committee.

My purpose was to use both committees to help head off or

resolve any racial problems, grievances, or other problems that

might come up unexpectedly during the school year.

The idea of appointing a bi-racial committee was not my

own. I had heard about other schools, which had received a

federal court order, being successful in bringing about calm

through a bi-racial committee. I believed it was the right thing to

do, and if we handled things correctly, we could concentrate on

having school and not spending valuable teaching time putting

out fires.

My goal in involving students and the community was

to create an atmosphere of partnership. I’ve always felt that

involvement promotes a feeling of ownership. Ownership

promotes pride, and pride creates a willingness to work for

achievement. Those areas were necessary to accomplish the

goals I’d set for the McNeil School District.

I appointed a student bi-racial committee and met with them

weekly for lunch and discussion. I was excited about what was

happening in the McNeil Public Schools. We had no incidents

after I took over. The students were talking to each other,

working together on class projects, riding buses together (which

had been unheard of in the past), and they were volunteering

their time to school projects.

The same thing was happening with the bi-racial community

committee. We were getting help from ACTAP, an organization

out of Ouachita Baptist University. It was a federally sponsored

organization created to help schools that had been forced to

integrate.

The best thing that happened with the community bi-racial

committee was a sponsored, weekend retreat on the campus

of Ouachita Baptist University. This was the first time we had

spent two days and two nights together planning what was best

for our community and giving every committee member an

opportunity to voice their concerns. This retreat was needed and

was successful in building friendships and trust! The federal

court order was set in play, and we were now educating kids.

There were several weaknesses that had to be resolved

before the 1970–71 school year. One such weakness was not

having a principal at the South Side School, which was not

integrated, and still had attending students in grades one through

eight.

The best I could do was to name James Boyd, a black male

and social studies teacher, to the position as head teacher. I

relieved him of some of his teaching load so he could be free to

help other teachers, especially with discipline problems.

I was fortunate to have Mrs. Pat Ward, the business teacher,

to assist me with discipline at North Side. She was a hometown

girl who knew just about every white family and most of the

black families in McNeil. She was a tremendous help to me.

[llantasghasham]

ALFOMBRA DE HULE ACTAP-1601 ALFOMBRA DE HULE COLOR NEGRO - GRIS - BEIGE

[nat-roman0ff]

ii. the day after

a series of blurbs // a certain time and place

ii. the day after

the one where the feelings began.

 wc: 3,833

warnings: swearing, poorly written smut, anxiety issues.

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

The night comes back in waves -

It started at the bar, same as it always did. Both had forgotten what celebrational event brought them there. All he knew is when he finally saw her walk in that night, her eyes scrunched up as she let out a laugh at whatever her friend was saying, he knew he had made the right decision in coming out that night.

 It had been Brian’s convincing, of course, that got Shawn out. He’ been holed up in his condo for the last week and a half suffering a terrible case of writers block with a twist of seasonal depression. It was colder than normal this December and he supposed maybe that’s what had to do with the lingering black cloud above his head recently.

Shawn was just, to put it frankly, tired. He wanted to come home and relax, but between catching up with friends and family and parties it’s like he’s forgotten how to breathe, how to stop and enjoy a moment. It’s a constant state of go go go no matter what. No matter if he’s singing in a sold out arena, or watching a hockey game in his parent’s living room. There’s nothing left in his lungs to suck up and he feels his chest tightening the more he thinks about it. He tries desperately to focus on the conversation he’s not paying attention to in hopes it’ll focus him.

 It doesn’t, and he thinks maybe this is just the way he’s always going to be; tired, breathless and running on empty.

 That was, until he saw her walk in the door.

 What happens next in the night comes back to him in a series of drunken flashbacks that have nothing much to do with alcohol, and everything to do with that goddamn girl.

 One: She sings karaoke with him. Truthfully, she’s awful and somewhere halfway through a horrifying rendition of Mr. Brightside he’s pretty sure he finds the moment he started to freefall into her.

Two: Some absolute asshat harasses her at the bar, and proceeds to grab her ass when she tries to leave. Shawn doesn’t even have a second to step in before her fist is colliding with his left cheek bone. Killer right hook, love, he thinks.

 Three: Her cheeks are the most beautiful color pink he thinks he’s ever seen. He’d like to personally thank gin and tonic for creating such a masterpiece.

 Four: They leave alone, together. Somewhere between sober and tipsy. He memorizes the way her body feels pressed into his to stay warm in the cold of Toronto.

 Five: She’s under him, naked, and then he forgets how to breathe again.

 It’s barely 6am when Shawn’s eyes flutter open. She’s still asleep, her back facing him. The white sheet is barely covering her backside, leaving her entire back exposed to him. He contemplates drawing patterns across the freckles on her skin but he retracts his hand just before he makes contact.

 Shawn closes his eyes and replays what happened in this bed; he remembers the flush of pink in her cheeks just before she comes and he can feel himself getting hard over it. They weren’t drunk, at least he didn’t think so. There’s no way. They’d switched to club soda hours before they left and even stopped for a slice of pizza on the way back to his condo.

 She’ll regret it, he thinks. She didn’t seem like the type of girl that went home with random dudes every weekend. But then again, is there really a face for that? Or maybe she is. And then he’s filled with the warmth of guilt that he’d judged her for even half a second.

 She hums then groans, rolling onto her back and looking towards him. Shawn’s eye spring open, her hand is half covering her face and he can see a pert nipple sticking through the sheets.

 “What time is it?” She asks with a sigh.

 “A little after six.”

 He wants to touch her so bad but he won’t. Not until he knows what this is. Not that it needs a label or a name. There’s so much uncertainty, or maybe none at all. Maybe this is exactly what it is. Shawn was never really one to take much at face value; he always searched for the deeper meaning. The cause, the source, the conditioning, the reasons and choices he’s made that brings him to this exact string of moments. His mum always told him that’s the artist in him, his dad always told him it was the neuroticism in him.

 She shoves her face in the pillow, and he pretends not to notice the flash of her breasts as she flips over, “too early,” she groans, “it’s a Sunday.”

 “Actually, it’s Saturday.”

 She turns her head towards him, “fuck, really?”

 Shawn lets out a soft laugh, “yeah, really. Why, do you have somewhere to be?”

 “No,” she sighs and rolls over away from him again, stretching and arching her back out enough to make Shawn shift under the covers, “I never have anywhere to be.”

 This time he decides to touch her. It’s light, a swipe of her shoulder with the back of his finger. She doesn’t move, and he watches the skin beneath his finger prickle under his touch.

 “Is this okay?” He asks.

 She hums, “feels nice, you have very nimble fingers,” she blushes at the memory of where those fingers were last night and the places they explored.

 “Do you want to spend the day together?” He asks, adding another finger to his quest to find more skin to touch.

 He rubs a stripe down her spine and she shakes with a chill, “sorry,” he mumbles.

 “Don’t be,” she says, barely above a whisper. She can feel his breath fanning across her back, “and yes I’d love to spend the day with you. In fact -” she flips quickly to her back, curling a finger below Shawn’s chin, “I can think of exactly one activity I’d love to do today.”

 “Pottery?” He replies.

 She snorts, not expecting his answer, and uses her hands to cover her face at the sound, “you are so fucking weird,” she manages between fits of giggles.

 “Hey,” Shawn states, in all seriousness, “don’t do that.”

 “Do what?” She questions, concerned with his stern look.

 He moves her hand away from her face, “hide yourself like that.”

 It’s like a scene out of a fucking movie, she thinks, and on cue he brushes a strand of hair out of her face. But being her, instead of I don’t know letting out a sigh or moan or anything, she burps.

 Shawn laughs, burying his face in her neck, his body vibrating with laughter on top of hers, “stop it’s not funny! I’m so embarrassed!”

 She pushes on his shoulder and he lifts his head, using his free hand to trace the curve of her cheek, “don’t be. What you should  be embarrassed of is that morning breath, it sucks.”

 “I ate pizza at one in the morning and you didn’t have mouthwash! Who doesn’t have mouthwash in their bathroom?”

 “Me, apparently,” he deadpans.

 She rolls her eyes and he feels his stomach sumersault.

 “So no plans, eh?” He asks in a burst of sudden uncharacteristic confidence.

 Her eyes avoid is, teasing him, “well now that you mention it, I might have some plans.”

 Shawn plants his lips behind her ear, her head turned away from his allowing him the perfect amount of access to all the freckles on her neck, his weakness. All the little spots that sprinkled across her skin in unique patterns that made her, her.

 “You sure about that?” He rasps, his teeth selecting a soft spot of flesh below her ear to bite down on.

 She loses all the air in her lungs when she feels his tongue make a swipe against her skin.

 “This good?” He whispers.

 She nods, “keep going.”

 And that’s really all it takes.

 Shawn peppers kisses down her throat between the valley of her breasts letting the thin sheet that once covered them fall to the side. Her hands immediately fall to her chest. Without the darkness of night to hide under, she feels the heat in her cheeks spread through her. It’s not an embarrassment, but a sense of vulnerability.

 Truthfully, before last night it had been a while since she “got some”. Between work and friends she really just didn’t have the mental capacity to include a man in her life and that was good enough for her at the time. She closes her eyes and breathes in deeply. Shawn thinks its in pleasure but in reality she’s counting backwards in her head.

 An anxiety attack during foreplay? That’s a new one, even for her.

 “Hey-” Shawn stops just above her navel, the sound of her rapidly beating heart catching up to him. He knows that sound anywhere, “are you okay? I can stop if this isn’t what you want.”

 “No, no it’s not you,” she sighs and pulls the sheet up to cover herself the best she can, “I’m just, I don’t know, stupid.”

 “You’re not,” Shawn crawls back up the bed next to her and holds her wrist, bringing her palm to his chest, “I get it, I’m nervous too.” She feels his rapidly beating heart beneath her palm.

 She breathes a sigh of relief, “maybe later?”

 Shawn smiles wide, “absolutely.”

 A few hours, a couple more layers, and several seasons of Friends later they’re still in bed but this time surrounded by Chinese takeout boxes.

 “Okay but hear me out, Ross and Rachel had the greatest love story of modern television,” Shawn pleads.

 She nearly spits out the General Tso in her mouth, “oh no, absolutely not. Get out of this bed. This bedroom. This condo. Now.”

 Shawn snorts, “this is my condo.”

 “I don’t care,” she groans, “don’t you ever say those words to me again. Monica and Chandler were clearly the best sitcom couple ever. Look at them!”

 She gestures to the TV. It’s the engagement episode and it always makes her tear up no matter how many times she’s seen it.

 “Okay, I’ll admit this scene always makes me cry,” he admits, wiping the corner of his eye.

 “Pussy,” she mutters.

 “What!” He throws his arms open, “you’re crying too! Don’t think I can’t see those little tears, missy.”

 Shawn reaches out and wipes a tear away with his thumb, “see, wetness.” He shows her the tiny blob of tear on his fingertip.

 She scrunches her nose, “don’t say it like that, pay attention to the tv.”

 He lets out a breathy laugh, “I’m more interested in paying attention to you.”

 Her eyes roll, “oh are you now?” She questions.

 Shawn moves the leftover boxes to his bedside table and rolls to pin her below him. His lips reach down to ghost hers, they’re sticky with saucy still, but he doesn’t mind. She reaches a shaky hand up to hold his face and she wonders whether her hands are too small or if his face is just too damn big.

 “You’ve got a big head,” she mumbles, his lips still brushing hers.

 He lets out a snort but doesn’t move, “and I’m the weird one.”

 “Just an observation,” she plays with the pendent hanging off his neck. It’s cool to the touch of her warm fingertips.

 She can feel the warmness building up inside of her. It starts in her chest and quickly spreads through her arms and legs and into her toes and fingertips. It’s the nerves, and she reminds herself to breathe. Shawn is so sure in his movements. He begins differently than last time, letting his mouth move slowly against hers, the laugh track from the show plays in the background.

 Slowly, and almost methodically, Shawn’s hands move to her sides and start to nudge up his shirt that she’s wearing. He pulls away for a second to look at her and she nods, raising her hands above her head for him to tug off the fabric.

 “You’re ridiculously beautiful,” Shawn sighs, taking her all in. He can see her cheeks turn pink.

 She reaches out and tugs on the collar of his shirt, “I bet you say that to all the naked girls that’ve been in your bed.”

 Shawn shakes his head and pulls his teeshirt off with one tug to the back of his neck, “never been many. None like you, at least.”

 “Hmm, sure,” she teases. She believes him. She hasn’t spent much time with him, but she’s spent enough to see that he has zero game with women beyond his good looks.

 Now it’s Shawn’s turn to roll his eyes, “shut up.”

 And she does, with a kiss, pulling him back down to her back the back of his neck. He crashes into her and it’s a new sense of ferocity; tongue against tongue, teeth clashing. It’s much messier than before and now that they’re both bare up top, she takes it upon herself to roll them over so she straddles his hips.

 Shawn’s hands immediately cling to her soft sides, letting his hands run up and down the curve of her hips and back. An electricity bolt runs through her and leaves burning embers where he’s touched her. Her skin is on fire and she can feel all the blood rushing through all her veins.

 She grinds down onto him, softly at first, but as their lips start to move in a rhythm, so do her hips. His length hardens below her and she can feel another type of warmness pooling in her lower belly.

 Shawn groans, and it’s not like, a good one. He sounds annoyed and he breaks the kiss, letting her sit up on him, “as much as I would love to keep this going the way it is, we used my one and only condom last night.”

 She chuckles, “one and only. Like - you ran out of them, or -”

 “Do you know if condoms have an expiration date?” He ponders from below her.

 She shrugs, “I think so...why how old was the one we used last night?”

 Shawn purses his lips, “...that’s not important,” she squeaks as he flips them over, “I do have another idea, however.”

 He places a tender kiss to her sternum.

 “And what’s that?” She pokes the scar in his cheek.

 “Can I go down on you?” Shawn asks.

 “Wow,” she pauses for a second, slightly taken aback, “I think you’re the first guy to ever ask if he could go down on me.”

 “Well I don’t like to assume -”

 “I’m not knocking it by any means, I dig consent,” she lets herself settle slightly further down the bed.

 “I know some girls don’t like it-”

 “Correction,” she cuts off, “all girls like it. Most guys just don’t know how to properly do it.”

 “I beg your pardon?”

 She laughs, “just don’t act like you’re drunk at two in the morning and my clit is a plate of leftover spaghetti.”

 “That’s going to be a really hard vision to get out of my head, why would you do that? I love spaghetti.” Shawn half laughs, half whines.

 “Oh just get on with it,” she commands, threading her fingers through Shawn’s already fucked curls.

 Without delay, Shawn bows his head down, his lips making contact with her hot skin. She’s less nervous than this morning. He isn’t quite sure what that was; whether it had something to do with him or something to do with her. He tried not to think about it too much.

 He focuses intently on her, mostly for her sake but also to try and distract from the ache between his legs. Shawn changes between kisses and licks as he makes his way down her body, making sure to really soak in every inch of her. She shivers when he uses his teeth to snap the waistband of her panties and he makes a mental note to do that again sometime.

 Shawn kisses the bare skin above the line and looks up, “okay?”

 She nods and he watches as her eyes roll backwards. His fingers hook around the edges and he tugs the fabric down slowly, making sure to kiss and touch every bit of newly exposed skin. He can smell her, how ready she is for him and it makes him sweat a bit. By the time he’s reached her ankles she’s already trembling and her chest rises and falls in big heaping breaths. He grabs her by the ankles and pushes them up the bed, allowing her to spread open for him and he’s pretty god damn sure he’s wasted on this girl already.

 “Fuck,” he whispers to himself.

 She manages a steady breath, “everything okay down there?”

 “Never. Been. Better.” He replies between kisses to the inside of her thigh.

 Shawn takes his sweet, sweet time. Breathing her in, watching her twitch each time his tongue swipes closer to where she craves him most. He nips at the tender skin on her inner right thigh, marking her for his own.

 She tries to steady herself by using one hand to clutch the sheets below her and the other to pull the curls on his head. He doesn’t seem to mind, in fact, it encourages him.

 But she grows tired of waiting. She’s pretty sure she’s wetter than a water slide and any time he could start would be goddamn great.

 “You are slow as molasses - OH!”

 She’s caught off guard when Shawn’s tongue works itself against her clit.

 “Shiiiit, shit shit shit,” she whispers over and over to herself.

 Shawn looks up at her and she looks so fucking beautiful all blissed out on his bed. He works her more, circling around the bud gracefully with his mouth. He reaches up for her free hand and holds it tightly.

 The show has stopped, the ‘are you still watching?’ message popping up on screen, so now the only sounds that can be heard in Shawn’s condo are her breathless moans as he hits every new spot. He truly doesn’t mind. If he could, he’d record her sounds and replay them over and over. It would be the only thing he’d ever need for the rest of his life, he thinks.

 Shawn lets go of her hand, his tongue parting with her at the same time, “mouth,” he demands.

 She gets it and sits up slightly, wrapping her lips around the tips of his middle and pointer fingers. She slowly brings her head down until her lips have reached his knuckles. Shawn lets out an involuntary groan. She bobs her head a few more times, making sure to soak his fingers. She releases her final bob with a pop.

 “That was just the preview,” she winks, and falls backwards onto the bed.

 Shawn thinks he might just fucking die here on the spot.

 He picks up where he’s left off, his tongue rubbing figure eights against her clit. Slowly, he slides the two wet fingers into her core. She sucks in a sharp breath, “fuck Shawn.”

 He loves how vocal she is, it just eggs him on more. Shawn pumps his fingers in and out of her slowly, letting his long fingers sink deep into her wet folds. She continues to breathlessly whisper curses and declarations to god under her breath.

 Between his mouth and fingers she can barely take it. There’s a swirling heat in every part of her body and she’s wondering if she’ll survive this. Shawn is so calculated yet so not with his movements. He keeps to pace just until she’s grown used to it and then he’ll switch the angle or throw one of her legs over his shoulder.

 He’s been milking her for what seems like hours, time seems to flow by so much slower it’s like she’s watching the world outside in slow motion. The pressure in her stomach is gradually but surely building. He places her other leg over his shoulder and pushes her thighs up higher, giving him even more access to her.

 The new angle is all it takes, and she’s starting to squirm below him. He tries his best to keep her still in place by locking his arms around her thighs. His long, slim fingers slide so effortlessly in and out of her, the evidence of her arousal completely soaking his fingers, and now the sheet underneath her.

 He finally hits the spot he’s been looking for and curls his fingers in a come hither motion to rub against it again, “Shawn fuck you’re gonna make me cum.”

 Shawn smiles against her core, “isn’t that kind of the point?”

 “Oh shut up,” she breathes.

 A few more strong strokes against her spot and she’s unraveling below him. Her back arches off the mattress and he continues through her orgasm, making sure to soak up every last moment he has with her like this. Slowly, he pulls his fingers out and she trembles, still sensitive. He pops his fingers in his mouth, licking her off of him.

 “So how was that for not knowing how to do it?” Shawn asks, crawling up the bed and laying beside her.

 He wraps an arm around her and pulls her in close, “alright, I guess. Less of spaghetti leftovers and more of chugging a Gatorade.”

 Shawn laughs and kisses behind her ear, “I’ll take it, I guess. Didn’t see you complaining.”

 “Mhmm,” she hums, “no complaints here.”

 “Good,” he kisses the top of her head, “let’s keep it that way.”

 They lie like that for a while, not drifting off into sleep but into...bliss? She isn’t sure and can’t honestly remember the last time she came at the hands (and mouth) of a man.

 She sighs, “I should probably get going soon,” she plays with her fingertips and picks out the gunk underneath them.

 Stay, he thinks. But his mind and his mouth say two separate things, “yeah, maybe.”

 Her heart sinks only a little, but she’d already overstayed her welcome as the sun was starting to get low in the sky. Maybe they were both just mutually stupid or stubborn or all of the above. She wiggles out of his grip, picking up her scattered clothes from last night that lay across his floor.

 Say it, please, she begs to him in her mind, ask me to stay another night so I know you feel this too. But he doesn’t say anything, and orders her an Uber from his phone. He watches somberly as she leaves, mentally kicking himself in the balls for letting her walk out.

 He immediately regrets not asking her to stay, to crawl back into bed and cuddle or fuck or anything that allows him just a moment of time with her.

 Maybe if he had asked her to stay, he wouldn’t be where he was now.

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

hello!!!! here is part 2. my blurbs just keep getting longer and longer at this point. let me know if this is something y’all would eventually maybe like to see as a series! i’m up for anything.

[nat-roman0ff]

i. tuesday

a series of blurbs // a certain time and place

 i. tuesday

the one where they eat too much pizza, and swallow their feelings.

wc: 1,893

warnings: swearing, mentions of sex, bad writing, feasting.

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

It’s quarter past seven when she finally gets to relax. It’s Tuesday, and Tuesdays at work always meant her boss screaming about something, pissy clients, and her snotty coworker making comments about whatever it goddamn was that she hated her for this week. The glimmer of Monday has worn off and it’s back to the same old, same old.

 Tuesdays weren’t always terrible, though. It’s warm and breezy today and the birds are chirping loud and high in the sky. There’s a distinct smell of summer in the air; it’s just on the cusp, as noted by the line of sweat collecting at her hairline as she tredges home. This Tuesday in particular, however, was exceptionally not terrible. Her sort of best friend, part time couch surfer (even though he had his own place), and sometimes lover, was home for a blip of time between his “rockstar” (even though he hated the word) lifestyle and normal life.

 Shawn’s an anomaly, she thinks. He’s a little bit of everything all mixed into one neurotic, passionate, sometimes self destructive mess of a boy. But whatever it is that he is to her, he’s a good one. That much she does know.

She’s practically limping by the time she reaches the front door of her apartment, cursing herself for deciding today was the day to break in new shoes. Her phone pings from her back pocket and it’s Shawn; be there in a few! He writes. She doesn’t bother to text back because if she doesn’t get these ever loving shoes off within the next five seconds, and a piece of pizza down her throat she might just burst.

 After changing from work clothes to something more comfortable, she settles on the couch with the box of pizza. She sighs a breath of relief when the first waft of pepperoni hits her nose, and grins sheepishly.

 “Honey, I’m home!” Shawn bursts through the door without so much as knocking.

 “Yo,” she deadpans, half a slice hanging out of her mouth.

 Shawn jumps over the back of the couch onto the empty cushion beside his girl, “how’s your Tuesday?”

 “Better, now that you’re here.”

 “Aw, shucks,” Shawn sighs, putting his head on her shoulder.

 She rolls her eyes, “I was talking to the pizza.”

 “In that case,” he plucks the remaining slice in her hand out and shoves it whole in his mouth, “delicious,” he mumbles through chews.

 “You’re an animal,” she mutters.

 “Only for you, baby,” he says, a string of mozzarella hanging on his chin.

 Her heart skips at the line. Baby; it quite literally means nothing in the context, but how she so fucking wished it meant more. She’s in love with him (of course). Believe it or not, the Shawn Mendes isn’t actually everyone’s cup of tea. Once you get past the great hair and sharp jawline and impossibly good smile he’s rather, well, weird. You can never really figure him out and she supposes that’s what brought the two of them together in the first place.

 When people ask how they met, neither of them can ever quite put their finger on it. She’d started seeing him at outings with friends of friends of friends. He was always there but never within reach. She knew who he was and what he did and it never really phased her, he was just always that dude she saw at the bar sometimes at whoever’s friend’s best friend’s boyfriend’s birthday party.

 It hadn’t been until a Halloween party about two years ago that left the two of them soberly stranded in a sea of plastered people in horribly unoriginal costumes. He was dressed as Julius Caesar (a giant homemade cardboard salad dressing bottle with a wreath crown on his head) and she was dressed as Cereal Killer. For all inquiring minds, yes it was just as dumb as it sounds.

 “Whatcha thinking about?” He interrupts, already finished with his second slice of pizza.

 “Nothing,” she says, shaking her head, “nothing except you better split this pizza with me evenly this time, Jackass.”

 Shawn scoffs, “I have been wasting away performing every night, I deserve at least two-thirds of this pizza.”

 He pays attention to the way she rolls her eyes at him. His chest warms; it’s such a simple, bratty, cynical act coming from her but somehow it’s theirs. He says something ridiculous and she just rolls those beautiful damn eyes and the outside world just ceases to exist for a tiny moment. Head over heels might be an understatement, and a cheesy one at that. He’s an entire goddamn mess for this girl.

 Shawn leans over and pecks a quick kiss on her cheek.

 “Ugh,” she groans, feigning disgust, “you got pizza grease on me.”

 He shrugs.

 “What was that for anyways?” She asks.

 Shawn shrugs again, “missed you, I guess. It’s been too long. Keep telling you that you need to come out on tour with me -”

 There’s a disconnect in his voice. He’s looking at her but not at her. His eyes scan every part of her face except her eyes. Shawn has issues feeling vulnerable. Which is rich coming from someone who performs in front of thousands of strangers nightly. But it’s different with her. He’s never been so terrified of a single person in his life, even after the time Eric Williams whooped his ass in the third grade.

 “Oh yes because I’m sure my boss would just love me taking off months at a time. And unpaid? What a dream! Let me send her my resignation email right now!” She quips sarcastically.

 The heat in Shawn’s chest cools a little as he settles back into reality. She’s here and you’re there and that’s the only way it’s ever going to be, he reminds himself.

 “But you hate your job!” He whines, “Just quit, we’ll find something for you to do on tour.”

 She groans, “and what am I supposed to do the rest of the time? Sit around and watch you get baked and play guitar?”

 “I can think of something,” Shawn raises an eyebrow and she knows what’s coming.

 In a swift move the pizza box is on the floor and he’s got her pinned underneath him, “Kiss me.”

 It’s barely a whisper and she knows how this ends every time. Every time they kiss or fool around or fuck or wake up in each other’s arms she hopes it’s different this time. That this time is the time he’ll feel that spark she feels every time he touches her skin.

 It’s a different feeling for him. It’s less of a spark and more of a flutter; a familiar nervousness in his belly that makes the unknown comforting, but the uncertainty of not knowing terrifying. Does that make sense? His head is such a chaotic string of everything and nothing at the same time with her and he doesn’t know what is up or down when he’s around her, all that he knows is he’s safe. The nerocies stay at bay just long enough to maybe believe she loves him back.

 “Now why would you go around wanting something like that?” She replies, cupping his cheek, running her thumb over the divet where a tiny scar etches into his skin.

 I want you, he thinks.

 “Horny, been a while,” he fumbles. It’s the same way out every time. Say something stupid but sarcastically enough that she knows you’re joking. It saves from having to admit to anything while simultaneously hinting that he wants to spend the whole night soaking her in.

 She rolls her eyes and Shawn’s chest starts to tingle, “you’re disgusting,” she grumbles, pushing on his chest, “and I have a pizza to finish.”

 “While I have total faith that you can finish that whole pizza yourself, do you remember what happened the last time you did that?” He tuts, sitting back up and letting her curl back into a ball on the other end of the couch.

 She shoves half the slice in her mouth, “you know, I was really thinking of adding additional assault to my insides by washing this down with a milkshake. You down?”

 He props his chin on his fist and tilts his head to the side, “I love when you talk bowel movements with me.”

 She boops the tip of his nose as the first drop of rain pangs against the living room window. There’s a rush of wind and then out of nowhere the sky just opens and it’s coming down in sheets onto the streets below them. The wind brings in a cool lick of humidity into the air. Shawn lets out a dramatic sigh and sprawls himself across her legs, resting his head in her lap.

 “Looks like I’m staying here tonight. I’ll probably need to borrow one of your shirts to sleep in,” he jokes, stroking her side, his fingertips grazing the hem of her tee shirt.

 “Just don’t stretch it out in the tits.”

 Shawn laughs, his face scrunched, “you’re ridiculous.”

 He mindlessly kisses her bare thigh, not realizing just how far her pajama shorts have ridden up.

 “I’m ridiculous? You own your own condo yet I can’t seem to ever get you out of my apartment. Do you ever actually sleep there?”

 “Sometimes,” he mumbles between kisses, “just prefer it here I suppose.”

 She stops chewing for a second, “it’s a 400 square foot walk up. You live in a luxury building. The roof has a damn pool for crying out loud.”

 “Don’t forget the fire pits and dog washing station,” he reminds, and she can feel his lips smirking against her skin.

 She flicks his ear, “maybe you should start spending more time in your own place.”

 Shawn pauses, “like...not together?”

 “Of course, together but...I don’t know. What do you like about here so much that you can’t get there?”

 You, he thinks.

 “I dunno,” he looks around desperate for anything to stick out. His heart races and he can feel that familiar anxious itch starting to burn his skin when he’s on the verge of saying too much.

 “This wall,” he points to the far wall across the room behind her bed, “I like the color of that wall.  Everything in my place is all white. Need some liveliness and color and whatnot.”

  She doesn’t buy it, “well Shawn, I’m really excited to introduce you to something called a Hardware Store. You can buy all the paint colors you want.”

 Shawn perks his head up, “will you help me do that?” He asks, tracing words he’ll never say out loud into her skin with the tips of his fingers.

 She swears she’s writes ‘I love you’ three times into her skin before she responds, “of course.”

 He nods and rests his head back onto her lap. Shawn’s eyes close when she threads her fingers through his hair. This is home, he thinks.

 She screams ‘I love you’ three times in her head so loudly it almost threatens to bubble out between her lips. It’s a loud thought, and she wonders if she shouts it loud enough through her head if maybe one day he’ll listen.

 She thinks someday, someday with a few hundred maybes thrown in she’ll be brave enough to say it out loud. But that day isn’t Tuesday.

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

hiiii hi hello! this is my first time writing shawn, i have about 8 years worth of terrible one direction fanfiction behind me so i thought why not start something new!

please let me know what you think! i’ve started it as sort of a blurb series with more to come, you can check all the upcoming titles on my masterlist! (linked on the sidebar).

[nat-roman0ff]

v. the last 45 seconds of your life

a series of blurbs // a certain time and place

(read the full series in my masterlist!)

v. the last 45 seconds of your life

the one where everything comes to a screeching halt.

wc: 3,273

warnings: unironic love of oasis, some bad words, & that feeling when your heart breaks

---

“Oh my god please don’t tell me he’s singing Champagne Supernova, again?” She groans as those familiar first notes blare through the speakers. 

 Shawn shrugs and turns his attention back to Brian who is taking his spot on the dingy little stage in the dingy little karaoke bar Shawn had brought the lot of them to.

 “This is really what you wanted to do before you go back on tour?” She asks, folding her arms across her chest, “Karaoke?” 

 He snakes his arm behind her shoulders and pulls her closer, “yes, karaoke. But I also wanted to spend some time with my two best friends before leaving again.” 

 She steps on his foot, marring the white of his Adidas, “but Brian is going with you, dickweed. I’m the only one who gets to stay behind.” She crunches her heel into his foot a little more.

Shawn winces and puts his head on her shoulder, “only by your own choice,” he singsongs, “I’ve given you more than enough chances to come with us.” 

 “I have a job,” she starts. 

 “That you hate,” he finishes. 

 “I have responsibilities.” 

 “Masturbation and remembering to water your plants aren’t responsibilities.” 

 “I have an apartment.” 

 “...that sucks.” 

 “Hey!” She jabs his ribs with her elbow, this only causes Shawn to squeeze her tighter and more into him. He feels this weird sense of instant calm when their bodies are pressed together. It can be in any stage (although he was partial to when they were horizontal), no matter what, when, or under whatever circumstances, they just fit together.

 “I have a life here,” she begins, her voice more somber, softer. She’s trying to put him at ease, “I can’t just pick up and leave that to be able to hang out with you all the time.” 

 Shawn lets go. He has to constantly remind himself that he’s the one that’s in love with her. She’s right, she does have her own life at home in Toronto. He wishes so terribly that he can whisk her away for all his own but he also realizes how incredibly selfish that is. Someone like her needs to be shared with the world, the world needs someone like her. She doesn’t get to be his world.

 “However that doesn’t mean you can’t, like, fly me out to all these really cool places,” she eases the sudden tension and turns to him. 

 Shawn’s face is drawn and she knows that look. It’s the one that makes her believe he feels the same way she does, the one that gives her the tiniest glimmer of hope at the end of this tunnel, that all this wading around in bullshit isn’t just for sport. 

 “Yeah,” is all he can manage, “I’m gonna get a drink I’ll be right back.” 

 Except he doesn’t go to the bar to order a drink. Shawn diverts past Old Man Mellino in the corner bar stool and heads straight for the bathroom. By the time he reaches the stall he’s already crying. He’s thankful he’s alone, because Shawn has always been a loud and ugly cryer. It just sort of all bubbles up in his chest and he ends up choking on air. His chest and heart feel like they’re caving in, and he can feel every single hairline fracture in his heart just before it shatters once and for all. 

 How could he expect her to give it all up for him when he doesn’t even have the balls to tell her how he feels? How could he expect her to put her life on hold just to be with him. It’s simple - he can’t. 

 It takes Shawn a good ten minutes before his hands stop shaking. He wipes away the smear of tears on his face with the backs of his hands. He feels like a child, sitting in a bathroom stall and crying. This was like third grade all over again. But he couldn’t help it anymore. It was almost becoming intolerable to be around her without her knowing the truth, but in the same breath he couldn’t bare to not be around her. He’d usually been confident with girls and his feelings, if they didn’t feel the same way or just wanted an easy fuck he’d get over it with a pint of ice cream and move on. 

 She was different (but aren’t they always?).

 Shawn’s feelings for her were catastrophic. It scared him every day of his goddamn life. He never thought in his mere twenty years of existence that he could ever be so hopelessly hopeless for someone. His emotions manifested physically for her. He felt pain when she was away and a lightness that nothing else could ever measure up to when she was around. 

 The days were getting harder, the tides seem to crash harder and time felt like it was running out. He was exhausted, and not from the months of travelling or touring. It was her, it was this big gaping hole in his chest that was her. It was this secret that he’d been carrying with him for almost two years now that ate him up at an excruciatingly quickening pace.

 Her rejection was his greatest fear; the response of “I love you too, but I just don’t love you in that way”. He knows it would gnaw at him for a lifetime, because he’d spent a lifetime trying to find her. Shawn didn’t believe that your missing pieces would be filled by another human being, he believed that certain people were brought into your life to help you mend those broken pieces. She did that for him, in all the ways he couldn’t even place but knew existed. He couldn’t explain it; he felt whole with her, and not because she completed him but because she helped fix what had been broken.

 It’s been some time now and Shawn supposes he should get off his ass and go back out there. He leaves the stall and looks at his sorry face in the dirty bathroom mirror. He looks worse for wear, with his eyes all puffy and red, cheeks blotchy and the collar of his shirt damp from cleaning up his face. The bathroom door opens and Old Man Mellino stumbles to the sink beside Shawn. He smells like well liquor and adult diapers.

 “Those are woman tears,” he slurs, his breath toxic with booze.

 Shawn furrows his brows, “excuse me?” 

 The old man slings an arm around Shawn’s shoulders, “the tears you cry over a woman. Recognize them anywhere. What’s this dame done to yah?”

 Shawn recockens if this guy gets any closer he’ll barf from the stench, “nothing, that’s the problem,” he says, wanting to get out of this conversation as quickly as possible. 

 “Does she know how you feel?” Mellino mutters.

 Silence.

 He chuckles, “I’ll take that as a no then. Look at you! Young, bright, handsome, the whole world ahead of yah! What’d yah got to lose?” 

 Shawn shrugs, “her.” 

 “Now you look at me, boy,” he grabs Shawn’s shoulders and turns his body to face him, “I’ve lived a thousand lifetimes in my years and if there’s one thing I’ll always do over and over again, it’s telling the woman that you love just that. Nothing more, and nothing less. You don’t have to be showy or make some grand romantic gesture. Just be honest, be you.” 

 Shawn sighs, but not too deeply as the reek of the old man is really starting to burn his nostrils, “I suppose you’re right.” 

 “Well I am. Now go get her!” He says, slapping Shawn’s ass and then stepping into one of the stalls. 

 Shawn leaves with a new found confidence. He guesses he has about forty-five more seconds before it wears off so he plows through the crowd and back to her. She spots him immediately and waves her hand over towards him. 

 “HeyI’veGottaTalkToYou,” he says quickly in one breath. 

 She laughs, “yeah? What’s the rush? And where are our drinks?” 

 “No time, ran to the bathroom -” 

 “Was it the Taco Bell we had for lunch? I know sometimes it upsets your tummy.” 

 Twenty more seconds.

 “No I just really need to tell you something,” Shawn blurts. 

 His heart is racing, and he’s almost sure he’s going to pass out. The ringing in his ears is so loud it almost drowns out Brian’s sloppy rendition of Wonderwall. 

 Ten more seconds.

 “Damn, okay. Sounds serious. Did you have an epiphany while on the shitter?” 

 Five more seconds.

 “No, I just. I really have to tell you something important.” 

 Shawn’s vision blurs and all he can see is her. 

 “Well, get on with it then if it’s so important.” 

 Three.

 Two.

 He takes a deep breath.

 One.

 “I’m in love you.” 

 ---

 She’s pretty sure if she has to listen to Brian sing another Oasis song she’s going to scream. Liam and Noel Gallagher do not deserve such disrespect. 

 “Get off the stage, loser!” Someone yells, and she has to stifle her laughter by biting her bottom lip. 

 Shawn’s acting weird tonight, she thinks. Well, weirder than usual. He’s distant but clingy; won’t talk to her but won’t bloody let go of her either. He’s never usually this way before he leaves for tour. It’s the last leg at barely two months. It’s not the longest they’ve ever been apart, not by a long shot. She watches him walk away and disappear into the sea of people crowding the bar area. She turns back to Brian on the stage, who is full on air guitaring along to Champagne Supernova, and even throwing on his best Northern accent to sing along with. 

 She has this gnawing feeling in her stomach. This sort of nauseous anxiety that builds and builds the longer that time passes. She can feel it in her heart too, in the way that it rapidly beats and causes her to miss a breath or two. It’s not a panic attack, at least not the ones she’s used to. Her hands get clammy and she scans the room over and over for Shawn but doesn’t see him. 

 Brian finally finishes his song with a round of boos and hops off the stage and towards her. 

 “What’s got you so sweaty?” He asks, dabbing at the clammy skin at her hairline and wiping her sweat on his jeans.

 She shakes out her arms and hands, “I don’t know - I just have this weird feeling?” 

 Brian raises an eyebrow, “o...kay. Do you mind elaborating? I’m not Shawn, I can’t read your mind.” 

 She glares, “forget it.” 

 He grabs her by the shoulders and shakes her a little, “tell meeeee!” 

 “It’s stupid.” 

 “You’re stupid.” 

 She eyes him. 

 “Sorry, force of habit,” Brian replies, “But seriously, what’s got you so shaken up?” He puts a reassuring hand on her arm. 

 She thinks about all the ways she can list out what’s got her going;

  It started this morning when she woke up in Shawn’s arms and accidentally on purpose snuck a glance at his phone. There was a text from some LA model with the message ‘excited to see you this week!’. She’d wiggled out and stalked off to the bathroom, making sure to slam the door on her way out.

 Then Shawn suggested they go out for breakfast instead of staying in like usual on Sunday mornings. They had a tradition of making waffles in her Death Star (despite never actually seeing any of the Star Wars movies) waffle maker and eating almost an entire pound of bacon between the two of them. It was always one of her favorite days of the week. When they’d gotten to the Diner, she counted exactly fifty words spoken to her the entire time, despite the fact he played footsies with her throughout their meal. He just stared blankly at his phone. She wondered if he was talking to some LA model. 

 By the time afternoon hit she had been sufficiently annoyed with Shawn. She kept tripping over his feet when they walked around the city and bumping into him, once even spilling her coffee on her new shoes. They weren’t in sync like they usually were. Something was catastrophically off. 

 At dinner with friends he was just as weird and distant, and she spent most of the time chatting and laughing with Brian while Shawn still stayed glued to goddamn phone. She was past the point where it annoyed her and was well on her way to just being plain old pissed off. It wasn’t that she was jealous about another girl (she was) or cared if they were screwing around (they weren’t), she just hated feeling like there was something he wasn’t telling her. Which is fucking rich consindering the secret she’s been holding from him. 

 It didn’t take her long to realize after they met that Shawn was going to be that person for her. She tried to tell herself that she would feel this for someone else one day, that maybe if she packed it down for long enough it would go away. And sometimes it did, she didn’t spend every waking moment of her life weeping about being in love with Shawn. She had mostly good days, days where she thought about him fondly and missed his warmth. Most of her time was spent avoiding diving in any deeper, sitting at just the edge and sometimes dangling her feet to test the waters. They were always too cold to dive in. 

 “It’s nothing, really Bri. Just getting emotional about him leaving again, that’s all,” she sighs, “about both of you leaving, actually. What’s a girl to do with herself?” 

 “Do you really want me to answer that question?” Brian raises an eyebrow. 

 She shakes her head, “absolutely not.” 

 He swings an arm around her, “whatever you’re feeling, just let it go.” 

 She supposes she takes too much time to think about it and it makes her heart race. She knows full and well that she’d never be able to live the same lifestyle Shawn will. She’s the here and now and it’s convenient. She’ll never be the one who goes to premieres and parties and events with him. He’ll save that for some LA model. She’s accepted that a long time ago - that she’ll never fit in with his lifestyle. She’ll only ever be the here and now. 

 Letting go is such a hard concept. It sounds so fucking easy but is so fucking not. It’s not like dropping a coin into a fountain, it’ll come in waves and some days will be better and easier than others. Letting go is something you have to do slowly, but once you make the decision to do it you can’t go back, you just can’t. 

 She’s so tired of the emotional push and pull; the fullness of feeling so fucking amazing when she’s with him, almost immediately followed by the emptiness of longing and wanting something she’ll never have. Her emotions are a constant change of the tides rolling in and out and her sea is tired. It’s self induced, too. She has no one to blame but herself for feeling this way and she’s pretty sure she’s finally accepted that at this point. She doesn’t hold any ill-tidings for Shawn for not feeling the same way she does. He’s never once used her, or put his needs in front of her own. She supposes that’s why this whole letting go thing is so fucking hard. That plus literally everything else about Shawn’s personality that screams at her to stay, to keep maybe-ing, makes it so fucking hard to let go.

 “Thanks Brian,” she hugs him tight, “I’ll work on it.” 

 He gives her a squeeze, “wow, for once I actually said the right thing.” 

 She slaps his chest, “just something I think I needed to hear someone say out loud.” 

 “I’m going to pretend I know what that means and go pick out another song.” 

 “Please don’t make it an Oasis one!” She yells after him.

 “No promises!” 

 She laughs to herself and sighs, picking at her thumbnail. She knows going into this head strong that it’s going to be a hard one. She knows that it’s going to take days, weeks and maybe even months of pain before she reaches the other side of that tunnel of letting go. Him being away will help, it means he won’t randomly show up on her doorstep late at night with a box of cupcakes and a sappy look on his face, it means she won’t get text messages all day long at work of him complaining about how bored he was. She was thankful for the upcoming distance in her quest of ridding herself of the feelings. 

 She didn’t want to find it in someone else. No, that wouldn’t be fair. Because what she felt was real, that much she knew, and she didn’t want to dishonor that by trying to project those feelings onto another person. She looks around the bar and spots all the couples and for the first time in a long time her heart doesn’t sink, instead, it’s relieved. She doesn’t feel the tugging weight of longing to have that with Shawn, at least in this one fleeting moment.

 The music starts and Brian is singing Wonderwall. She groans, and continues to wait for Shawn to come back. She spots him and waves a hand for him to come over. He looks...stressed. And her heart sinks when she sees the red rimming his eyes and just knows he’s been crying. That’s the thing about her, she just always knows. She also knows he doesn’t like when she calls him out on such things, so she lets it be.

 “HeyI’veGottaTalkToYou,” Shawn states in a single breath. 

 She chuckles, “yeah?” She can see his breath coming out in small pants, “What’s the rush? And where are our drinks?” 

 He shakes his head like he’s trying to clear something out of it, “no time, ran to the bathroom -” 

 “Was it the Taco Bell we had for lunch? I know sometimes it upsets your tummy,” she interrupts, placing a hand on his abdomen, she can feel the muscles clench beneath her palm.

 He clenches his fists and she starts to worry, “no I just really need to tell you something.”

 Shawn is pale and for someone who is already only two shades darker than an eggshell, that’s saying something. His pupils are blown out wide and he’s visibly shaking, but trying to hide it by clenching and unclenching his fists. She’s never seen him this way before and she’s terrified of what he’s about to say. 

 “Damn, okay. Sounds serious,” she says as calmly as she can, trying to dampen her own rising nerves, “did you have an epiphany while on the shitter?” 

 “No, I just. I really have to tell you something important.” 

 She can feel her heart in her throat. It’s amazing, she thinks, for as out of tune as they’ve been all day, now is the moment that they realign. She places her hand over his heart and feels it beat along with hers - perfect synchrony once again. But she drops her palm and remembers let go, let go, let go.

 “Well, get on with it then if it’s so important.” 

 Something flashes in his eyes and his pupils contract just to blow out again and she swears she’s watching his entire existence flash before his eyes as he takes a final breath and finally fucking works up the strength to say;

 “I’m in love you.” 

---

and she’s done! i hope everyone enjoyed this lil ride on my first shawn series. i doooooo have a sequel planned if it’s wanted, let me know! :)

[nat-roman0ff]

iii. halloween (prelude to a canadian winter)

 series of blurbs // a certain time and place

iii. halloween (prelude to a canadian winter)

the one where they finally meet.

wc: 3,130

warnings: naughty words, the weedypuff, really bad puns & starbucks lovers.

---

Halloween. The one time of year it’s socially acceptable to be an adult and dress up in a costume without someone thinking you have some sort of weird fetish. 

 In the city of Toronto, Canada, the air is crisp, the leaves change their colors, and Shawn is on the hunt. 

 He’s maneuvering the last piece of his costume onto his body with the help of his best friend, Brian. He’s dressed as Julius Caesar; wearing a homemade cardboard cutout of a salad dressing bottle and a wreath crown.

 “I still don’t get it, man,” Brian scratches his head as Shawn stretches, figuring out how well he can move in the restrictive piece. 

 He sighs, “dressed as Julius Caesar, get it?” 

 Brian scrunches his face, “it truly is a mystery as to why you’re still single.” 

Shawn rolls his eyes, “well I’m sorry but dressing up as Ron Weasley for the sixth year in a row isn’t very creative. At least I have some originality.” 

 “There aren’t many options for gingers, alright? And you’ve dressed up as every version of Harry Potter in existence; steampunk Harry, goth Harry, there was even that one year you did Rainbow Bright Harry-” 

 “I get it,” Shawn cuts off, “I just want tonight to be different.” 

 Now it’s Brian’s turn to roll his eyes, “is it that girl? God, I can never remember her name. The one who used to date Jonah? Joe’s cousin? She’s Allie’s best friend or something-” 

 “She has a name.” 

 “Well I’d certainly hope she does,” Brian deadpans, “you’ve never even spoken to her, what’s got you so twisted up over her?” 

 “Don’t know, man,” Shawn gives himself a once over in the mirror and shakes out the nerves, “just have a feeling, you know?” 

 ---

 The party is really fucking loud. 

 She’s never been a fan of house parties. Too many people crammed into too small of a place with shitty music being played off of someone’s home grown Spotify playlist, the alcohol is always lukewarm and the weed sucks. 

 Normally, she doesn’t attend such events, but her sort of - kind of - not really boyfriend had broken up with her four months ago and her best friend decided it was goddamn time she showered and get out of her apartment.

 “What’re you supposed to be?” Someone hiccups from beside her. 

 He’s glassy eyes, clearly drunk or stoned or some type of combination of both. He stands leaning just a little too close to her, his drink nearly tipping out of his red solo cup. 

 “A Cereal Killer,” she pips, taking a sip of her Diet Coke, not making eye contact. 

 “That’s really fucking weird,” he shouts above the music. 

 She shrugs, “well I guess I’m really fucking weird then,” and steps away. 

 She wanders for a bit, bopping her head to the (shitty) music and catches up with a few people here and there. Her best friend is no doubt flirting with the dude she’s been trying to get with for like, ever. She doesn’t mind being left alone, she prefers it, in fact.

 On the other side of the house, Shawns’ nearly chewed through the side of his plastic cup. He’s not sure why the Hell he’s so nervous. They’ve met before in passing, but she was always with her boyfriend and Shawn never wanted to be that guy. So he let it go. 

 That is, until two weeks ago, when Allie told her friend Stella that Jonah and his girl were ‘like totally for sure over for good this time’. Everyone knows Stella can’t keep a secret, so it eventually got to Jake who told Matt who told Brian who eventually told Shawn. He felt his heart get a little lighter that day. 

 Maybe it was the poet in him, that idolizes the idea of a person instead of who they really are because in reality, he didn’t really know her. Sure, he knew that she was beautiful but not in that obvious way that had a dozen cargo shorts, fake Yeezy, tube sock wearing dudes drooling around her, it was in her own different way. He noticed the way her face lit up when someone said something funny; she’d let out a giant thundering laugh and then immediately cover her mouth, her cheeks turning a brilliant shade of pink that reminded him of the roses in his mum’s garden. She walked like there wasn’t a weight on her shoulders, like she wasn’t holding a secret, she reminded him of a warm spring day just as the seasons changed. 

 Yeah, it was definitely the poet in him.

 “Yoooo, Earth to Mendes,” Brian says, waving a hand in front of Shawn’s face.

 Shawn blinks. 

 “Last I saw her she was in the living room talking to Ricky Hurley,” Brian says sipping his drink, “fuck that guy” 

 “He really is an asshole, isn’t he?” Shawn groans, “I’ll be back.” 

 “Go get ‘em Julius!” Brian yells as Shawn shoves his way through the crowd.

 He finds her in the living room, nursing her red solo cup and leaning against a bookcase. She’s casing the room, looking for anything mildly interesting to eavesdrop on. There isn’t much; a couple making out on the couch, a fight about to break out, beer pong games. She rolls her eyes and scans again once before seeing Shawn. She chokes on her soda when she sees that ridiculous costume.

 She’s actually kind of impressed when Shawn finally does approach her, he leans so casually beside her but she can tell by the crimson shade that rests high in his cheeks that he’s far from calm. 

 “So what’s your costume?” Shawn asks. 

 She tugs on her shirt to show off the various individual sized boxes of cereal taped to her, “I’m a Cereal Killer. We’ve got Honey Nut Bundy-O’s,” she points as she goes along, “Rice Krispie Dahmers, Honey Bunches of Gacy, Shredded Zodiacs and my personal favorite Cinnamon Toast Manson.” 

 Shawn chuckles, “that’s great. But Charles Manson never actually killed anyone.” 

 She rolls her eyes, “close enough.” 

 He shrugs it off and a silence falls between the two of them. Shawn takes two more sips of his water before he has the guts to talk again. 

 “Fun party, I guess?” 

 She gives him the side eye, “if you have to say ‘I guess’, that probably means it’s a shitty party.” 

 He grins, “yeah, I suppose you’re right. What are you still doing here then if it’s so shitty?” 

 “Socializing, I guess?” She replies. 

 Shawn leans closer, “if you have to say ‘I guess’, you’re probably doing a shitty job at socializing.” 

 She smiles for the first time and he feels goddamn honored to have put that on her face, “touche. Do I know you from somewhere?” 

 Shawn always hates this question; he never wants to come off arrogant and assume everyone knows his superstar status, but he also doesn’t want to lie or play dumb to anyone. It’s a double edged sword, so he treads lightly. 

 “I think so. We always seem to be at the same parties but I’ve never worked up the nerve to actually talk to you,” he replies. 

 “Oh the nerve?” She teases, “that implies I’m something to be feared.” 

 “Maybe you are.” 

 “But you don’t know me,” she winks, “so what do you do...Julius Caesar?” 

 “I, uhm, play music.” 

 “Oh that’s cute,” she replies, “are you in like a band or something?” 

 Shawn starts to fumble with his words. 

 “I’m fucking with you,” she says lowly and holds his arm, “I know who you are and what you do. I’m just really bad at small talk.” 

 Shawn lets out a relieved breath, “yeah, me too.” 

 “Yeah,” she starts, “it’s like I just go from zero to one-eighty. I’ll take a conversation about the weather and turn it into a therapy session about my deep rooted male abandonment issues. Do you happen to have a close relationship with your mother?” 

 Shawn stares blankly and she cracks, her face spreading into a wide smile, “I’m still fucking with you, Shawn.”

 He covers his face with his hands, “you’re gonna give me a run for my money, aren’t you?” 

 She shrugs and something comes over her. It takes Shawn about four seconds to realize her hand is in his and another three to realize she’s pulling him towards the bathroom. He doesn’t question it, and insteads mutters “sorry” and “excuse me” every time he bumps someone with his costume. He’s counted six spilled drinks by the time they reach the bathroom. 

 Once the door closes behind them Shawn’s being shoved against it and her lips are on his in a mad fury. However, she keeps getting hit in the chin with his stupid fucking costume. 

 “Ow, ow, ow,” she mutters in between frantic kisses. 

 She isn’t sure what’s come over her. She’s not usually the type of girl to pull a stranger into the bathroom and mouth harass him. Helen Keller could see that Shawn was definitely at least interested in her, so why not? She was single for the first time in two years and -

 Okay, maybe she was a little desperate.

 “Wait - this isn’t working. Sit on the counter!” Shawn suggests and she follows order, hopping up on the counter top. 

 It doesn’t work, that’s apparent when Shawn struggles to fit himself and his bulky costume between her legs. She pulls away and holds his face between her palms, “such a pretty face for such a big head.” 

 She taps his cheek and hops down, “I don’t think this is going to work out.” 

 “I mean I can take off the costume -” 

 “No, don’t bother. Remember when I said I was bad at small talk?” She rubs her temples. 

 “Yeah that was like ten minutes ago -” 

 “Are you always so literal?” She snips, “sorry.” 

 “Okay, so, bad at small talk, go on,” Shawn instructs. 

 She catches her breath for a moment, “right, right. So like, I saw this guy on and off for probably like, two years? And he just never really gave me the time of day. So I was always chasing after him. I think he got off on it, in a sense, how I would always come to him. It was so gross and desperate so when I saw that you were flirting with me. I don’t know - it was just nice. Different than what I’m used to.” 

 She picks at a hangnail on her right ring finger. 

 “People don’t flirt with you?” Shawn asks. 

 She shakes her head, “I’m wearing fucking cereal boxes taped to my body while every other girl is out there wearing a corset and fishnets. I’m a pariah.” 

 “That’s stupid. You’re great, people are just -” 

 “Horny?” 

 They both laugh. 

 “Yeah, horny,” Shawn agrees.

 He links his arm through hers, “c’mon, let’s get back out there and I’ll try and forget your terrible kissing.” 

 She punches the cardboard. 

 “Hey! Don’t dent my dressing.” 

 She reaches for the knob but it doesn’t turn. She gives it a jiggle but it still doesn’t budge.

 “I think the door is stuck.” 

 Shawn raises an eyebrow, “let me in there.” 

 She puts her hands up, “alright big strong man.” 

 He struggles with the knob and she watches with her hands on her hips as he pulls and wiggles the door, “okay we’re locked in.” He finally gives up. 

 She takes her spot back on the counter, “we’ll just have to wait for the next person who has to use the bathroom.” 

 “I could think of worse people to be stuck in a room with.” 

 “Justin Bieber?” 

 Shawn grins and nods, “definitely.”

 He carefully starts to pull off his costume, and takes a deep breath when it’s finally off, placing it gingerly on the floor. 

 “That is a really great costume, by the way. A girl loves a good pun.” 

 Shawn grins, “thanks, my mum helped me make it...which I’m now realizing is probably something I shouldn’t be admitting out loud.” 

 “I think it’s sweet, she did a Hell of a job.” 

 He looks proud, “thanks,” he replies with a grin, “so what do we do now?” 

 She fishes in her back pocket and pulls out an orange lighter and a joint, “brought this for Plan B if tonight really sucked. Do you smoke?” 

 Shawn sighs a breath of relief, “yes, yes I do.” 

 ---

 Shawn reckons he can see the sky on the ceiling of the bathroom, the clouds swirling above his head as they move through the atmosphere all white and puffy. He tries his best to remember the feeling of her warm body pressed against him and breathes in the scent of her (lavender?) shampoo. He can feel every hair on his body vibrate, and when he waves his own hand in front of his face, it moves in slow motion.

 They’ve managed to finish almost all of the joint, squished next to each other in the bathtub, their limbs hanging out over the side of the tub. It’s been easily an hour at this point and no one had come to their rescue.

 “Drake is the best Canadian artist to ever exist, point blank,” he says, lulling his head over to look at her. 

 “Are you high?” She replies.

 Shawn sorts, “actually, yeah.” 

 She rolls her eyes, “It’s all about Alanis Morissette, dude. Jagged Little Pill defined my entire middle school persona. You Outta Know was my breakup song for all my imaginary boyfriends” 

 “Honestly? After meeting you that makes so much sense.” 

 She slaps his chest, “shut up.” 

 Shawn rests his head on her shoulder, “is this alright? I’m a little dizzy.” 

 She replies by putting her hand on his thigh, “yeah,” she mutters and closes her eyes.

 She can hear his heart beating along with the music from the party. It’s a harmonious mix and she’s sure it’s because shes stoned out of her mind but it’s the most fucking beautiful sound she’s ever heard. She tries to place the beat, to follow along with it but it changes; crescendos then relaxes again. Shawn’s hand is rubbing the small of her back and it’s then that she realizes they’ve somehow ended up cuddled into each other. 

 Shawn certainly doesn’t mind it. He listens for her soft breaths and tries to decide if she smells like a rainy summer day or a lavender field. Eventually his lips find her bare neck and he barely even touches her and her skin prickles wherever he makes contact. Just existing beside her is the most fun he’s had all week. She’s everything he expected her to be, and more.

 Finally, when they’re face to face, he presses his forehead against hers, “do you believe in soul mates?” 

 She cackles, and pushes him away, “alright I think you’ve hit your max for tonight.” 

 Shawn leans back and away from her and sighs, “yeah, guess so,” he grumbles. 

 She follows suit, propping her hands behind her head and listening to the music reverberate against the tiled walls of the bathroom, “it’s almost kind of peaceful, isn’t it?” 

 “I hate to be the bearer of bad news...but I have to pee,” Shawn states, clamoring out of the tub, “close the shower curtain.” 

 “What? Don’t want me to see your pasty white ass?” 

 He glares.

 “Fine, fine,” she agrees and pulls the curtain shut in front of her.

 The familiar first notes of one of her favorite songs starts to play, “are you playing Blank Space right now?” She questions.

 “I didn’t want you to hear me peeing!” 

 She can’t contain her laughter anymore, and it’s coming out in snorts and gasps and she doesn’t care how much like a dying cow she sounds like. It’s the most carefree she’s felt in too long and she’s going to embrace it while she can; before the walls start to cement themselves up again and she’s back in her fortress of blah. 

 She’s still in the midst of her laugh attack when Shawn rips open the curtain, folding his arms across his broad chest. He looked extra tall from where she was sitting and she’s pretty sure a bead of drool slips out from the side of her mouth when she looks up at him. She licks her lips once, he speaks before she does.

 “I’m hungry. Want to get out of here?” He offers a hand.

 “I cordially accept your offer, but only under the pretense that we go to McDonalds. I’m seriously craving some chicken nuggets right now.” 

 Shawn smiles, “it’s a deal.”

 He pulls a little to hard and catapults her into him. Neither mind, and Shawn makes a mental note of how perfectly she fits against him, all their nooks and crannies lining up. He fights all his urges to kiss her until it physically pains him to hold her so close and not be able to do anything about it. Shawn takes a half step (whole step for her) back and lets go.

 She’s the first one to the door he catches her look and they both groan in unison, “fuck, the door.”

 Someone bangs on the other side now, though, “oy fuck man I gotta take a leak!” They yell. 

 There’s pushing and pulling until finally, something breaks and the door crashes open, leaving her and Shawn to fall on their asses. It takes her a second to shake off the stinging feeling in her ass and lower back. 

 “Oh my GOD! There you are! I’ve been looking everywhere for you!” Her best friend passes through the doorway, pushing past the dude now whizzing in the toilet nonchalantly. 

 “Been kind of stuck,” she replies, getting up. 

 Shawn helps, and rubs the small of her back for her. 

 “With him?” Her friend questions, “really?” She mutters a bit lower and out of Shawn’s earshot.

 She nods, “I had a great time actually.” 

 “That’s fantastic and I’m very happy for you, but we have to go -” 

 Before she can turn back to Shawn, she’s being pulled out of the bathroom and towards the front door of the house. She gives her friend credit, she can hustle in those five inch heels. Shawn can barely keep up through the crowds of people as he chases after them. He’s desperate for anything, desperate for her. He has to see her again, get her number, something that proves tonight wasn’t all in his head. 

 By the time he’s reached the front walkway he sees the car pulling away. He thinks about chasing after her but stops himself, his feet glued to the ground below him. Shawn stands on the cobblestone pathway for what seems like forever, watching until the taillights blur into the distance, 

 just as the first snowflake hits his shoulder.

---

hellooooo! here is part 3. i really love this one, i think it’s really getting into their characters and the banter and all that fun stuff. i’m truly considering making this into a full fledged series with an oc once the last part (5) is posted. 

please let me know what you think! :)

[nat-roman0ff]

the here and now

“i’ve been in love with you for so long, and trying to bury it for even longer.”

sequel to a certain time and place; now posted

[nat-roman0ff]

a certain time and place

‘Her emotions are a constant change of the tides rolling in and out and her sea is tired.’

read the complete series in my masterlist.

[llantasghasham]

ALFOMBRA ACTAP ALFOMBRA ACTAP COLORES NEGRA BEGE Y GRIS