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wizkiddx · 4 years

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unusable faces

i have exams hence why i needed to write something exceptionally cringe :)

PSA: this is completely inspired from one of my fave writers own blurb @blissfulparker --> completely recommend u go read hers its much better than anything i could ever write!!!! (and just her whole account) = link

Summary: pure exhaustion and mutual pining, Tom Holland x actress!reader

^(just thought this was cute, doesn't really fit aha but full credit to op!!)

A scheduling nightmare would be putting it lightly. Perhaps almost unavoidable but that didn’t make it any less of a hellish form a torture. Harry had very helpfully said it actually was a form of torture, that is sleep deprivation. Y/n loved her job - it was all she’d ever really wanted - yet that thought was quickly becoming not enough to get her through the day. Not when it felt like an interrogation tactic used by the CIA.

To give a quick timeline of the past few days may give a little context:

Thursday - filming the fight scene all day plus an evening-turned-half-the-night-shoot due to some technically difficulties delaying the process.

Friday - flying to New York while doing read throughs of scenes for the next few days; followed immediately by getting glammed and filming the tonight show with Fallon; then a dash across town to the late late show with James Corden; then straight back on a flight to Atlanta that landed at stupid o’clock in the morning

Saturday - a full day of shooting in a mock grand central station set

The press trip to NY had been unplanned… to say the least. But the star of their studios other new release had taken ill - meaning they had slots booked on some of the biggest talk shows in America that would just be abandoned (angering the shows bookers too). It was a waste of perfectly good promo time and since the studio had their two other stars together doing a block of reshoots - it wasn’t a conversation. Much more a call demanding the two of them to be on the plane.

Normally this wouldn’t be such an unmanageable ask either, except the reshoot block was really rather time pressured. You see, the promo tour wasn’t far from beginning meaning they really needed the final film in the can. So really it was a bit of a mess. Just to free up that single day the two were in New York the whole schedule had had to be rejigged - in doing so they’d lost a rare day off too. It was just typical.

The joys of success hey?

Well, that’s at least what Y/n was making herself think whilst her incredibly talented SFX artist was in the process of crafting a deep wound onto her upper arm. The reason why she would be ‘dripping with blood’ whilst at a train station was beyond Y/n to be honest - she hadn’t been allowed to read a lot of the script so even now as filming was drawing to a close, the story arc of the movie she was headlining was still a little ‘fuzzy’.

“So I watched your ‘spill your guts’ thing on YouTube” Ellie giggled whilst reaching over for more prosthetic putty- a technical term apparently

“I’m glad one of us enjoyed the experience” Y/n replied with a sigh, rolling her eyes at the mischievous smirk on her face - no doubt Ellie took great joy out of seeing her suffer through eating a thousand year old egg. Which Y/n swore the taste of was still in her mouth… and it seemed as though it’d never leave.

“Oh don’t worry darling I did too” Nelli called over from the next chair along, where she was doing Tom’s makeup for the day of shoots. “Between that and the animals on Fallon, you made a hell of a lot of people laugh last night” Tom’s artist was referencing the fact one of Jimmys other guests was a zookeeper, so at the end of the interview he had you and Tom join in trying not to scream at the snakes and spiders.

“You mean laugh at us?”

“Well of course darling!” Nelli exclaimed back in an overdramatic bronx accent making all three of the women burst out laughing, Ellie’s unceremonious snorts echoing through the trailer only egged them all on more.

Tom in response, who had otherwise been absent from conversation for the majority of the morning, exclaimed a curse and jumped up in his chair. While you and Ellie collected yourself, Nelli apologised to him.

“Oh sorry love, I’m interrupting your snooze with my uncontrollable comedic gift” She spoke sweetly, even if still taking the moment to flaunt to the other women, as she squeezed his shoulder compassionately.

“No no” Tom waved off her apology, attempting to rub his eye before Nelli swatted his arm away - a stern look for the risk of ruining all her hard work she’d put into making his face look half presentable.

“I’m impressed you can sleep while they poke you with all these er instruments” Y/n added in, having only just realised Tom had been in a light sleep for god knows how long they’d been in that chair. It did seem a bit unlikely, being able to fall asleep as you were dabbed, prodded and brushed.

“Maybe you should try though Y/n… your purple eye bags are proving a struggle even for me” Ellie quipped back, now it was Y/n’s turn to give the stern look. Tom took the explain though, shutting her off from whatever kindly meant insult she was about to throw back at her friend.

“No normally never, I just….” He was cut off by an ear splitting yawn, appearing almost powerful enough to crack his jaw - which would be a disaster, for no one should ruin such a beautiful and sharp jaw line. “…uh-sorry. I just think I ended up taking my NyQuil and DayQuil the wrong way round in the madness of yesterday.” Only Tom, the poor kid often seemed to lacking in any form of common sense - even if those closest to him knew just how intellectual and passionate he could be about the right topic. Affectionately, Nelli scalded his idiocy by jokingly swatting his head with a little tut.

“I can’t believe your still standing then! I’m barely alive and I don’t have any sedatives in my system.” It was true, Y/n was at that stage where every part of her body felt ridiculously heavy… eyes included … eyes especially.

“But I did sleep on the jet back while your stupid self was studying the script!” Tom replied with a pretty inarguable point - at the time he knew her actions were stupid; when their flight took off at 11 PM he was certain that the most valuable asset to his ability to act in the reshoots today would be sleep - rather than character development. And he’d tried to convince Y/n that briefly, but gave up. She was bloody stubborn when she wanted to be.

“Stop competing about who has it worse cos I think it’s me and Nell”Ellie announced - making Nelli agree empathically with her coworker, nodding her head as she looked first to Y/n in her chair then back at Tom.

“Yeh because we have to deal with your unusable faces!!”

After much sarcasm thrown back and fourth, the trailer slowly ebbed it’s way back into serenity and peace as both artists focused on their work. Once Nelli was done she excused herself, Tom staying in the chair in favour of studying (more like staring blankly) at the dialogue for this mornings scenes. His pretence didn’t last long though and while Ellie was busy adding the final touches of fake blood to the now almost completely believable gash that she’d crafted on Y/n’s arm - Y/n had her attention focused the opposite way.

At poor little Tom. He looked so childlike, his slightly puffy eyes looked as if they had weights tied to them - they way he was having fight against gravity to flutter his eyes open, before loosing the next second only for the process to repeat as they dragged downwards. The broad muscles of his neck occasionally seemed to occasionally let up a little, letting his head tilt slowly at first until it gathered enough momentum to throw him off balance. The then sudden movement of his head unconsciously pulling itself back in line caused his eyes to bolt open prior to the whole cycle repeating again. All Y/n wanted to do was let him lay down someone, her heart feeling a tug in her chest just seeing him like that.

Ellie proclaimed her completion of the wound, leaning back to admire her work before looking to get an affirming nod from Y/n. Yet instead, she was too preoccupied gazing at the boy slouched across from them. “Someone seems a little distracted.” Ellie smirked, finally garnering Y/n’s attention, only feeling more and more smug watching a light tint appear on the actors cheeks.

“I-well-no… we need to go.” Y/n ignored her words as though nothing had happened, instead rushing off the chair to get Tom out the chair and onto the awaiting set. They had places to be.

|||||||||||||||||||||||||||| (bcos im lazy)

Honestly when the director, Ed, called for lunch break, it was pretty apparent to be purely as a compassionate gesture to Y/n and Tom. Both of them had tried so hard this morning to fully commit, even so they’d both been almost completely useless. Y/n kept missing cues whilst all Tom’s actions and lines where slow, dragged out and at times completely prompted from someone behind the cameras.

So when the lunch break was called there was only one thing on Y/n’s mind and what sandwich was available in the mess tent was not it. Still standing on the set next to her fake holdall bag she looked toward Tom, who was pulling himself up to standing from the train station bench - the pace of his movement making him look more like an old man.

“You good?” His answer was predictable.

“I’m so fucking shattered”

Tom swore he’d never heard anything sweeter come out of Y/n’s pink lips than her next statement.

“C’mon I know somewhere we can lie down.”

Without any sort of thought Tom blindly agreed, nodding as he took her outstretched hand in his. The gesture in itself brought a fresh wave of comfort to his aching limbs and as his feet stumbled to catchup with her slight head start he leant the majority of his weight into their connected hands.

Neither would admit it but they were ‘a thing’… whatever the hell that meant. It was clear as day to everyone and anyone that worked closely to the two but neither of them had ever broached the topic with each other. They’d worked on a few films together over the years; each time they got closer and closer to the point any job without the other simply wasn’t as good. It was scary though, especially for two actors in the prime of their careers. If they weren’t working the same film they’d likely be the opposite side of the world to each other most of the time - quality time together would be few and far between, Really their jobs didn’t suit dating at all, yet it would be perhaps easier if one half of it worked a ‘normal’ job. Something with consistency, a regular structure. A level of dependability that neither Y/n nor Tom could offer to the other.

So it was terrifying, acknowledging the growth in their magnetic attraction to each other. Both were acutely aware that doing that, confronting their feelings, would most likely signal the beginning of the end.

Although none of this stoped Y/n from returning the gesture, tilting her shoulder into Tom’s left side as they took slow steps through and then out the set building. She steered the two past the hair and makeup trailer and round into a store and extra equipment trailer. Tom tilted his head as she climbed the stairs whilst beckoning for him to follow - it didn’t seem like the most obvious choice. Rolling her eyes, Y/n explained.

“It’s where all the blankets and coats and kept for the raining scenes plusssss no one will disturb us in here.” Again Tom was not in a position to disagree, eyes drooping as his shoulders sagged to the floor. Right now he’d take anything.

So he climbed up the stairs and shut the door behind him, just as Y/n flipped the light on. She was right, it was well equipped and with an almost mountainous supply of red blankets that normally the crew and extra would all be wrapped up in after the freezing rain scenes with all the ‘waterfall machines’ as Y/n called them. However it was also um…. It was cosy. “Oh I don’t think I realised how small it was” She chuckled lightly, since now the door was closed her back was pressed up against the far wall of cabinets and still her front was mere millimetres from Tom.

“I…I don’t mind… if-if you don’t?”

“I’m too tired to care” She giggled in response, and Tom , now with her seal of approval, immediately started ransacking the piled shelves for all their worth creating a floor carpeted in the pale red of the blankets, in an attempt to make it more cosy. Joining in, it was almost remarkable how quickly their bodies suddenly agreed to move, with the new promise of rest mere moments away.

Once the trailer was fully drowned, Tom kicked off his costume shoes and threw his jacket off - it haphazardly landing by the doorway. Y/n copied him, leaving her stood up whilst he had the advantaged of already settling down on the floor, her standing and looking down at him.

The space between the two opposing shelving units was not close spacious enough for two people to lie down whilst keeping a respectable level of personal space. Suddenly feeling a wave of awkwardness, Y/n stayed standing, wringing her hands slightly - whilst fairly certain Tom could hear her heart running at 100 mph.

“You er… gonna stay there or?” Tom, contrary to popular belief, wasn’t a complete idiot - he could see she was suddenly self conscious. He got it too - they’d never crossed this boundary of choosing to cuddle into each other. It had happened once of twice accidentally over there 2 years of knowing each other. Both of those times it was completely accidental, falling asleep watching a movie with a safe distance of space b between the two, only to find hours later their bodies almost completely intwined. Tom would be lying if he said that his heart didnt skip a beat when he had awoken to Y/n’s soft and gently breath fanning into his neck. He’d loved it, but understood that was unconsciously breaking down part of the wall they’d both been the constructors of.

For fear of getting hurt.

So now, as Y/n awkwardly bent down and lay on her side, he thought it was imperative to make her feel comfortable. Naturally then, his arm slid round her shoulders and pulled her down toward his chest, releasing a little breath as he felt her relax, her legs slowly wrapping round one of his.

“This okay?” He murmured, now into the crown of her head as she lay half on her side half on his chest. In reply she nodded into him and Tom couldn’t help but grin- unbeknownst to him but Y/n was doing the exact same thing.

The peace lasted all of 3 seconds until she groaned again.

“What?” Tom enquired as she wriggled out his hold and stood up. Instead of replying though she just leant over and flicked the one harsh light bulb off making Tom chuckle as she fumbled her way back onto the padded floor in the darkness, earning a few grunts from both as she accidentally kicked Tom’s thighs or banged her head on one of the now empty shelves. Fumbling her way back into a comfortable position, occasionally cursing when she stubbed her toe- or Tom did when she accidentally elbowed him in the ribs.

“Comfy?” Tom asked a little sarkily as he squeezed her a little more into his side.

“Mhmmmm… I’m gonna sleep for 100 years”

“Yeh me… me too”

And with that they both almost instantly and in complete unison sagged into each other and the blankets - the pent up stress and tension of the past few days ebbing away.

What the pair had neglected to remember was that sleeping for 100 years wasn’t really an option. The whole crew of 50 people, who wanted to restart filming after 45 minutes, had not been told about Y/n’s little hiding place. The pair were so completely safe in their own little cocoon of comfort they were completely oblivious to their teams calling there names more and more frantically. Completely oblivious to the game of hide and seek the situation had descended into, completely oblivious to Harrys natural annoyance as the director asked him for the whereabouts of the two stars - as though Harry was childminder to the pair of them.

It was Nelli who found them first. She’d and Ellie and Tom’s manager had all been recruited by Harry as part of the man hunt. Both girls, having seen first hand the state of the two this morning, were fairly certain they’d both crashed out somewhere. So Nelli, already with a sneaking suspicion, opened the door gently, her figure blocking the majority of the light from seeping through to the dimly lit inside. The sight she was met with had her actually pouting at the cuteness - and yes its a cringey word but also the only one appropriate.

Between bedding down and barely an hour later the two had managed to become impossibly tighter pressed to each other. Y/n’s face was pressed into the crook of Tom’s neck and his arms seemed to have pulled her on-top of him almost completely. Her left leg was hooked under his right, which was then sandwiched by his left too. They both looked so pure and innocent and god did Nelli know they both needed any extra time they could get.

Nelli cared a lot about Tom, she’d been working with him from the beginning, from the child star days to now. She cared about him like her very annoying surrogate son and she wanted to see him looked after. She also so completely wanted the two stars to stop pining after each other. Because frankly it was getting a little frustrating for everyone else.

So she chose to tactically forget about her discovery, sneaking a photo on the sly before silently pulling the door closed and leaving them to their sleep.

#tom holland #tom holland fluff #tom holland x reader #tom holland x famous!reader #tom holland x actress!reader #fluff

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harryandmolly · 5 years

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Ten Years - Part Three (Final)

summary: ten years after 2007 Warped Tour, Shawn and Val come face to face in London

warnings: Language, NSFW (unprotected sex), A Sense of Finality (TM)

WC: 5.9k

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He bought her tiny headphones.

Shawn called at least six of his friends he knows have kids -- Mark Hoppus, Travis Clark and Pete Wentz among them. He asked them what kind of noise-deadening headphones they bought for their kids when they were babies. He did research about decibel levels and infant hearing development. He splurged for the best pair.

Alice’s first Forefront concert is on February 26th, 2018 at the O2 Arena in Greenwich. Val has been planning Alice’s concert outfit for at least a month, which of course is foolish, because Alice is growing like a weed. They don’t know who is more excited about it, Shawn or Val. Alice, in her tiny Chuck Taylors with giant cushiony headphones that look like oversized Princess Leia buns over her ears, is clueless.

Forefront is playing a quick series of four shows at the O2 to round out the final promo push for their last album before Shawn really settles into writing the new one. They’ll be the last Forefront shows until the holidays. Shawn wonders where he’ll be then.

He heads to the arena early for soundcheck, so the girls will meet him there before the show. He put Diet Coke on the rider for Val and Farley’s Rusks for Alice. He wants them to feel at home there with him, wants to show Val that this kind of family, though unconventional, could work for all of them.

It’s been a couple months since they returned from their holidays. Adjusting hasn’t been entirely simple. Shawn barely slept at his rental flat for the first couple weeks after New Years, spending every spare second he had with Val and Alice, but they soon realized that wasn’t the best way to begin this.

It needed to make sense. Practically living together so quickly gave both of them an uneasy feeling of deja vu drawing back to the night before he left her on Warped Tour with an armful of hastily made promises. What made sense were baby steps.

They spent a lot of time on FaceTime at first. Slowly, they found ways to incorporate Shawn into Val and Alice’s fairly strict routine. They started taking walks around Farringdon a couple nights a week to lull Alice to sleep. He began spending the night on weekends, then staying over after their night walks and learning the morning ritual. He’s gotten good at it. He’s even helpful now.

He’s trying not to think too far ahead. He knows writing the album can only take so long. When it’s done, they have to record it, which they’ll be doing in LA. On the other side of the world. When he thinks about it, his blood feels thick and sluggish, dragging through his veins as panic sets in. He’ll be so far away. He’s going to miss them so much it’ll feel like he left a limb back in England.

This is why he doesn’t think about it.

He’s curled up on the sofa in the green room with an acoustic in his lap, riddling out what this song in his head is trying to say when there’s a knock. Andrew enters wearing a very self-satisfied grin, toting Val and Alice behind him.

Aside from the child in her arms, Val looks about as much like a tired mum of an almost-one-year-old as Shawn does. Her hair’s blown out in soft, touchable curls. Her now vintage Forefront tee is strategically worn and torn, tucked into the tightest high-waisted jeans he’s ever seen that get swallowed up by thigh high leather boots.

The noisy green room full of Forefront members, assorted crew and some London-based friends all fall almost silent. If Val notices, she doesn’t let on. Shawn bets she’s used to it. Val’s never walked into a room where she hasn’t drawn every eye. Even with a squirming, squealing baby in her arms.

Shawn practically throws the guitar beside him and leaps to stand. Val beams, her red painted lips spreading eagerly. It’s all Shawn can do not to kiss her like they’re alone. The guys whistle anyway.

“Fuck off,” Shawn laughs as he pulls away, but his cheeks and the tips of his ears are pink. She wipes a bit of lipstick off his mouth, though looking at her, you wouldn’t be able to tell that it smudged. Shawn’s never understood that kind of power.

Each of the Forefront boys take their turns greeting her and introducing themselves to little Alice, who has them wrapped around her pudgy fingers with a single nearly toothless smile. Seth is the only one that asks to hold her, and, incidentally, is the only one Val would’ve allowed to do it. Even so, Shawn hovers impatiently beside Seth the whole five minutes before Seth gives up and forks over the baby.

Shawn scoops her into his chest and showers her little face with kisses as she squeaks and kicks her powerful sausage legs. Val watches, propped on the arm of the couch with her long legs folded.

“Good to see you again.”

Val looks over her shoulder. Francis is wearing the same troublesome smile she remembers. She grins back.

“It’s been a while.”

“Been a fuckin’ lifetime,” Francis laughs, dropping into the seat next to her, watching Shawn let Alice pluck at the guitar he usually doesn’t let anyone else touch.

Even with the smile, he’s different than she remembers. A little more subdued, maybe a little less focused on competing with Shawn for all the attention in the room. He seems more inside himself in a way a man only can be when he’s grown up. Val’s not unfamiliar with this kind of energy shift. Between the Streets of Gold and All Time Low boys, she’s watched a lot of pop punk brats grow up. From impatient, ambitious teenagers, they become kind, wise, thoughtful men. Francis, she can sense, is no exception.

“Haven’t seen him like this in so long,” Francis admits, looking over her with a ghost of ebbing suspicion in his gaze. She understands why.

“Not that he’s been, like, miserable or anything,” Francis assures her, widening his eyes a little to support his words, “But, you know. Maybe a bit lonely.”

She nods. Her eyes are warm and understanding. Francis sees how Shawn could’ve fallen into them and never found a way out again.

“Me too, I think,” she murmurs.

The room brightens up even more as the guys prepare for the show. The opener is audible and muffled around the screams of tens of thousands of fans. Val, with her daughter back in her arms, watches as the scared, humbled kids she used to watch pout over playing for a dozen kids prepare for an arena show without breaking a sweat. They each take a tequila shot beside the stage. Val tastes it in Shawn’s mouth when she takes one last kiss. Their chests rumble with the drum track that plays to hype up the crowd before they take the stage. Shawn adjusts Alice’s comically large headphones one last time and checks her face for any sign of upset or discomfort. Her big beautiful eyes are wide, taking it in. They snap shut when Shawn kisses her on the nose with a chuckle.

With one last proud, excited glance over his shoulder, Shawn strides out onto the stage, guitar slung behind his broad back, greeted by roaring, adoring screams. Val swallows and bounces Alice against her hip, feeling almost starstruck.

The show is the finely-tuned version of what she remembers. It’s unstructured and free and fun, a celebration of the music, the friends, the night. Every fan in the gigantic room is a friend and everyone’s here for the party. It’s everything a pop punk show should be, but on a larger scale.

Val dances and sings along, holding Alice’s fingers and twirling to make her laugh. She catches Shawn’s eye several times, her heart vaulting over a beat with each one, giving and accepting more kisses when he jogs back occasionally to change out a guitar.

By the time the show ends, Alice has fallen asleep and been toted off by Bobby’s mom to nap in the green room.

“You let Louise take her?” Shawn whines as he comes off stage panting, having to yell over the fading cheers and applause, “Bad idea. I mean, just look how Bobby turned out.”

Bobby lets out a cry of protest. Val lifts Shawn’s sweaty, bare arm and slings it around her shoulders.

“‘S ok. She’s asleep. And we’re busy.”

Shawn blinks, the corner of his mouth lifting. “Are we?”

Instead of returning to the green room, Val takes Shawn by the hand and guides him to his private dressing room. He watches her lead him, or watches the pockets on the backs of her jeans twist and flick as she swings her hips. He can feel his pulse in his ears when she locks the dressing room door behind them.

She’s quiet for a minute, and it’s unnerving. But he knows better than to break it first. He can feel it in the air around them.

Val tilts her head, looking him up and down hungrily. She leans against the back of the couch and pushes some curls out of her face.

She’s all leg and dark hair and brown skin and fire. Shawn gulps comically.

“You are so fucking sexy.”

He blinks. He was thinking it, but he swears he didn’t actually speak. It takes him a beat too long to realize she’s the one that said it.

“Oh yeah?” he pants.

She nods, reaching a hand out for him. He scrambles a bit to take it, greedy for her invitation. She smiles knowingly, lovingly, and pulls his hands onto her hips. He allows himself one needy squeeze before he’s determined to behave himself.

Even though he’s looking down at her, he’s the one that feels like the willing prey to her predator. She reaches up and fingers the necklace hanging against his chest. Her eyes remain steady on his as he waits for whatever’s coming.

“You’re so powerful on that stage. Confident and sensitive and open and in control. Been wet for you since the first song.”

Shawn’s breath hitches. He quirks a smile. She smiles back and it’s like a shot of adrenaline to his heart.

“But you know who’s in control here, papi?”

Shawn’s eyes flutter shut. His shoulders soften. His body relaxes even as he throbs hard for her already in his jeans. He throws himself into desperately desired surrender.

“You.”

The word is like a prayer on his lips. It hangs heavy between them. He opens his eyes to see her nodding hungrily.

“Get on your knees, honey.”

Shawn muffles a groan, slowly descending to kneel on the carpet at her feet. She watches, satisfied as he blinks up at her, wide-eyed and awestruck.

“Wanna take my boots off?”

He wets his lips and lets his eyes drop to the zipper resting against her inner thigh on her left leg. He feels a flash of a memory prod him, the memory of an inhumanely hot day in Texas in the summer of 2007, the feel of sweat dripping down his neck with the taste of the woman he loves on his lips. He shivers.

Val pushes red polished fingers into his hair, seemingly unbothered by the sweat and hair paste that have thickened it. His eyes flutter. He lifts his hands to her leg, pulling the zipper slowly, admiring her as she so graciously lets him, until he pulls the boot and sock off and starts on the other leg. By the time he’s finished with his hands cupped around the backs of her knees, he’s panting.

Val, watching him with a small smirk, reaches down to lift the hem of her shirt with his band’s logo on the front. Her intricately detailed lace bra is nude, the color of brown sugar, almost as pretty as all her bare skin. Shawn shudders a breath that feels like it scratches on its way out. He tilts his forehead against her hot stomach and forces an inhale.

She starts clawing at the shirt on his back. He can feel how desperate she’s becoming through the haphazard dragging of her nails on his skin until she yanks it over his head and pulls him to his feet. Her eyes are flooded and dark. Her lips are parted. She’s staring at him like she’s trying to decide what she should have him do next. He tucks a curl behind her ear, skimming her soft cheek with his thumb.

“Anything, baby. I’ll give you anything. I’m yours. Please.”

His voice is hoarse from the show and from the closeness of her. She inhales sharply, her incredible breasts rising temptingly in her bra before she snaps like a viper, dragging his lips to hers. They kiss like they’re aching. They’re not shy about biting, sucking, moaning, tasting, taking. They need this. And it feels so fucking good.

Val’s lips wander with purpose, smearing Russian Red over his sharp jaw until she hits paydirt, sucking and nibbling at the spot below his ear that gets him loud.

“Jesus Christ, Vally,” he gasps, rocking his hips hard against her stomach. She mewls at his reaction, biting harder, soothing him with her tongue as he quakes in her arms. He can’t keep quiet. His every breath is a gasping moan. He’s outside himself and he’s not even naked yet.

She seems to want to fix that, fingers tripping over hard muscle on their way down to his jeans, which he helps her peel off, along with his blue Calvins. Next come her jeans, which are even snugger and make Shawn’s fucking head spin. Her matching bra and panties are quickly forgotten, wet and useless on the ground.

She’s propped up on the arm of the couch, legs spread to cradle him between as they writhe like teenagers. Shawn’s cock throbs insistently, trapped between them as her nipple rings brush his chest. Their kisses are so wet and messy, they’re nothing more than a way to be connected while they gasp for air.

“Vally, let me give you something. Please. Fuck.” His voice is fucked out, breaking for her. He’s sure she wants something -- his fingers? His tongue? Both? Whatever she wants, it’s hers. But he needs her to take it.

She shakes her head fervently, her eyes glassy. “Can’t. Can’t wait. Need you inside me.”

Shawn’s gasp is so loud it rattles both their chests as they continue to rock their bodies together. He’s nodding so hard he almost headbutts her. She giggles, making his cock twitch again, and eases him away gently.

Shawn stands back, fists clenched, watching her lift herself off the arm of the couch only to turn around and unfurl over it, her ass in the air, her sticky, sweaty hair stuck to her soft back. She spreads her legs enough for Shawn to see her pink and glistening wet for him. He grabs at his dick, giving himself a squeeze at the base as he swears.

“Holy shit, Valentina.”

Val’s grin, the unholy one, the one he’d let drag him to hell, settles in on her swollen, smeared lips. “Let me show you how I like it this way, papi.”

Shawn’s never given up the opportunity to let her teach him a lesson before. He’s not about to start now. He nods again like a fucking bobblehead doll and practically stumbles up behind her, hands gripping her hips.

Val secures a hand around the back of the couch and looks at him over her shoulder again. “Go ahead, baby. I’m nice and wet for you.”

“Fuck, yeah, you are,” he grunts, positioning the head of his cock against her dripping entrance. He presses in slowly, watching her face.

“Keep going,” she murmurs, sounding high on him, spreading her legs a bit further, greedily. Shawn whimpers when he bottoms out.

“Now,” she hisses, struggling to speak coherently, “Keep your hips still for me. Just feel me.”

Shawn begs whatever higher power there is for self-control and slides his hands up to grip her waist as she starts to move. From above her, he watches her body roll, her hips rocking smoothly from side to side as she sets their pace. Shawn’s jaw drops. He holds fast, stunned as she takes what she needs from him exactly how she wants it.

“Feels so good, baby,” she praises, though she’s doing all the work. Shawn mumbles back in the affirmative, transfixed by the slowly increasing pace of her rocking motion as she fucks him.

“Never done it like this before,” he rasps, shaking his head at her ingenuity. With her hands planted below her, she gives him a pulse with her tight walls and smirks over her shoulder.

“I like to keep you guessing.”

He moans, rattling through into her squeezing wet core. She gasps, rhythm faltering. In a few seconds. She’s using her hands for leverage, pressing back into him and ebbing away, sliding his cock in and out as he remains still.

“Vally, baby,” Shawn growls, shifting one large hand from her waist to caress her back, lovingly skimming every notch of her spine. He takes a handful of her ass, kneading her flesh in his fingers. She purrs his name and his other hand off her waist, trailing it down to skim over the patch of hair crowning her perfect pussy. Shawn takes the hint and presses two firm fingers into her clit, letting her grinding motion serve her best.

“Yes!” she cries, thrusting back harder, riding him unforgivingly. He’s holding on by the skin of his fucking teeth for her. He knows she’ll give it when she’s ready. She’ll be ready once she takes hers.

“Gonna come, Vally?”

She nods breathlessly. With one last flash of dark eyes over her shoulder, she hisses, “Fuck me.”

Shawn’s eyes go wide. He bucks his hips, catching up with her rhythm quickly as his starts strumming his fingers against her clit, watching her come up on her tiptoes beneath him, her back arching.

“Yes! Yes! Harder!”

Shawn bears down, grunting with each powerful swing, trying to ignore the filthy sound of her wet cunt around his shaft. He wants to get her there first before he follows. He shifts his hand, gets her clit between his thumb and forefinger and pinches, pulsing her clit between his fingers as his hips pound her ass.

“I’m gonna come!” she cries, the end of her announcement swallowed up by a squeak that makes his stomach drop. She rolls her hips hard against the arm of the leather couch, fucking back against him relentlessly, her pussy clenching and pulsing as she comes hard all over his cock.

Her grunting is unintelligible, but Shawn thinks it’s a mix of slurred Spanish punctuated by his name. He can’t tell. His ears are ringing as he follows close behind her, screaming “FUCK!” when he finishes. Their hips roll to a stop. One of Val’s hands releases his ass cheek that she reached back and grabbed, her nails leaving marks. Shawn winces, chuckling, pulling out of her to secure a wet towel from the bathroom.

He squats behind her, leaving little kisses over her ass and thighs as he wipes her gently. She makes a whimpering noise and reaches for him. He unfolds her carefully to stand, weak and supple as she rests against his chest. He continues spoiling as much of her as he can reach with kisses until she’s giggling so hard he laughs with her.

“Holy shit,” she declares, lifting her head to look at him.

He shrugs. “You started it.”

Smug, she grins, “I always do.”

On July 22nd, Shawn is booked on a flight to Toronto to see his family for a few days before leaving for LA to begin recording.

He stretched the writing out for as long as he could. He pored over lyrics, samples, suggestions from co-writers and producers, piecing it together, then tearing it apart. The problem is, it was flowing out of him. This album was right under the surface of his skin, not letting him rest until he got it out.

It’s mostly about her, of course. Val knows. She helped write a few tracks. By the time summer came, Shawn had all but moved out of his rental flat and in with Val and Alice, full time boyfriend and dad-like figure. They celebrated Alice’s first birthday in Hyde Park. They made picnics for Sundays in Kensington Gardens and Shawn ran around with Alice in the Princess Diana Memorial Playground. He and Val made passionate, ferocious, intimate, quiet, silly, giggly, perfect love for months on end, knowing a drought was coming.

And then it came. The album was ready. There was no hiding from it, not with the hooting and hollering of the label and his management. The time to leave London hit Shawn and Val like a ton of bricks. They traded off being The Positive One and The Miserable One until… well, until they were both miserable.

Standing outside her flat with a black cab waiting to take him to Heathrow, Val holds Alice in one arm and swipes at her tears with the other. She forces a smile. Shawn’s eyes are red and cloudy. His hair is frizzy from how often he’s been jerking his hands through it. He tries to smile back.

“Come here, papi,” she croaks, opening her arm to him. He shuffles forward, draping himself around his little family. He sniffs into her shoulder, willing himself not to cry again. At least not until he gets in the cab.

“We love you,” she whispers hoarsely. He squeezes his traitorous eyes and cradles his girls, rocking them against his chest. Alice, clueless, grabs a handful of Shawn’s hair and yanks.

He smiles for real this time, peeling her little fingers off his hair and bringing her fist to his lips. She patiently coos at the pecking kisses he leaves all over her face and hair until his throat tightens and his chest rattles.

He pulls back to look at her and glances at her mother, who’s trying to hold it together and failing.

“Listen,” he rasps, tucking a hand up under Val’s soft hair to massage the back of her neck, “I-I know you’re superwoman and you can do this all on your own. I know you don’t really need me. Just… just try to pretend you do until I come back, ok? Please? Don’t forget… that I’m part of the family now.”

Val’s heart splits. It’s clean and sharp and she’s sure he could hear it in her chest as she felt it. She releases a sob, clapping a hand over her mouth as he pulls her close to brush his nose through her hair.

“Baby… we need you. God, we do need you. We love you, we both do, so much. And fuck, even if we didn’t need you, we want you. We chose you. Ok? I’ll remind you of it every day. We love you so much, baby. I love you.”

Val buries her face in Shawn’s neck. His heart is so full it aches. He can only hope it’s enough to sustain him until he can try to wrangle a time for them to visit, or for him to fly back.

“I’ll finish as soon as I can. I promise. I’ll--”

The cabbie honks. Shawn grunts, irritated. With a slow inhale, he peels himself away.

He swallows. “I love you, Vally. I love you, Alice.”

He steps backward and tucks himself into the cab. Val and Alice wave until it’s long out of sight.

“She’s got another tooth coming in. She’s like a shark, this kid. It never stops.”

Shawn laughs. He’s got the phone up against his ear and a hand resting on his chest like he’s trying to hold his fragile heart together. He’s face up on his bed in his LA rental. West Hollywood is noisy outside on a Saturday morning.

On the other side of the planet, London is quiet and rainy. Alice went to sleep an hour ago, so Val called Shawn to keep her company. It’s been two months and 17 days since he left for LA. He flew out to see them last month for two days because he got so miserable, his band banished him and told him not to come back to the studio until he got his Val and Alice fix. Leaving them was a little easier that time, knowing he wouldn’t be gone so long. The album was practically complete. The process had been slowed down by meetings about planning a tour and Shawn’s personal ventures writing with other artists, even helping produce a single for All Time Low. But in 18 days, Shawn would be home.

Home, home. As in, sending his stuff from Toronto, planting himself permanently on the other side of the pond, home. He’ll be moving in with Val and Alice until they can decide on a newer, bigger, better place -- Shawn likes the idea of a townhouse in North London, quiet and removed. Val wants to stay in the city, closer to the museum, in a three-bedroom flat in Kensington, maybe near the park if they can afford it.

Until that time, phone calls and FaceTime sustain them. Shawn is antsy, has been all day. He thinks he hears the same edge in Val’s voice. Phone sex isn’t at all new. It’s one of the only things that’s been keeping them sane during their separation. Usually Val is the one instigating, though. But he wants her to feel wanted, seduced. He’s just not sure he knows how to begin without stumbling into it.

“So… uh, what are you wearing?”

Idiot.

Val laughs. “A latex bodysuit and red lipstick.”

He grunts and wrinkles his nose. “That’s a mean image to put in my head.”

“Mhmm. Well, what are you wearing?”

He glances down at himself like he forgot. “Uh, sweatpants.”

“Me too. Yours, actually.”

Shawn bites down on his lower lip, worrying the ring with his tongue. “What’s underneath?”

She pauses. “Well, I could lie and say I’m wearing the little red ones you like with the straps and the lace. But really, I’m wearing the boyshorts I sleep in.”

Shawn hums, closing his eyes. His fingers twitch on his chest. “That’s ok, I miss those, too.”

“What else do you miss?” Val murmurs, shutting her bedroom door behind her and dropping onto the bed, getting comfy.

“I miss… fuckin’ everything. I miss the way your hair smells in the morning. I miss your tattoos. I miss the spot under your belly button that makes you squeak when I kiss it. I miss the way you taste.”

Val’s eyes fall shut. She slips her hand down her belly and into the waistband of her panties. Her sigh is enough to tell him what he wanted to know.

“Touching yourself, honey?”

She nods, though he can’t see. “Join me.”

Shawn huffs a breath and wriggles out of his sweats, kicking them at the door. He spreads his thighs, determined to go slow. He’s so keyed up that if he starts hot and heavy right away, he’ll beat her to the finish line. Even by phone, he refuses to do that.

He runs his hand up his inner thigh and gives himself a squeeze through the fabric. Val smiles at his sharp inhale.

“What do you want tonight, baby?”

Shawn’s eyebrows lift. “You’re… you want me to pick?”

She hums, cupping her pussy, rocking into her hand as she lets herself imagine the options. “Whatever you want.”

“Could you… I mean, like, if you want to… I-I miss your mouth.” He goes hot pink and waits.

Val tilts her head back. “God, that sounds so good. I miss being on my knees for you.”

Shawn sighs, wrapping a hand around the head of his cock through his boxers, massaging himself, “Yeah. Feels so good every time, honey. You’re incredible.”

Val feeds off his praise. Soon, her panties and sweats are crumpled at the end of the bed. “I like starting by kissing your chest and your stomach. Soft at first, looking up at you while I taste your skin. Then sharper, harder, leaving marks.”

“Yeah,” Shawn grunts, “Mark me.”

“Little bruises on your chest. I swirl my tongue around your nipples. I know they’re sensitive.”

Shawn flicks one with his thumb and lets her hear his breathing hitch. “Yeah, baby.”

“I like leaving a trail of marks down your abdomen to show you where I’ve been. Shawn, you’re so hard for me.”

Shawn kicks out of his boxer briefs and fists his cock, groaning, “So hard, fuck. You drive me crazy like this.”

She’s barely done anything yet and he’s losing his mind. He thinks absently when she gets hands on him again he’s going to come so fast his head will spin. He blinks to focus.

“I like trailing my lips over your cock, feeling it twitch for me. Shawn, use your fingertips. Nice and light.”

His face scrunches as he obeys. It’s torturously gentle, just like her. He sighs heavily into the phone.

“Is your pussy wet?”

“Mhmm. You know I always get wet sucking you.”

He groans again, louder. “Shit, Val.”

“My tongue is warm on your shaft, sweeping up the vein on the underside. Getting you nice and wet before I take you down my throat.”

Shawn grips himself tighter and starts stroking leisurely. His abs tense and release.

“I know you like it when I suck on the tip, flick at it with my tongue,” she hisses, spreading her legs and toying with her clit.

“I do,” he groans, “Love your mouth on me, fuck.”

Val grins, smoothing her fingers over her wet lips, rubbing faster at her hard button of nerves. Shawn hears the change in her breath.

“Tell me what you’re doing, Vally, please?”

“I’m rubbing my clit just like you do,” she breathes, “Fast and hard like when you want me to come on your fingers.”

Shawn’s jaw drops. His eyes snap shut. His hips thrust up toward his clenched fist. “You get so tight and wet for me, Vally.”

“Mmmm,” she hums, “Wet like my mouth on your cock. I wanna feel you in my throat. Fuck your fist and pretend it’s my mouth.”

“Oh Jesus, Val.”

Shawn tightens his hand and plants his feet, swinging his hips up to meet the thrusts of his fist like she told him. It’s not her, but it’s enough for now.

“Baby,” he whimpers, “Imagine my fingers are inside you. Pulsing in and out like you showed me. Pressing up on your g-spot.”

Val’s chest gives a rumbling moan. Her own fingers do the trick well enough. They’re both on the brink of coming.

“Come in my mouth, Shawn,” Val pants, feeling her walls flutter around her fingers.

“Yeah, yeah,” Shawn chants, releasing onto his chest with a gasp of her name.

“So good,” she chokes, coming on her fingers right alongside him, rolling her hips.

They fall silent soon enough. Shawn blinks slowly and reaches for tissues.

“I’ll be home so soon, baby.”

Val smiles, resting her hand on her stomach. “Counting the seconds, papi.”

Val bounces Alice so fast she starts to cry.

A little horrified at her own absent-mindedness, Val hushes her, whispering sweet words in Spanish and starts swaying back and forth instead until Alice quiets and continues tugging at Val’s hair.

Shawn’s flight was late leaving JFK. Never has Val wished so hard for the existence of the Concorde. Tiny Parent Trap-era Lindsay Lohan’s voice mocks her in her head --

“Did you know the Concorde gets you here in half the time?”

Val wrinkles her nose in annoyance. What did they really need the Concorde for, anyway? To make a dramatic entrance? Whatever. Val hasn’t seen the love of her life in almost two months. And she’s a single mom with a small baby, so she really should get the Concorde. And--

Val’s ranting thought distraction works. She doesn’t see Shawn when he comes down the escalator, but he sees them. He’s grinning ear to ear, backpack over his shoulder, suitcase beside him. He hustles around groups of passengers milling about, politely excusing himself, dodging, bobbing, weaving. Val has the pram and baby so she can’t do much about meeting him halfway. She has to wait for him to reach her.

Shawn’s brow unfurrows. He drops his hold on his suitcase and slings the backpack to his feet. He throws his arms around his girls and feels everything fall back into place.

“Jesus, I missed you guys,” Shawn whispers, voice thick and throaty. When he pulls away to cup Val’s cheeks, she’s never looked happier.

“We missed you, papi.”

Shawn’s kiss is firm but controlled. His lip ring tickles her as he smiles into it, humming peacefully. She nips at him to make him chuckle, vibrating her lips.

“God, ok,” he murmurs, pulling away, reaching for Alice, “Come here, you.”

Alice bounces in his arms, looking completely overjoyed to have her best friend back. She slaps at his lips and then lets him kiss her plump baby cheeks. He rocks her back and forth, tickles her sides to make her squirm and apparently to make Val’s heart explode in her chest because that’s what it’s doing.

Shawn has the baby in one arm and the suitcase in the other. Val pushes the pram toward the doors, wondering where they can get a cab.

As they stroll, she looks down and murmurs, “We’re gonna need a new pram.”

“I know, she’s gotten huge!” Shawn laughs, squeezing one of Alice’s beefy little legs. She kicks at him with a toothy smile.

“Well, yeah,” Val admits, “And we should probably get one of those big ones that has two seats.”

Shawn keeps walking beside her for about two seconds before he stops. Val turns slowly.

His eyes are wide. His mouth is open. Color rises into his cheeks. He tries to swallow and makes a choking noise.

“Are you-- I’m… Val?”

“I’m pregnant, papi.”

Shawn’s mouth snaps shut. His lower lip quivers. Val walks towards him, taking his hand.

“It’s really early. Just over six weeks. With my history, it’s a lot to be excited about so soon. But we have an appointment with my OB, the one that helped me with Alice. It’s next week.”

She’s sure none of that registered to Shawn. He’s still gaping at her, his eyes filling.

“We’re having a baby?”

Val lets her eyes drift shut. A million memories -- heat drenched, sweaty days on tour, ten years of growth, a chance meeting in her favorite park -- flicker past. She opens her eyes.

“We’re having a baby.”

Shawn hiccups a sob and jerks forward, slipping his fingers into her hair to anchor himself against her lips. Their kiss is a little wet from both their tears, and Alice isn’t keen to be left out of the loop, but this moment is all theirs.

When they’re done kissing, Val rests her head against his chest and lets him just hold them. Beside the doors to the international arrivals terminal at Heathrow, they’re a long way from Warped Tour. The thought makes Val smile.

“What?” Shawn hums, wearing a goofy grin of his own. She lifts her head.

“Do they make those headphones even tinier?”

Shawn grins and kisses her again.

---------

You guys!!! Thank you for your awesome feedback on this fun little series. I’ve been thinking about it p much since I wrote the original epilogue and I feel great about the ending. If you loved it, consider buying me a Ko-fi (link on main page)!

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