#also i know i touched on andrew's meds here but i actually do have Views on all that and i was NOT getting into that here lmao

[hella1975]

ur making it pretty hard to not be curious about aftg like what is going on can you infodump ur worst to me

so basically it's about a guy called neil who's not actually called neil bc turns out he's the son of a HIGHLY abusive mafia hitman and him and his mother have been running from this guy for years which ofc means changes in identity and a SHIT ton of issues ranging from good old fashioned paranoia to lighting cigarettes not to smoke them but to let them burn down bc the smell reminds you of your mother's burning corpse. but neil is obsessed and i mean OBSESSED with this made up sport called exy which is like lacrosse but with the violence of ice hockey and he joins a pro-team despite aforementioned ABUSIVE MAFIA DAD AFTER HIM and guess what! the guy who signed him is called kevin and his ex-team are affiliated with the mafia too! including neil's dad! neil just screwed himself over big time! but who cares when you have exy! enter: andrew minyard. andrew is a blonde, 5ft, ex-juvie, under-court-surveillance-for-grevious-bodily-harm goalkeeper currently working unofficially as kevin's bodyguard and, while we never get an actual diagnosis bc god forbid we handle mental health properly in this thing, it's implied that he has some kind of psychosis and, as part of his plea bargain, is legally obgligated to take incredibly mood-altering medication that makes him manic in exchange for being allowed to stay on the team (aka with kevin who he's VERY possessive of), done entirely for the wellbeing of those around him and effectively against andrew's will. does he stick to that deal? fuck no! but it doesn't stop there! andrew proceeds to spend the entire book being as violent and unpredictable and generally cunty as possible in order to figure out What Neil's Deal Is bc neil is capital S Shifty and andrew is convinced he's from kevin's old mafia cult team trying to hurt him. we spend an entire book watching the three of them wrestle between neil's paranoia, andrew's protectiveness and kevin's desire to Please Can We Just Play Exy. there are some keys involved. someone dies. there are two more books. inexplicably two of the characters can speak fluent german purely from high school classes.

[zankivich]

Neighbors: Shawn x Plus-Size Reader: Epilogue Part 1

a/n: we back bitches! I just couldn’t let my babies go yet. I really wanted to see what a future could look like for them. I really wanted to allow them the room to grow and evolve and be deeper, more complex beings. Please let me know what you think. Like honestly. It would mean the world to me. I just wanna talk about them. I missed them. Ok bye. 

Trigger Warnings: Weight issues. Trouble conceiving. Smut. 

*5 years later*

You always thought that when the other shoe would drop you’d be in a little bit better of a position to handle it. Like at all even. But sometimes that’s not what you get. Sometimes you’re in a med gown with your feet up in sternups while someone is swabbing and poking away at your cervix because your body doesn’t work right. Sometimes that’s all you get.

You vaguely hear the doctor explain to you about the length of time the test would take, how relaxing could help things, that you shouldn’t get stressed out quite yet. It all sort of feels like you’ve got cotton in your ears though. Like she’s talking but you can’t hear and you don’t want to hear you just want to go to bed.

It doesn’t help that they lead you out to the waiting room and he’s sitting there just as nervous and smiley as ever. Somehow he’s gotten so good at keeping your spirits high that you don’t even know how he manages to make you smile in that moment. Really all you wanted to do was cry. You go to fill out the exit paperwork and he’s right there rubbing circles into your back soothingly. You really wanna cry.

“I called your assistant to let her know you wouldn’t be coming in. Figured we could spend the day together, aye?” He hummed against your temple.

You nod silently. Thank fucking god he’s there to drive you home too, because the second you leave that building your eyes glaze over. You can barely see.

He lets you hold his hand, lets you pretend that those aren’t tears spilling silently down your cheeks as you stare out the window.

It’d been a hell of a five years. From the moment Shawn went completely and totally public with your relationship to the moment you moved into his apartment. To the rest of the tour finishing out sort of perfectly. To the vacation to Portugal. To the meeting of his grandmother and Allyiah’s graduation. To this random night in Madeira when you missed a New Years Eve party to make love with the windows open and he had laid beside you and put a ring on your finger with some sappy ass question of allowing him to love you for the rest of your lives. Not marry you, just love you. Wild. To the house you bought together with the stainless steel kitchen and the island you’d always wanted. And then of course there was that day over a year ago when he’d given you the puppy dog face after making you cum before work and asked if he could put a whole ass child inside of you, which had landed you here.

You walked into the house and immediately crawled out of your pants and back into bed. And he’s there almost as fast. His fingers trace out the words, “ i love you” onto your back and he throws his leg over you to smother you the way that you needed. It doesn’t matter though. None of it matters. And his love for you only hurts you more in this moment. Because you don’t deserve it. Can’t return it equally the way the way he deserved.

“It doesn’t matter to me.” He murmured softly. “You gotta know that, y/n.”

You snort softly, tears soaking into your pillow as he lies to make you feel better.

“It’s all you wanted. It’s the only thing you’ve ever asked me for.” You sniffled.

“I--I know. But I’d rather just have you, healthy and happy. That’s the only thing in the world I want, my love. Please don’t be sad.”

“I’m not healthy. I’m morbidly obese and now my uterus doesn’t work because of it.”

The tears come a little harder then and you try to take a breath but it just sort of chokes you. So he rolls you over and settles all of his weight on top of you. His runs his thumb along your cheeks and down over your chin, lips pressing to your forehead.

“That’s not what they said. They just said they need to run more tests.”

“She said my weight was definitely a contributing factor.” You argued gently. “It’s the whole reason my periods weren’t regular growing up. My mom had the same problem.”

“And she had four kids. All your doctor said was that it could make it harder, not impossible. So let’s let them run the tests. I never in a million years want you to blame yourself for this. Either we’ll make a baby naturally or we can adopt or do a surrogate or any of the other million ways people have kids now. This is not a thing to add stress, sweetheart. I hate seeing you sad like this.”

You swallowed  heavily and look hesitantly up at him from beneath your lashes.

“If you just would’ve married one of those skinny model types, you’d probably already have a kid by now though.”

His eyebrow furrows and you notice an emotion on his face that he rarely ever shows towards you. It’s anger. He slips off of you and pulls the covers back taking all of the warmth away with him

“No. No, we’re not doing this. I’m not even going to entertain a discussion where I shouldn’t be with woman I asked to spend the rest of her life with me because of something so insignificant. I’m not going to let you sit in this house all day and blame yourself for a body that I’m so incredibly in love with. Get up we’re going out.”

He tugs at your hands until you’re sitting up and then disappears into your closet.

“Where are we going?” You mumbled reaching for the tissues on the bedside table.

“We’re going to go spend the day together.” He huffed pulling out one of his favorite dresses of yours. “We are going to go out to lunch. We’re gonna go see a movie. We’re going to do whatever the hell we want. We’re just not going to sit here all day. Understand?”

He steps between your legs and holds your face in his hands and it really is the most soothing thing in the world. You don’t know how he does it. How he makes it all better. Or, how he puts up with you all the time. How even when he’s clearly irritated he’s looking at you like you’re his whole world. Because you actually, genuinely are.

“Look at me.” He said softly. “You’re everything to me. Everything. And that could never change, no matter what. So never look at me like it could, or should. I love you and you’re it. Tell me you understand that.”

“Understand. I love you.” You whispered.

He smiled down at you. “I love you too. More than anything in the world. Let’s go.”

It doesn’t fix it. Not at all. But it also doesn’t let you stew for the moment. It’s okay. For now.

***

*Shawn’s point of view*

His parents invite them over for dinner. It’s a known thing at this point that the struggle of getting pregnant is taking a toll on them. It definitely didn’t help that the press had gotten whiff of the Mendes’ trouble to conceive. She had only been harder on herself.. He’s afraid to touch her anymore if it means she’s only gonna think about whether her body will cooperate this time. He’s even more afraid to not touch her if it means she’s gonna spend a second thinking he’s not absolutely obsessed with her in every way. All he wants in the world is to make her happy, and he can’t help but think it’s his fault for ever bringing it up to begin with.

His dad pulls them both into a hug and his mum does the same. She’s in that jumpsuit he likes with the gold belt that makes him weak in the knees. There’s wine that’s been sitting in the freezer because they knew she was coming. He pours her a glass and grabs a beer for himself.

“Did I tell you how much I love this outfit on you?” He asked as he hands her her glass.

She smirks. “When I put it on in the house. And when we got in the car.”

His cheeks warm. “Sorry. I still mean it though. I think it’s my favorite. You’re beautiful.”

A giggle passes through her lips and she smiles at him over the rim of her glass.

“Look I know what tonight is about. And I know I’ve been...really difficult to be around lately.”

He shook his head. “Not at all. Not even remotely.”

“I don’t believe you. But, I just….I’m gonna try and do better. So, what do you say we have dinner. Maybe drink a little. Maybe we can have a night like the ones we used to have? Before all of this?”

“Sweetheart that sounds amazing. I’d love nothing more than that.”

He reaches in to kiss her and it’s like the first time. She still makes his fucking toes go numb. She makes his heart flutter and his stomach tighten. He’s so in love with her. He’s never not been in love with her. She digs her fingers in his hair and pulls just slightly and it still gets him going like he’s twenty-three again. And when his fingers find her thighs and she bites at his lip, it’s the closest he’s felt to her in months.

“Shit. I cannot pop a boner in my parent’s kitchen.” He groaned pulling away.

“Like physically incapable or like…?”

“Not funny. Let’s go eat dinner.”

Dinner starts out smooth. It’s catch up and y/n telling his mum how great the food is before they start exchanging recipes at the dinner table. And it’s better. She holds his hand. She tries to let go. He can tell she’s trying, but it’s different than it usually is. Y/n is never not trying. Lately she had been trying so hard that it was painful for him to watch. This time is different because this time it actually works. He can see that she’s not in her head as much and she’s not worrying about everything. It’s exactly what they need.

“So Shawn what’s going on music wise? You working on anything?”

It’s a loaded question. And of course his dad couldn’t have known. At first he put the album on hold to make a baby, and then he kept it on hold when y/n started having trouble so he could be there for her. Every now and again she could hear him argue with Andrew over the phone, or refuse another meeting with the label. It wasn’t that he wasn’t making music. He just didn’t want to do anything that might take him away from her. But somehow that makes her stressed too. Tonight instead of completely falling in on herself she tries to stay in the moment. She takes a bigger sip of her drink.

He slides his hand onto her knee and squeezes gently.

“I’m always working on something.” He chuckled. “Nothing concrete though. Just creating to create. Cause it makes me happy.”

He peers over at her in hopes that it’ll click for her. That he’s happy the way things are. That she doesn’t need to be anything other than what she already is for him.

She smiles and takes another gulp from her glass. But she doesn’t shy away so maybe it’s okay.

Until it isn’t. She finishes her glass before anyone else, and then goes to fix another when his parents start talking about aaliyah and what she’s up to.The final straw is when she gets up to try and help clear the table and she stumbles and drops a plate. His parents stare on with concern, and she’s giggling up a storm. She goes to try and pick up the pieces, but the last thing he needs is for her to cut herself on the glass, so he politely intrudes. She’s not hammered enough to get angry at him yet.

“Hey, honey? Leave it alright. I’ll clean it up. Why don’t you lie down on the couch for a little while until it’s time to go.”

She stares up at him eyes completely innocent in that way that wine does for her. It’s kind of adorable.

“Why? What did I do?”

He smiles. “Nothing. Nothing. You’re perfect. Just don’t want you to hurt yourself. We can leave in a little bit okay?”

“O--Okay.”

Her eyes already heavy before she sits on the couch. He hands her a blanket and knows that she’ll be out like a light. His parents hadn’t really brought them there for dinner anyway. He really was just there to get advice from the only people he knew could make it make sense.

“What’s bothering you kiddo?” His mum asks before he can even take a breath.

He sighed and let his shoulder drop.

“I just feel like I’ve messed everything up. And I can’t really see anyway out of it. She’s--She’s blaming herself for all of this, and I can’t figure out how to get her to stop.”

“Well what have the doctors said? Anything?” his dad asked.

He groaned. “Just that her weight is playing a role in her hormonal imbalance and it’s leading to issues with her fertility. But nothing about her being infertile. It’s just gonna be harder for her, I guess. And I don’t know how to make her believe that I would rather have a beautiful happy life than put her through anything like what these past few months have been for her.”

“That must be so hard for her.” His mum murmured laying her hand on his shoulder. “And hard for you too, sweetheart. Is she talking to someone about it by chance?”

“I try. I don’t think she wants to talk to me because she’s afraid of hurting me. She talks to some of her girlfriends I guess, but we don’t really have any friends with kids. And it’s not like she’s gonna call her mom up and talk to her about it.”

“That’s okay. You can only be there for her and offer as much support as she needs.When’s the last time you two just...went on vacation or got out of Toronto for a little while. Sometimes it’s the environment. Babies can be tricky things.” His mum shrugged.

“Tricky, aye? Was I tricky?”

His dad chuckled. “You sure were. You showed up without even bothering to tell us you were coming!”

“And look at all the good it’s caused.” He grinned.

“Nothing but good, sweetheart.” She smiled.

He peered back into the living room where his person was dead to the world, sleeping the sleep of the innocent. And his heart just felt full and safe.

“I’ll figure it out.” He promised himself. “I’ll figure it out.”

***

*y/n’s point of view*

You are in the middle of a meeting. A rather important meeting one might add. With like spreadsheets and projections and shit. You have a laser pointer for Christ’s sake! So when your assistant let’s your one and only dumbass enter into the conference room with nothing but a shit eating grin on his face and a suitcase, you are certainly at a loss for words. What in the hell?

“I--I...Shawn what are you doing here?” You blinked.

“Sorry ladies and gents I’ve kinda come to sweep you away. I already got the okay from your boss so….let’s go!”

“I’m sorry? I’m in the middle of a meeting babe.” You wave your arms around at the general meeting-ness of the room. “I can’t just leave.”

“Oh. Well that’s cool I guess. It’s just that I got a jet waiting for us, and although they technically can’t leave without us, I’d still like to be punctual. I’ll wait in your office.”

There’s a running joke about the jet. It’s not a joke at all actually. It’s extremely serious. He took you on a jet one time. When you had decided that the concept of marriage wasn’t nearly as important as just loving each other forever, you went on your “not-honeymoon”. On the flight to Italy, he ate you out in the bathroom right as take off happened. It was the best orgasm of your life. To this day every time he brought up that stupid ass jet, your thighs got tight and you got just a little wet. Bastard.

The rest of the presentation is a complete and total wash. Your dumbass is somewhere in your office waiting to whisk you away to God knows where and you’re sitting here talking about revenue? No thank you.

“Everyone have a lovely weekend. I will be back...whenever the hell he brings me back I suppose.” You sighed heading straight for the door.

He’s sitting at your desk with his legs propped up in those jeans that somehow had not changed size in five years with an ass that still made you wanna cry. Rude.

“What in the hell are you doing here?!”

He rolled his eyes. “Well it’s lovely to see you too dear. I’m doing great!”

“Don’t get snooty with me. You know that I’m happy you’re here, although you could have texted. Where are we going?”

“Coachella!” He exclaimed. “You and I are going to coachella. We are going to live our best lives in the most ridiculous, boogie ass, VIP style that you can imagine. We’re gonna take pictures in flower crowns. We’re gonna be surrounded by people half our age and it’s gonna be awesome.”

Coachella. It was something you’d talked about once upon a time ago. Back when what you had was still new and expanding and you were making plans for the future without any thought of what might come later. Something had always gotten in the way. The tour. An album. A movie project. You hadn’t talked about it in years.

“Coachella? What in the hell made you think of Coachella?”

He got out of your chair and wrapped his whole body around you in that way that made your body feel more firmly rooted to the ground. His arms were warm and firm and he nuzzled his nose into yours.

“I thought we might be missing what makes us, us lately? Let’s just go to Coachella. Let’s have a fun fucking time. You don’t need to worry about anything in the world. We can just be us again ya know?”

You frowned softly. “You don’t think we’ve been us lately?”

He sighed. “I think we’ve both been under a ton of pressure, obviously you more than me. I just wanna take you away for a little, baby. I just want you to have fun.”

“Look I know that I’ve been--”

“No. Don’t you understand? I don’t want you to apologize. I don’t need you to make excuses for me. I don’t want you to try and make anything better. I just want you to go to Coachella with me. I’ve already packed your suitcase. Please will you go with me?”

His eyes are set firm in that way that they often times get when something means a lot to him. He’s not giving in, and more than that you can tell it would hurt him if you tried to fight in. Your emotions are a little all over the place in regards to why he felt the need to do this. But honestly, what was the worst that could happen? You weren’t getting pregnant in Toronto. How the hell was California gonna make a difference?

“Okay, okay!  I’ll go.”

“Yes!”

He kisses you until your breathless and your toes curl and you can’t remember anything other than kissing him ever. Asshole.

Sure enough he takes you a jet where your friends are already waiting for you. It’s Brian, Stu, Bryan, Connor, your friends Cynthia and Taylor, and...Priyanka. Priyanka had been very annoyed to find out that the friend she made had neglected to tell her when she was solving all her relationship problems that they were Shawn Mendes related. You managed to stay friends from halfway across the world. She had even made a visit to Canada once, and you and Shawn had visited her in Barcelona again. You were closer than close, especially for friends with such physical distance between the two of you. Shawn knew that. Of course he knew that.

After you’ve had enough screaming and squealing over your friends, you decide to actually board the plane. Shawn is always there and waiting with a mimosa and quite expertly rolled, but still fat as all hell, blunt.

“I should’ve married you.” You mumbled reaching for both.

Everyone gets comfy in their seats, and you’re enough passes into your blunt that Stu is making grabby hands for not sharing when Shawn begins to nuzzle into your neck. He knew how sensitive you were there, especially high. Ugh.

“Babe,” He whispered kissing at your throat. “Need you to come with me.”

You whined softly and took another hit.

“Mmm where are we going?”

“I wanna do the thing. Please let me do the thing.”

Your eyes pop open at what he’s implying, and you’re not sure if it’s more intoxicating or sobering. Oh you’d let him do the thing alright.

You practically throw your blunt at Stu before tugging Shawn back towards the bathroom. Giggles bubble up from your throat as he presses you into the sink that’s nicer and bigger than the one you had in your first apartment. You hadn’t felt like this in a while. Playful. Care-free. In the moment.

It feels good. It feels like maybe everything he’d been asking you to do for months. You don’t know if it’s the weed or the mimsoa, or if instead it’s that sheepish fucking smile he gives you when he goes to take your pants off and nearly trips in the small space. In the end it doesn’t matter. You feel yourself falling. Into complacency. Into calmness. Into an ecstasy that has your legs locked around his head once again the moment the plane lifts off. Coachella here you come. Literally.

***

“Americans and your festivals.” Priyanka sighed nestling a flower crown over her headscarf.

You snorted softly. “Still not American, Pri.”

“Yea, yea, you’re the kinder version. I know. What are you wearing to this hotbox?”

Your day one outfit is a white cotton dress that falls off your shoulders and brings attention to your collarbones. There’s a big floppy hat to keep the sun away and sneakers because who the fuck has time for heels? You felt like a fat Florence Welch or a woodland fairy. It was kind of adorable. The fact that Shawn had somehow managed to pack your suitcase to your liking was a standard that you had never thought to set, but it surely came in hand.

The second you step out he’s waiting for you in a floral button up left undone over a tanktop and those damn jeans.He’s got one of those little pens with the cannabis oil in them, and you’ve never loved him more then when he smiles wide and goofy at you as you jump into his arms. Sometimes in your most insecure of moments, you would imagine that look going away, or even dimming in the slightest. But, it never seemed to happen. In over six years together he seemed to only love you more. Wild.

“You look so pretty. Are you excited?” He hummed fingers curving under the swell of your ass beneath your dress.

You bit your lip and pressed a little firmer against him. “I’m excited for something.”

“Sweetheart we should probably at least make it to Coachella before we run off to hook up somewhere.”

You pouted, bottom lip jutting out. “Well who’s idea is that?”

“Weed really does make you horny, aye?” He chuckled. “I promise to keep you more than satisfied this weekend.”

“Yea?”

You licked your lips and made yourself busy with pressing kisses along his jaw and neck.

“You’re gonna be trouble this weekend.”

“You have no idea.”

Coachella is...hot. Mostly. You get the feeling that you’re not exactly experiencing it like a normal person, the second Shawn leads you by your hand past a roped gate. It reminds you of the time you snuck into the VIP section in college, except for now there’s not sneaking in. Your person just leads you right through the entrance. There are big tents set up with misting fans and bars and people in outfits that don’t look comfortable. You’re a pretty big group, but it matches the vast amount of entourages  walking around. You think you spot Kime Kardashian in a diamond encrusted tank top, but then you spot hot dogs and those are more important.

In reality there are only five things you needed to experience at Coachella. Weed. Alcohol. Food. Sex. and most importantly Lizzo.

“So is this little wristband of yours gonna get me to the front?” You asked waving your wrist in Shawn’s face.

You were nursing a long island in cup that looked more like a bucket and a hot dog in the other. Your priorities were perfectly in order.

“Not quite. My face should do it. I made a call ahead of time. Lizzo knows we’ll be in the crowd.”

You nearly choked. “Don’t tell me that. I don’t need to know that. I just want to shake my ass in peace, Shawn.”

“And shake it you will, my love. Preferably on me, but I’m open to negotiating.”

You were so crossed at that point your soul felt cross-eyed.

“No negotiating needed. You wanna bend me over, you just say the word Mr. Mendes.”

He raised an eyebrow at you. “You know I think that could definitely get me going. We should explore that at some point. Not in public. But we should explore it.”

“Boo. You’re so boring.” You snorted.

You go see one of the smaller acts where the crowd wasn’t large and no celebrities were there. Connor and Brian are on molly and jump into a mosh pit. Bryan and Stu start grinding to a techno beat immediately. Priyanka and the girls are jumping up and down in pleasure. It’s fun. It’s funner than maybe anything you’d ever done in your whole life. There’s something so freeing about being surrounded by people who are sweaty and drunk and just want to hear and feel the music. It’s incredible in every way. And you can’t get over the fact that he did it for you. That he plucked you out of your own head, out of everything that had been going on the past months for this. It spoke to the idea that maybe your happiness really was all that mattered to him. That as long as it was you and it was him, everything else would work itself out. You just had to get the two of you down. The rest would follow.

You’re sitting on a blanket between his too long legs. You flopped your hat on top of his head and stole the pen from him to take another hit. From where you’re lying he looks like the most beautiful person you’ve ever seen. You fall a little deeper in love.

“Hi.” You murmured as he nodded his head to the music.

He smiled at you. “Hi. You feeling okay?”

“You’re so pretty.” You say instead. “The prettiest fucker I ever saw.”

“How high are you right now?” He asked caressing your jaw.

You shook your head softly and pouted.

“No. You’re pretty, honest! I’m so in love with you.”

“I’m in love with you, too. The love of my life, you are woman.”

“I wanna give you a baby so bad.” You sighed letting your head fall against his collarbones. “I never even thought I wanted to be a mom, ya know? Thought I’d live so happy on my own. But we’d be really fucking good at it.”

His arms were wrapped around you already and he intertwined his fingers against your stomach from behind

“We will be, baby.” He promised. “You can teach our baby to be a total bad ass, how to be strong and fearless and smart. And I’ll teach them out to play music, how to be stubborn. We can both teach them out to be stubborn. And we’ll love them more than anything. It will be perfect.”

“You think?” You grinned tilting your head up to look at him.

He peered down at you with your big ass hat on his head and suddenly the only thing that you could do was giggle your ass off. Definitely still high.

“Are you laughing at me?!”

You shook your head gasping for air. “No! No I’m not I just---that fucking hat, Shawn!”

This sends both of you into fits of laughter. Moment absolutely ruined.

***

“Hey…Everyone is heading to one of the house parties before we come back for Lizzo’s set.” Shawn murmured.

You were dehydrated and still drunk. Getting out of the sun sounded lovely.

“Okay.”

He frowned and wrapped his arms around your waist. “Yea. I was thinking you and I might head back to the house instead for a little while. You know...to relax.”

“Oh. Oh! Yes. Let’s do that.”

“Yea? I thought we could maybe try something, ya know new? Like the other stuff?”

Your eyes widened. “What the hell did you have in mind?”

The past five years had seen many an explorations in the bedroom for the two of you. You dead ass Louis and Clark’d that shit. But like without the slavery and the general white supremacy. Once you discovered you liked having your ass slapped, you found out that there were some other things you liked. You liked when he was a little rough with you, liked being pressed up against something and taken for all you were worth. You liked being restrained, not so much with actual restraints which had taken a handcuff situation, panic attack, and an accidental black eye that meant Shawn couldn’t leave the house for a week, to find out. No need to go back there. Shawn liked praise. Endless amounts of praise. Good news was you liked praising, and he liked punishing. What a life.

Your friends are not even remotely convinced when you tell them you’re gonna stop at the house for a nap. Bryan offers to ride back with you both to grab his fanny pack and Stu very loudly explains to him that you’re going back to fuck. He’s not wrong though. So you skip over towards your car happily with your person because you were too secure in your relationship to get skittish about sex anymore. You were a sexual creature and you weren’t afraid to hide it dammit!

“God I have wanted to touch you all day.” Shawn groaned. Pushing you against the first wall he can find the second the door is closed.

You giggled. “That’s what I’ve been saying! You wouldn’t listen though.”

“You wanted to have sex in a very public VIP tent.” He snorted. “I want you all to myself.”

“Well you got me. Come take care of me, aye?”

“Of course. Anything for you. Come here.”

Did you have a bedroom? Yes. Were you staying in a mansion that probably cost a shit ton? Accurate. But you were a simple girl, with simple needs. And sometimes? Sometimes you just wanted to be fucked on a very sturdy, very expensive, mahogany desk instead.

You reached for the belt buckle on his black jeans already trying to pull him closer than close, already wanting his body on yours.

“Here?” He asked a little surprised but still pressing kisses to your throat.

You moaned. “Now. Need it right now.”

“Fuck.”

You both pull apart from each other just long enough for you to rid yourself of your underwear and Shawn to get his jeans and briefs far enough down his thighs for movement. It’s maybe the most needy that either of you have ever been. You and Shawn thrived in foreplay. Sometimes spent whole hours in foreplay wihtout ever even getting to the sex part. When he shoves his way between your thighs, holding his tanktop up with his hand to spit on his dick as he made his way within you, something animalistic occurs. Your body practically convulses around him. It’s dirty and hot and fast and you wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.

“Holy fuck you’re so tight.” He groaned against your shoulder. “God, baby.”

“Harder! Just want it harder. Baby please.”

He’s got your thigh propped up on this desk and it’s just the perfect height to have him fucking into you with the stroke from the gods. Crossed y/n didn’t need much, she just kind of wanted to get railed in broad day light. What? Like it’s hard?

He finds a way to get your leg over his shoulder and you back hits the wall and he pushes so deep inside of you, you see stars. He’s rocking himself against that spot inside of you that only he could touch like that. Your back arched and you squeezed your eyes shut in complete and utter ecstasy.

“What’s the thing?!” You gasped fingers digging into his shoulders.

“Huh?!”

“The thing! What’s the thing you wanted to do I’m gonna fucking cum soon.” You whined.

“I read an article!” He panted hips still moving. “That choking makes the orgasm like more heightened. Don’t wanna hurt you. Just wanna make you feel good. Always.”

“That’s so hot. Now--do it now!”

“Just...hit me if it starts to hurt, okay?”

His fingers, long and roughly calloused, gripped experimentally at your throat. At first he’s just touching the skin, just familiarizing himself with what it could feel like. Meanwhile his hips are still slapping against the back of your thighs, the desk beginning to squeak and rattle on its feet. His grip tightens slightly and you start to feel the restriction. His other hand hand digs deep into the wood behind your back for leverage, and he takes you somewhere entirely new.

“Oh my god. I can feel your body fighting for it.” He grunted against your lips. “Shit!”

Your eyes roll entirely backwards and your legs come together in some weak attempt at a defense as your body just kind of explodes on his dick. Is it squirting? Is it just another orgasm? Is he ripping you apart from the inside? Who knows? Not you, that’s for damn sure. The last thing you’re even fully conscious for is your fingers grabbing at his waist to pull him desperately against you. Maybe he cums. Again. You’re not sure. By the time you come too, the entire world is lopsided, and you still can’t breathe.

“We’re gonna have to pay for that.” Shawn wheezed against your neck.

“Mmmm...what?”

“The desk, baby. The desk.”

You peer down at something that isn’t your person for the first time notice that the world had not gone lopsided. Instead some of the legs on the desk had just completely given up at being legs. Oh well.

“That’s hot.”

He chuckled. “Yea? Broken furniture get you going?”

“Mhm. You wanna try and break the bed too?”

“I just came in you not twenty seconds ago.” Shawn sighed running his thumb along your cheek. “But, you’re so fucking sexy. Yes. Yes let’s go.”

“Think you can still lift me?”  

He doesn’t dignify that with a response. Instead just grabs you up and stumbles his way towards your room. Thank god for gyms and thank god for Coachella. What a hell of a woman.

****

September in Toronto was your favorite time of the year. The temperature dropped a little bit, all of the kids were back in school, just as the city was becoming it’s most beautiful. You thrived in September. And when you were at your happiest it tended to have really good effects on Shawn. He fed off whatever energy you put off, and he loved seeing you happy more than anything in the world. So when some asshole named Andrew decides that he’s going to take the love of your life away from you in PRIME apple picking season, excuse you for feeling like someone was trying to rain on your parade.

“Baby it is a three day trip. We can go apple picking the second I get off the plane.” Shawn assured you as you watched glumly while he packed his life away from you.

“It won’t be the same. The temperature on Saturday was going to be perfect. They have the adult hayrides with the spiked cider and everything.” You mumbled.

He dropped one of his shirts and came to crawl into bed with you, warm hands coming to cradle your face like always.

“And it will be just as perfect when I get back. Because I’ll be with you. It’s just a quick trip to New York to meet with the label. I’ll be back before you know it.”

You fist your fingers in his sweatshirt in a feeble attempt to keep him there with you.

“That’s not true. I always know it when you’re gone. Always.”

He sighed softly. “I know. It gets a little harder every year to be away from you too. But three days, and then I’m yours. We can pick apples and make our own cider and bake your famous apple crisp and watch movies. You can not go into work. It’ll be perfect, aye?”

You frown but he kisses at your cheeks and your lips until you smile for him. It’s so annoying.

“Besides by the time I get back you’ll be in your ovulating window. I’ll be back just in time.”

You had drastically shifted your approach post Coachella. Shawn stopped making appointments with the gynecologists and the fertility specialists. You’d had a really vulnerable and honest conversation that hurting yourselves mentally and emotionally wasn’t going to be the way you became parents. So the plan became to just take the pressure out of it. You still had sex during your ovulation period every month, amongst a lot of non-ovulation sex as well, and if after a year you got nothing than it would be time to look into alternative options.

You scrunch your face up as he presses more kisses against your neck.

“You track my ovulation?” You asked.

“Yes. It’s incredibly easy on this little app I have. Now don’t be sad anymore, please?”

Your fingers scratch at his scalp and he practically purs still.

“Fine.”

“I love you, don’t ‘fine’ me.”

“I love you too.”

Shawn heads off to the airport leaving you home in a big ass house by your lonesome. You get the fireplace going and set about making yourself something for dinner. Nothing feels off at all. It’s just a normal day. You have to decide whether to do stir fry or tacos, but that’s about it. You set up the rice cooker before hopping into the shower for a much needed jam session with one of your favorite playlists. You figure a deep conditioning might do you some good since your person isn’t even around to play with your hair tonight.

You’re at the island chopping onions when your eyes trail up to the calendar on the fridge. It held random dates, usually when Shawn had business to attend to, so that you weren’t in the dark. You peered at the calendar and just noticed your ovulation dates and your period listed in pink marker. Shawn had taken to putting them up there for his own memory. And mostly because you were god awful with dates, which in hindsight was very telling.

You peered back down at the cutting board as you diced your onion before a little bell went off in your tummy. Your eyes moved back up to the board as your hand kept moving on the cutting board. There wasn’t time to question anything as you sliced your finger like an amateur.

“Shit.” You hissed as your finger pooled with a little droplet of blood.

You headed straight for the sink, letting the water turn red for a few seconds as you cleaned your wound. It was the visual of the blood that convinced you to count backwards. Again you were shit at time so you had to do it twice. But sure e-fucking-nough you might just be the dumbest fucker alive.

You ran straight for your phone dialing up the only number you could think to call in times of crisis, food and everything completely forgotten.

“Oh thank God you called.” Stu whimpered. “The in-laws are here and if I have to listen to Betty tell me one more time that my fucking crudite  is wrong I’m gonna fix her a crudi-taint and call it a day.”

“This is an emergency, bitch. Forget the crudite!”

*Forty-five minutes later*

“I got one of every color and kind! A gallon of apple juice and also a snickers bar because I am stressed and I don’t even have a uterus!”

***

*Shawn’s point of view*

He stopped at some really bougie ass boutique and bought them matching scarves on his way home. He thought it might be a good “honey I’m home, please don’t hate me” gift. The meeting with Andrew had been to discuss some soft releases the label was looking to him to put out. He had some friends who needed features and wanted him to get on them. It would be a build up to his first album in three years. Which meant he kind of needed to make an album. That was a problem for another day though. For now he just wanted to take his person apple picking.

“Babe?!” He called dropping his keys into the bowl and tugging his bag behind him. “I’m ready to pick apples!”

She’s not in the living room. Sometimes when he had to go away she would take to the couch instead of their bedroom in protest, but the blanket on the back of the couch is still folded. The dining room is immaculately clean, which throws him slightly for a loop. Then in the kitchen he comes across a massacre of treats. She’d really gone to town. There was a cake, brownies, and fudge at first glance. He peered into the freezer to see that she’d somehow found the time to make three different flavored ice-creams from scratch. Wild. He wasn’t concerned because she always did stress baking when he was away, even if this time was quite...intense.

“Honey we’re gonna have to start donating your stress baking! It’s gonna send us both to an early grave.”

He reached for a piece of fudge anyway and took to the stairs when his very lovely human neglected to meet him downstairs.

He finds her in their bathroom cleaning the tub. With a toothbrush.

“Y/n? What’s going on?”

Her head popped up, her eyes widening.

“You’re home.”

He nodded frowning at her. “I”m home. Come here.”

He reached for her hands, helping her off the floor. His arms snuck under her big t-shirt tracing at the soft skin of her hips. She was tense enough to burst, but she seemed to lean into his touch.

“What’s up? What’s going on with you?” He asked softly.

“Why would you think something’s going on? Nothing’s going on.” She lied.

“Since when do you clean the bathtub with a toothbrush? Or at all for that matter. I always clean the bathtub.”

“I don’t know. I just figured I’d get some stuff around the house done. No big deal.”

“Okay. And the bakery pop up shop you started in our kitchen?” He chuckled squeezing her tight. “Sweetheart, what’s wrong? You know you can always talk to me.”

She sighed, her arms coming to wrap around him as well.

“I’m okay, honest. Guess I just got a little anxious with you being away is all. I’m good now. I promise.”

He nuzzled their noses together and kissed her for the first time in what felt like forever.

“Okay. Maybe some apple picking would help? I hear they have adult hayrides with spiked apple cider.”

She smiled for him finally. “Yea. That would help.”

His favorite y/n was always y/n in the fall. Her soft, cozy sweaters, boots, and those leggings that mapped her thighs out perfectly. She was so beautiful it hurt. When he wraps her new scarf around her neck for her and she shimmies her shoulders a little, his heart soares. God he loved her. He loved date nights, he loved spending time with his best friend, and he loved showing her off to the world. It was his favorite thing in the world to do.

She loves apple picking. And so they drive out there armed with baskets and bags galore. Without fail every year by the third or fourth week, she will be pissed off at  how many apples he “let her buy”, as if he has a say in anything that is taking place. But, in the moment it’s the cutest shit ever. And he takes pictures of her leaning up into the trees to get the best choice. They feed each other apples and kiss under one of the trees. It’s sort of perfect.

He saw a family packing up their car as the sun began to set and the air got colder. He watched a mom lift her son up in the air and kiss and hold him close. It caused a painful squeeze in his chest, and he was thankful y/n wasn’t around to see them. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about family trips to the orchard. He had. He thought about chasing tiny legs through rows of trees, of stopping grabby fingers from digging gross apples out of the dirt. He knew y/n and him had had quite the different upbringings, but this was what he’d always wanted. But, he meant it wholeheartedly when he said he’d rather have her than anything else. He believed wholeheartedly that she was meant for him and he for her, that their energies had probably started as one once upon a time, and that he wasn't meant to be without her. Whatever his life was meant to look like, it had to revolve completely and totally around her. There was just a tiny, selfish part of him that would like to be able to have them both.

When the backseat is overloaded with apples, they walk hand in hand to the store they have set up. The sun sinks low in the sky and there’s a little folksy band playing by an open campfire. There are twinkly lights and tables set up all around. It’s kind of romantic as all hell. She smiles at him like she always has, like somehow he’s worth as much to her as she is to him. He’s so fucking in love with her, it’s insane.

“Do you want me to get us some of those hard ciders before the hayride?” He asked squeezing her fingers.

She shook her head. “Actually can I try one of the cider slushies instead? Wanna switch it up.”

“Of course. I’ll be right back.”

They climb into the hayride just like all the other couples. Toronto is home and it really feels like home because no one shoves a camera in his face when he’s trying to cuddle with his person. And that feels really important to him. Her privacy, her happiness. It’s all he cares for.

“You happy?” He asked squeezing his arm around her.

She nodded and tucked her face into his neck. “So happy. Love you, ya know.”

“I love you too. So much.You’re the light of life.”

“Stop it.” She giggled.

“No. Never. You’re everything.”

“Yea...You are too.”

They order chinese food on the way home. She takes a shower with him and lets him run body wash over the parts of her that he cherishes the most. They climb into bed together, soft and warm and sated. He finds himself hopeful that every day will be this way, that every night could find him so lucky.

“Shawn?” She whispered, her fingers tangling in his necklace.

“Yes, my love?”

“I gotta tell you something...Or I guess maybe show you something.”

Her fingers trembled against his throat, and he knew they were finally getting to what must have caused her to bake everything they had in their home.

“Okay.” He murmured calmly. “You can always share anything with me. You know that, right?”

“Yes.” She smiled. “Yes, I know.”

She leaned up out of bed and reached over to the nightstand on her side. She hid it behind her back and turned to him, the suspense slowly driving him insane.

“Baby, what is it?”

There are moments in life that you never forget. Moments that, on your deathbed you could recount with startling clarity, right down to the way the air felt. This was that moment for him. He remembered that her night shirt was black and white stripes. She was wearing black underwear that night with a lacy back. Her hair was tied back in a ponytail, and she smelled like apples and cinnamon and lavender and smoke. Because even after a shower the campfire smell would stick around for days. Her eyes had a wicked glint to them. A happiness so vast and so deep that he wanted to cry just looking at her. And then she holds it out for him and it’s like his world explodes, or expands infinitely, because there it fucking is. Right there.

“But--what? Is….is it?...is it?” He mumbled like an idiot his heart picking up speed in his chest.

The glint turns to actual tears in her eyes and she nods softly at him.

“I took fifteen of them. And the doctor fit me in last minute to make sure. I’m a little over a month along.” She tells him.

“I’m--I’m gonna be a dad?” He whispered, his throat closing up. “You’re gonna be a mum?”

“I hate to burst your harry potter bubble, but our little bean is most certainly going to call me mom.” She giggled. “It’s real. I promise. I’m pregnant.”

And he just fucking falls apart. It’s the hardest he’s cried since he broke his ankle at age thirteen. And he has to keep blinking through every tear because he needs to see her, needs to never take his eyes off her again, because she’s everything. She’s giving him the greatest gift in the world. As if giving herself to him had not been too much, had not been more than he could ever deserve. She was going to create life with him, for him. She was going to be the mother to his baby.

He’s never hugged anyone in his life as hard as he hugs her then. Like tackles her down to the bed and squeezes the hell out of her. She laughs and they cry and they hug and they kiss. It’s the greatest happiest he’s ever known.

“ I love you so much.” He gasped. “We made a baby. We’re gonna have a baby.”

She nodded running her fingers through his head. “We’re gonna have a baby.”

There’s more laughter. There are a hell of a lot more tears. And he completely pulls her body into his own and refuses to let her go. Not that she’s asking. It’s his baby after all. His babies. Holy shit.

“There’s something I gotta do.” He whispered in her ear.

“Yea? What’s that?”

He crawled gently down her body nestling himself between her legs. The second he reaches for her t-shirt she giggles and squirms.

“Are you really gonna eat me out to celebrate me being pregnant?”

He stared up at her, mortified from between her legs.

“No! Oh my god, y/n. Our child can hear you! I simply came down here to kiss your belly and talk to my baby in there. Get your head out of the gutter.”

She rolled her eyes. “The baby doesn’t have ears yet jackass, but excuse me.”

“Don’t listen to her baby.” He grumbled rubbing his thumb into soothing circles along her belly button. “Daddy is gonna sing to you all the time. I’m gonna take such good care of you and mommy forever okay?”

She lets him talk to her belly for the rest of the night. It’s the most incredible thing he could ever ask for.

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