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angryinternetduck · 3 years ago

Text

Cocoa

hellooo and merry christmas <3 lmao. here's 4.5k words of a christmas fic in august. sorry about that. but it's written and it's here so hope you enjoy! [harry styles x famous!reader]

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The party’s fun, no doubt. You can feel the Christmas cheer radiating off of everybody, glowing from the lights and sprinkling down from the mistletoe over every doorway. It seeps under doors and is swirled in the mystery punch in the kitchen, it echoes in everyone’s laughter and fills you with warmth.

Despite all of this, all of the joy and happiness, you’re a bit sick of people at the moment. You’re not sure how long you’ve been there, but it must have been a while. You feel like you’ve talked to every person in the room three times over - except for one guy, who, if you’re being honest, is the only one you really want to talk to.

That one guy seems to have disappeared a while ago, however, and you try to look for him as discreetly as possible as you look over the head of the small, plump, bald man you’re talking to at the moment. He mumbles, gesticulates with his hands in a way that makes it look like he’s being electrocuted, and talks about record deals and what he could do to help you thrive in the industry.

“Really,” you murmur on cue, “wow, that’s interesting.”

“Isn’t it?” he says excitedly, apparently oblivious to your apathy, and keeps talking.

Finally, you give up on finding him. He’s probably left. You stare at your drink for a moment, debating how to get out of this conversation. “Hey,” you say, interrupting the bald man with a sugary smile, “hey, I gotta go, okay? Let’s, uh - let’s continue this later, yeah?”

He frowns for just a second and then smiles again. “Sure! Wanna give me your cell? We can discuss details -” You laugh and shake your head, sliding away. “Sorry!” you say breezily. “I don’t have a phone.”

That’s a lie. It’s sticking out of your purse, and the man frowns at it. He doesn’t bother to smile again this time and just turns around, muttering to himself. You sigh, amused despite yourself, and then wander away.

You’re planning on grabbing a drink, or maybe finding that guy, when you see another man who looks like he has a plan for you heading your way. You grimace, avoiding eye contact, and then duck into a curtained area to your right, praying there’s nobody hooking up inside.

It’s dark in there, but you don’t really look, just peek back out into the main room.

You see James Corden, the host of the party, talking animatedly with Shawn Mendes, and Camila Cabello a few feet away looking bored as she talks to the same guy you just escaped from. You feel bad for her, and are thinking of rescuing her when -

“Woah,” somebody breathes from behind you.

You gasp, whirling around.

There’s a guy on the couch, running a hand through his hair and looking tired. A small smile curves your lips when you realize it’s the only person you haven’t talked to: “Harry Styles,” you say, and he grins, saying your name back to you.

Then you frown. “What are you doing in here?”

“Could ask you the same thing,” he says through a yawn.

“You were the one sleeping,” you say back, and he laughs sheepishly. “Right. Yeah, I’m a bit, erm - I’m a bit tired.” You raise your brows. “Yeah, see that much.” He laughs again, standing up and stretching up to the ceiling.

“Wanna turn on the lights, then?” he asks, nodding towards the switch next to you. “Unless you’re planning something else, of course.” You mimic his smirk and, even as you flick on the lights, reply, “No plans here. I’m pretty flexible.”

He grins. “I’m sure.”

There’s a beat of silence, and you’re not as embarrassed as you should be as you let your eyes flick over him since he’s doing the same to you. He’s wearing a black suit, trimmed red with designs on the sleeves you can’t make out. It fits him well. Then again, you think, letting your eyes drift back up over his sharp jawline and dimpled cheeks to his green eyes, most things do.

“Not a fan of the party, then?” he asks.

You shrug. “It’s not too bad.”

“Don’t worry,” he mock whispers, “you can be honest. I won’t tell James.”

Shaking your head, you laugh and reply, “No, no, it’s fine. Just, um - need a break.”

“Right,” he says.

“And you?” you ask. “So boring you’re sleeping, huh?”

“Nah. Just had a late night last night.”

You feel yourself smile. “Right,” you echo.

“Should probably get back out there,” Harry muses, walking closer to you. He stands beside you and looks around the other side of the curtain. “Think there’s any champagne left?” You glance over at him. “Only one way to find out.”

He bites his lip, brow furrowing. “Maybe we shouldn’t come out together,” he muses. “Might look a bit suspicious.” You nod. “Yeah,” you say, and are about to offer to go first when he sighs heavily, dramatically. “Well, I suppose I’ll go first.” He grins at you. “Cover me.”

“With pleasure,” you reply, and he slips out into the crowd.

You wait a second, watching him slide through the people, say hi to a few, brush them off. He finally makes it to the bar, and then turns around and glances at you, brows raised. You bite back a smile and walk out. You make your way towards him, maybe not as smoothly as he did, but you make it and stand next to him.

“Hey, I know you,” he says.

“Been a while,” you say back.

“Ages.”

You smile, placing your hands on the counter as you lean forward to look at the selection. “They should serve hot chocolate,” you say. “Something Christmasy.” Harry shrugs. “Eggnog,” he replies, and you tilt your head back and forth. “I guess.”

“What, not good enough?” Harry asks with a grin.

“Hot chocolate’s better.”

“Maybe we should get some.”

You raise a brow and look over at him. He’s smiling. It’s almost a smirk, just a hint of smug confidence in the sweetness of his expression. “Now?” you ask hesitantly, and he nods, slipping his keys out of his pockets. “Yeah, c’mon. James won’t mind.”

You grin, shaking your head, and echo, “Won’t mind. He’s been trying to set me up with you for months.” Harry laughs, leading you towards a back room. “Still don’t know how you got out of guesting while I was on.”

“Hey, nice on that, by the way,” you say, unable to keep from smirking. “I’m flattered.”

Harry flushes red, eyes darting away from yours, and you can’t help but feel supremely smug that you’ve managed to put a crack in the oh-so-strong cocky exterior of Harry Styles. At the moment, you consider making Harry Styles blush your greatest accomplishment.

He’d not so deftly dodged a question about you during Spill Your Guts or Fill Your Guts, and had been just as red as he is now, ears aflame, stuttering madly. Though you’d never officially met, you’d both been asked about each other plenty of times.

Then, after making it through a question about Kendall and certain songs on the album, she asked about his feelings for you, holding up a particularly flattering picture of you from your last album photo shoot. He chose to eat a large chunk of jellyfish instead of answering, which was just about as much an answer as anything.

If nothing else, he at least proved they weren’t aware of the questions beforehand.

Now, he coughs into his hand and gives you a smile. “You’re welcome,” he says, and his gaze darts away from yours as he explains, “Not sure anybody knows about this, but, erm - well, here we are.”

He’s led you to what looks almost like a drawing room, with huge windows that face the backyard. And the windows open, evidently, because he gently unlatches them before stepping out into the cool night air. He beckons to you, a glint of mischief in those green, green eyes.

“Wow, really know your way around this place, huh?” you murmur as you follow him.

He shrugs. “Been around a few times.”

“Enough times to know a close place to get good hot chocolate at this hour of the night?”

“Maybe,” he says slyly, shoving his hands in his pockets. You grin and follow him to his car, letting the nighttime quiet linger around you. He’s not parked too far away, and when he opens the passenger side door for you, you slide onto the soft leather with a smile.

“Right,” he sighs as he gets in on the other side, “so we have a few options here.”

“Lay ‘em on me, Styles.”

He puts the key in the ignition, checks his rearview. “Well, there’re three places. Total. One right around the corner, one five minutes away, and one… maybe fifteen.” He pulls out onto the road. “The one farthest has the best hot chocolate, but it’s also the busiest. The closest one’s pretty… mediocre, but it also has fantastic chocolate scones. And we’ll have to go through the back to the one five minutes away, but it’s not too bad most of the time… and its hot chocolate has a little… erm - kick to it.”

“Five minutes,” you reply immediately. “Never got that champagne.”

He glances at you, a smirk tugging on his lips. “What, can’t stand me sober?”

“Exactly.”

“I could always drop you back at James’s,” he hums.

“What, and get hot cocoa all by your lonesome?” you reply with a grin.

He shrugs. “Better than being insulted, hm?”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be nicer once I have some cocoa in me.”

“Better be,” he murmurs. “Not exactly in the Christmas spirit to be bullying the guy getting you hot chocolate.” You smile, letting the silence hang in the car before sighing and resting your elbow on the door and your chin in your palm. “I can’t believe it’s Christmas already,” you say softly.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Harry glance at you before he replies.

“Yeah,” he says. “Feels like just yesterday was Halloween…” You nod. “Yeah, really. I went to grab a candy or something from the kitchen - you know, from my Halloween stash, only to realize that I’d finished it a week ago and Halloween was two months ago.”

Harry laughs, nodding, and tells you about his own Halloween stash.

The five minute drive seems more like five seconds.

***

Going out in public always has a certain element of stress about it.

It’s a pain to go out by yourself, let alone with a guy. You’re always worried about paps and fans, and where to go to avoid said paps and fans. Not that you don’t love your fans, of course, but you don’t exactly love the idea of spending your entire date taking pictures with adoring fans.

Not that this is a date.

This is just… two people. Two people, getting hot chocolate.

Whether you’re holding his hand as he slips in through the back door of the cafe is unrelated. He lets go as soon as you’re inside, anyway, straightening the sleeves of his shirt and smiling at you broadly.

“Harry!” somebody calls immediately, and the crowd of chefs parts to let a plump lady wearing a lopsided chef’s hat come through. “Harry, Harry,” she coos, wrapping him in a hug. “It’s been so long!”

“Yes, yes, it has been. Hello, Mary, how are you?” Harry asks pleasantly, and she laughs and pinches his cheeks as she pulls away. “Much better now that I’m seeing you,” she says, and then turns to you. “Who’s this, then? Do I… recognize you from somewhere?”

“Um - possibly,” you admit, and tell her your name. You’re about to go for a handshake, but she pulls you in for a hug instead. Harry grins at you over her shoulder. “Oh my goodness,” Mary gushes, “it is so nice to meet you!”

“Nice to meet you, too,” you laugh.

She pulls back, smiling at you, and then gasps, hands lifting for a moment before she spins around, gesturing for you to follow. “Come on, come on, right through here,” she says, leading you through the doors of the kitchen.

As you duck your head instinctively at the noise in the room, you feel Harry’s hand slide into yours, guiding you to the booth Mary’s stopped at. It faces the kitchen, its back to the doors and windows at the front of the cafe.

“Here you are, you two!” Mary says cheerily as Harry slides into the booth after you. “I’ll be right back with menus.” She bustles away, and Harry turns to you with a big smile on his face. “I come here a lot,” he says.

You smile back, unable to help yourself. “I can see that.”

It’s only a few moments before Mary’s back with the menus. She tells you all about the specials, and you can’t help but get an order of fries to share with Harry as well as the promised hot chocolate.

Conversation flows much too easily while you eat, and you find yourself learning all about Harry Styles. He tells you all about growing up, and stops when he gets to auditioning for The X Factor. He tells you about his hobbies, his hopes and dreams, and his favorite color.

You’re entranced in his voice, and barely even notice yourself talking. You almost forget where you are, forget about the food or the drinks or the chatter around you. You tell him about your own childhood, about your own hopes and dreams, and you tell him what books you love and where you want to travel and your favorite movies.

The minutes tick on, and your conversation never dulls. You don’t talk about your last album, or his movie, or any of his music. The pressure of the public fades away, the pressure of the media or the paps or anything else.

And for the two hours you’re together, it’s just you, him, and your delicious hot cocoa.

***

Three Months Later

The cafe’s pretty empty for a Sunday morning, and you get your coffee fairly quickly. You’re grabbing it from the counter when you hear the bell on the door ring, and you catch a glimpse of who it is before turning back to your coffee.

Then you freeze, your coffee half way up to your mouth.

That’s Harry Styles.

You lower your coffee without taking a sip, debating for a split second how awkward it would be to just pretend you hadn’t seen him. But you realize you made eye contact, so he probably saw you, too.

So you turn around, and smile at him.

He smiles back, and your heart flutters.

As you weave around the tables towards him, you feel a flash of old irritation - he’d never called or texted after that Christmas party. Then again, you think, meeting his green eyes and seeing those dimples, neither did you.

“Hey,” he says.

“I know you,” you say back.

“Been awhile.”

“Ages,” you agree, biting back a smile.

“Good coffee?”

“Great coffee,” you tell him, holding up your cup.

He nods towards the line, and you don’t really think as you fall in with him even though you’re already holding your own. “Saw you’ll be on Late Late,” he says, and you nod. “Yup. Can’t wait for that.”

“Know what games you’re playing?” he asks.

You smile at him. “Anything but Spill Your Guts.”

“Lucky duck,” he says, holding your gaze with a smile for a split second before glancing away. “James asked me to guest, too,” he tells you, and you nod again. “Yup.” He looks back at you, a brow raised, and asks, “Was that your idea, then?”

You shrug, smiling mischievously. “You’ll never know.”

“Guess I won’t.”

This time it’s you who breaks eye contact, and he nudges your arm gently as he says, “Got that book you told me about.” You feel yourself light up as you look back at him, unable to hide your excitement. “Yeah? And? Did you like it?”

“Loved it. Ending was spectacular.”

“Right?” you gush. You tell him some of your thoughts, and he tells you his. You go back and forth, and you forget your surroundings again, losing yourself in him. He, apparently, does the same, because you both snap out of it when you reach the front of the line.

He orders, and you hold up your coffee to show the girl behind the counter that you’re already through. She blinks, nods, seems a bit awestruck as she glances from you to him and back again and rings him up. You clear your throat when he’s through, too, and look at your cup.

“Well,” you sigh, smiling at him, “I should probably go.”

“Oh,” Harry says. “Right.”

There’s a beat of silence, and then, finally, you pull yourself out of it. “Um - I’ll… see you later, I guess.” Harry cringes, his eyes going out the window. “Probably on a front cover,” he says, and you sigh again. “Right,” you mutter, following his gaze.

“Call me,” Harry says, softly.

You turn back to him, nodding. “I will,” you say back, “but text me. Make sure I do.”

He smiles. “Sure.”

The doorbell rings as you leave, and you look over your shoulder.

Harry grins at you, and gives you a salute.

You laugh, salute him back, and then mime Call me with your hand.

And that, of course, is the picture People Magazine uses the next week on the front cover.

***

“Hiiiiiii,” he sang through the phone.

“You asked me to call you. Well. You asked me to text you. To call me.”

He giggled. His words were slurred.

“Thinking of you, though.” He was mumbling, now. “Thinking of you a lot, lately. Can’t get you off my mind…” He fumbled with something in the background. “Wanna see you. Wanna see you now, wanna - I dunno. I wanna talk to you. You’re funny, you know that? You’re funny. Nice voice.” Another giggle. “Oh, right. You sing. Of course you have a nice voice. I sing, too. Know that? I, erm - I sing. A lot. Not really. I dunno. You should… you should listen to my songs.”

He coughed, moved again.

“Been writing a lot. A lot a lot. Dunno why I’m telling you this. Wanna write with you. You’re a proper good writer, you know that? Brilliant writer, you are.” His voice lowered to a whisper. “Wanna write with you. Wanna sing with you. Wanna be with you…”

Somebody called to him, and he called back, then shuffled again and cleared his throat. “I gotta… go now. Mitch says I should sleep. Don’t wanna sleep, though… You should come over. Come over now. ‘s not too late, don’t think. Dunno.”

A pause.

“Right. Erm - call me, please? You never… never did. I didn’t call you either, though… not till now. We should get on that. Suck at communication already, and we’re not even together yet. But I called you! I called you, so, er - the ball’s in your court… I guess… So bye, now. Please call me, love, I, erm…”

He faded off, and his voice was just a whisper when he spoke again.

“Miss you. Call me.”

Then he hung up.

***

You realize you’re smiling as his voice fades out. You like hearing his voice. He’s got a nice one. Really nice. He sings. You smile more and your finger hovers over the call back button. You hesitate for a split second and then hit it.

It rings.

Rings, and rings, and rings and rings.

“‘lo?”

“Hey,” you say.

He pauses for a second, registering, you imagine, and then talks, hurriedly, like he’s afraid you’re going to hang up on him. “Oh my God,” he breathes, then says your name apologetically, “I am so sorry. About the - the -” Another pause. “Wait. Erm - did you get the -?”

“Yeah,” you say, almost sheepishly. “Yeah, I did.” You laugh. “I’m flattered, honestly.”

He groans, but doesn’t sound as panicked. “I’m sorry about that,” he says again. “Really. I, erm - well, dunno if you could tell, but I was a bit… intoxicated… so. Sorry about that.” He laughs a bit. “Kindly erase it from your memory, if you wouldn’t mind.”

“Oh, no, Styles,” you giggle, “no way. I’m not even gonna erase it from my phone. That’s gold, right there. You have a nice voice, too, by the way…” Another groan, laughing. “You’re cruel,” he says. “Absolutely cruel.”

“That’s what they say…”

There’s a pause, and you picture him smiling. You wish you’d hit FaceTime instead. You want to see his face, you realize, and then feel a trace of embarrassment. “Heard your interview with Grimmy,” you say. “I guess James told him about us disappearing on Christmas.”

“No doubt about it,” he replies. “Asked me about it and only shut his trap about it because I begged him.” Your brows jump, a grin on your lips. “Harry Styles, begging?” you ask, and he says, “Yeah. That hot chocolate better have been worth it.”

You fiddle with the hem of your t-shirt, humming in agreement. “It was. Worth it and more… Should probably do that again, huh.” A split second of quiet, and you almost worry you were too forward.

Then he says, “No way,” and you’re just confused.

“Wow, at least I don’t have to worry about you lying to me,” you say, laughing despite yourself, and you can hear the smile in his voice when he talks again. “We can’t get hot chocolate,” he says matter-of-factly, “because it’s April. It’ll have to be dinner.”

You grin. “Dinner it is, then.”

***

You look cute in the picture they got.

And in love.

They got it as he walked you to your door. Your hand was in his, a huge smile on your face as you looked at him. His other hand was pushing hair behind your ear, his smile as wide as yours. You were close, too, and you were happy whoever had taken the photo didn’t get the kiss afterwards.

It was a good dinner, admittedly. He picked you up, cooked for you, got wine drunk with you and giggled about everything and nothing on his couch with you after you’d eaten. He was a proper gentleman, too, offering to drive you home when you regrettably told him you had an early morning and couldn’t stay over.

You forget about being cool or distant or trying not to look desperate and text him the next day, joking about the pictures online and various fan reactions. The conversation is so lighthearted that you absently invite him to the museum with you, forgetting that you’d seen him less than twenty four hours ago.

That keeps happening with him, the casual hangouts and meetups, and it’s not a problem until the kisses at your doorstep after every occasion turn into you waking up with him in your bed and butterflies still in your tummy.

You turn and look at him, sleeping next to you peacefully with the soft morning sun spilling over his cheekbones, and realize that maybe, just maybe, you’re just a little bit in love with him.

***

“Ladies and gentlemen, give it up for two of the biggest singers on the planet -”

You smile and wave as James Corden introduces you and Harry, still amazed after all these years at the rambunctious applause that follows your name. “Here I am,” James goes on, “with two of the biggest singers on the planet… who still haven’t admitted to being the most iconic power couple since, well - since ever, really.”

You and Harry laugh, hiding your faces from the hoots and hollers from the crowd, but neither of you says anything. James looks at you, an expectant look on his face, and prods, “Well?”

Awkwardly, you and Harry look at each other, and then start nodding. “Yup,” you say together. “Yeah. Mhm.” James groans dramatically, spinning away and shuffling his cue cards on the desk. “You know, I always thought Harry was the best at dodging questions until I met this one,” James sighs, pointing at you.

The audience laughs, and you shrug, still smiling big.

James starts, “Right, well, I’d like to take credit for this relationship, because -”

“Alleged relationship,” Harry cuts in.

“Of course, of course,” James says, rolling his eyes at the crowd. “But, in case you haven’t heard, it was, actually, my Christmas party where they first met.” You start to shake your head, and James raises a brow. “Is that not the case?”

“Well - actually, you know, it’s kind of awkward, but, um - well, you see -”

“She was a fan of One Direction,” Harry interrupts smugly.

“Okay, you could say that,” you say with a smile as a cheer goes up from the crowd.

“Really only one guy,” Harry goes on, bouncing his brows.

“Yeah, I think his name was Zayn, actually -”

Harry scoffs, putting a hand to his chest in mock hurt as the crowd gives you a laugh.

“Ooh, drama,” James sings.

“Um, but yeah, no, we met at an awards show a few years back when I, uh… quite fangirlishly approached them,” you explain. Harry nudges you and replies, “It was an even amount of awestruckness, though, since she’d just come out with her first album…”

James plugs your next album here, and you smile and throw a thumbs up until the crowd quiets and he says, “You really met at my party, though, wouldn’t you say?” Harry laughs, shaking his head. “I won’t give you the satisfaction.”

“That means yes,” James mock whispers towards the crowd. “So, erm, any plans you can share, then?” he goes on. “Should we be expecting a new song? Or a movie, perhaps?” He looks at you, spreading his hands, and says, “Your first movie debut?”

“Well… there is something in the works,” you tell him, and Harry nods, putting a finger to his lips to show the secrecy of it all. James claps giddily with the crowd. “Between the two of you, I won’t expect too many details, but I have a bit of a proposition…” He gestures at the side stage and says, “Behind that curtain, I have a table. On that table is a variety of disgusting foods…”

Harry’s face falls jokingly, and he gives a horrified look to the crowd.

“Now to get out of playing our favorite game, all you have to do is admit-”

As scripted, you and Harry kiss each other through smiles. The crowd goes nuts, and James shouts to announce the commercial break through the noise as your little kiss gets a standing ovation and deafening cheers.

The something in the works happens to be a song, and two months later, it’ll come out. Harry will have gotten to write with you - and your nice voice - and the song will be called Cocoa.

***

hi!!! okay so there's that, and i know this doesn't really make sense and neither does my last fic, but there's a rhyme and a reason haha i'm just. idk. lol. ANYWAY hope you liked it and if you did some feedback would be great!!!!

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#harry styles fanfic #harry styles one shot #harry styles fluff #harry styles x reader #harry styles imagine #harry styles christmas #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles #christmas #christmas in august

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mendesblurb · 4 years ago

Text

Gray Hair

GIF CREDITS TO OWNER AND MAKER @shxwnmendess

Shawn Mendes x reader

Warning: fluff, maybe grammar error and maybe some punctuation errors

Special shout-out to this super sweet person @holland-styles 💛

Note: inspired by how my Dad calmed down my mom when she started having gray hair lol 😛✌🏻also happy February ☺️

They came slowly, almost one by one, not enough to be noticeable until they had formed a small colony, scattered but strong. After his shower he just stared at the mirror in disbelief.

“No,” he wailed, tugging at the short silver hairs that had sprung from his scalp. “No, no, no. This cannot be happening.”

How had he grown gray hair? He wasn’t even thirty! He was supposed to be young not old with gray hair!

“I’m home!” came your voice from the stairs.

“Y/N,” Shawn sniffled, trying to stifle his tears.

Your eyes widened in alarm when you saw Shawn. “What’s wrong?” You asked, while guiding Shawn to sit down on the closed toilet seat.

“My hair,” Shawn agonized, wiping at his eyes.

“Your…hair?” You raised an eyebrow. “What about it?”

“It’s going gray!”

“Oh,” You stated.

“Oh?” Shawn asked in disbelief. “That’s all you have to say, really? This is a crisis, Y/N, and all you say is ‘oh’? Good God, what if this is only the beginning? What if I go bald?” he sobbed, leaning back in and covered his face with his hands. “Y/N, honey, I really don’t like it. It makes me look so old and sad.” Shawn said frowning as he messed up around the roots of his gray hair even more.

“Hey,” You said gently, “Baby, it’s okay.” You said as you took Shawn in your arms and smoothed a hand over his back.

For a moment there was silence in the bathroom until Shawn said,”What if people think I’m ugly?”. “Do you think I’m ugly?”

“Shawnie, I think it makes you look hot not ugly. Trust me.” You said, your eyes completely locked on your husband’s eyes.

“Seriously?”

“Yes, now just breathe and relax,” You said. “You have a demanding job, demanding life, it’s no wonder you're stressed.”

In response Shawn just sighed and laid his head on Your chest. “Yeah.”

You smiled down at him. “And even if you were to go completely bald tomorrow, I promise I’ll still love you.”

“will you seriously still love me even if I start turning into a wrinkly old man?”

“I loved you then, I love you still. Always have and always will.” You replied and kissed his forehead

Taglist: @cazycurlyhairgirl @itsalwaysbeen305 @holland-styles @mendesficsxbombay

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wondershawns · 4 years ago

Note

Blurb night ! 🍾 8 for Shawn please!! 🥳

A/N: I had to stop myself from writing more because this could be such a good start to a proper fic. Anyway, the prompt was “If you ever need a friend, I’m right here.” Thanks for sending this in!

Word count: 937

It was your first day in LA. Everything was too big in your opinion, it wasn’t the kind of city you’d see yourself living in at all. You already missed the Canadian cold, but this was only temporary. Promoting your music meant travelling and spending time doing interviews, which you always enjoyed. The part you enjoyed less was having to show up at label events where managers and other important people looked at you like all they saw was a price tag.

“Hi,” The man you recognized as Shawn Mendes came up to you while you stood by the bar, trying to avoid the crowd. You wished you could have dressed as casually as him. You’d give anything to be in skinny jeans and a shirt right now, the dress you had to put on was a little itchy. “I don’t think we’ve met before, I’m Shawn,”

“We haven’t,” You smiled back at him and shook his hand, introducing yourself.

“So, how long do you think you need to stay?” He leaned on the bar by your side and looked over the room.

“What?”

“These events suck, how long until you can escape? I usually have to stick around for an hour, two if I’m unlucky,” He explained, too used to showing his face and leaving as soon as he could for a good night of sleep.

“Oh, um, it’s the first time I come to something like this,” You admitted, wishing you could get rid of your heels, or at least sit down. Sure, the outfit looked amazing, but it wasn’t worth it for tonight. You would rather have been comfortable.

“Ouch,” He cringed. “The first time I had to do this sucked, and I was underage, so painfully sober,”

“Yeah, I guess a drink wouldn’t hurt right now,” You chuckled, wondering why you still hadn’t gotten yourself one, but Shawn took care of it.

“What would you like?” He turned to wave at the bartender, ordering for both of you as soon as he got your answer.

“So, how do you escape this?” You asked him, your glass in hand a few seconds later.

“Over there,” He pointed to a tall and bald man. “That’s Jake, he knows I hate this. He helps me sneak out, my manager hates it, but he pretends he doesn’t notice when we leave and covers for me,”

“That’s cool,” You noticed your own manager mingling with other people, she’d definitely hate it if you left early.

“Yeah, it is. You’re from Canada, right?” He kept the conversation flowing easily.

“Born and raised in Toronto,” You confirmed, knowing he lived there too. Shawn was nice to talk to, and you were surprised you still hadn’t been interrupted.

“LA feels weird compared to that, doesn’t it? It took me so long to get used to,”

“A little yeah, I’m not sure I can get used to it though. It’s my first time coming here, and I’m kinda hoping it won’t happen too often,” You admitted out loud for the first time.

“It probably will, that’s where everyone else it. How long are you staying?” Shawn understood where you came from, but he also knew how these things went. The best he could do was make sure you had someone to talk to around here.

“Two weeks,”

“Well, during those two weeks, if you ever need a friend, I’m right here.”

“Thanks Shawn,” You felt better just from this conversation, he was the first person you met around here, and it couldn’t have gone better.

“Of course,” He smiled, but it faltered when he spotted his manager and yours coming over. “Uh oh,”

“Shawn, there you are,” Andrew said, immediately following up by starting a conversation with you and saying it was great the two of you had met.

You exchanged a look with Shawn, who was stuck with your manager. You could both tell the collaboration ideas and PR possibilities were bubbling in their heads. He gave you a slight nod towards Jake and politely excused himself from your manager, moving to the other side of the room. For a second you thought he was leaving, but he kept on looking at you, waiting for you to join.

You somehow managed to ditch Andrew and hurried to where he was standing, letting him take his hand in yours.

“So, that’s how we escape,” He told you as he walked into a deserted corridor. “Everyone leaves through the main door, the back one has an alarm,”

“How are we leaving then?”

“Jake took care of it for us,” Shawn explained just as the man came into view, holding the door to freedom open for the both of you. “Man, you really are the best,” He told him as he stepped out.

“Thank you,” You nodded along, making your way to fresh air.

“Come on guys,” Jake let the door fall shut, stepping ahead of you to show you to a car. “Where are we going?” He checked with Shawn, knowing the plan to go back to his hotel had probably changed.

“You want me to show you around?” The curly haired man offered. “LA isn’t as bad as it sounds once you know where to go,”

“Does it involve a lot of walking?” You asked first, feeling the blisters on your feet worsen with every step. Shawn glanced at your feet, giving you a sympathetic smile.

“Where are you staying? We can stop by and then explore,” He opened the door to the car and let you in.

“My manager is going to kill me.”

“Then let’s make the night worth it.”

#shawn mendes #writing #request #blurb

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nat-roman0ff · 5 years ago

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honk honk

the sequel to ’beep beep’ that no one asked for

after a chance encounter and forgetting to get your phone number, shawn sets off on a quest to find you.

words: 2,220

warnings: extreme dumbassery, fender benders, and Instagram.

“Brian, please stop laughing, this is serious.”

Shawn rolls his eyes and smacks the gum in his mouth as his best friend of fourteen years laughs hysterically on the other side of the phone.

“Bro,” Brian hiccups between breaths, “this total stranger helped you find your car which you are an idiot for losing, by the way, and you’re like suddenly convinced she’s the one? You’ve completely lost it.”

“I’m not though!” Shawn defends, “She’s just...different.”

Brian sighs, “yeah aren’t they all.”

“Not like that!”

Brian clicks his tongue, “well what’s her name? Can you find her on Instagram or something?”

“I don’t know her first name.”

There’s a pregnant pause, “you really are a fucking idiot.”

“I know she drives a shitty Camry! And she’s a personal shopper.”

Shawn can hear Brian smack his forehead through the phone, “well then start back at the beginning.”

Shawn gulps and Brian answers.

“The mall, moron. Go back tomorrow around the same time and see if you can find her.”

Shawn lets out the breath he’s been holding onto since he watched you pull away, “Brian, you’re a genius!”

“Yeah, don’t mention it.”

Your day started pretty normally; gym, coffee shop, pick up dry cleaning. You hadn’t been able to get Shawn out of your head for days now, and you hoped he made it back home to Toronto for family time.

You thought about sending him an Instagram DM, but figured he probably got thousands a day and your measly little “remember me?” would go unnoticed in the sea of messages. He was also Shawn fucking Mendes, who had women richer and much more interesting at his disposal, what’d he want with you?

It was hard not to think about it, with his stupid face popping up everywhere and his stupid songs coming onto the radio. But you did your best to rid Shawn from your headspace.

So, it had been a normal day until your best friend called you, completely frantic.

“CHECK HIS INSTAGRAM OH MY GOD!” She yells before you can even answer with a hello.

“Huh?” You say, fumbling with the keys in your hand, “what the hell are you talking about?”

“Shawn!” She yells, blasting your ear drum, “he posted about you on Instagram!”

Your heart stops beating for a split second when you drop your keys and all the bags to the ground to pull up his page. His latest post was put up an hour ago, and is a simple selfie with the following caption:

Hey, I hope you follow me otherwise this would be really embarrassing. I feel like an idiot for not getting your phone number when we met and I really want to see you again. I waited for you where we met the last few days for hours on end but I never saw you. I hope you’re still around. If you do see this, pack an overnight bag and your passport and go to where we first met at 4:30 pm today. I did promise you a date, after all. - Shawn

“Oh my god. Oh my fucking God.”

“It’s crazy!” Your friend says, “the power of the internet, huh? So what are you gonna do?”

“I don’t know! Why do I need an overnight bag?”

“Bitch,” you friend starts, “if you do not go and meet him I will completely disown you.”

“Well when you put it that way -“

“Shut up,” she laughs, “you haven’t been able to stop talking about this guy and now he’s trying to find you? Modern romance at its finest. Love!”

You roll your eyes, “fine! I’ll go meet him. Let me go so I can pack a bag.”

“Alright, love you, tell me everything when you get back.”

Shawn checks his phone six times before shoving it into his pocket. He’d sent Jake to go pick you up at the parking garage while he finished up the last second arrangements. He’d chewed his nail beds to shit with nerves and prayed you’d seen his message and actually wanted to show up.

You’d managed to shove two extra outfits and a couple of essentials into a bag, secured your passport and made it to the garage with fifteen minutes to spare. You stood at the elevator waiting, adjusting the straps of your bag over and over, not that it was ever going to feel comfortable with the nerves you were feeling. This was the craziest thing you’d ever done. Where were you going? Where was he taking you?

Home. Shawn thinks.

One of the best pieces of advice he’d gotten when the fame started becoming just a little too much to bare was not to find home in a place but in people. Home wasn’t a smelly tour bus, or hotel rooms and it certainly wasn’t Los Angeles.

He saw a little bit of home in you. Even if it was just a neighboring window, for now.

It’s about five minutes past 4:30 when a black SUV pulls up beside you. The passenger window rolls down and a burly bald man looks over from the drivers seat.

“Hey are you here for Shawn?”

You gulp and nod, “you know him?”

He smiles a trusting smile and laughs, “unfortunately. I’m Jake, come on in the kid’s got a surprise for you.”

You crawl into the front seat, unsure to trust the man but hey, what’s the worst that could happen?

A lot of things now that you were thinking about it.

Jake isn’t a man of many words. He asks your name and you make small talk about your lives. You find out he’s a Taurus and his favorite book is Of Mice and Men. You tell him about your studies at university and your grandma’s famous shortbread recipe (which he makes you promise you’ll make for him), and he makes the short drive to the airport relatively painless.

He takes you to a different section of LAX, one that you’ve never been to before. There’s a small fleet of private jets scattered across the tarmac and a small, relatively empty terminal. Jake shows you inside, where the only person waiting for you is Shawn, tapping away mindlessly on his phone, his left knee bouncing up and down.

“I found someone for you,” Jake starts and Shawn’s head immediately perks up.

His hand clutches his chest and he walks up to you with bright, yet tired, honey eyes, “you have no idea how long I’ve waited for this - ”

You press your index finger to his lips to shush him, replacing them with your lips when he stops talking.

At least that’s how Shawn pictured it happening.

In reality, it’s quarter past five and you hadn’t shown up yet, Brian was feigning sleep in the passenger’s seat of the Range Rover, and Shawn had about two ounces of patience left in him.

“She probably didn’t feel anything at all. Was probably happy to get rid of me when we found the car, this is stupid,” Shawn grumbles as he sits on the hood of the SUV.

Brian mimics playing the violin, “no shit, Sherlock. Not everyone is entranced by your,” he waves his hands in the air, “aura and, like, wicked cool hair.”

Shawn rolls his eyes, “it just felt normal. I haven’t felt that in forever.”

“My heart is breaking for you,” his best friend deadpans.

He shoots Brian a glare through the windshield.

Discouraged, Shawn jumps down off the hood and gets back into the car. Unbeknownst to him, you’ve been waiting upstairs for nearly an hour now, on the level where you actually met. The boy’s attention to detail was not all quite there.

You debated giving up, he probably backed out, realized you were some nobody and he was like the universe’s biggest pop star at the moment. You felt stupid and played for getting your hopes up. You hate your friend for talking you into this and you hate Shawn for making it so damn public. The Instagram post has racked up over a million likes by now and countless comments and the whole thing makes you kind of queasy. This is so, so stupid and you can’t believe you’re caught up in it all.

Aggravated, pissed off and a teensy weensy bit hurt, you look at the packed overnight bag beside you, turn the car on and pull out of your parking spot.

The garage is busy this time of day, and you silently murder Shawn ten times over in your head for making you meet him at this time, and then not even having the audacity to show up. Your grip on the steering wheel tightens as you’re bumper to bumper with the car in front and behind you, car screaming as it idles.

“Why the fuck is everyone leaving at the same time!” Shawn shouts from behind the wheel one floor above you.

Brian rolls his eyes at his friend for the umpteenth time today, “because normal people work nine to five and it’s...five twenty right now.”

Shawn throws his head back against the headrest and groans, “I hate everything.”

“Oh come on, life isn’t that bad. So you got stood up by a girl who you’ve spent a total of three hours with. You don’t even know her name! No loss. Move on, man.”

Shawn doesn’t want Brian to be right, he wants him to be so wrong. He wants to believe that you’ve just hit a spot of traffic, or that you don’t have Instagram or anything. You can’t fake what happened between you two, even if he didn’t quite know what that is yet. It was the first time he’s laughed, first time he’s fucking forgotten who he was for half a second. And in the best way. He wasn’t looking over his shoulder waiting for a pap or a fan to spot him a click a picture, he was just Shawn and you were just...well, you.

He sighs, “I guess you’re right.”

He’s not.

Your brakes creak as you ride around the corner, a line of cars trying to slide out in front of you from the upper floor. As always the respectful driver, you let one person in, but three slip in front and you’re left stomping on your breaks and screaming obscenities.

“Dude you have to stop being such a pussy, just pull out in front of them!” Brian instructs as Shawn taps the brakes.

He scoffs, “absolutely not, I’m not getting my car all dented up just because you decided not to go to the bathroom before we left.”

Brian pouts and folds his arms across his chest, “I didn’t have to go before,” he grumbles to himself.

Just as you hit the gas to lurch forward before someone else can sneak in front of your car, you feel a bump against the back end of your vehicle.

“Oh you have got to be kidding me!” You scream to yourself.

By now cars are honking since you aren’t moving, you manage to pull off to the side and the guilty vehicle that hit you pulls up alongside, tinted windows up and in full effect.

LA dickwad.

The passenger’s side door opens and a young man pops out that you don’t recognize, and turning the corner behind the car comes Shawn.

“You hit my car! And you’re...here?”

Shawn looks awestruck at you, “did you see my post?!”

“Yes!” You squawk, “of course I saw it why the hell else would I be here? Where have you been? You’re late, and you dented my car!”

“Late?” He scoffs, “I was perfectly on time, you’re the one who is late. I was on my way out.”

“Ditto!”

Brian looks at you, to your car and then back to Shawn as he puts it together, “ohhh I get it now. Crappy car, weird sense of arousing fear while in her presence, that’s the girl.”

“My car is not crappy!” You snip.

Brian goes to say something but Shawn shakes his head at his friend.

“So you came?” Shawn’s voice is light, and his eyes are wide.

You roll yours, “yes of course I did! Where were you?”

He points up.

You bury your hands in your face, “wrong floor, idiot.”

Shawn’s face scrunches and you can pinpoint the second the lightbulb goes off in his head, “FUCK.”

“Yeah, fuck is right, dumbass.”

Brian snorts.

Shawn steps forward and puts his hands on either side of your pouting face, “well can I at least finally get your name and phone number?”

You nod between his massive palms, “yeah, you’re going to need it when I file an insurance claim against you for denting my car.”

He laughs and releases you, “still want to go on a date with me?”

You teeter back and forth on your heels, knowing you’re going to say yes but also wanting to watch Shawn sweat a bit, “maybe, I don’t know…”

“Don’t make me hit the other side of your car -”

“I’m kidding, I’d be very happy to still go on a date with you. Just leave Sir Louis out of it,” you smile, “where are we going?”

Brian puffs up his chest and steps in between the both of you, “we’re going to Canada, baby!”

#yeah there's gonna be a part 3 lmao #shawn mendes #Shawn Mendes Imagine #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes blurb #shawn mendes fanfiction #shawn mendes fic #shawn mendes fluff

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jawnjendes · 5 years ago

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it’s always been you | shawn mendes

shawn x goth oc

forevermore 1/?

let me know if you want to be added to the taglist

masterlist | playlist (song added with every chapter)

One would be surprised to know the extent Annalise Flores would go to remain anonymous. She had a wig she wore specifically for work, and it wasn’t just to look professional. All of her social media is private, not that she surfs the web for leisure these days. Her own family doesn’t even know what she’s been up to these last few weeks. This is the life Annalise chose. Always reserved, always a mystery. She preferred it this way.

So when she got back together with her ex, it wasn’t exactly devastating to discover that she was not allowed to be seen with him in the public eye. Her ex-turned-current boyfriend is the world famous musician Shawn Mendes. They dated back in college prior to the fame, but that’s a different story. This is now.

Annalise was in between sessions at her Los Angeles counseling office, reviewing notes and waiting for the next client to arrive. It was a normal work day, she was at the halfway point, but not quite. It wasn’t lunchtime yet.

The phone rang, causing her to jump at the sound. She picked up and answered, hearing her assistant/secretary Mateo on the other line.

“Señora, tiene una entrega,” he said in a singsong voice.

“What did we say about señora?” she replied. “I feel old.”

He giggled. “So are you coming, or do I drink this coffee myself?”

Annalise perked up at the sound of coffee. “I’ll be right there.”

It’s not that it was a hot beverage. She never Postmated something she could simply go out and get herself. She smoothed out her black dress and went down the hallway, gazing at the waiting room on the way to the front desk, just in case anyone showed up early. That was a rare occurrence, what with the type of clientele she dealt with.

The delivery was exactly what Mateo had said, a cup of coffee from some obscure shop. The assistant was grinning excitedly, for this wasn’t the first time his employer had gotten a mystery drink with a note attached. Annalise knew he never read the notes she got, otherwise he would have flipped his shit long ago. Mateo wasn’t one to hide things like shock or excitement. He would learn though; He was still an intern.

Annalise took the cup and read the strip on the side of it. Decaf. Hvy cream. Sweetener. Yup, that’s the one. Then she opened the folded note that was tape to the cup.

See you tonight -Mr. M.

She hummed and slipped the note into her dress pocket. Looks like she has plans tonight.

“There’s also a man outside who wants to talk to you,” Mateo added. “He’s the one who brought the coffee.”

Annalise figured there would be more than just that silly little note. She went out the door and into the warm spring day, finding a familiar bald man sat on a nearby bench.

“Jake,” she greeted.

The man stood and smiled. “How you doing, Ann?”

“Good. Apparently I’m seeing him tonight? Has he lost his mind or something?”

“He says it’s important.”

“He and I have different definitions of the word important. But yeah, I’ll go. I assume you’ll be taking me again?” There was a bit of reluctance in her tone.

“That’s right. As soon as you’re done here.”

Anytime Annalise wanted to see her boyfriend, she couldn’t simply drive herself to his house whenever she pleased. The last time she saw Shawn was two months ago on Valentine’s Day, a day that he decided was important. Most days, they saw each other through FaceTime, Snapchat, text, even the coffee and notes became a regular form of communication.

It’s not like Annalise frequently keeps up with celebrity gossip, but she knew why it had to be this way, and honestly, she wasn’t mad about it. She had to sneak around with Shawn behind the scenes of his great big love story stunt, despite the fact that he wasn’t doing anything careerwise at the moment. It was more for the other person in this love story stunt than it was for him. Again, Annalise wasn’t mad about it.

Staying away from Shawn in public was fine, and that’s the truth. The world believed Shawn Mendes was dating Camila Cabello for the umpteenth time in his career. Well, some of the world believed that, and some was all that was needed. As long as Annalise didn’t get under that terrifying microscope, she was good.

Shawn was nervous for a multitude of reasons. The doorbell rang, and even though he checked the camera at the front door, he still felt knots in his stomach. He hasn’t seen this girl in a while. He was still surprised that she agreed to come all the way to sunny LA. This wasn’t her level of expertise, but she was experienced in law, so that was better than nothing. On top of that, Shawn didn’t trust anyone that was connected to Andrew, and most lawyers in this town seemed to know him. Shawn couldn’t risk any of this getting back to his team.

He answered the door to a petite woman with a jet black pixie cut. She had on dark sunglasses, and carried an umbrella. Ripped skinny jeans, a band t-shirt, and converse were her go-to. It was like she hadn’t changed clothes since the last time Shawn saw her. Dark as this girl looked, her greeting was like sunshine.

“Helloooo!” She dramatically threw her umbrella aside and opened her arms for a hug.

“Isabella,” Shawn greeted as he accepted her hug, minding the permanent chill of her body. “Thank you so much for coming.”

Oh, that’s okay,” she replied. She stepped inside the house and looked around the spacious area. “Damn, this ain’t no Canada. Also, how convenient that you live here and not your supposed home country.” She poked his chest with a grin.

Shawn chuckled. This girl genuinely did not believe Canada was a real place. “Tell you what, get me out of this contract, and I’ll send you on a vacation to Vancouver.”

Isabella took off her sunglasses, revealing red eyes. However she blinked a few times and they went back to brown.

“Who else is here?” she asked, placing her shoulder bag on the kitchen island. “I’m detecting Chanel Number Whatever.”

“Oh, that’s probably Camila,” Shawn replied, still thrown by how intuitive Isabella was. “She’s in the bathroom. And uh, Ann will be here soon.”

“Okay, so Camila’s the fake girlfriend, right?”

“Worse. They want us engaged.”

Isabella’s eyes widened. “We have a lot of work to do.”

Then, another voice sounded from the stairs. “Who’s here? I heard the doorbell ring.”

Shawn shared a look with Isabella. While she still looked human, there was that tiny shred of doubt. What if she had the words ‘vampire-witch’ tattooed on her forehead?

Finally, Camila entered the dining room/kitchen. She immediately spotted Isabella and went to introduce herself. Both girls were bubbly and enthusiastic, despite the serious circumstances. Shawn couldn’t help but feel a bit weird. He carried many secrets, but the biggest one had to be that he knew an actual vampire. That secret was just above the one about his relationship with Camila being a business arrangement. Could he really consider it a secret if his team was absolutely horrible at making that seem natural, and that the whole world figured it out years ago? Shawn and Camila were simply bound by contract.

That’s why Isabella Jayn Montgomery was hired.

Shawn checked the time on his phone. It was half past eight, Ann and Jake should be on their way. He shouldn’t have been so nervous about this. It’s not like Ann wouldn’t like the idea of not having to hide anymore… right?

“So you just decided that we were going to go public and not tell me?”

He didn’t really know what he was expecting. Not even five minutes had passed since Isabella, Camila, and Jake left, and Ann got right to it. She was polite through the whole discussion, listening to everything Isabella had to say, and asking questions every so often. But as it turns out, she had her own bone to pick.

Shawn was putting the empty water glasses in the kitchen sink, surprised by his girlfriend’s serious tone. “I thought that was something we wanted?”

“You wanted that,” Ann corrected, sitting at the island. “Look, if you want to stop fake dating Camila, that’s fine, I support that. If you wanna go back to making music for your fans and go back on tour, I support that too. Whatever you wanna do with your career is your decision. But when it comes to our relationship, I get a say too. And I don’t want my privacy taken away.”

“Well…” he trailed off, leaning against the counter. “Just because I get out of my contract doesn’t mean you and I have to go and make out in the middle of the street. It would just be more believable if we were seen out in public together. It would show mine and Camila’s teams that we’re not taking their shit anymore.”

Ann chuckled. “Yeah, I’m not here to be a pawn in a game of publicity chess.”

Shawn sighed and walked around the counter, holding his hands out to her. “They want me and Camila to be engaged, and then have a huge wedding covered by all the major media outlets. I don’t want my life playing out this way anymore.”

She kept her arms folded. “A fake wedding is where you draw the line? Really?”

“If I’m gonna have a wedding, it’s gonna be with you,” he told her.

That particular topic wasn’t new information. Shawn and Ann had talked about marriage in the past and when would be the right time. How their cultures and subcultures were going to come into play. How they would go about it with all this Shawmila nonsense. That’s why Ann remained serious.

“Weddings are clearly not a big deal if these business people are willing to just throw a fake one together. I’m sure your fake girlfriend will look beautiful in a stupid white gown.” She rolled her eyes.

“I wanna see my real girlfriend in a stupid black gown,” Shawn corrected.

Ann cracked a small grin, but it faded quickly. She sucked in a breath as her face contorted.

“What? What is it?” Shawn asked, concern quickly replacing the building frustration.

She breathed out. “Nothing, just cramps.”

“Stomach cramps? Nausea? What did you eat?”

“Period cramps. I don’t get any of that often but when I do…”

You’re moody as hell and question everything I do, Shawn thought. Only a second later, guilt formed in his chest.

_______

goth gf taglist @normalcyisoverrated-beyou @ilsolee @strangerliaa @kitykatnumber @mendesromano @iloveshawnieboi @goldenmndes @parkeraul @someoneunimportantxx @shawnvvmendes @calyumthomas @softmendesss @wronglanemendes @theprivatewritings @peruvian-bae

#shawn mendes #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes blurb #shawn mendes smut #shawn x goth gf #quarantine got me like...... imma write shawn #even tho its all but illegal to like him asfkghlkjslkjglkfsklahfshf #im not gettin into that im just here to creatively outlet or whatever #song: lover by taylor swift #yes its the one feat mawn shendes

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