foolish thing. @shawnisms-blog - Tumblr Blog

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text. ⇾ boyfri. 🖤

mike: [ delayed ] and you're calling me a bottom huh?

mike: you like it, admit it. you like bottomming for me.

mike: big words for a big named superstar or whatever.

shawn: just stating the facts, babe.

shawn: i wouldn't know, right? i think the thought of me being beneath you just makes you hard.

shawn: shut up. i can write anywhere. you're pretty good inspiration, anyway.

text. ⇾ boyfri. 🖤

mike: you're not busted, you're just horny, dumbass. plus it's nice to hear you admit to it for once. not too flustered this time huh.

mike: say swag, and i'll blueball you.

mike: i would if i could. but i just meant for you -- your schedule's all over the place.

shawn: not too flustered to admit that when you aren't nearby i picture what you'd be doing to me if you were. and it always leaves me wanting you.

shawn: i won't have to say it if you call yourself a bottom, dude.

shawn: i always have time to run off with you.

#SWORE i replied to this #text.

text. ⇾ boyfri. 🖤

mike: yeah? imagine when i actually get my hands on you.

mike: no saying swag outta nowhere, and we got a deal.

mike: [ typing... ]

mike: depends, you available?

shawn: trust me, it's all i'm thinking about, faist. think my brain might be busted because i can't stop thinking about it.

shawn: i won't say swag if you call yourself a bottom. it's the only way.

shawn: [ delayed ] you're wording that as if you wanna go tonight or somethin'.

text. ⇾ boyfri. 🖤

mike: you're just askin' me to blueball you huh.

mike: [ delayed ] yeah i know.

mike: you stuck in place? just so i know when y'want me slinkin' over.

shawn: the thought of you touching me is enough to finish, so.

shawn: i'm here, yeah. come over whenever. no blueballing allowed, though.

shawn: wanna try another toronto trip soon? maybe one that'll involve a little less fighting this time?

mfaiist:

mike took a careful step back, eyes darting to the side and then over his shoulder. “stop – we can’t – do this here. just.” he knew he was going to take shawn home (a strange choice of words but one that clung to his head anyway) and he knew he’d forgive him once they were under the covers. but they were in public. and shawn was acting like a closed door was enough while exposed atop a balcony was a smart location to get handsy. people didn’t even know they were friends, nevertheless… this.

“come on,” he exhaled, relenting as he grabbed shawn by the wrist. he had to actively avoid threading their fingers together and the fact that he’d probably have to for awhile left a bitter taste in his mouth. mike kept his head lowered as the pair shimmied through the crowd, and with each curious look, he sped up his pace. even as someone he only half recognized was waving him down a few steps away, mike swiftly turned his head and bolted out the front door. only then did he loosen his hold on shawn’s arm. brown and blue eyes darted to the grip and then upward to the taller’s expression. “…sorry. – my car’s just… down there.”

shawn knew how he was acting. he knew he was being grabby and that he was pushing his limits but now that he had mike in his sight, the part of his brain that was under the influence couldn’t draw the line. it didn’t matter how much time had passed, the very act of being around mike made the musician jittery. his mind kept drifting back to how desperate he was in the bathroom when he called the older male. he felt like he couldn’t breathe, then the next thing he knew, he was up. he vaguely remembered stumbling to the balcony and barely remembered the call to his boyfriend. he glanced at the actor who was dragging him along, the thought of mike’s clear frustration worming itself into shawn’s mind. he still felt on edge from the panic attack he’d had.

he had the urge to curl into himself -- he didn’t even want mike to see him like this. he wanted to jerk out of the man’s grasp and run off to a place where he didn’t have to be so impossibly hard to deal with. instead, he was opening up the passenger door to mike’s car and gliding in. he was fumbling with his seat belt so that he couldn’t bolt at the last second. once mike’s door had closed, shawn let out a slow breath. “i’m ... sorry. i got carried away. maybe i shouldn’t have called. you shouldn’t have had to come and get me. i was --” he stared at his own hands, fidgeting with his fingers as he spoke in a hushed tone. “it was dumb. i was being dumb.”

#ftf.

text. ⇾ boyfri. 🖤

mike: [ delayed ] so? is it mutual or what?

mike: don't start sayin' "swag" or dabbing 'round me and we'll be cool.

mike: what is this -- a therapy session?

mike: i obviously wanna jerk you off.

shawn: the obsession? i dunno. you're alright, i /guess/.

shawn: i'm definitely gonna say swag next time you're about to blow me. just so you know.

shawn: uh huh. i want that too.

shawn: wish you were here.

#text.

text. ⇾ boyfri. 🖤

mike: you are a dumbass, mendes.

mike: but i like you anyway.

mike: [ delayed ] oh it's goin' to my head alright.

mike: think this could escalate? is it uncool to sext in this day and age huh?

shawn: you more than like me. you're obsessed.

shawn: i think that we're not above sexting. being a million miles away absolves us from shit that might make us uncool.

shawn: how'd that picture make you feel, huh? don't leave anything out.

#text.

text. ⇾ boyfri. 🖤

mike: all talk, tsk tsk.

mike: when did i ever say tops could live without shit like that? i'm literally asking you to send me nudes.

mike: [ delayed ] not that i'm tryin' to pressure you. probably not very safe to do so anyway. figured you'd like to know how "obsessed" i am from time to time.

mike: or whatever.

shawn: shut up.

shawn: sometimes, i try to push you so hard that you just completely call out the stupid shit i'm saying and make me look like a total dumbass, faist.

shawn: oh, my god. you're not pressuring me. you're just using me completely for my body -- i get it.

shawn: kidding.

shawn: don't let how willing i am to please you go to your head. (pun intended.)

shawn: [ one image attachment ]

text. ⇾ boyfri. 🖤

mike: callin' me naive huh? maybe i gotta tone down how "obsessed" i am.

mike: if y'gotta "scrounge up evidence" then who's the bottom between us?

mike: plus i'm still the one proposing something hot. you're the flustered receiver -- can't tell me you're not blushing.

shawn: no, i think you're good where you're at. let's keep it consistent.

shawn: [ typing ... ]

shawn: maybe i am, maybe i'm not. guess you'll never be able to tell since you're a) not in my bed with me

shawn: and b) not getting any pictures (of my potentially blushing face or anything else) since you're /so/ much of a top that you'll be fine without 'em.

text. ⇾ boyfri. 🖤

mike: what, y'want me to send you pics of me being lazy and alone in bed huh?

mike: [ delayed ] ...fuck off, you're a dumbass.

mike: that's what made y'think otherwise? 'cause i didn't say "send me pics of your dick"?

shawn: nah, i trust you. plus, you're so obsessed with me, i know you wouldn't even notice if someone else was hitting on you.

shawn: whatever, dude. go ahead and deflect more.

shawn: i'm just trying to scrounge up any evidence of you acting like a bottom here.

text. ⇾ boyfri. 🖤

mike: i don't even exist on the internet. you'll never catch anything worth being jealous over anyway.

mike: plus y'really think someone out there's better looking than you?

mike: being directly flirtatious is bottom behavior?

mike: you completely avoiding my suggestion sounds more like it.

shawn: that's almost worse, isn't it? you're completely off the grid which means i wouldn't even have an idea of what to be jealous of. it could cause serious overthinking on my end.

shawn: yeah, i do. and i think his name's mike faist.

shawn: were you being /that/ direct if you couldn't even properly spell out the suggestion?

text. ⇾ boyfri. 🖤

mike: ...i won't.

mike: that's why i freak out all the time.

mike: [ delayed ] there're other ways to deal with you missing me dude.

mike: rhymes with schmend schnudes.

shawn: you're not the only one who gets jealous, dude.

shawn: and it's fair -- i think about how many people in new york are cooler than me and better looking than me and i ... freak out, too.

shawn: you don't get anything you can't ask for directly.

shawn: true bottom behavior on your end.

text. ⇾ boyfri. 🖤

mike: [ typing... ]

mike: dunno. maybe it's easy to think you'll lose interest when i'm miles away.

mike: [ delayed ] anyway, it's not important.

mike: just tellin' you to drink responsibly or whatever.

shawn: how do i know you won't lose interest in /me/?

shawn: if you're thinking about it, it's important, faist. open communication, remember?

shawn: i'm responsible. just bored without my favorite person around.

shawn: (this is where you say, "aw, you're so cute.")

text. ⇾ boyfri. 🖤

mike: yeah well. takes one to know one.

mike: [ delayed ] what do you mean?

mike: you're one of the biggest names in the world dude. plus you're on every twenty-somethings bang list. or whatever they call it.

mike: [ delayed ] dunno.

shawn: what a childish comeback.

shawn: they don't call it anything because that's not a thing. it doesn't matter what list i'm on as long as i'm on your list, dummy.

shawn: [ delayed ] you're on mine. actually, you're the /only/ name on my "twenty-somethings bang list."

shawn: [ delayed ] you nervous i'm gonna find someone else and run off with 'em or something?

#text.

text. ⇾ boyfri. 🖤

mike: [ typing... ]

mike: yeah -- you dropped your marbles all over the place.

mike: [ delayed ] but i shouldn't have reacted so fuckin' weird anyways.

mike: ...just take it easy with the alcohol. can't help m'self if i worry. and get jealous. or whatever.

mike: and yeah, i said the j-word.

shawn: i dunno. i never really drink, so i think i just overdid it.

shawn: nah, you're good. you're weird as fuck all the time but i don't think you were being bad or anything.

shawn: [ typing ... ]

shawn: what do you have to be jealous of?

#text.

text. ⇾ boyfri. 🖤

shawn: i just watched hamilton on disney+ and it made me really, really, really miss seeing broadway shows.

shawn: then i started playing a hamilton drinking game with some of my friends and it got rough. reminded me of how insane i was the other night.

shawn: which reminded me -- thank you for taking care of me. you're the best.

shawn: i know it wasn't an ideal way to spend a night with me.

#text.

mfaiist:

it was always a little unfair because shawn had this hold on him that mike could never fight off. he was annoyed and jealous still, but for a flickering moment, mike wanted to forgive him and just – bring him back to his place. he wanted to haul his dumb ass and remind him to drink water by the gallon and tuck him under covers – like a ridiculous romantic. but then the moment passed, and shawn was still standing across him, clearly inebriated and spouting jokes and he felt stupid. “– what the fuck happened? why are you – what was all the panicking? and.” mike bit back the selfish comment, before letting it tumble forward anyway. “why didn’t y’tell me you were in the city?”

he knew how it sounded. he knew he was being unnecessarily insecure and accusatory and mike’s arms quickly wrapping tight around his middle only exaggerated the visual. but he couldn’t help it. plus if he was lucky, maybe shawn would be too drunk to remember. “…i – just – y’could’ve texted beforehand,” mike quipped, defensive and unforgiving.

shawn had brushed off the panic attack as if it’d never happened. he knew he had to be honest with mike. he couldn’t just pretend he didn’t hold onto the phone for dear life and gasp, ‘i need you’ into the line. he stepped backwards, closing the door behind them. from inside the venue, shawn could hear upbeat music pulsing. “i ... mike, i’m sorry. i didn’t mean to worry you.” it went without saying but the musician knew that saying he didn’t mean to worry him didn’t change the fact that he did worry him. he wrapped his arms around the older male’s neck, holding on tight. he leaned into the man, taking in his familiar scent.

“i promise i’ll explain it all soon. i -- just ...” he kissed mike’s forehead and pulled him in again. shawn knew his heart was racing but he hoped mike would chalk it up to the alcohol putting him on edge. “can we go home?” home, he’d said as if he didn’t already feel there whenever he was with the actor. “...just wanna go home. i wanna get out of these sweaty fuckin’ clothes and lay down with you and explain everything then. please.”

#ftf.

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