“I’ve been holding myself back from falling in love with you for like 3 months!”
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Summary: Liquid courage :)
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Two hours had passed five hours ago and water had turned to a couple of shots but luckily you were a little less than tipsy. But your dear old pal Shawn had you counting down the minutes until he completely blacked out.
“THANK U, NEXT! THANK U, NEXT”, Shawn yelled with his arm around you and sunglasses covering his eyes for no apparent reason as strobe lights flew around the room.
“Wooohooo”, you jokingly hit a high note as the song faded out, fiddling with the rings on Shawn’s right hand which remained loosely on your shoulder.
“I knew that my idea to play this album was a recipe for awesomeness”, he shouted even though the room wasn’t nearly as loud as he must’ve thought.
“You’re a genius, Mendes”, you shrugged as ‘ghostin’ began blaring through the speakers. You turned toward the DJ booth which you two were now manning, looking to change the song before he interrupted you with his booming voice.
“Fuck, this song gets me in my feels”, he yelled overdramatically as he leaned further into the couch in which you two sat on. He held his hand over his face, “Fuck, I wanna skip it but this is my fucking favorite”, he rested his head on your shoulder.
You hummed along to the song that, you had to admit, had messed with your feelings as well. Shawn was a sobbing mess on your shoulders, from what you could hear, and this has somehow turned into a great night.
“Hey, y/n”, Shawn tore your from your thoughts.
“Hm?”
“You’re a great friend for staying with me all night, I know you probably wanted to leave early and you got stuck taking care of me but you’re still the best for doing it”, he voiced.
Your heart fluttered at his slurred words, “Aww, of course Shawny”, you squeezed his right hand as his rosy cheeks crinkled with his familiar laugh. “What’s so funny”, you giggled.
“Well, ya see”, he was doubled over in laughter, “It’s fucking nuts because I’ve been holding myself back from falling in love with your for like three months and I suddenly got the urge to tell you.”
Your face faltered slightly. Not because the feelings weren’t reciprocated on your end, but because you knew that there was no way. He was drunk. He was giggly, cuddly, and ‘ghostin’ was messing him up. You shook your head as you placed your hand on his knee, “You don’t mean that bub.”
“I do”, he nodded seriously, almost seeming sober. “I just...I begged you to say because I was gonna t-tell you when I wasn’t drunk but HERE I AM”, his voice heightened, “I fucking chickened out by drinking and...I need you to know that that wasn’t the plan.”
You swallowed hard, trying to find the rights words to say. You then decided upon a smile, “Well bub, tell me when you’re sober and I may consider”, you winked as he extended his left arm toward yours, closing his fist with the exception of a pinky which was held out to you.
“Pinky swear”, his smile made you want to cry. He was too precious and you knew that sober Shawn would never dare to do what drunk Shawn had the balls to.
You locked pinkies with him, “Of course.”
-
“You’ve been so understanding, you’ve been so good”, you sang softly as you walked around Shawn’s condo with a trash bag in hand, placing empty cups and half eaten slices of pizza into the bag.
Shawn couldn’t help his smile as he watched you from his bedroom door frame. His head was killing him but seeing the girl he had fallen so hopelessly in love with singing and dancing around his condo was a once in a lifetime opportunity.
“Oh”, your face felt hot as you turned toward him, “Hey bub, I stayed over but nothing happened”, you shrugged to reassure him.
He simply nodded as he made his way to the couch, his low hanging sweatpants and shirtless torso causing your face to heat even more. “Thanks for helping me”, he referred to the mess that you had only managed to clean due to how stressed you were about his words from the night before.
You shrugged again, “No biggie”, you went back to throwing things into the bag, his eyes trained on you. You then stopped again, turning on your heels, “You don’t remember anything from last night, do you?”
A smile appeared on his face as he brushed his curls back with his fingers, “I….I honestly can’t remember what happened after you showed up and we hugged”, he let out a chuckle, “Why?”
You shook your head, “You just said a few things...it’s alright though.”
His face fell, “Oh shit, what did he say?”
“He?”
“Drunk Shawn.”
You stifled a laugh as you placed the trash bag on the floor, “You said that you felt bad about drinking because you didn’t mean to because you’ve been trying to hold yourself back from falling in love with me for three months now...and you also cried to ‘ghostin’”, you only added the last part to lighten the mood.
“That fucking song messes me up”, he mumbled as he leaned forward in his seat, playing with the rings on his fingers like you had the night before.
“It’s fine...you were drunk, I get it--”
“Nah, I was right”, he shrugged, “I didn’t mean to drink when you got there, I just got so nervous. I chickened the hell out instead of telling you how I’ve been feeling and I’m sorry.”
You nodded before stopping and tilting your head to the side, “Wait--”, you couldn’t hide the smile that crept onto your face.
His face grew that same rosy shade again as he nodded his head, opening his arms to you, “Yes, I’m in love with you.”
You instantly ran into his arms, “Drunk Shawn for the win!”
I love sick!shawn!! He’s so cuddly and cute. You should write something about him when he gets too drunk and the reader has to help take care of him that night and the following day.
Warnings: mentions of drinking, and just fluff.
Enjoy! Masterlist in my bio
•••
You watched from the bed as Shawn buttoned up his shirt. He caught your gaze through the mirror and smiled, giving you a wink, “What?” He asked as he turned around to look at you.
You cuddled further into the covers, humming “You’re so pretty” you mumbled.
He chuckles and moves to sit on the edge of the bed, curling a finger through your hair. “Yeah well your gorgeous as fuck.” He presses his lips to your temple.
“Do you have to go?” You groaned as he shifted to lay your head on his lap.
He chuckles again. “No, I’d rather stay here with you. But you know how Brian is”
You sigh, “I know”
Theres a knock on the door that pulls you away from the comfortable silence. You and Shawn sigh simultaneously and you get up from the bed to open the door, while Shawn walks into the bathroom to finish getting ready.
“Let’s get this party starte- oh hey (y/n)” Brian’s facial expression changed immediately at the sight of you instead of Shawn.
You try to keep a smile on your face as you move out of the door way to let him in the apartment.
You make small talk with the red head, laughing here and there before your boyfriend came out of the hallway, a leather jacket hanging off his forearm.
Brian jumps from his position on the bar stool and walks to the door, yelling out a bye as he walked out.
Shawn walks around the kitchen island to wrap his arms around your waist. You smile up at him, and he smiles down at you. “Have fun,” you start, placing your small hands on his chest, “and drink enough that you pass out at home, not at the bar.” He chuckles and leans down to peck your lips. “Be careful. I love you” you mumbled against his lips as he started pulling away.
“Love you more” he gives you a long kiss before grabbing his wallet from the table by the door, blows you a kiss and closes the door behind him.
•••
iMessage from Shawn ❤️ : just checking in, how’s my baby?
iMessage to Shawn ❤️ : just fine, reading a book. Drunk yet?
iMessage from Shawn ❤️ : about to have my fourth drink, and we got here 10 min ago. Luv u
You chuckle and shake you head before turning off your phone and bringing your attention back to your book, the soft melody of the music playing around the house filling your ears as you read every word.
•••
You were half asleep on the couch when you hear the door knob jiggling. You glanced at the digital clock on the wall, it read 1:23 am. You sighed and placed the book you completely forgot about on the coffee table. You got up from your layed out position on the couch and bent back to stretch you aching muscles.
By the time you were slowly padding your way to the door to open it, a lengthy figure stumbled through the door. “Hey, baby” Shawn slurred as he made his way closer to you.
Even a few feet away he reeked of vodka. You contorted your face in disgust as he came closer.
“I missed you.” He spoke into your ear as he leaned his head onto your shoulder.
“Mhm.” You hummed, trying to keep from breathing in the alcoholic stench.
“You’re so pretty. Are you single?” He stammered as you lead him to the bathroom. You chuckle.
You make him sit on the toilet seat as you walked to the bed room to get him some comfortable clothes to sleep in.
When you came back, Shawn’s head was leaning against the wall, his eyes droopy, his mouth slightly open, small huffs of air coming out, that one curl of his in front of his closed eyes.
You sighed and smiled at the cute man sleeping on the toilet. You lightly shook his shoulder to wake him up. He mumbled something incoherent and slightly shakes his head.
You start to pull his shirt from the confinement of his jeans. He lazily grabs a hold of your wrists and shakes his head, groaning. “Nuh uh, I have a beautiful, wonderful girlfriend and I love her...” he trails off, his hands loosening from your wrists as you pulled the shirt off his shoulders.
•••
You were sipping on some tea and reading a book while you were sitting on a kitchen stool when you heard some groans and whines coming from behind you. You hear the soft padding of his feet on the wood floor as Shawn emerged from the hall way. He was rubbing his eyes to rid of the sleep, his chocolate curls sticking every which way.
You chuckle softly at the poor man in front of you. “G’morning. How did you sleep hun?” You smirked as he went around the kitchen island, groaning, bumping into everything.
He turns around to reach for a coffee mug. You shake your head and hum in disagreement, “No Shawn, it’ll only make your headache worse. Look, go sit on the couch and I’ll bring some pain killers and some water. Okay?” You wrapped your little fingers around his wrist to take the mug out of his hands and you lead him to the couch. He sprawls out over the couch and pouts, his cheeks a pink color, your favorite color.
You walk back to the kitchen and put some water into a glass and bring some pain pills from the medicine cabinet in the bathroom.
You walk back to the living room, Shawn’s arm is over his eyes and he squirms around. “Here baby, take this.”
You watch him take pills from your hands and drink the entire glass in two gulps. He slouches back down on the couch, one arm stretched out to you, his large hand making grabby motions at you.
You smile down at him, “In a minute sweetie, I’m gonna make you something to eat.”
He groans “I don’t need food, need cuddles.”
You place your smaller hand in his, rubbing your thumb over his swallow tattoo, “You’ll get those too. But I promise you, after some food and a shower you will feel a lot better, then we can cuddle all day if you want to.” You squeeze his hand to regain his attention.
He sighs, “I’ll shower now so when I get out the food is ready and there’s more time to cuddle.”
“Whatever you want angel”
You help him up off the couch and he wraps his arms around your waist, his droopy eyes looking down at you. “Love you, thank you honey.”
You place your hands on his hard chest and smile up at him before kissing his nose, “You’re welcome baby, now get your drunk ass in the shower.” You shove him away into the hallway, laughing as he stumbled away.
This one was alright, not really sure how I feel about it. Hope you enjoyed and reblog pls
summary: shawn and ginny could’ve ruined everything six months ago, and sticking together despite their past could make or break them now as ginny stays on as his personal assistant. but what happens on tour doesn’t stay on tour.
warnings: Language, opulence, the island of Ibiza which tbh should come with a warning label
WC: 5.5k
Andrew sighs, loud and dramatic through his nose so he looks like an adorable little aggravated dragon. Ginny pats his shoulder with a sympathetic smile.
“It’s gonna be fine, love. I promise no one…” She pauses, considering what exactly she’s willing to promise to her boss, “...Will get arrested.”
Andrew grunts and it’s almost pained-sounding. Their gazes are drawn by a loud whooping and laughing from the group of men behind them. Ginny peeks over Andrew’s shoulder at the already rowdy squadron of bachelor party-bound men with a whisper of a conspiratorial grin. It rights into a confident, optimistic, responsible smile when Andrew looks back at her.
“It’s fine. It’s fine, I trust you, it’s two days, it’ll be fine.”
Ginny’s brows lift. “Are you trying to convince yourself or me?”
Andrew huffs again and Ginny can see him start to scroll through the list of reasons building in his head that maybe he really should skip those meetings in LA and just go with them and --
“Andrew, it’s two days,” Ginny assures him. Andrew seems to settle again. He and Ginny exchange a hug and with a few calls of ‘good luck’ and ‘no felonies’ to the guys, he’s out the automatic doors of the private terminal at Toronto Pearson.
Shawn is the first to notice Ginny’s unoccupied. He turns from the group and smirks at her. She wiggles her eyebrows and glides over to him.
“You ready, mate?” she teases, looping her arms behind her back.
Shawn laughs. “Definitely not.”
Ginny giggles along. “Smart boy. I didn’t plan this stag do with the intention of us making it out alive.”
Shawn makes only half an attempt to disguise the awe on his face as she skips away to wrangle everyone.
Shawn’s wedding gift to Josiah is the bachelor party of the century, and Ginny’s gift is to plan it. He told her to use his black card and when she asked about a budget he just shrugged weakly.
“Go nuts, Gin.”
That was his first mistake.
The second, he’s thinking, while he watches her strong-arm the already tipsy band of six twenty-something guys to their chartered jet, is not backing out when Josiah insisted Ginny come along.
She tried to demure her way out of it, insisting it was her gift to him, that she was perfectly fine planning it and not coming along, but Josiah dug his heels in.
“Honestly, Gin, if you don’t come, Shawn’s going to be the default responsible one.”
At that, Ginny blinked in horror and agreed.
It’s not that Shawn doesn’t want to hang out with Ginny, obviously. He’s just… it’s a weekend in Ibiza on private jets in fancy villas drinking and dancing and wearing very few clothes. It just might be tricky.
Tricky. An understatement, he thinks with a wince.
He finds himself chanting in his head the same words Andrew was muttering to himself only moments before. They’re drowned out by the music already playing on Geoff’s Bluetooth speaker as he steps onto the plane, the last of the group.
They’re spread out among the seats as the stewardess, thankfully already chuckling at them instead of looking annoyed and full of dread, takes drink orders. Shawn smiles at her when she walks past and murmurs for a beer with a quiet “thank you” that has her blushing and heading for the galley with her head ducked.
He turns back to see Ginny holding court. She’s gripping two seats, standing in the center of the aisle, laughing at something Josiah said and grinning wickedly. When she whistles through her fingers, she gets the attention she wants easily. The bleary eyes of the boys settle on her and their mouths seal shut. She relishes their reverent silence before she speaks.
“Gentlemen,” she begins in her silky West London brogue, “We’ve gathered this weekend for a very special occasion. Our good friend Josiah,” She pauses to allow for raucous applause and shrieking, “Has met the love of his sweet little life, Sami.”
“SAMIIIIIII!!!!!” Chris, one of Josiah’s hometown buddies, cries from the far end of the plane, beer in hand. The boys laugh and lift their various beverages in a toast to the bride-to-be.
“And to celebrate this glorious union,” Ginny continues, hamming it up for her audience, “We retreat to the one place on earth more suited to a stag do than Sin City -- the island of Ibiza.”
They’re eating up her theatrics, Shawn included. He howls along with the rest of them, drumming the flat of his hand on the leather seat in front of him. He feels a surge of adrenaline. They were already excited, but Ginny’s ringleader speech has got them fucking wired.
“So, boys,” She lifts her bottle with a quirk of an eyebrow, “Here’s to Josiah, may we keep him alive to see his wedding day.”
The group laughs and gathers to knock their bottles in cheers. Josiah, being Josiah, manages to clink his bottle in one hand while taking a picture with the other. He stows his phone and commands the group’s attention before they stray.
“And to Ginny for planning it!” he barks, swinging an arm around her neck to drag her onto the couch next to him, planting a kiss on her temple. The boys cheer again, seeming to never tire of a reason to scream about something.
Ginny stays where she is and Shawn feels her distance. He inches closer, shifting from seat to seat in what he hopes is a somewhat subtle way until he’s buckling into the seat beside hers with a sheepish grin.
“Hey, you,” she greets, pleased to see him. Shawn beams back. Sometimes Ginny’s attention feels like the sun -- warm, life-giving, essential. When he doesn’t have it, he craves it like a junkie.
He sits back in his seat and watches the runway past her curls as they begin to taxi.
“Thanks again for doing this,” he murmurs earnestly. It feels especially intimate over the bounce of “Careless” by Dusky on the speakers. Ginny turns her head from the window. She flashes that dangerous smile again that makes him shift in his seat.
“Don’t say that until see your next credit card statement.” She clinks the neck of her bottle against his. Shawn rolls his eyes and forces himself to look away from her.
+
If the flight is any indication as to the way the rest of this weekend is going, Ginny will have her hands full.
Getting them drunk on the plane was a strategy. The flight was long enough for them to get drunk and sober up again, long enough for her to observe their drunken behavior in a closed, controlled environment. She had to study up.
Chris is a sleepy drunk, he should be easy enough. Jack is a happy, loud, laughing drunk. Gabe is somehow both sleepy and loud all at once.
Geoff, Shawn and Josiah are no mystery, though. Geoff is rowdy, the troublemaker. Josiah is affectionate and happy and… sloppy. Shawn?
Shawn’s a tricky drunk.
It makes sense. He’s such a good boy most of the time. He gets told to be places all day every day. He’s nice to everyone all the time. He’s under insane pressure and refuses to crack. So when he’s got some whiskey in his system, he’s like an easily distracted giant Pomeranian puppy with too much energy. He bounces around, dances, laughs, bolts away from the group on his long, powerful legs just to be obnoxious. He’s a pain in the ass right until he crashes and then? Then he’s impossible.
At least on the plane when he crashes, they don’t have anywhere to be. Ginny remembers once before they got together that he once crashed in the cab heading back to a hotel in Madrid and Ginny had to physically drag him, mumbling and mostly asleep, out of the car. He’s a heavy nightmare when he crashes.
Ginny is a mom drunk. She can seem like she’s trashed, having as much fun as everyone else, getting just as rowdy and wild, but the moment someone responsible is needed, she snaps into sobriety so fast it’s like she never had a drink at all. It’s handy with people like Hannah and Shawn, both of whom will whine at her to “drink more! Catch up!” if they feel insecure about being drunker than she is. Plus, both Hannah and Shawn get tricky at the most inconvenient times.
Just before the crash, Ginny feels it in the air and passes out water bottles and aspirin. No hangovers on day one, she won’t allow it. She plants herself in her seat next to Shawn looking very self-satisfied as she turns down the music. She props her feet up on the edge of Josiah’s seat while he naps, head tilted, long, silky hair billowing with each of his heavy, gin-soaked breaths.
Shawn looks up from her warm brown legs and smiles drowsily. She mimes sipping water and he obeys, his tricky Gremlin side stowed for the time being.
“Were you the mom friend for Hannah’s bachelorette party?” he slurs.
Ginny tilts her head at his voice and laughs. “I was.”
Shawn grumbles under his breath and starts peeling at the wrapper on his bottle. Ginny lifts her eyebrows and hums. He sighs.
“You should let loose more, Gin. Let someone else be repson-- I mean… respond… responsible.”
He’s so cute. Ginny wants to lean over and squeeze his ruddy cheeks. She giggles, flexes and points her feet in flower printed Keds. Her legs are so long. Have they always been that long? He drunkenly wonders.
“Oh yeah? And who would you nominate in my place, then? Geoff?”
Shawn snorts and knocks his knees together, swinging them back and forth so they bump into hers.
“No. Geoff would kill us all.”
They share a glance at Geoff whose face is smashed into a pillow propped up against a window. His arms are crossed. They snicker in unison until Shawn looks back at Ginny. He tilts his head back and sighs dramatically.
“I could be resp--”
“You can’t even pronounce responsible, love.”
Shawn’s smile is slow-spreading and so sexy Ginny’s thighs press together. God, her legs are looooooooon--
Wait.
“You haven’t called me ‘love’ since before we broke up.”
Ginny’s head jerks at the rapid change of subject. She blinks quickly. “What?”
“You used to call me ‘love,’” he explains with another sigh, like slowing down to catch her up is totally cramping his style, “All the time. Even before we were together. And when we broke up you stopped.”
Ginny’s lips come together as if sucked in by the corners. Shawn studies them, imagining if he pressed a napkin against them he’d come away with a perfect lip print. He remembers her lipstick is long wearing and huffs.
“I won’t call you that then,” she replies breezily, reaching for her water bottle.
“‘S fine,” Shawn says with a shrug, knocking his knees back and forth again, slumping down further in his seat, “I don’t mind.”
Ginny’s face softens. She takes a slug from her water bottle and picks at her own label. They’re quiet for a few seconds. Ginny looks over, inhales to speak, but the words stop in her throat when she sees him asleep, pouty lips parted, head hanging heavy against his shoulder. She blinks slowly and sinks her teeth into her lower lip. She presses her finger into the recline button on his armrest that sends him slowly, gently into a more comfortable position. He settles in, smacks his lips and wriggles until he’s comfortable. Ginny sips more water to feel like her heart isn’t exploding out of her chest.
She’s mostly successful in keeping the hangovers at bay by the time they land. Due to her excellent planning, the massive dark-windowed SUV is waiting for them on the tarmac. The boys’ praise is slightly less enthusiastic than pre-flight, chalked up to the fact that they’re still recovering from their mile high party.
It’s another story when they pull up to the villa.
Climbing past expansive Spanish style chateaus and gaudy marvels of architecture, they arrive outside a two-level modern mansion planted on the edge of a cliff overlooking the Mediterranean. It’s gleaming white against the battling blues of sky and sea, dotted with massive windows, floor-to-ceiling on the side of the house that faces the infinity pool, which seems to spill straight into the water below.
The praise is ebullient as they roam the house -- “look at this fucking fridge though!” “Is that an infinity pool?!” “Fuck, we’re never fucking leaving!”
Shawn watches with pride that he supposes isn’t really his to feel when Josiah sweeps Ginny into a swinging hug on the deck overlooking the pool. When they separate, Ginny looks to Shawn automatically and his heart gives a squeeze, like she’s waiting for his approval.
He grins and holds out an arm. She hurries up the stairs to tuck herself under it, wrapping her arm around his waist as they look out at the idiots gleefully throwing themselves fully clothed into the 82-degree pool.
“You’re fucking amazing, you know that right?” Shawn offers, quietly enough that it’s just hers. She chews on her lips and cocks her head like a bashful puppy.
“He deserves a kickass stag,” she replies, like anyone would’ve and could’ve done this. Shawn squeezes the arm around her shoulders.
“And you deserve a goddamn crown for this.”
He swipes his thumb affectionately over the skin of her bare shoulder just once before letting her go, running to launch himself, $250 jeans, Chelsea boots and all, into the deep end, jackknife style.
Ginny squeals, laughing heartily with the rest of the guys as he pops back up, shaking his head like a wet labradoodle. This time it’s his turn to look back to her for approval. She lifts her arms over her head to clap. He preens, splashing around, insisting she jump after him.
It doesn’t take much coaxing for Ginny to kick off her Keds and send herself after the screaming boys by way of the best cannonball any of them has ever seen. She emerges into a wall of rowdy boy voices over the pounding of “One Kiss.” She floats on her back, closing her eyes at the almost throbbing cornflower shade of the sky, not feeling Shawn’s eyes from a few feet away.
+
The night, as is everything else, is pre-planned perfectly. After a few hours of romping in the pool, hitting a joint rather inexpertly rolled by Chris, they retreat to their rooms to nap. Ginny wakes up around 8pm to Shawn plucking at his guitar quietly, wandering around the house like a traveling minstrel.
Dinner is a truly terrifying amount of pizza ordered to the house eaten in the outdoor lounge with the day’s football highlights (in Spanish, of course) on the TV. Ginny mutters bitterly, as is customary, about Arsenal’s “chronic full back problem” through tiny bites of pizza and huge slugs of Stella.
By around 11, pizza and beer are put aside for harder stuff. Some switch to liquor, some carry on with weed, everyone gets ready for their first night out.
Shawn, in signature black skinnies, Chelsea boots and a silky black button up, finished his hair routine earlier than expected and wanders the west end of the house aimlessly, pretending to study the odd modern art and furniture. He’s fiddling with his necklace and second guessing his bracelet choice when he hears her voice.
Shawn follows the lilting sound of it singing The Temptations down a hallway he doesn’t even think he’s found yet because god, this place is huge, like he’s Prince Philip searching for Aurora in the forest. He finds her door and knocks twice with a light rap of his knuckles.
“Come in!”
Shawn lets himself in and gravitates to her, glowing in the slightly orange light of her bathroom. With a tube of MAC lipstick and her vape pen in one hand, Ginny is hovering about two inches from the mirror, her finger poking at her eye.
“Hiya,” she hums, wincing when she makes a jab that misses its target. He wrinkles his nose and steps closer.
“What are you doing?”
Ginny recedes from the mirror and blinks, moving her finger. There’s an uneven patch of gold leaf clinging partly to the inner corner, partly to her finger. Shawn chuckles. She pouts.
“Looked easy on YouTube…” she defends weakly, leaning back in to the mirror, closing one heavily mascara-ed eye to focus on fixing the other. Shawn watches her prod a few more times before he steps in with a clearing of his throat.
“Kay, let me try?”
He’s tugging on her arm and leaning in before she can answer. She flutters both eyes shut and feels the gentle pressure of his fingertip in the corner of her eye, adjusting gently until he’s satisfied.
“There.”
Ginny looks up. His smile is placid, his cheeks are pink. She blinks quickly and checks the mirror. He matched the other eye perfectly. She grins.
“For that you’ve earned a hit of this.” She offers the vape pen with a wink. Shawn accepts it, inhaling deeply, holding the vapor in for a few seconds and releasing it slowly behind her as she swipes on her lipstick.
He likes watching her get ready, always has. He used to be a bigger pain in the ass, standing behind her, sucking on her earlobe while she was trying to apply eyeliner or something. These days he stands back and watches her work.
While she’s distracted by carefully outlining the plump curves of her lips, he can check her out subtly. She’s in a deep maroon crop top and clingy skirt set that makes her deep caramel skin seem to shimmer. She smells like her coconut body oil, the only kind of fragrance she ever wears. Her curls are springy and bright. She’s unabashedly tall in strappy platforms that have her at his height even without her hair.
She’s fucking radiant. He won’t say a word about it.
She pulls back from the mirror for a look. She’s abandoned her signature red matte lipstain tonight for a dark burgundy shade that matches her outfit and sports a glossier finish. It makes him lick his lips and try not to wish he was licking hers. He tells himself it’s the weed talking. He takes another hit from her pen.
“Gonna share, Mendes?” she prompts.
You? Never.
Yep, the weed is going to his head. He hands off the pen willingly and watches her lipstick leave a splotch of her behind before she tucks it into her little clutch and leads him outside.
He’s got to shake this. He’s been so good about not indulging in his feelings, all of them, any of them, that pertained to her. Up until this weekend. They’ve had six months of good, solid recovery time since the break up. With the way his mind is babbling at him right now, it’s like it wants him to fuck all that up. He can’t let that happen.
At least not until he knows he’s ready for her.
He accepts the swig of scotch from the flask Geoff offers him as they’re piling into the car to take them to their first stop, Pacha.
A flash of Shawn’s smile is all it takes to get them ushered quickly to their reserved table in the VIP section behind the DJ booth. Once again, the boys look impressed, so Ginny sits smugly with her legs crossed, gazing around the club. It’s high season in Ibiza -- Pacha will be filled to capacity all night with a line snaking around the block until they close at 6am. They won’t stay that long, they have another table waiting for them at Amnesia, a 15 minute drive inland.
This is not Ginny’s first tangle with the White Isle. She’s been flying out for weekends here and there since she was 17. Ibiza has long been a favorite of Ginny’s and Hannah’s, but Ginny has never experienced it like this. Like everything else that comes with Shawn, it’s a step above. The table is already littered with booze. A very attentive and attractive waitress makes herself available immediately. She watches Shawn grin up at her politely and order a whiskey ginger, and then looks to the waitress to watch her shoulders drop, her smile spread and her giggle rise up in her throat. Ginny tries not to roll her eyes.
“Take it easy, Mendes, the megawatt smile is a lot for the uninitiated to take.”
Shawn’s at the part of the night where he smirks at her instead of blushing and insisting he’s just being polite, that he doesn’t know what she could possibly mean by that. He sits back in his chair and bites at the inside of his lip.
“Uninitiated? What does the initiation involve?”
Ginny plays along, leaning across to him as she thinks. He watches her eyes turn up to the light rigging in the ceiling and lets himself indulge in admiring her.
“Well first comes the superstar smile. Once you can handle that without your knees turning jello-y, you come up against the gentle Canadian boy modesty and the ‘eh’s and ‘a-boats’ that come with it,” She pauses to watch Shawn tip his head back and laugh hard, “And the trifecta. That laugh that makes me want to put on a performance and make you laugh all day long. I’d raise hell for that laugh.”
The silence that follows is as charged as the room around them that they ignore. They stare at each other in a way they haven’t in months. Neither looks away while they try to understand the moment, and even more so, try to make it last because neither of them knows when they’ll get the chance to look at each other this way without the possibility of getting caught by the people that constantly surround them.
Ginny breaks first, being the more sober of the two. She clears her throat and tucks a hand through her hair, scrunching some curls back into place. Shawn keeps watching.
The chance of being caught by friends or fans is very low. First of all, their friends have scattered to explore the pulsing club, scouting for girls or for other celebrities. Secondly, Shawn is not nearly the most interesting famous person in the room tonight. On their way into the VIP section, Ginny spotted at least half the cast of The Only Way is Essex plus Martin Garrix plus Paris Hilton and their corresponding crews, all of whom attract more attention than the sweet Canadian kid who doesn’t get tricky until at least three drinks in.
Ginny stops Shawn just short of “tricky” and gathers the boys into the car again to skip off to Amnesia. They stick together this time, tucked away in another VIP booth that feels more private than the first. Ginny is bouncing Euro coins off the table and landing them in her friends’ drinks with a wild gleam in her eye. When she catches him watching her, she slips him a coin of his own with a wink.
The coin corresponds with drink number four. Shawn gets creative, positioning a coin on one end of a spoon and smacking the other to aim it at his friends’ foreheads. When he gets Chris in the eye, Ginny takes the coin back, plucks it out of Shawn’s scrabbling fingers as he apologizes profusely.
David Guetta goes on at 3am for a special set and gets the rest of the guys off their asses to dance. Shawn, even at his trickiest, doesn’t get on the dance floor. Ginny usually can be persuaded, but tonight, she hangs back with him, her chin propped on the table as she flips the coin against the surface by pressing onto the edge with her thumbnail.
She’s mouthing the words to “Titanium” but her chin is flat to the table so her head bobs oddly as she opens and closes her mouth. In his drunken state, Shawn is mesmerized. The motion of it, rather inconveniently, reminds Shawn of other times when he watched her head bob rhythmically like that.
“Hey, do you remember the last time we had sex?”
Ginny looks up, looking less startled than he imagines they would if they were both sober. She pulls her brows together and looks thoughtful.
“I think so. The first night in Tokyo.”
Of course she remembers. She’s Ginny. She remembers everything.
Shawn turns his head down guiltily to his lap. “I don’t really remember.”
Ginny smiles at her secret. She presses the pad of her thumb into the coin and decides to ignore potential consequences of getting into this with him.
“We were unpacking in Tokyo. You couldn’t keep your hands off me,” she relays with a smirk. He doesn’t argue. That sounds like him.
“You were mumbling something into my neck about the schedule for the next few days but you pushed your hand into my leggings at the same time. I kissed you and told you we can either talk schedule or fuck, but we couldn’t do both at once.”
Shawn grins at the memory she’s dug out of his subconscious. “I picked fuck.”
“You certainly did.”
Ginny doesn’t choose to elaborate further about the way he grunted with each heavy stroke into her body, that he felt like he was chasing something down inside her and she was willing and eager to let him try. Ginny lowers her gaze, thinking now that whatever it was, he didn’t find it.
“Sometimes with stuff like that you wish you knew it was the last time,” Shawn muses.
Ginny swallows awkwardly against the table and lifts her head. She props up her elbows and knows her brain will shift to overanalysis when she’s sober about the fact that he basically just admitted that he wasn’t planning for very long to end things with her. There’s a lot to unpack there.
“You remember the last time we kissed?” he prods. She looks up again. She shakes her head.
“Me neither,” Shawn breathes, “You deserved more from me.”
Her eyes flutter shut. She doesn’t know why he’s talking like this and she doesn’t know why she’s not stopping him.
Her eyes startle open again when she feels his fingers link with hers across the table. She looks down at them because it’s safer than looking at him.
“Let me give you something good, Gin.”
She’s nodding before he even says her name. When she looks up, he’s leaning halfway over their table, scooping his hand under her chin to press his lips to hers. Despite his intoxication, he’s smooth and slow and molten hot, murmuring gently into her mouth before he sucks on her lower lip and releases her.
“Oh god, yes,” Ginny moans, reaching up to yank him back in by his collar for more.
Shawn’s lips are wet and swollen; he’s been chewing on them all night. They’re both drunkenly panting into the kiss, it’s not a particularly sexy kiss to witness, but to them, it’s everything they’ve been craving since they let each other go last year.
Shawn grunts when he tries to get closer and feels the edge of the table jut into his ribs. He pries himself away long enough to scurry around it and climb into the booth next to her, throwing an arm around her shoulder and sucking her back in.
If they don’t think about it, it’s not bad. This does not have to be a disaster. This can be just a bachelor weekend thing, the equivalent of them hooking up with strangers, only it’s safer because Shawn runs a risk any time he takes home someone who could open her mouth and blab about it on the internet. This way, with Ginny, he’s safe.
Plus, they’re just making out. No way this leads to fucking. I mean, it could. And maybe that wouldn’t be so bad either. Not unrecoverable, at least. It’s just fucking. It’s a biological imperative. And after all, who are Ginny and Shawn to turn their noses up at biology?
Shawn sucks at her tongue and makes her moan into his mouth like a porn star. She actually feels the hair on the back of his neck stand up from where she’s raking her fingers through his curls.
“Goddamn, we leave you alone for ten minutes and you’re trying to swallow each other in public,” Geoff groans from over Shawn’s shoulder. Shawn’s closed eyes squeeze and he pulls away to Ginny’s cheek. When he collects himself, he turns his head to glare at Geoff.
“What do you want?”
Geoff looks delighted to have interrupted. He nods back to Gabe and Jack who have one of Josiah’s arms over each shoulder.
“Time to go. Groom to be’s had it.”
Shawn looks back to Ginny who, in true Ginny form, already has her phone out texting the car service to meet them in the VIP pickup area.
They stay close, though. Ginny hands him a napkin to swipe at the purple lipstick all over the lower half of his face, but she doesn’t drift. While they wait for the car, she even lets him kiss her again, and it’s less frantic and hungry than in the club. It feels more like it did when they didn’t know which kiss would be their last. Shawn likes it better this way.
They continue kissing in the car, ignoring the barfing noises the other guys mime to drown out the wet sucking noises of their lips. They kiss at the front entrance while Ginny hands Jack the keys to the villa. They kiss while they walk down the hall all the way up to where Ginny presses Shawn into his door and nips at his lower lip to feel him growl one more time.
She slides her long fingered hands up his chest and pushes away. Her bleary eyes meet his. He looks half fucked, lips almost comically swollen and again smeared heavily with her lipstick that he’s licking at like it’s melting ice cream, eyes glassy, hair a wreck. He looks like a caricature of someone who’s been necking for 45 minutes.
Ginny takes a deep breath and nods once, all business. “Goodnight, Shawn.”
She twists his door handle and lets him stumble backwards inside enough for her to close it behind him and disappear, clomping away in her loud shoes to her own room.
+
Ginny wakes with a start at the sound of a splash from the pool. Her shoulders clench, her back tenses, her fingers tighten around their grip on the pillow she’s smashed her face into. Her heart sprints for a minute until she recognizes she is, in fact, alone.
She pushes up on her hands, sniffs and sighs. She’s stark naked, having shed her clothes in a haphazard line from door to bed. When she opens her eyes, she winces at the sight of her pillow, which looks like her face melted into it -- patches of foundation, mascara and lipstick dotted with two bits of gold leaf right where her eyes would’ve been.
Thank god she went to bed alone. It is her only mercy from the night before.
She stumbles into the shower and scrubs at what remains of her face. Tequila leaks out of her pores. She throws on a red cotton romper that skims the swell of her ass and goes outside to find the boys and hydrate.
Half are lazing in the pool playing more EDM that for some reason sounds a lot less appealing than it did yesterday, half are sitting under the cover of the outdoor lounge. Someone made bloody marys. Someone ordered breakfast burritos. Ginny grabs a water bottle and makes a beeline for Shawn, splayed on a couch in a t-shirt and boxers with his guitar in his lap.
“We are morons,” she announces on her approach, flopping down across from him, propping her feet up and taking a sip.
“Fucking idiots,” he agrees without looking up at her, bobbing his head as he riddles out a melody.
“We’re ok, though, right? No feelings hurt?” she checks, ignoring the wailing voice in her head that reminds her of her own stupid feelings.
Shawn does look up now, an easy smile on his lips, smooth from practice, a smile that doesn’t hint at all at the crying of the voice in his own head. “All good. No worries, Gin.”
The day is lazy. There’s napping, smoking, football and more bad takeout. Night two is at Ushuaia and it goes unspoken that Ginny and Shawn are to stay sober and, more importantly, away from each other.
They’re successful. Ginny shimmies in body glitter and a rusty orange bikini. Shawn is in a tank top and skinny jeans again and the body glitter he borrows is his idea, not hers, and he doesn’t ask her to help him put it on. They stay ten feet from each other all night, spinning like tops, trying not to be the one who falls down first.
Please help cure my Ibiza hangover and buy me a Ko-fi (link on main page)!
you turned the lamp off leaving you in darkness except the light from the foyer and the moonlight shining through the large windows of your living room. you looked down at your phone seeing it was half past midnight. You weren’t the slightest upset you got a little carried away reading macbeth. after a cup of tea, the comfort of the sofa, and a knitted quilt, along with your favorite book, it made it hard for you to want go to bed.
you picked up your empty mug, that had chamomile tea in it a few hour ago, and you walked into the kitchen setting it into the sink. you were about to go upstairs until you heard your name being faintly called followed by light knocks on the front door. you immediately thank yourself you didn’t just going up stairs because you knew you would not come back down until morning. but you wondered who could be at your door this late at night.
you walked into the lit foyer, you saw an unexpected guest leaning against the double glass doors. you looked down at yourself wishing you didn’t find loose silk rompers more comfortable for bed more than sweats and a tee shirt. you didn’t want him seeing you like this. well not yet, you thought. maybe when your guys relationship wasn’t just in your head.
then it hit you.
you felt your heart speed up realizing he was at your house. did he come to confess that he had loved you longer than you had love him? or maybe he wanted you to come ride with him and just listen to music and talk or maybe he was finally coming to sweep you off your feet and take you away to get married to happy ever after land. you opened the door wonder which it would be.
“y/n,” your head, heart, and especially your hopes dropped as you heard him slur your name. he was drunk. “can i come in?” you didn’t speak but just opened the door wider, a silent way of telling him to come in, he stumbled a little but you caught him. he looked at you with a goofy smile and you shook your head smiling. oh how much you loved his smile. you pushed the front door shut locking it then flicked the lights off in the foyer.
the smile faded quickly as you tried not to let his drunkenness upset you but it did and you hated it. you and shawn had been friends for months now ever since brian introduced you two but he never got the hint that you had the biggest crush on him. you adored everything about him from the way his whole face lit up when he laugh to how he crinkled his nose when he was displeased to his beautiful brown eyes you always seemed to get lost in.
you tried to see the positive, he always came to you when in need. like when his girlfriend cheated on him so you planned a movie night to get his mind off of it or the time he needed help with his english class when they were reading hamlet and he didn’t understand so you stayed up helping him learn it before his exam and even when he needed help planning a date with a girl you envied purely because the man of your dreams wanted her instead of you. and after each and every time you came to his rescue he would hug you and say thanks friend.
you tried to stop thinking about him but you couldn’t. shawn didn’t look at you as more than a friend and he never would and it annoyed you. what was wrong with you? you were just as good as any other girl he has ever liked. you had soft hair, loved classic, and you are semi funny. you simply sighed grabbing a glass out of the cupboard before filling it full of water. you stopped in the medicine cabinet grabbing two aspirins before making your way upstairs to your room.
The tall, built boy managed to make his way upstairs to your room and curl up in your bed. you couldn’t help it but your heart fluttered with excitement. then you realized the only way he would ever be in your bed if he was drunk and needed somewhere to sleep. you shake your head as you walked into your closet grabbing a shirt and sweats he had given you. you thought back on the night that you realized you had the hots shawn. it was at small gathering at brian’s house on his birthday, he and shawn were messing around wrestling and he managed to hit someone and their drink spilled all over your favorite outfit. he apologized as he gave you the sweatshirts off his back and joggers to keep. he kept apologizing and made up for it more by send you roses and a sorry card. you caught yourself smiling like an idiot as you reminisced.
“shawn,” you cooed pulling off his shoes. no response. you sighed as you tugged at the end of his black jeans until they came off and you did the same with his blue shirt. you felt semi guilty about seeing him almost naked but you didn’t want his dirty clothes on your clean bed. you dressed him in the clean clothes then tossed his dirty ones in the hamper. you made a mental reminder to put them in the washer first thing in the morning. you looked down at shawn as he slept peacefully and you couldn’t help but to smile. he was so beautiful. you tucked him in without trying to wake him. you looked at him one last time and only hoped one day you could do this again, as his girlfriend.
you climbed in bed next to him with a decent amount of space between you two and picked up macbeth. after an hour and a half you figured you had read enough for the night and set your favorite book on your nightstand and looked back at shawn. his hair was messy, his cheeks were pink, and he was curled up against your chest snoring softly. you leaned over kissing his forehead before reaching over turning off the light next to your bed.
“i love you,” you whispered to your drunk crush before falling asleep.
“I--I'm not drunk, you’re just too...too...” He held up his finger to make a 'one second' motion as he hiccuped, and then tried to regain his focus...although he didn't have much in the first place. “...too not drunk.”
