Shawn Mendes Imagines

Father and Husband

You had just sat through a long night at Chuck-E-Cheese for your son Nathan's sixth birthday party, where there were screaming kids and spilled sodas and not to mention how many times your husband, Shawn, had to crack open his wallet.

By the time the clock struck 7pm, you practically rushed out the door. You said goodbye to everyone and allowed Nathan to gather his presents with the help of Shawn, and then you and Shawn said a quick "see you later" to the parents and walked towards your family minivan.

"I'm never doing Chuck-E-Cheese again, Nate, sorry," Shawn laughs as he opens the back door and helps Nate up and into his booster seat.

"Why not?" Nate bites his lip, squeezing the string of his Chuckie balloon that he was given by the staff.

"Because, it was gross," Shawn responds, even though you could faintly hear him from the other side of the car. He continued to talk in his usual gentle, raspy bass that was Shawn, while Nathan responded to everything in his higher-pitched voice.

Once Nathan was buckled up and the door was shut, Shawn circles the car and helps you in, since it wasn't easy with your baby bump. You actually could do it yourself, but Shawn can never be too cautious.

He plants a little kiss on your cheek while leaning across you to buckle your seat belt for you, separating the straps enough so it wasn't putting pressure on your belly.

"Are you comfortable, sweet girl?" he asks you, unsure.

"Yes, sir, I am, thank you," you nod.

Finally he goes to his final destination, the driver's seat. He starts the engine and pulls out of the parking lot, driving down the street in the direction of your six-month-old apartment, which you bought once you found out you were pregnant.

The radio was turned down to a volume you weren't even sure was audible, until Shawn gasps and turns the volume-nob quickly, glancing at Nate in the rear-view mirror.

"Nathan!" Shawn giggles.

Nathan's eyes light up as well, the two of them yelling the lyrics to the Bruno Mars song blaring through the speakers as you continue on down the street.

You roll your eyes and look over at Shawn, who was drumming on the steering wheel with his thumbs. You couldn't help but laugh at how cute it was that him and Nate did this every time Treasure came on the radio, since Nathan had a particular interest for that song.

"Here comes our favorite part," Shawn says, keeping his eyes on the road.

"I know that you don't know it, but you're fine, so fine," Shawn sings at the top of his lungs.

"Fine so fine!!" Nathan repeats from the backseat.

"Oh woah-oh-oh!"

Nathan lifts his voice, "oh girl I'm gonna show you when you're mine, oh mine!"

"Mine oh mine!" Shawn drums.

The exchange a glance before bursting out together, "Treasure!"

You face-palm, turning to look out the window. "Y/N, stop being a Negative Nancy and sing with us," Shawn hits your upper arm.

You scoff, returning the slap.

"Pretty girl, pretty girl, pretty girl you should be smilin'," you give in.

Shawn lights up, singing the next line with you. "A girl like you should never look so blue!"

You turn around to face Nathan and see his smile as he kicks his feet, singing the words with you.

"Are you guys still hungry?" Shawn asks over the music. You shrug, still singing quietly to yourself.

"I am!! I want ice cream, Dad!" Nate exclaims.

"Ice cream it is," Shawn swerves into the Braum's parking lot just in time, circling the building until he reached the drive-thru menu.

"You're going to kill me," you joke, recovering from the sudden turn.

Your husband's face drops, practically slamming on the brakes.

"Wait, what? Are you okay? Is the baby okay?" He unbuckles and leans across, feeling your stomach all over with a worried expression on his face.

"Shawn, she's fi -"

"Sir how may I help you tonight?" the employee says kindly through the speaker.

"Sorry, we're dealing with a crisis right now, my daughter might be dying and my wife could be hurt!"

You slap your forehead, pushing Shawn off of you. "I was kidding," you say. "I was kidding!!"

"Sir is everything alright?" the voice asks.

"Dad, what the heck?" Nathan sounds confused.

"We're fine," you yell through Shawn's rolled down window. "I'll have a chocolate dipped double banana split with extra cherries."

"Damn," Shawn mouths, furrowing his eyebrows.

"Well I am prego," you defend yourself, your hands on his thighs as you lean over him. "And don't say the D word around bubba."

"Yeah, don't say the d word," Nathan says with raised eyebrows from the backseat. "Momma, what's the d word?"

"Delicious," Shawn rolls his eyes.

Nathan gasps. "Delicious decilis decilous," he struggles to pronounce it, giggling at himself.

Shawn turns his head to the window and begins to speak slowly. "I'll have a single-dip mint chocolate chip in a cup please," he says politely. "What do you want, Nate?"

"I want a birthday cake double dip in a cone," Nathan answers proudly.

"Not a double dip," Shawn shakes his head quickly.

"Please?"

"No, there was a girl that ate a double dip once and she got pregnant!"

"But Mom got a double dip," Nate argues.

"Mom is pregnant?"

"Oh. Fine. Single dip then."

You snort, rubbing your stomach as you pull a ten dollar bill out of the console and hand it to Shawn.

"You're so ridiculous," you whisper.

**