Shawn Mendes Imagines

Impeccable

Shawn's POV
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Another night of me laying in bed alone always meant another night of her laying in bed with another man. I never knew what to do, what to say, how to stop her. It was a constant game, where I always lost, stuck at home in pain and misery. Although, she was ultimately victorious, having fun with a second man while having stolen my heart, and I didn't know how to get it back.

And there was the sound of the door opening and closing, around one in the morning, like it had been for the past few weeks. I glanced over at the clock again, sighing, and pulling the duvet closer to my bare chest.

I heard her car keys jangling, and I just knew she had them at her fingertips, twirling them as she took off her favorite pair of heels. I knew her so well, or so I thought. I wanted to confront her so badly, to tell her that I knew she was sneaking around, to tell her I was done with the games, yet each time I tried, I failed. She had me at her fingertips, as if I were a puppet and she were my master.

The hallway light switched on and I felt tears brim my eyes as I watched her flip her dark, curly hair past her shoulder, and head into the bathroom. The mirror cabinet was pulled open and closed shut. Toothpaste and concealer - her only way to rid of the marks her lover left on her.

And so each night she'd do the same, and return to our bedroom. Yet this time, I didn't see the woman I had fell in love with years ago. I saw a monster, one with malicious intent, tearing my heart to bits and pieces as she went on with her life, perfectly content with the situation which left me devastated.

She thought I had fell asleep by now, and she decided to join me in bed. My eyes were opened slightly as I watched her every move. Her pencil skirt slid down her lower body, creating a pool around her ankles. Even through the darkness of the room, I could make out the dark, reddish-purple marks lining her inner thighs. It made me cringe. I watched her fingertips trace over them delicately as she smiled.

She pulled off her top, and to no surprise, there were even more bruises and marks, adorning her breasts and stomach, leading downwards. And she smiled again. Her body made its way to the left side of the bed - her side. She swayed her hips left and right, before peeling back the sheets and slipping in next to me. I turned to face her, yet her devilishly angelic eyes were closed shut, and her lips were sealed.

"Damn it," I thought to myself, watching as her chest rose and fell quietly in the silence of the room.

Her hair was pushed back behind her ears - a dark, glossy sheen to it, one that made me want to run my fingers through it endlessly. And those lips, they were a bright pink, just begging to be kissed, and her - she was so fragile, so delicate, and I loved every inch of her.

But silent tears poured down my cheek and I ran a hand through my messy hair, hating myself for the mere fact that despite how many times she played me, I could never seem to let her go.

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i h8 myself for this but IKWYDLS has such a good plot for a sad imagine i haD TO. hopefully its not too cliché😁

-Rebecca