Shawn Mendes Imagines

Special

helloooo have you started school yet?? thursday was mah first day of high school & i hated every bit of it. can't handle four years of this bs omggg

***

"So, anyways, turns out the choir teacher actually knows your parents and hasn't seen you since you were like seven years old. She asked me to bring you by after class so she could hug you."

The corner of Shawn's mouth twitches as he rolls his eyes and suppresses a groan. "Y/N, I can't stand talking to all of those old church people that squeeze me uncomfortably even though I have no idea who they are."

"That's okay," you laugh, "you can leave whenever you want. Say you really have to get to class."

"Nuh-uh," he argues, crossing his arms over his chest as he swivels to face you in his seat. "You're just trying to recruit me."

You return his eyeroll. "Shawn, I gave up on trying to get you to join show choir a long time ago. She just wants to see you."

Before Shawn could say anything else, the petite girl who sat at the desk in between you looks up from her worksheet, speaking in an exhausted monotone towards Shawn, "just do it, dude. Just go. Don't argue with your girl."

Shawn makes a face at her, then averts his gaze to her classwork resting on her desk. His dark eyes widen, and he slightly gasps, "holy hell! Is that the assignment for Mr. Harris? How are you already on number thirty-four?"

She replies instantly, "because, I'm actually doing the work in study hall instead of chatting."

"Who actually does work in study hall?"

She giggles slightly, rubbing a circle on her temple. "People who want to pass Harris' class."

"It's not easy to pass Harris'," Shawn defends himself, sinking his teeth into his bottom lip. "I once submitted my emailed essay to him at 9pm, it was due at 8:30. He gave me 50 percent."

The girl shakes her head, flicking her French braid over her shoulder and unplugging her wired earbuds from her phone. "Yeah, well, it's a lot easier to pass when you're actually trying, Shawn."

As they continued to converse, laughing and shoulder-punching-- you couldn't help it, you cringe. You noticed the way her lacy top dipped at her cleavage line, how when she leaned forward, her tight black jeans managed to sustain her ass. She had all of the curves and perfect traits that you lacked.

You wave your hand across your face to get your boyfriend's attention, leaning forward so you could see his face past her. "So, Shawn? You'll come to the choir room?"

He slowly nods. "I guess I'll go say hey."

Just then, the bell rings, and you gather your disregarded work scattered across your desk. Students file out of the classroom, and Shawn races on your heels.

"Hey, are you okay?" he asks, speeding up so he could walk beside you. "You're making the face."

"What face?" you try to smile as you push past the sea of students headed towards the main hall.

"The face you make when you're not okay."

You get to the commons, where everyone dispersed and you could finally turn to face him. You look down at your feet, gripping your textbook tightly to your chest.

"It's just that.."

He stares curiously, waiting for you to go on. When you silently pause for too long, he places his strong hand on your shoulder, "babe?"

You avoid his glance. "It sounds stupid after I've said it in my head."

He persists, stepping yet even closer to you. "What? Tell me."

"No, just forget it," you grab his hand, pulling him in the direction of the choir room. But he was much stronger than you, unfortunately, and stresses you back to him with one single tug.

"Y/N," his tone gets serious, eyes locked on yours. "What's wrong?"

Students pass you in numbers, their loud, overpowering voices shouting across the sectioned room. Shawn's gaze never wavered, one hand still gripping yours firmly, the other gently squeezing the dip of your shoulder.

You sighed. "I'm not pretty like a lot of the girls that you're friends with, okay? There. I said it."

You cautiously check for signs of annoyance, his eyebrows furrowed as he continues to stare, confused.

"I'm sorry, what?" he asks, cocking his head to the side. "Y/N.. you think you're not pretty?"

You cast your eyes to the wall behind him. "Well, not exac-- I mean, I don't usually compare myself to others, but when I do.. it's just not a close call."

He immediately strikes back, "of course it's not a close call, Y/N you're so stupid sometimes I swear. It's not a close call at all. You would win easy."

"Oh please," you scoff. "Shawn, you're just naturally flirty all the time, it's your personality. I just worry.. I just worry sometimes that maybe I misjudged our relationship, like, I don't know. Like you're just treating me the way that you treat everybody else and I just think I'm more special than you actually think I am."

Oh god. You weren't making a lick of sense. At any minute now he's going to take his hands off of you and start towards the opposite direction, you could feel it.

But he stood still for so long, you wonder if he even heard you. His hands fell limp at his sides. At last, he pressed his palms together and raised his hands to his lips, shutting his eyes as if he was praying.

"Okay," he breathes slowly. "How long have you felt this way?"

You shrug. "I don't know, a while I guess. I don't mean--"

"How could you not think you're special?" he says through a hefty sigh. "You're the best thing that's ever happened to me. If you ever have doubts like this it means that I'm doing something wrong, not you."

"What do you mean by that?" you reply.

He gathers his thoughts gradually, combing his fingers through his messy tangle of hair. "I shouldn't be making you jealous of other girls. When I finally got you, I made it my mission to make all the other girls jealous of you. I hate that you think you're less than them."

You lower your voice, not really knowing what to say.

"Well.. sometimes I just do," you manage.

He outstretches his toned arms, ducking his head and grinning slightly. "Go ahead and lay a bear hug on me, right now. You can even wrap your legs around me, whatever you want. Give me your best."

You tilt your head, confused. "Wh--"

"Just do it."

You decide not to argue. You dart straight into his embrace, arms locking above his shoulder blades and around his neck as his hands meet on the small of your back. He plants three kisses on the crown of your head, softly whispering, "everyone passing just saw that, so if you don't feel special yet, let me know. We'll arrange something better."

***

HEY I HAVE A NEW SHORT STORY BASED OFF OF TREAT YOU BETTER!!

PLS GO CHECK THAT OUT (shameless self promo lollll)

also if mercy is making you want to dunk your head into a public toilet repeatedly pls give this update a vote

-avey