Shawn Mendes imagines

Thief

Shawn's a little bit stressed.

His eyebrows are furrowed, hair messier than usual although barely noticeable to anyone else. He's worried more than anything. It's not because of his music, he gets plenty of inspiration nowadays. It's not because of his friends. Hell, it's not even because of the housewarming party him and y/n are due to host for the house they bought together.

Shawn had flown back from Europe merely a week ago, ad he could've sworn it was with him. He could practically feel the tough covering of the wallet in the left pocket of his grey sweats.

Yet, after a week of "I'm sure it just got lost in the move." and "I'll just pay in cash.", he's finally ready to be properly worried over losing his wallet.

And he's looked everywhere. After the new move, he didn't hesitate to search the shelves, the tables, between the couch cushions, even the pillowcases of the guest bedroom. But he still can't find it.

Letting out a frustrated groan, he rests his face in his hands, running his fingers across the flushed skin before groaning for the hundredth time that day.

"Hey do you think Karen would prefer White Wine or Red-" y/n walks in, hair flawlessly falling down to her waist in frizzy waves, makeup done more excessively than usual but nevertheless showcasing her perfect features, dress hugging her curves the perfect amount. She stops her sentence when she sees her boyfriend's distressed state.

"Shawn?" She frowns, walking towards where he's sat on the edge of their bed. She wraps her arms around his broad shoulders, pulling him into her waist as she runs her fingers through his hair.

"What's wrong?" She asks him, toying with the messy curls atop his head.

"I can't fucking find it." He whines. She sighs, bending her neck down to inhale the scent of his shampoo, "It'll be okay."

"I hope so but-" He lets out a breath at her actions, "Everything's in there, y/n. All my credit cards, my license, my ID, all of the money I took to Europe and my bank cards. Whoever gets their hands on that wallet can literally take everything I have."

Repeating the horrific truth to himself has him wincing at his own words.

"You'll still have me." She kisses the top of his head, fingertips roaming down the muscles of his back, "And you have your family and friends, just don't worry about it for tonight."

He tilts his head up to look at her, showcasing his red cheeks at her as he grins like a child sarcastically, "Impossible."

Y/N leans down, pressing a small peck against his lips, "Possible. Now go get ready, guests are coming in twenty minutes."

-

It's 9 pm.

There are people scattered across the living room o the house. Some are relatively polite, the older people invited treating themselves to a leisurely amount of wine. But some of the younger guests - Shawn's high school friends' friends from college -have no problem treating themselves to drinks. Shawn flinches as he stands in the line for his own bathroom, hearing someone vomit quite aggressively in the bathroom toilet.

Deciding that he would rather not use a vomit covered restroom, he decides to jog upstairs to use him and y/n's personal bathroom. It's much cleaner, and with y/n's taste in decorating, he knows it'll be far nicer than the bathroom a story below it.

But when Shawn walks in, he clumsily stumbles in a bit too quickly, knocking what appears to be Yy/n's makeup bag off of the vanity they recently set up. Sighing, he bends over to pick u the contents and prays to himself that nothing is broken.