Shawn Mendes Imagines

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"Shawn be quiet," I whispered to the wild boy who tugged at my knitted sweater. Stumbling into the living room I quietly shoved off my high heels as the boy kissed at my neck.

"Mhm." He groaned.

I grabbed his face to look down at me. "You're going to wake up the kids." I scolded.

He released me from his grip, allowing me to straighten out my clothing.

"Just let them know already. That their dad is hooking up with their mommy again." I turned around at my smirking ex-husband who looked extra handsome in his black hoodie as if he was some sort robber.

"No, I can't. That's inappropriate. And this is wrong." I ran my fingers through the curls of my hair. What had led me to start hooking up with my ex again? Was I becoming a desperate single mother who couldn't handle the fact of being alone? Why have I let it last this long in the first place?

I leaned my hands against the countertop of the kitchen and shook my head.

"Baby." His hand caressed my lower back. "It's just meaningless sex. No harm in a couple of hookups." He pulled me into his chest, massaging his lips against the side of my face.

"Yeah, your right." A thick substance watered my eyes and I knew his words stung.

I hated myself for still loving this man. He caused me the most pain. Yet at the end of the day, here I am, making out with him, behind my kids back. I knew I wasn't his only hookup, the bachelor bragged constantly to his friends about the many college girls he had fucked.

I wasn't special. That was the whole reason why our failed marriage came to an end. He cheated and although I was willing to forgive him, he wanted to leave.

And so he did, he pursued other things. Other women. While I stayed here to take him in at any time.

I am desperate.

____________________________

The bottom of the steaming hot pizza box burned my palms as I tossed it onto the dining room table.

"Anya! Dylan! Pizza!" I yelled out upstairs.

I felt bad not being able to cook a nice homemade meal for my children. Every child deserves to have that satisfaction of being able to eat mom's special lasagna or meatloaf. Since I could barely cook, takeout was always served.

My 2 teens bounced from the stairs at the scent of pizza.

"I-"

"Mom it's okay, your busy we get it. Don't stress yourself out." Anya interrupted before pushing me into a chair and serving me a slice.

I smiled at my supportive daughter. "Thanks, sweetie."

Smiling at her, she returned the smile as well. My 13-year-old son wrapped his arm around my shoulder before placing a kiss on my forehead. "Your the best you know?"

He raised his eyebrows at me, demanding a yes back.

"Yes i know." I laughed.

My hungry children sat down along with me and began digging into the greasy pie.

I smiled at the concerns of my children as they asked me to eat instead of just sitting there. I ended up getting the best kids.

"I'll take out the trash." Dylan offered as he shut the back door.

As soon as the door shut, Anya turned to me.

"You and Dad?" A frown appeared onto her face as I threw a rag at her to wipe the tables.