“My goal is to go from shit to kinda okay, I mean, what else?”

Shawn Mendes Imagine- That’s Not Your Sweatshirt

          “Shawn, stop it!” you laughed as he tickled you. “Nope, never!” he smirked, continuing to tickle your sides. “You’re the worst boyfriend ever!” you shout, trying to squirm away from his grasp. Yes, boyfriend. Shawn Mendes is your boyfriend. You two have been dating for about two years, and love each other to pieces. There’s only one catch…the fans don’t know.

          You didn’t want the fans to hate, and you felt that it would only stress Shawn out more if the paparazzi were all over him, asking about his girlfriend. Anyway, back to the tickle monster you call your boyfriend. “Take it back!” he yells, tickling you even more. “N-no,” you gasp between laughs. “I won’t let you wear my sweatshirts if you don’t take it back,” he sings.

          “O-k, ok. I t-take it back,” you squeal, and he stops. You sit up, your sides hurting from all the laughing. “You know I love wearing your sweatshirts. No fair,” you pout, crossing your arms over your chest. “I love when you wear my sweatshirts, too. I wasn’t actually not going to let you wear them. They mak you look adorable,” he says. 

          You blush and stick your tongue out at him, pretending to be mad. “Aww, is wittle y/n mad?” he says in a baby voice. You ignore him. “Well, I know what’ll make you feel better,” he says, taking off his sweatshirt and putting it on you. It drapes over you like a dress and covers your shorts. The sleeves hang past your hands. Shawn grins at how cute you look.

          “Hey, I’m going to run to Starbucks and grab a coffee. Do you want anything? The usual, I’m assuming?” he asks, referring to y/f/s/d. You nod, handing him his keys. “Thanks, I’ll be back in a few,” he says, pecking your lips before grabbing another sweatshirt off the dining room chair and heading out the door. You cuddle up on the couch, turn on the TV, and wait for Shawn to come back.

          You’re 10 minutes into an episode of Baby Daddy when Shawn gets back. He walks into the room and hands you your drink, sitting down next to you. He wraps his arms around you, and you inch closer to him. Two episodes later, you fall asleep. Shawn looks down at you to see you sleeping and grind, picking you up and carrying you up to his room. 

          He lays you in bed and climbs in with you. He does the usual routine and wraps his arms around you, bringing you closer to him. He eventually falls asleep himself. The next day, you wake up to an empty bed. You sit up and rub your eyes to see a note on the bedside table. ‘had to go into the studio today. be back around 3. love you xoxo.’ You grin and look at the clock. It’s 8:30 am. 

          You go downstairs and look through the fridge. ‘Dang it, we’re out of fruit and yogurt,’ you think to yourself as you go upstairs to get ready for the day. You take a quick shower before drying your hair and putting on some makeup. You look around the room for clothes, settling on a pair of athletic shorts and a t-shirt. You find the hoodie Shawn wore yesterday to Starbucks and throw it on.

          You put on some black Vans and head outside, grabbing your keys and purse on the way. You drive to the grocery store to pick up some food, and then go to Starbucks to get y/f/s/d. You walk inside and order it. “Y/n,” you say when the barista asks you for your name. You swear you hear a phone camera snap, but ignore it and grab your drink, heading out the door.

          You get home and make yourself a small breakfast. You go to the gym and clean up the house before Shawn gets home. He walks in the door, a cheeky smile on his face. “What’s up with you?” you ask, wrapping your arms around his waist and hugging him. He hands you his phone without saying a word. Twitter is up, and you see some tweets from his fans.

          Your jaw drops, and you look up at him with wide eyes. “How do they know your name?” he asks, the grin still on his face. “Ugh, they must’ve heard me say it when I got Starbucks. Shawn, I’m so sorry. I totally forgot about your sweatshirt. I’ll fix this, you won’t have to worry about a thing. I’ll tell them there’s nothing-” you ramble, but get cut off by Shawn pressing his lips against yours.

          “Babe, calm down, it’s fine. Besides, I think it’s time to tell them anyways,” he says, and you smile. He tweets:

          You giggle, staring into his sparkling brown eyes. He softly kisses your lips again before whispering, “I love it when you wear my sweatshirts.”


Summary: Shawn’s management doesn’t agree with your relationship so they’re forcing you two to pretend you aren’t together anymore, which means when he leaves for tour you won’t see him for months. He has to break the news to you.


“I can’t talk about this right now,” You say, taking a deep breath before continuing, “I just can’t do this right now.”

“Just talk to me, (y/n).” Shawn pleads.

“I can’t fucking do this right now, Shawn.” You grab your backpack off of his bed, ready to storm out of his room. He knows you’re mad. You have a right to be angry right now. But he doesn’t let you leave. He wraps his arm around your waist pulling you backwards into him. Your back is against his chest. You drop your backpack on the ground in order to try and fight your way free. He’s too strong, so you can’t get out of his grip and he isn’t letting go. The tears start streaming down your face. He just holds you tighter, knowing you need this right now even though you’re too angry to admit it. There is just too much going on in your life that you definitely do not need this. You just can’t deal with this right now, and if Shawn were smart, he’d let you process this alone before trying to talk about it with you.

“I love you. I don’t want to lose you,” You can feel his breath on your face as those words leave his mouth. You stop struggling immediately. Instead, you start sobbing. You can’t help yourself.

“Why don’t you fight for me, if you love me, why didn’t you fight?” You manage to choke out between sobs.

“(Y/n), baby,” He sounds like he’s in pain as he says this, “I did fight, you have no idea how hard I fought.” Shawn just finished a four-hour meeting with his management team. He called for you to come over to his house once he got home, and when you did he basically told you that his management wants him to break up with you. He said he refused, but that they were adamant on him not being seen with you in public and saying that he was single if asked by fans or in interviews. You can almost understand it from a business perspective, but you are not on the business side of this agreement.

Shawn backs up sitting down on his bed, holding you in his lap as the tears stream down your face. He holds you tightly like you’re his world. “I don’t want to lose you.” He says.

You’re done fighting him. You have no energy left anyway. You wrap one arm around his neck and bury your face in his t-shirt, your tears soaking his shirt through. Even if you guys decide not to break up, with the new rules by management, you’re basically not allowed to visit him on tour and he’s not allowed to fly back home just to see you. He’s doing his world tour, all arena shows, and he won’t have time to come home during it. This means that even if you stay together, you’ll have to go nearly three months without seeing him. Three months without holding him, without falling asleep next to him. Three months without kissing him, or hugging him. That’s a long time to be apart.

This means that you won’t be able to support him, really support him during this time. He’s doing so much and you want to be there at the side of his stage, but his management doesn’t want you to, and honestly that hurts you.

He’s still just holding you tightly in his arms. Your tears finally subside, and you’ve had at least a few minutes to come to terms with everything. “You’re not going to lose me.” You reply to his earlier statements. It’s the truth. You don’t plan to leave him because of this bump in the road. And you know that he just needs to be reassured that you’re not planning to go anywhere. “I love you, this doesn’t change that. Nothing is going to change that baby.” You reassure him. “I just needed to process it a little bit.” You sniffle, but you aren’t sobbing anymore, and you know that it’s going to be okay.

“This fucking sucks.” He says.

“I know baby.”

“I’m going to talk to them more. I’m going to have another meeting with them to talk about it. It’s just that meeting had already gone four hours and they weren’t budging, but I’m going to try again baby. I am fighting for you. I’m fighting for us. You need to know that.”

“I know Shawn. I never should have accused you of not fighting for us.”

“Its okay.” He pauses, then asks, “We’re gonna be okay, right (y/n)?”

“Yeah, we’re going to be fine, Shawn.” You reply, looking up at him. He leans down and kisses you lightly on the lips. He wipes away your last stray tears and smiles slightly.

“I love you, (y/n). If I had to choose, I would choose you. If I had to choose between my career and you, I’d choose you in a heartbeat.”

“I would never ask you to choose,” you say, almost offended at the fact that he would even suggest walking away from his career, walking away from something he’s worked so hard for. Something you’ve always supported and walked with him through.

“I know you wouldn’t, and that’s another reason why I love you.”

Feeling Sick

Summary: You’re sick so you head over to Shawn’s house. He takes care of you when he comes home.


You go to school at a University just outside of L.A. You have an apartment near campus that you stay at during the week, but since Shawn bought a house in LA you usually spend most of the weekends with him at his place when he’s not traveling for work. You managed to set your schedule so that you don’t have class on Fridays, so you will normally make the hour and a half drive to his house on Thursday nights after your last class that ends at 8pm. However, this Thursday you felt so sick that you decided to skip your last two classes. After work and your first class, you returned to your apartment and took a short nap, waking up at about 1 in the afternoon. You know that Shawn has meetings today, but you decide to start the drive now, instead of waiting until later because you don’t want to hit traffic. You pack a few necessities and take an Advil for the headache; just praying you’ll make it to his house safely.

Over an hour later, you arrive, parking your car in his garage. You grab your backpack and unlock the door with your key. You grab a bottle of water from his fridge before heading upstairs into his bedroom. You open his drawer and grab one of his soft t-shirts. Once you change into it, you pull the blinds, making the room pitch black. You silently thank Shawn now for making sure to install blackout blinds. He was very adamant about doing that. At the time you thought it wouldn’t be a big deal if he didn’t have them, you’d never had them in any of your bedrooms before, but now you realize that he was right about them.

Crawling into Shawn’s insanely comfortable bed, you fall asleep instantly. You wake up just as you hear the front door slam. Groggily you sit up and look around. You realize that you’re in Shawn’s bed and that you forgot to tell him you were sick and came early.

The bedroom door opens, letting the light from the hallway shine into the room. You squint at the light and see Shawn standing in the doorway with a completely confused look on his face. “(Y/n)?” He asks. “What are you doing? You should be in class?”

“I know,” you tiredly reply wiping your eyes. “But I didn’t feel good so I didn’t go to my last two classes and I drove over here early because I didn’t want to hit traffic.”
He comes into the room and strides over to his bed. You’re lying in the middle so he has to get on the bed a little just to reach you. He puts his hand out, feeling your forehead. “You have a fever babe.” He replies.

“The Advil must have worn off,” Is all you can think to reply.

“I’ll go get you another one. When did you eat last?”

You think for a moment before saying, “I had toast before work.”

“Before work?” His eyes get big, “That was at like 7 this morning.”

“Yeah,” you reply not seeing what the problem is.

“(Y/n), it’s six at night.”


“I’ll go make you something to eat. Does chicken soup sound good?” He asks.

Honestly, nothing really sounds good right now. Even though you haven’t eaten in nearly twelve hours, you don’t even feel hungry. You simply shrug in response.

“Alright, I’ll be right back baby.” He says getting off the bed.

“Wait,” You reply sitting up and scooting to the edge of the bed. You missed him, and you don’t want him to leave you alone.

“What?” He asks.

“I’m coming.”

“I think you should just rest here. I’ll bring you the soup and advil.”

“No, I want to come with you.” You insist.

He’s silent for a second as though he’s debating whether or not he should let you come. Finally, he replies, “Okay, you can come and lay on the couch.”

You’re about to slide off the bed onto the ground when he asks, “Do you want a piggy back ride?”

You just nod and he turns around. He carries you down the stairs and to the couch. Once he puts you down, he heads into the kitchen to make you soup. And by make you soup he really means opening the can and pouring it into a pot.

Once he leaves for the kitchen you get up and walk over to the kitchen slipping onto a stool at the counter while he’s in the pantry looking for a can of soup. When he comes out, he says, “You’re supposed to be resting, (y/n).”

“I slept most of the afternoon,” you reply. He gives you this look that says he thinks you should still be resting. “I feel a lot better, and I just missed you.” You admit. He pours the soup into the pot before walking around the counter.

He wraps his arms around you, “I missed you too. And I guess now we have no choice but to cuddle all weekend.”

“I guess so.” You reply, leaning closer to him and treasuring the feeling of being in his arms.  


This boy can’t even make a musically for his own song ,,, I love him