#also !! is it me or do imminent kisses feel sm more intimate?? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

tommyparkerr · 4 years

Text

3am | Shawn Mendes x Reader

Due to popular demand, I’m back with another of my dusty docs:) I wasn’t sure how well Kisses would go over but it ended up being a fan favorite even though it’s not Marvel? Soooo here y’all go, I have another dusty SM doc sitting around so if you guys want to see that one too let me know!

Also, I’m in the midst of redoing my tag lists, so if you want to be on a specific tag list you can find the link in my bio, here, or down below!

Words: 2.7k

Warning: Anxiety

Notes: Y/F/N = Your Full Name

-Masterlist-

3 A M :

You were sleeping quite peacefully for once; it was raining, which explained why. You hadn’t gotten much sleep the past couple of days, as your boyfriend had been giving you radio silence. He was on tour, yes, and he was busy, yes, but he still should’ve had time to FaceTime you or call you or even just reply to one of your texts. And usually he did, which was why you were confused. Then that confusion had turned into worry, worry into stress, stress into anxiety, and anxiety into sleepless nights.

Thank the heavens for rain.

You were out like a light—that was until a loud thumping came from your front door that definitely was not the rain. You groaned, pulling your pillow over your head in an effort to block out the noise. It didn’t work, though; the pounding started up again a moment later and cut straight through your not-so-promising lump of feathers.

You frustratedly tossed the pillow aside and got out of bed, peeling your tired eyes open. Turning the lamp on was much harder than it should’ve been, as was putting on a pair of sweatpants, brushing your hair out of your face, and walking to the door. But everything was much harder at 3am—especially for those who were only running on two hours of sleep.

“I’m coming, I’m coming! Chill out!” you called out, extremely irritated with whoever was making such a racket at this time of night. As you unlocked the door and started to swing it open, you mumbled, “If this is a prank, I swear to-“

But it wasn’t a prank at all.

A soaked and shivering frame stood outside in nothing but some jeans, a black tee, and a simple jacket. His hair was a mess, the once lively curls now clinging to his forehead in flat strands. But what alarmed you the most was his droopy, bloodshot eyes. They looked exactly how they always looked after he’d been crying.

“Shawn?” you whispered in disbelief.

He tried to crack a grin, but it came out looking more like a grimace. “Surprise.”

You blinked twice then came to your senses, stepping back and opening the door wider. “What the hell were you thinking, going out in a storm like this? Are you insane?! Get inside!”

He faithfully obeyed, looking lost as soon as the door was shut. Your brows furrowed. Shawn was never this quiet, and he’d been to your house enough times that he shouldn’t look so out of place standing in your front entryway. But he was and he did, and you intended to find out why.

First, though, he needed to warm up.

“Take off your shoes and go change. You left some clothes on top of my dresser last time you were here. After that, come back out to the living room, okay?”

Shawn simply nodded and did what you told him, bending down to untie his shoes and going straight to your bedroom. You busied yourself with turning on the fireplace and making some hot tea. The tea was less for the purpose of drinking and more for giving his hands something to do; he always felt much calmer when there was something in them, whether that be his guitar, a pencil, a pick, or—in this case—a cup of tea.

As the tea was steeping you heard Shawn trod into the living room, pause for a moment, spin around, and go in the opposite direction. Seconds later you could feel him staring holes in the back of your head and knew he’d made his way to you.

“I shouldn’t have come here, should’ve I?”

If it were any quieter you wouldn’t have heard it, but it surprised you just as much as if he would’ve yelled; it was the words that caught your attention, not the volume he spoke them with.

You frowned and turned to face Shawn, looking confusedly into his deep brown eyes. “Why do you say that?”

He shrugged indifferently, staring down at the hardwood floor with his hands in his pockets. “You don’t seem very happy to see me, is all. Not that I blame you for that. I mean, it’s three o’clock in the morning and I know you’ve been busy lately so you’re probably exhausted and irritated at me for waking you up, and the more I think about it the more I’m beginning to realize just how terrible of an idea this was, so I’ll just leave now and you can go back to bed in peace-“

“Woah! Shawn, slow down,” you interrupted, stepping forward and laying your hand on his arm to keep him from turning around. “I don’t want you to go and I am happy to see you, I swear it. I was just surprised, that’s all,” you assured him, moving your thumb back and forth across his skin. He looked at you but didn’t react, only staring as you tried your best to comfort him. You sighed, knowing he was going to need some more time and coaxing in order to tell you why: one, he was home early, and two, why he was at your home. “Let’s go to the living room, yeah? I’ve got the fireplace going.”

Shawn nodded, emotionless, and left to go sit in front of the fire without further comment. Silently you carried the tea over and gave it to him to hold, then gathered up a nearby blanket and tucked it around his shivering shoulders. You eyed his dripping wet hair and retrieved a towel and hair dryer, fully prepared to baby him for the remainder of the night. You didn’t mind, though. He always took care of you when you needed it and you were adamant to return the favor.

“I’m gonna dry your hair, okay, bub?” you said as you set up behind him. He nodded again and sat absolutely still as you completed your task. You giggled when you saw his curls fight their way back on top of his head, even though they’d been flat just minutes before.

“You feeling warmer now, hun?” you asked, combing your fingers through his wild hair. He leaned into your touch as an answer, and you smiled at his puppy-like manner. You scooted to sit beside him and patted your lap. “Come here.” Shawn looked at you a bit questionably and hesitated, to which you rolled your eyes at and mockingly said, “It may be three in the morning but that doesn’t mean I’ve got all day to wait for your six foot, two inch ass to lay down.”

This garnered a little smile out of him and he finally gave in, setting his half-drank tea to the side and placing his head in your lap. You let Shawn adjust until he was comfortable before resuming running your fingers through his curls. The tension in his shoulders seemed to disappear at the simple action, and the longer you went on the more relaxed he became.

“Y/N?” Shawn asked after a while. You hummed, tugging slightly on the hair you had between your fingers, causing his eyes to flutter shut and something that could only be described as a purr to sound in his throat. It took him a few moments to speak up again. “I missed you.”

Sensing that this was Shawn’s way of starting a serious conversation you kept it as comfortable as possible, going for a simple, “I missed you too, Shawn,” until he was ready to go on.

He found your free hand and began to play with your fingers. You let him, knowing this was part of his whole ‘keeping his hands busy’ method of coping. Besides, you loved it when he mindlessly used you to help counter his nerves; it felt strangely intimate.

“I’m only here until tomorrow night, then I fly to New York for the next show,” he murmured matter-of-factly.

“Why didn’t you stay with the crew?” you asked, hoping to get some answers out of him now that he was talking.

Shawn was silent for several minutes, gathering his thoughts. “It got a little too much,” he admitted in a small voice. “And the only way I knew how to fix it was to come home.”

You stayed calm even as your heart was sinking. You knew he regularly struggled with anxiety—especially on tour—but it had never been so bad that he’d felt the only way he could battle it was to take himself out of his element completely. “Wanna talk about it?”

He stopped fiddling with your fingers and instead interlaced them with his, using it as a grounding point. “I just...l’ve been so on edge lately, and there are always so many people—lots and lots of people. And I love them all and I’m so grateful for them and I never want them to feel like I‘m not, but sometimes I just need my people, you know? I’m left alone with all these people and I manage to get out, but as soon as I get out I’m surrounded by more people, and I get out again but then more people come and it never stops,” Shawn rambled, his voice shaking unsteadily. You quickly came to the conclusion that he was still on edge—that his anxiety was still spiked—and prepared yourself for an imminent breakdown.

“And last night I felt like I was disappointing all of these people, you know? It wasn’t my best show; I knew it wasn’t, everyone knew it wasn’t, I know, and then the walls were closing in and I couldn’t breathe and I needed somebody, but nobody was there because I didn’t tell them where I was going and I didn’t even remember how I got to the room I was in or what that room even was, I just knew that I had to get out. I had to get out and I needed you because you always know what to do but you weren’t there and eventually Geoff found me and got me out of it but I still wasn’t right and he told Andrew, and the next thing I know I’m standing on your doorstep at three in the morning.”

His breaths were visibly coming in a lot more shallow now, and that was when you knew your conclusion had been right.

Shawn was in the middle of an anxiety attack.

“Can you do something for me, baby?” you asked softly, continuing to run your fingers through his hair so Shawn could use it as another grounding point.

“Y-yeah?”

“Can you turn around and look up at me?”

It took a few moments but he did comply. It broke your heart to see his pale face and watery eyes, but you made sure you didn’t show it. If you exhibited any sign of panic or weakness, it would only exacerbate his own.

“Hey there, big guy,” you smiled, squeezing his hand. Shawn’s expression didn’t change, and when a tear escaped you smoothly wiped it off before returning to his hair. “What do you see? Tell me something you see.”

He swallowed and his eyes started to nervously flutter around, looking for something to land on. You waited patiently. “The ceiling.”

“What does it look like?” you prompted.

“It’s shadowy from the fire. It’s dark,” he said, the words leaving his tongue in a panicked rush.

“And what do you hear?”

Shortly he answered, “The rain.”

“Good,” you said, your voice still calm even though you wanted nothing more than to cry at the sight of the broken boy on your lap. You swallowed past the lump in your throat and continued on, knowing he needed you now more than ever. You couldn’t let him down—you wouldn’t let him down. Tracing small patterns on the back of his hand and tugging on the roots of his hair just enough to keep him grounded, you asked, “Can you smell anything?”

Shawn’s breathing pattern changed as he began to breathe through his nose, and you were happy to see that it was in a positive way; it was usually around this point where his breaths became deeper and more even, but you were never sure until you got there. Sometimes he found it impossible to switch his source of breath, but those were only the really bad ones. You’d experienced just two of those, and as much as you hoped to never see another one, you were sure it’d happen again in the future.

“I smell your lotion,” Shawn murmured after several minutes of silence, letting his eyes close from exhaustion. “Winter Candy Apple. I bought some more for you yesterday since you said you were running low, but I forgot to bring it.”

Your heart fluttered at the sentiment. It was really hard not to smile not only because of what he said, but because of the fact he said it; if he was speaking more it meant you were nearing the end. “That’s okay,” you responded. “Is there anything you can taste?”

“Mint. From the gum I was chewing on the flight here.”

“Just one last thing now, okay?” you said encouragingly, and he nodded. Some color had returned to his face, making you feel much better. “Do you remember what I’m gonna ask you?”

“What I feel,” he answered, simultaneously squeezing your hand. “You’re gonna ask me what I feel.”

“Exactly. Can you answer that for me?”

Shawn opened his eyes and blinked up at you, looking slightly dazed. “I love you.”

You gave him a look. “Shawn-“

“I’m okay now, Y/N,” he whispered, reaching up with his free hand to touch your cheek. “I love you. That’s what I feel.”

Your heart skipped a couple beats as your brain tried to catch up to what he was saying. When it did you shook your head, taking his hand from your face and kissing the back of it. “I love you too, Shawn Peter Raul Mendes. So much.”

Shawn smiled back, his eyes exhausted but full of life—unlike how they had looked earlier, dim and dark and dreary. “How was your day?”

You laughed, almost bursting into tears at his selfless nature. You wanted to point out that he’d just had an anxiety attack so your day was bound to have been better than his, but instead you said, “Well, I was pretty busy missing a handsome brown haired, brown eyed boy all day—I don’t know if you know him—but by the end of it I was simply exhausted. So I went to bed, but then this guy wakes me up at three o’clock in the morning, standing outside in the freezing rain without any kind of warmth or protection.”

Shawn grinned. “That guy sounds like an idiot.”

“Oh, he is,” you grinned back. “But he’s my idiot.”

Still grinning Shawn closed his eyes again, resting peacefully on your lap. Your hand returned to his hair and his smile softened, signaling that he was either falling asleep or that he was lost in thought. You didn’t have to wait too long to find out which one it was, though, as his mouth opened a few minutes later and quietly murmured, “I’m gonna marry you someday, Y/F/N.”

Countless emotions and thoughts flooded through you at that moment, powerful enough to take your breath away. You blinked away tears, and you couldn’t help but be glad Shawn still had his eyes closed.

There were a lot of things you could’ve said, but they all escaped your mind before your tongue could form the words. Shawn’s smile changed again to a pleased one, and you knew that he’d figured out your reaction without having to look. It made you slightly annoyed that he could read you like an open book, but more so it made you love him even more.

You leaned down to kiss him, your lips moving soft and slow. “Okay,” you whispered against his mouth, not trusting your voice.

“Okay?” Shawn repeated, amused, opening his eyes to tuck a loose piece of hair behind your ear. “I tell you I’m going to marry you and all I get is ‘okay’?”

You laughed, pulling away and shaking your head in disbelief. “You’re such a little shit, you know that?”

“But I’m your little shit,” he said with a triumphant grin.

“Yes,” you agreed. “You’re my little shit. But if you follow through on what you just told me, then that would make me your little shit as well.”

Shawn sat up, smiling as he cupped your face with both of his hands and kissed you again. “Trust me, honey,” he said between kisses, his eyes staring lovingly into yours. “There’s no one else I’d rather claim as such.”

---

Permanent Tag List: @dahliaspidey @spideygirl2003 @trashqueenbitch @celestialparker @toxic-pineapple @ofserien @chewymoustachio @propertyofmarvel @clementime-skies

Shawn Tag List: @mendesficsxbombay

#shawn mendes #shawn mendes x reader #shawn mendes x y/n #shawn mendes x you #shawn mendes fluff #shawn mendes hurt/comfort #hurt/comfort #shawn mendes fic #shawn mendes fanfiction #shawn mendes fandom #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes blurb #one shot #i forgot to add a keep reading link to this im so sorry yall #in my defense ive been sick so my head is a lil woozy still #i’ll fix it as soon as possible!!

76 notes · View notes