Shawn Mendes Imagines (Editing + Open Requests)

♬2.4 - Turbulence

Imagine being scared of flying and having a rough time on the plane. Shawn tries to help you, but it doesn't really help.

The tiny airplane window is never enough.

I can see, but it's too far away.
Too much distance. Too much space I can't control.

My heartbeat spikes at random, my stomach flips, and every time the plane shifts, my mind runs ahead of me.

"You okay?" Shawn asks, placing his hand over mine.

The warmth of his touch cuts through the noise in my head — but my body doesn't catch up.
My heart is still racing, my stomach still twisting.

"Yeah. Just a little nervous. Like usual."

"It's okay," he murmurs, thumb brushing over my knuckles. "You're okay."

I know I'm okay.
Statistically, logically — I know.

You're more likely to die in a car accident.
You're more likely to slip in the shower.
You're more likely to choke on food.

But I have control of a car.
I'm on the ground when I walk.
If I choke, someone can help.

Here, if something happens — we just fall.

And I will know.
I will watch it happen.
I will be awake for the panic.
For everyone else's panic.

"I know."
It's all I can say.

Turbulence.
The seatbelt sign dings on.
My pulse jumps with it.

I put on a movie — some getaway driver kid with headphones and a too-big heart. I don't follow much of it.
My body is locked.

Shawn sleeps — like he always does on planes.
He sleeps through everything.
He trusts the sky.

I try to sleep too.
The half-sleep where you still hear every whisper and every engine shift.
Where your brain doesn't turn off.

Turbulence.

The seatbelt sign again.

My breathing stutters.
I reach for Shawn's hand.

And even in sleep — or something close to it — he squeezes back.

Turbulence. Turbulence.

I look out the window searching for ocean.
For some reason water feels safer.
Even though I know that's wrong.

We move into clouds.
You can't see anything — just white, just nothing.

Shawn wakes.

He turns to look at me — sleep still in his voice, but awareness in his eyes.

Turbulence hits harder.
Someone yelps. Then laughs.
False bravery.

The captain comes on the speaker, calm and monotone:
"Just heavy winds. A few minutes."

Shawn squeezes my hand again.

"We're okay."

Turbulence.

"Okay," I whisper.

The plane jolts again.
I feel my throat close.

"Marky," Shawn says softly, forehead leaning against mine.
"Think about something else."

"I can't."

"Yes, you can," he says — not firm, not dismissing — just there.
"Just try. With me."

Turbulence.
The lights dim.
The cabin goes quiet.

I inhale.
One. Two. Three.

Shawn shifts closer, his voice the only steady thing in the shaking air:

"Look at me."

I do.

His eyes — warm, steady, grounding — not afraid.

"Right here," he whispers.
"We're okay. You're not doing this alone."

The plane shakes again —

and this time
I don't fall with it.
I stay right where he is.

_____
Youth!! I was actually a little worried tbh. Don't kill me but I am not a hug fan of Khalid. But youth is so good, Khalid sounds good, Shawn sounds good (duh.) it's great ❤️ also love that photo of Shawn and his Jeep ❤️

Also please please follow me I need one more follower to reach 900, with means I only need 101 to reach 1k ❤️❤️

Edit 2025 - Him still performing Youth and now and doing it indigenous singers to give them a voice and representation is so incredible!