Shawn Mendes Imagines (Reader Insert)

The Optimist (Baker!Shawn) [AU]

Prompt: Night wind carrying the scent of freshly baked bread

Warnings: none !

Word Count: 3.6K | Fluff

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You leaned your back against the brick wall, resting your head against the cold brick as you looked up at the stars twinkling in the sky. Seven minutes, I'll give you seven minutes, your manager had said to you after you begged to have a little bit of a break after you had just finished serving a rude table.

In through your nose––don't cry–––Out through your mouth.

You hated waiting tables. You hated having to plaster on a fake smile at every table. And you hated having to walk with an extra pep in your step when you were on your feet for four hours. Most people you waited on were generally pleasant, but there would always be a table or two during a shift that would act absolutely monstrous.

You pinched your eyes shut––don't cry––as a soft breeze made its way down the little alley way you had escaped to. You were sure that at least four minutes of your little break had passed and you dreaded having to walk back in with a sickeningly sweet smile on your face.

"Are you alright?"

You opened your eyes and turned your head to the right. Standing inside the doorway of the building behind yours was a tall boy with curly brown hair. He was wearing all white, but the apron tied around his front was stained with various shades of tan, and like the swipe of flour he had on his cheek, his apron was also dotted with spurts of flour. He smelled of burnt sugar.

"Yeah, I'm––" you sniffled as you brought the sleeve of your forearm to wipe under your nose, "I'm fine! Don't worry." You had put on your well-trained fake smile in front of the boy.

He wrung out the white towel he held between his hands, he didn't look convinced, "I tried walking back in, but then I thought you were gonna cry so I came back out."

An awkward silence filled the air around you as you continued to study him. He looked unsure of himself. He seemed as if he wanted to help, but had no idea as to how to help you.

"You work at The Optimist?" You recalled the name of the bakery that was located behind the restaurant you worked at.

He nodded his head with a genuine smile, "Yeah––I'm Shawn, by the way," he took a few steps forward, crossing over from the bakery's domain of the alley way onto the restaurant's side and stuck out his hand for you to shake.

Scrunching up your eyebrows you hesitantly reached your hand out to connect with his. He looked to be around your age, early twenty's, and you didn't know the last time you had shaken hands with someone your age when introduced.

Shawn dropped your hand, "And you work at The Sunflower?"

You grimaced and Shawn took notice; his smile dropping into one of a sympathy. You were about to introduce yourself, but one of your fellow waitresses skidded out the back door with wild eyes.

"Y/n," she sounded like she was relieved to have found you, but her tone was urgent and her eyes held terror, "You were supposed to be back two minutes ago, Diane is going insane looking for you."

At the warning your friend gave you, your eyes doubled in size as you quickly tightened your pony tail––that no doubt had tiny strands flying about that didn't make it into the hair tie––and bid the baker a quick farewell, "It was nice talking to you, Shawn."