#ceo au

D a d d y ♡

treatbuckywkisses:

CEO!steve rogers × plus size girl —requested by @carrotfantasimp

Fanart for Perception, a sesskag story told by the amazing @moon-ion!

Read Perception on Ao3

ceo : part three 

a/n: I am so sorry this took me so long. time got away from me and then I was sick and then I was doing last minute plans with friends because it was our last week of summer. anyways, I hope this is good. 

warnings: 8.9k words of worried reader, teasing shawn, and lots of flowers

“I don’t believe you. He wouldn’t just disappear off the face of the Earth.” 

“He’s a busy man Loralie. What makes you think he wouldn’t do that? It’s been two weeks. I’d say you were very wrong about Mr. Mendes.” 

It was way too early for this. You were standing at your kitchen island gathering up your purse to head off for another shift at the bakery before your afternoon class, and Loralie was guarding the door. It had been two weeks since you’d seen Mr. Mendes. Shawn. As quick as his daily showings at the bakery started, they ended. It made you wonder if you were the sole reason why. Was it your conversation? Did you say something that didn’t sit well with him? 

You thought about it way more than you should have, and after he left that day, you kept telling yourself that it wasn’t you and that he had to go. However, when the next day came and seven o’clock passed, you knew that couldn’t have been true. You had been the problem. It was disappointing too. You had seen some sort of part of him; he clearly didn’t show a lot of people, and that was something you wanted to look further into. There was also the fact that he made you feel something you never had before with any other person. It was the kind of feeling where it was like the air had been knocked from you lungs and you were trying to remember how to breathe. That’s what it was like every time you saw him and you weren’t ready to give that up without figuring out what it all meant. 

After that first day, you thought maybe he just had a meeting that morning, he couldn’t miss but then the next day came and passed. Not seeing him walk through the door left you deflated and way more upset than you’d ever care to admit, but you had gotten used to it. Seeing him, making his order, getting a smug grin before he left. It made you feel stupid, too, as you had started to buy into all of Loralie’s bullshit. She was convinced that he was interested in you and maybe wanted you, and you felt stupid to believe that. There was no way he could want a college student who was drowning in her bills. It hurt a little because though it was terrifying, it was flattering when he asked you to sit and talk with him. 

Now, though, you were settled with the idea that he was a businessman, and he didn’t have time to go on silly bakery runs or to talk to you. It was harder for your roommate to accept than you. Loralie had invested in the two of you for weeks, and she just couldn’t believe that he would disappear without getting what he wanted from you. She thought all of this too without knowing about your last conversation with the man. You couldn’t tell her, knowing she would make it out to be more than it was, a disaster. You loved Loralie, you did, and you knew her intentions were nothing short of good, but sometimes she just cared too much about your love life and happiness. It had been two weeks, though, and all you wanted was for her to let it go. 

“Come on; I don’t think I was, though. Maybe he’s on a business trip,” she suggested, and you rolled your eyes, “Maybe it came up suddenly.” 

“Lo, can you just let it go, please. I have to get to work,” you sighed, practically begging at this point. 

Her shoulders slumped, and she nodded, “Okay, I’m sorry. Have a good day!” 

“Thanks!” you smiled, grabbing your purse from the counter and sliding it onto your shoulder, “I’ll see you later.” 

As you made your way to the front door, though, her voice called out to you again, and as you looked back over at her, you knew she was trying her hardest to hide what she was thinking. Raising an eyebrow in her direction, she sighed in defeat, “You know, I just want you to be happy, right? You haven’t been with someone in so long.” 

“I know, Lo, but come on, what makes you think a man like him would make me happy?” you admitted honestly, an ache felt in your chest at each word, “It wouldn’t have worked out even if he was interested.” 

“Agree to disagree.” 

You laughed and shook your head as she flicked a piece of black hair out of her face, “I’ll see you tonight.”

“Yeah, hot stuff, see you tonight!” 

Shaking your head again, that smile of hers was contagious, and you knew she had definitely made you late. You waved over your shoulder and practically threw the front door open, worried she was going to try to stop you again. Once, you were safely out of the apartment and in the hallway, a small weight lifted off your chest as finally, you wouldn’t have to talk about the CEO anymore. Finally, you wouldn’t have to hear Danny, Claire, and Loralie comment about him every few minutes to you. You wouldn’t have to feel them looking at you every time he walked in. And above all, you wouldn’t have to deal with that familiar feeling washing over you every time you saw him. Things could go back to normal.

You were late. Loralie had made you ten minutes late for your shift, and even when you walked through the door, Oscar hadn’t even batted an eye. He was busy writing the day’s specials on the board, fully concentrating with his tongue poking out of his mouth. Slipping past him, you entered into the kitchen to find both Danny and Claire there with their black aprons, working at the oven. You moved into the very back where the employees’ cubbies sat. 

Removing your coat and purse, you hung it up in the same one you used every single day. As soon as you reached for your black apron and name tag, you froze as the two other voices had stopped, and their attention had drifted to you. 

Glancing over, you found both Danny and Claire staring at you or, more specifically, at the dress you wore. That was another occurrence they had taken note of. Since Mr. Mendes started coming around, you had ditched the jeans and ratty shirts in favor of skirts or dresses which were shoved into the back of your closet. You swore there was no correlation and that you just preferred to look nice, but they never did believe you. Even after two weeks of the CEO being a no-show you still went for your nicer clothes. 

Claire shared a look with Danny before her green eyes shifted over to you. It was a look you knew all too well since you had known Claire since freshman year. You peered down at the light tan speckled dress with its v-neck and short ruffled sleeves. “I have a presentation today in class.” 

“Mhmm,” Claire hummed, tucking a piece of her honey-colored hair behind her ear. It made you fume slightly knowing that the small sound meant she didn’t believe you. 

Not everything you did had to do with the man they were convinced was into you. Couldn’t you have started to dress nicer for yourself because god forbid you wanted to be proud of your appearance? You narrowed your eyes over at the girl as she wore a black flowy skirt and a nice light orange shirt. She dressed up every day, and no one questioned her about it. 

“I do,” you huffed as you wrapped the apron around your front and tied the ends behind you. 

“Okay, girly,” Claire smirked as her fingers twiddled with the messy bun on top of her head, “Just wonder if a certain someone is going to come in today.”

“He’s not,” you snapped as you began to gather all of your hair into a high ponytail, “Okay, he’s not going to come in, and all of you can stop with the comments. Clearly, him coming here had nothing to do with me.” 

“Fine,” Danny agreed, nodding, “But we’ll keep an eye out for him anyway, and in the meantime, maybe you should make yourself a cup of coffee to cure that bitterness of yours this morning.” 

“Oh, thanks, Danny, glad you noticed.” 

“You’re welcome,” he chuckled as he pushed his brown straight locks out of his face, “But seriously we’ll keep the Mendes comments to a limit.” 

Claire nodded, “Yeah, we’re sorry. We realize now that it was kind of too much.” 

“You think,” you joked, “How about I make comments about you guys and some of our customers that walk in. I’m sure you’d love that. Any takers?”

They were silent at your joke, and you knew that you had gotten your point across, “That’s what I thought, but hey, I won’t hold it up against either of you. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I am going to get to work.” 

With one wink sent their way, you left the room with a massive grin on your face. It was familiar with the three of you or well four of you if you counted Loralie. You teased and made fun of each other way too much, always trying to piss the other people off. It never usually worked though, you all just laughed about it, but for some reason, this was something you weren’t taking lightly. Shawn had become a touchy subject and you didn’t know why, but one thing you did know was you didn’t like them continually bringing him up. Any other thing was fair game for joke making and absolute humiliation but this man, this man, you wished would’ve actually liked you or stuck around for a few more days was something you couldn’t hear about anymore. 

Oscar was still standing on that short ladder, finishing up the last word of the day’s specials. It was still only six-fifteen which meant the real rush or mass of people didn’t show up for another fifteen minutes. The bakery had been open since five-thirty courtesy of Oscar opening it every morning for the early birds or the five a.m. regulars. As of now, the bakery itself was empty as on occasion the type of people who like to sit down rather than have a to-go order start to show up around seven. 

The front display case was full of fresh batches that your two co-workers had no doubt been working on all morning and the music, today being Elvis Presley, was already flowing through the speakers. Sighing, you leaned against the front counter, hand tucked under your chin and eyes set on the front door. Oscar’s head tilted curiously over his shoulder as he popped the cap back on the chalk pen in his hand. 

“Loralie, make you late again this morning?” he asked, finally addressing your late appearance.

“Yeah, sorry, she just gets excited in the morning,” you mumbled out, picking at your fingernails. 

“Don’t I know it, with being a morning person like that, I still wish she would come to work here for me,” he chuckled.

“Yeah, but you and I both know she would distract the rest of us, and she gets a lot of tips-”

“-at Joey’s, I know,” Oscar said the words with you, having heard the excuse for months now, and it made you smile as you thought about your perky best friend. 

You went silent, though again, your mind seeming to drift as you twiddled your thumbs and refused to look up at your boss. He took notice as you suddenly seemed so far away and unbelievably quiet. Stepping down the ladder, he appeared at your side and looked over at you, brows slightly furrowed, “Hey, Y/N/N, you okay? You don’t seem much like yourself today?” 

“Hmm?” you spoke lazily, looking over at him as his words seemed to go in one ear and out the other. 

“I asked if you’re doing alright?”

You smiled, it was small and forced, and your teeth didn’t show which was all of an answer Oscar needed, “Yeah, I’m fine. Just tired you know with school and all.” 

“You okay to work?”

“I’m always okay to work,” you chuckled, standing up from your slumped over stance.

“A boss always loves to hear that. I have a few deliveries for you to run by the way and Claire and Danny insisted you take them,” Oscar patted your shoulder before he turned and gave you the order list. 

“Oh, did they now,” you grinned as you looked over the list in your hands that only read three names, but by the time you got to the last one, you froze hands practically shaking with the piece of paper in your hands. 

There it was, Shawn Mendes. Mendes Co. 982 Edgefield Drive, Toronto, CA R1AK3G. A small basket of blueberry muffins and a medium black coffee. 

You read it over at least three times and had to cover your mouth with your hand to hide the inaudible gasp slipping past your lips. Did this mean he wasn’t mad about your last conversation? Or was this order called in by his reception just asking for a few minutes alone in his office? You hoped more than anything, though the idea of seeing him left you scared shitless, that this was real and that he ordered it. It could have been merely him wanting the best muffins in the city, no doubt, but you were going to keep telling yourself that a small part had something to do with you. 

“Question,” you mumbled, drawing Oscar’s attention away from the cash register he was messing with, “When did we start delivering coffee?” 

“Today,” he replied, trying to hide his smile from peeking out over at you, knowing exactly who you were talking about upon that list, “There are some people I can’t say no to.” 

“And are these people multimillionaire CEOs who run recording labels?” 

He nodded, laughing, “Yeah, yes they are. He called a little bit ago, so you should get going. Won’t want to give him cold coffee.” 

“No, we can’t have that.” 

With that said, you shoved down the rest of your feelings and put a happy smile on your face though you didn’t want to go. You didn’t want to walk back into that sleek building with all of those expensive people and their judging eyes. You didn’t want to face Ms. Bloom again or even Mr. Mendes for that fact, but at the same time you kind of wanted to see him. You were so confused about so many things though you had only one conversation with the man. This could have been a quick in and out delivery. Drop the basket off at the reception desk, get the cash, and run. You could be overthinking the whole thing, or he might want to talk. You were doubting that, thinking above all, it would be the first outcome. Ms. Bloom and then you were out. 

As it was a colder day in the middle of the fall and there had been thunderstorms all day, you took your car and ditched the blue bike. It did take you an extra couple of minutes to park, but it was worth it as the coffee was still hot, and the muffin basket was dry. When you stepped out, the rain had softened to a sprinkle. You hesitated as you came up to the front door of Mendes Co. and the two doormen at the front, reminding you of weeks before. It was all deja vu and it created a new kind of anxiety you had never felt before.

The doorman didn’t even bat an eye as they noticed the basket and opened the doors for you. Surprisingly, and almost impossibly they seemed to recognize you as the first time you had come here there was more hesitation in letting you into the building. You nodded in their direction and as you stepped inside, the lobby looked just the same as it had before. 

There were fewer people now zooming through the hallways and towering over your smaller frame. Taking in slow shallow breaths, you passed the front desk to where you remembered the location of the elevators. The young woman behind the desk, just like the doorman, looked you over but seemed to recognize as well and even offered a small smile. You couldn’t get yourself to reciprocate the look as your nerves had made your face feel numb at this point. 

Slipping into the nearest elevator, you found it to be empty which soothed your thoughts from your last elevator ride. It didn’t feel as long either and it was the shortest ride up the twelfth floor you had ever had. When the doors opened, you locked eyes on the desk across the room. Ms. Bloom sat behind it, her hair pulled out of her face and in another set of clothes that were too tight for a casual workday. Her face was full of makeup and not a piece of hair was out of place from her tight top bun. 

It was opposite from the messy pony you had on the top of your head. Wavy pieces were falling out left and right in your face, and you didn’t even care to fix it. Ms. Bloom still had that sour expression on her face, except this time it was more prominent than before as she typed fiercely on the keys, a frown strewn across her face. 

You walked forward and the smell was just as intoxicating as the last time you had smelled it. The rosewood making your head spin all over again. As you got closer to the desk, Ms. Bloom lifted her head at the sound of your footsteps echoing across the tile floor. Her frown visibly deepened as her eyes set on you. 

You had felt stupid the whole way into the building and up to this floor but nothing felt worse than the death glare from her. No words were exchanged between the two of you as she motioned you towards the office at the end of the hall. You had to do a double-take from the ceiling-high wooden doors back to her. Her glare deepened and she motioned again. 

You choked back the saliva in the back of your throat, the gulp heard in your ears. Tightening your grip around the coffee in your hand, that warmed your palm, you shifted your gaze away from the receptionist towards the doors that held the man you had been thinking about for two weeks on the other side. So much for dropping the delivery off at the desk and sneaking back out. You approached the door and stared at it for a second before you lifted your hand and knocked softly. 

“Come in,” the voice was muffled and deep and even from a door away it left your knees wobbly. 

You gripped the silver rod and pulled, the door cracking open and you slipped in. As soon as the door fell shut behind you, you felt the whole world shift. His office was more massive than you expected with a white tiled floor and walls made of windows. Aside from his black wooden desk and swivel chair, there was a long grey couch and a few other chairs off to the side of the room. Your mind wandered slightly at what he had used that for but from the mere sight of what the women around this office wore, specifically his receptionist, you had a few ideas. The smell from the hall was even stronger in here and you were getting lightheaded just from that itself. 

As your eyes scanned and admired the office they stopped as you found him leaning up against the window near his desk. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows and a black-tie was tied tightly around the neck of his shirt. He had both of his hands shoved into the pockets of his dark slacks and the sight alone of his back was making you overthink this whole thing. He slowly turned, the tension in the air thickening as his brown orbs found you near the door, tracing the sight of your bare legs. 

His face emotionless as he said one word, “Sit.”

You looked around the space dizzily and though you had other deliveries to make, you obliged anyway. You sunk into the black cushioned chair positioned right in front of his desk and placed his coffee and the muffins onto his shiny clean desk. Silence encased the large room and you stared over at him, hands fiddling in your lap with the end of your dress. 

Clearing his throat, he crossed the room and leaned against the front of his desk rather than behind it in his luxurious chair. His arms held softly onto the edge of the top of the desk, showcasing a few tattoos. A Toronto skyline was pressed along his forearm in the shape of a guitar, and just down from that was a black swallow inked on the back of his hand. You traced every line trying to avoid the feeling of him staring at you silently. This was more nerve-wracking than sitting across from him in the bakery. For one there had been a table in between you and you were in the bakery and not his office with a closed door. 

Shyly you crossed one leg over the other and looked up at him through your eyelashes to meet his dark irises already staring heavily at you. He leaned forward slightly, a small smirk forming on his mouth. You chewed on your lip, the anticipation killing you on why he asked you to be here in his office. 

Then like he was reading your inner thoughts, he spoke, “I want to take you out. On a date.”

You froze, everything coming to a complete stop including your thoughts. Mouth dropping open, your brows shot up towards your forehead as everything in you screamed what the fuck? The sentence alone left your legs shaking and your mouth dry, barely able to get out a strained cry, “W-What?”

“I want to take you on a date.”

Your eyes widened and you stared up at him in a daze, slightly startled, and on the edge of your seat. Raising your arms, you shook your head unable to stop the words falling from your lips, “Wait, hold on. I’m sorry, not to be blunt here but you just don’t seem like the dating type.” 

“I’m not,” he replied just as quickly, raising a single brow in your direction.

You licked your lips suddenly not sure of this guy’s angle, “Then why would-”

“And you don’t seem like the type to just want to fuck,” he interrupted you, the curt words making you sit up straighter and tilt your head to the side innocently.

“I’m not. So why would you want to-”

He cut you off again rubbing his palms together, not once breaking eye contact, “Because there are exceptions.” 

“I don’t understand. Am I supposed to be your exception?” you asked, for once not folding completely under his gaze. 

“I don’t know, let me take you out and we’ll find out,” he came back with, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. 

You gasped and chuckled awkwardly, feeling the heat rush to your face. You couldn’t believe what he was saying. He was asking you out rather than asking for a fuck. You weren’t sure if he was simply playing you but in that moment, you didn’t care if he was. Completely lost for words, you stand, knees wobbly, and legs shaking. He pushes off his desk, hands finding your forearms softly, warmth forming on your skin under his palms. As he stood over you, his lips had been the sole thing you could focus on; his pillowy pink very close lips. 

And out of all the things you could say at that moment when the hottest guy you had ever seen stood over you, you said this, “You’ve been MIA for like two weeks.” 

His brows furrowed at the response and in his mind he took it merely as a rejection. He, the CEO’s way of dealing with such a reply was to ever so slowly shift forward. He pulled you closer into him and his breath fanned against your face, minty that went along with his cologne that was filling your senses and making you even dizzier than before. You took in a single breath just as his nose brushed yours softly and the only reason you were still standing at this point was because of his hold on you. 

You were on fire and on the urge of just running from the room altogether. Finally releasing the breath you were holding, you slid his hands from your arms and took a step away putting distance between the two of you, “It’s not a no. It just means that even though you might be the wealthiest man in Toronto, I’m a woman and I deserve to be treated like one. You’ll have to earn me, Mendes.” 

It seemed what you said had surprised him and left him speechless and with his eyes tracing your face slowly, you took another step back and another until you were right next to the door. You sent one more longing gaze at him over your shoulder before walking out. You headed straight for the elevator avoiding looking over at the receptionist’s desk as the expression on Shawn’s face was imprinted into your mind. 

As soon as you had gotten in the elevator, a room, and floor away, you could finally feel yourself be able to breathe again. You weren’t sure where the sudden confidence had come from or how you had managed to control that situation but you were glad you did. A part of you wanted to kiss him because who wouldn’t,  but if you had, it would have painted you like every other woman in his eyes. That was something you weren’t and he knew as you confirmed it yourself that you didn’t like one night stands. Even with that information he still wanted to take you out which was surprising in itself but now you still had your doubts. 

Large ones and they followed you around all day to your lectures, during your presentation that was nothing short of disastrous, and all the way home. It was the mere thought that because he would have to put in the effort to get you to agree to a date, he would drop the whole idea. He would move on to someone else that wouldn’t waste his time and just get on with the fucking or one nightstand. That was and never would be you and if that’s what he wanted out of this, sex than he was going to be disappointed. 

It worried you at the same time too. What if he didn’t move on to pursue someone else? What if he did do everything in his power to make you feel like the lady you always wanted, just to go on a date with you. In itself, it didn’t seem real. That Shawn Mendes had asked you on a date. He wasn’t the dating type, he said it himself, and as for that exception bullshit, that had to have been so far from the truth. A line, no doubt just to get what he wanted and you hadn’t fallen for it. 

The rest of the day, you just worried, unable to stop the thoughts from suffocating you. By the time you were on your way home, you just wanted to shower and slip into your bed. Your dress was wrinkled and you had chewed on the inside of your lip so severely that it was bleeding and slightly swollen. You were exhausted from the day, from your endless thinking, and from being anxious about everything that had happened. 

As you entered the hallway of your apartment, those familiar feelings of embarrassment resurfaced as you thought about how you had gotten called on during one of your lectures, and you had no answer. You stuttered and slipped over your words which got a few laughs from the other students in your class. You usually could answer no problem, but as fate would have it, you had been distracted as the sole distraction was Mr. Mendes. Another downside if he won you over, your grades might end up dipping or falling which had never happened with other boys before, but this was more than just a college boy situation. 

As you used your key and entered into your apartment, you heard more than one loud voice swirling from the living room. You heard three. The other two were just as familiar as the first. You groaned under your breath, practically throwing your purse onto the kitchen island. So much for showering and going to bed because your friends would never allow it. 

They peeked their heads from over the back of the couch, and you met your two co-workers’ eyes. Claire hugged one knee to her chest as the bun and boho headband from this morning were gone, her hair now falling across her back in soft waves. Her skirt was hiked up slightly and her bulky bracelets rattled as she sipped from the beer in her hand. Danny was beside her; his long legs stretched out across the coffee table as his shirt was untucked from his pants, and he hugged a yellow throw pillow to his chest.

Loralie, who was across from them, was wrapped up in her favorite blanket in the recliner, hair knotted and wet from her shower she took every single night before bed. She grinned over at you, one way too large for a weeknight and a few beers, which prompted you to eye the extra empty beer bottles lined across the table. 

“Y/N!” Claire cheered, raising her hands in the air as her head lulled back hitting the couch softly. 

“Hi,” you waved, heading for the fridge knowing that after your day and coming home like this, you needed a drink. 

“How was your presentation?” Loralie asked, sitting up straighter in her chair. 

You sighed loudly as you yanked open the fridge doors, “It was a disaster.” 

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she pouted, downing the rest of what was in her bottle. 

Gaining sight of the clear bottle you were looking for with the light blue liquid, you took it and leaned against the island, “It’s fine, I’m over it anyway.” 

You weren’t over it. You might not be over it for a while. Weeks. You had been working on that presentation for weeks, all for it to go to shit because of one man. You shook your head, fuming at the idea of you becoming so unfocused as another question was directed your way. “How did the deliveries go?” 

“Fine,” you cracked open the bottle and flicked the top onto the counter before you tipped the glass bottle back and took a large sip, the taste being something you hadn’t had in over a week and a half. 

“Just fine?” Claire questioned slowly. 

You spun on your heels mustering the fakest smile you could, “Yes, it was quick. In and out. I gave it to the receptionist and that was that.” 

The lie was smooth, and you hadn’t even stuttered. It was believable for maybe the first time ever and as Claire nodded, seeming to lose interest in her change of topic, you pushed off the island and moved towards the living room. As you went to settle in between Danny and Claire, though, your eyes caught something on the dining room table. You didn’t know how you hadn’t noticed it before but it had your interest now. 

“Who’s flowers?” 

It was a white arrangement of roses and tulips within a clear glass vase. There was a single white card folded with a blue ribbon tied around it. Changing your course of direction, you came up to the table, fingers tracing the tablecloth as you looked down at the card reading the name inked on the outside at the same moment Loralie spoke, “Yours. They got delivered an hour ago. The guy wouldn’t tell me who sent them.” 

Plucking the card from the bouquet, you pulled the ribbon off slowly and opened it instantly met with two words displayed in a fancy font. Challenge accepted. Two letters, SM, were displayed in the bottom right corner and you had to read over it twice to admit that this was real and this was happening.

“So, who’s it from?” Loralie pried, practically jumping from excitement in her chair. 

Closing the card, you set it down and placed your hand over the top of it. You turned and looked over at your three closest friends and smiled softly, “No one.” 

-

“Y/N, there are some flowers here for you.” 

“Really?” 

You stepped out from the back of the kitchen, shock laced over your face at the words from your boss. Sure enough, though, there were a large bouquet, bigger than the ones from last night. This time daisies sat on the counter. You slowly walked over to them and shared a glance with Oscar before picking the white card from the bouquet. He tried to lean over your shoulder, like a nosy father, as you opened the card. See you soon, beautiful.-SM. 

“You have a secret admirer now?” your boss chuckled lightly as you hid the card away from him by slipping it into the front pocket of your apron. 

You shrugged, grabbing the bouquet by the bottom of its vase, “Something like that.” 

“Do you know the guy?” 

“Hardly,” you replied as you steered your way towards the back kitchen, “I’m just going to put these back here.” 

But as if fate had decided just as you went to slip into the back, out of sight from the rest of the customers, the door opened and the bell rang signaling the return of the man himself. You froze as he stepped in, his eyes immediately finding you from behind his sunglasses. A tan suit adorned his body over a white button-up shirt and a grey tie. His expensive shoes once again clattering against the tiled floor. You peeked your head around the flowers that stood tall in your hands and visibly shivered at the sight of the smirk on his face. Mr. Mendes had gained the attention of the room but acted like he hadn’t even noticed. 

Nodding in your direction, he walked up to the counter, not bothering to remove his sunglasses from his eyes. He glanced over at you, licking his lips slightly as he spoke to Oscar, “Good Morning.” 

“Morning, Mr. Mendes. Glad to see you back! What were you thinking for today? Usual, or would you like to try something else?” Oscar asked, completely oblivious of the lingering stares from the customer in front of him. That man was a teddy bear with the biggest hard but sometimes he just didn’t pay attention to details. 

“Ah, I’ll have my usual but no muffin today,” he whipped out his card and handed it over all while sending you another look, so much that you narrowed your eyes back at him. 

You were used to being all shy and closed off around this intimidating man but in this moment you saw nothing but a cocky boy trying to get you to agree to go out with him. There were no rules now as his ego was higher than life and something that was ticking you off easily. 

You had always disliked boys who always thought highly of themselves over everyone else. If they wanted to impress you they didn’t need to act like a jerk to do it. Even this man, who seemed so much more mature and at higher standards was acting no different than any other college boy you dealt with daily. As soon as he got his card back and his wallet was slipped back into his pocket, he stepped to the side of the counter towards you while Oscar made up his coffee. 

Taking his sunglasses off, he smiled cheekily over at you, which sent your stomach into a jumping fit. His gaze trailed down to the bouquet you were holding tightly to your chest, “Those are some nice flowers. Who are they from?” 

“Oh, just some guy,” you played along, annoyed by the arrogance suddenly dripping from his lips. 

“Yeah? He must really like you,” he said, glancing over to Oscar who was grabbing a lid for the to-go cup. 

You shrugged, adjusting the bouquet in your hands again, “I don’t know, he is kind of a ladies man. I can’t be so sure that I’m the only one he’s sending flowers too.” 

His head snapped back in your direction, noticing the amused look you now wore. He took another step forward, lowering his voice enough so you were the only one who could hear, “Well, maybe you should give him a chance. Go out with him and see what kind of man he really is.” 

You bit into your lip, confidence slowly burning out right in front of him. It seemed no matter how hard you tried, the ball would always be in his court. He would still be in control, and now, though you could resist everything tempting about this man, you knew you would eventually give in. You would let yourself dangle over the edge of the line drawn in between the two of you. You would let yourself be engulfed by this man and that scared you enough because there was a feeling, deep in the pit of your stomach, that he was going to break you. Worst of all, you knew you would let him and thank him all at once for it. 

“Hmm, no. Not yet. It’s not that easy,” you whispered, before turning around and sliding into the back room not giving him a second to have a final word. 

You knew yourself, and you knew that you were attracted to Mr. Mendes. To Shawn. You had been hooked from one conversation, and he would have you… eventually. In whatever way he would want, but for now, for one more day he didn’t and you planned to annoy him as much as possible.

-

You honestly had thought by now that he would have given up. That Shawn Mendes would have moved on to some other girl he didn’t have to work so hard to get into his bed. Then again he liked a challenge and not accepting his date offer after getting two vases filled with flowers, classified you as challenge number one. He was committed and was making it his mission to win. 

First, starting with coming back into the bakery every morning at his usual time. Seven a.m. sharp. From there, you were being showered with gifts left and right. Flowers came in every morning at the same time he seemed to walk in, so that he could watch you as you opened each new card and read what was put inside. Mostly they were compliments or teasing comments edging you on to finally accept the date. He couldn’t get over the glare you would send to him every morning followed by a small soft smile. Then came the chocolates and the cookies and scented candles, all looking far too expensive. It was getting hard to lie to Loralie about who was the one actually sending you all this stuff. Your lie; it was Peter from Physics. 

The truth was, you had never been chased after like this and treated like the woman you felt. It was always a half-ass question asking to fuck. It wasn’t anything like this and though on one hand you felt guilty for Shawn spending so much money on you, it also made you feel wanted in a way you weren’t used to. You were on the bend of jumping and letting him catch you. Almost about to fold and let him take the prize willingly even as your doubts and worries cloud the back of your mind. It finally had became the last straw though as you had been sat in your Economics class, writing out notes as your professor spoke when there was a knock to the lecture hall door. 

On the other side was a delivery man for a shop you had never heard of. He was dressed in a suit of his own and holding a pot with white tulips which Mr. Mendes had figured out were your favorite. You froze in your seat as all eyes in the room were on your professor as they spoke with hushed tones to the delivery man. As he glanced over his shoulder to you though, you felt your heart stop dead in your chest. This couldn’t be happening. You were panicking, your pen dropping to the ground as your professor took the bouquet and said goodbye to the man. As soon as the door closed, whispers enveloped around the room, questioning who such expensive flowers could be for. Mouth slightly parted, you had tried to control your breathing as he walked forward, focused on you. 

You were shaking your head as everyone seemed to catch on. Handing the bouquet to you, he raised a single eyebrow, clearly not happy about the interruption in his class, “These seem to be for you Ms. Y/L/N. You’ve got quite the admirer.” 

“Ha, yeah,” you mumbled out awkwardly as you could hear the whispers and comments closing in around you, embarrassment the only thing you could feel. 

Cheeks burning red, your professor sent a glare over the class silencing them all together before he got back to lecturing. The rest of the class was history. You cowered in your chair unable to look up in case anyone was still staring at you. You were sure you had died right there and were planning to give that CEO a piece of your mind. 

That night, you had ranted for hours to Loralie about how humiliated you felt because even after the class was over, it followed you across campus. The comments and the stares. Some girls also came up to asking who had put his heart on the line to send you flowers. You just half-shrugged and told them you didn’t know. Secret admirer, your excuse. They thought it was romantic, but you found it all straight up irritating. It was nice at first, but now you were over it. 

The next day, that morning you had off and with only having one afternoon class, you got to sleep in trying to forget how you felt the day before. It was eleven when Loralie ripped you from your bed. First, she pulled the blankets off and then you. A thud had rippled through the room when you had hit the hardwood floor and then you laid there for another ten minutes before finally getting up. 

You had gone to your class, daydreaming through the whole thing before you reported to the bakery where you had the closing shift. Which happened to be your favorite, since it was usually close to empty and all you had to do was clean up. As both Claire and Danny had heard about the flower debacle the day before, they left you alone for most of the day, their teasing and jokes nowhere to be found. It helped that Loralie had threatened them slightly to leave you alone. 

Exhausted, on the verge of crashing, you moped the floor silently to the sound of Louis Armstrong singing through the speakers. The door was locked, the open sign flipped toclosed, and you were thankful for the day being almost over, so you could crawl into your bed and sleep the rest of the night away. Hair messily thrown in a bun, your blue and green flannel kept you warm from the cool air conditioning. You were yawning and completely drained, still having to lock up and wash off the counters. 

It was dark, the street mostly pitch black as other businesses were closing or closed. Most people were home at this point snuggled in their own beds ready for the next day. There was a single street lamp on the corner of the road that was so dim it was close to burning out. Even with the small amount of white light, you hadn’t noticed the figure walking up to the glass door. You jumped as a knock echoed from the door. Your head whipped up, eyes wide, slightly unsettled but you relaxed as soon as you laid eyes on the CEO. Your fear disappeared and was instead replaced by annoyance as he was in his typical attire, even this late into the night. 

Sighing, you placed the mop to the side of the bucket full of soapy water and approached the front door. You stared at him from the other side of the glass which prompted him to send you the cutest smile you had ever seen. Shaking your head at him, you unlocked the door and opened it enough where you could stick your head out. 

“Can’t you read?” you chuckled, “We’re closed.” 

“Yeah, you and all the other coffee shops in this city. Look, please, I am working late and I will not make it through the night unless I have coffee. I have a deadline,” he explained, almost begging which was a sight you hadn’t seen before. 

This was not the typical man you saw. He was always confident, demanding, and constantly trying to make you blush or uncomfortable in the best way. This was not the same man you had seen in his office, basically telling you to go out with him rather than asking. This was not the man who every day was there to see you get the flowers he bought for you and made snide comments. No, this man was in many ways the same person you had seen the first time you had talked to him. It was in this building in that front booth. That vulnerability was there, something you wished was always there around you, but you knew if you let him in, it would disappear just as quickly as it had appeared.

You leaned against the door frame and quirked a single eyebrow up in his direction, “And you don’t have coffee in your building?” 

“None that’s as good as what I get here.” 

“So you’re this big CEO with loads of money and you can’t afford to buy good coffee?” you asked, bluntly and unapologetically. Your filter didn’t exist when you were this tired. 

He exhaled loudly as he was clearly in a hurry, and you were stepping on his toes, “Yes, now Y/N, please.” 

You stared at him for a second longer contemplating it all as you tapped your finger on the side of the door frame. What would it mean if you did let him in? Was this serious or was he just here to sweet talk you? Whatever his reasoning was, you knew it didn’t matter what his excuse was as soon as you had seen him standing on the other side of that door. You would never openly admit this but you were going to let him in no matter what he would said. 

You didn’t mutter a single thing as you opened the door letting him in, and as his shoulders seemed to relax and he stepped in, you closed the door behind him and locked it again just for the sake of being in the city. 

“What would you like?” you asked, stepping around the counter, knowing you would have to rewash everything but would do it willingly for him. 

He leaned against the other side of the counter, his hands placed close to yours as he stared up at the menu, “Uh, a cold brew.” 

“And how many shots of espresso do you want in that?”

“Let’s do two,” he stated confidently, needing an extra boost desperately to work for a few more hours. He pulled his card out like he did every morning when he came in but you didn’t take it. 

You just stared at it and before you knew what you were doing, you were pushing his hand back, “No, this one’s on me.” 

His eyes widened at your words and immediately began to shake his head back and forth, opposed to such an idea, “You don’t have to do that. Just take the card.”

Instead, you just innocently batted your eyelashes up at him, “Shawn.” 

“Y/N,” he growled, his tone nothing short of scolding, 

“Just say thank you and let me do this,” you insisted, chewing on your bottom lip, dropping all of your usual eye rolls and attitude you dished to him whenever you saw him now. 

Sighing loudly, he grumbled underneath his breath as he slipped his wallet back into his coat pocket, “Thank you.” 

“You’re welcome,” you beamed before turning around your heels and getting to work on his cold brew. 

As you did so, you became completely silent and focused on making it the best cold brew yet. You were so focused that not only was your tongue sticking out, but you hadn’t noticed the lingering stares coming from Shawn or that he had moved around to the back of the counter. He curiously watched your movements as you had done this so many times, you didn’t even have to question yourself. While the cup was placed under the machine, the coffee being poured, you turned, a small gasp tumbling out of your mouth as you found Shawn behind you rather than on the other side of the counter. 

That smirk of his returned and suddenly he was way too close. You could almost feel the heat radiating from his body, and it was making you flush from head to toe. He made it so hard to try and resist him. A man couldn’t look that good and be looking at you the way he was. He didn’t say anything either. He just stared down at you, threatening to move even closer. 

Tilting your head to the side, you leaned against the counter for support as you looked right back at him. La vie en rose by Louis Armstrong was the only thing heard in the whole room and you swore though you didn’t know Shawn, and he didn’t know you; it felt like he did. His brown eyes seemed lost on your face unable to look away for any reason. You weren’t sure exactly why, but all you knew was the moment was getting far too romantic with a guy you didn’t know. 

Luckily the coffee machine beeped, signalling that the cold brew was done. You swiftly turned around, tearing your gaze from his altogether. He cleared his throat, again watching as you took the cup and located a cover. “Go out with me.” 

You stared down at the to-go cup of coffee as you slowly pushed the lid on, “Why should I?” 

“Because I want you to,” he admitted, which didn’t seem enough of a reason at all. He sighed, “You should go out with me because I want to sit across a table from you and just listen to you talk. I want to hear everything you have to say and ultimately, I want to give you a night that you won’t forget because that’s what you deserve and not anything less.” 

You couldn’t speak as he explained further why he was asking you out aside from that he he wanted you too. It was something you never expected. It sounded genuine and real but it didn’t ease your worries the slightest that he only wanted one thing from you… sex. After all, that’s all a man like him wanted, so why now all of a sudden did he appear to want more? Was this his tactic? Woo a woman into having dinner with him and then charm her into his bed. Did he do this for all of his conquests? Because there was no way, he just met you and felt like you were anything different or more than a piece of ass. You had your mind made up. He wasn’t the man for you and that probably would never change. 

“You think I give that many flowers to every girl I meet? I mean-” 

Though you had made a decision it didn’t stop the complete opposite from coming from your mouth, “Okay.” 

His rambling stopped quickly as you mumbled out the single word, it shocking not only him but yourself. His eyes widened slowly and a smile began to form on his beautiful face, one that eased your worries of this being a bad decision. “Okay?” 

“Yeah, okay. I’ll go on a date with you,” you agreed, sliding his coffee across the counter top to him, “Anything to keep any more flowers from being delivered to my classes.” 

“You thought they were too much?” he asked, cheekily. 

“You didn’t?”

He shook his head proudly, “Are you kidding? It was perfect.” 

“Huh, my professor definitely didn’t think so,” you mumbled, giving him a pointed look, which only made his smile stretch wider on his face. 

Raising his hands in the air, he laughed, “Okay, alright. I won’t send any more flowers while you’re at school. Noted. So, since you said yes, can I have your phone number then, so I can text you about this date?” 

For some reason, the words brought a smile upon your face and though you tried, you couldn’t hide it. Instead of responding though, you slowly reached forward and grabbing the top of the coffee cup; you turned it around. There on that cup were digits written out in sharpie letting him know that even before he asked again tonight, you had already accepted his offer, and it was enough to let him know you were just as interested as he was.

He was a person with many different sides and you saw a new one every day. Standing here in front of him, you knew that you wouldn’t be able to walk away anymore. It was toolate. You wanted more. You wanted to delve deeper into the complexity of this man and more than anything, you wanted to see every single part of him. Even the worst parts because at the end of the day, you wanted to know him and all of who he was. 

“This coffee literally is going to save my life.”

You laughed, “Yeah, I’m sure.” 

“No, really, you’ve made my night, and I can’t wait to take you out.”

taglist:@particular-shawn@shawn-youth@alluringshawn@sillyheartsworld@mendesficsxbombay@tobepartofaflowerfield@friendlyneighborhood-holland@rbforsmileycal@littlebabymendes@wwyitm-mendes@organicpurplepants@badreputationlove@imagine-my-life@bookwormshawn@fanstories@mendesficsxbombay@bucky-ish@sinplisticshawn​@jollybonkpatroldonkey​@feliciaceciliamariajacobsson​@itrocksmysocks​@babydagger28​@shawnsteddy​@btsbabby​@wildflower-cth​@qcoachcartier​@enchantingbrowneyedgirl​@ashwarren32​@poseshawn@someinsanefangirl@imsuperawkward​@littlebabymendes​@thotmendes

Attrapé

means “caught” in french

warnings: smut, cheating

summary: rory walks in on harry and y/n.

-

Rory had been in California all week and Harry took advantage of the time. He invited Y/N to stay with him which meant having sex every second of the day, her in his clothes and him cooking for her.

He loved it.

Harry would do anything to be with her, be shown in public with her.

“Y/N please.”

They had just woken up from a nap and they both were naked from last night’s events. Harry had gotten hard after glancing at Y/N’s body.

And right now she was torturing him.

“Your so fucking needy.” She sneers looking up at a quivering Harry. He tries to thrust himself in her hand but she gives him a hard slap on his thigh. He let out a big hiss when the force hit his skin. Soon it turned into pleasure.

“Darling.” Harry whimpers as Y/N moves her thumb to rub his slit that was filled of precum.

He loved being a sub and Y/N being his dom. You may think he would take control in bed but it was definitely the other way. He worshipped her being in control. It was fucking sexy.

“Do you to fuck me Harry?” Her sultry voice makes him shiver.

“Fuck yes.” He cries out making her climb on top of him. Y/N lines herself with his erection but doesn’t take him in just yet. She leans to kiss his cheek before fully inserting his cock into her.

He lets out breathy moan as she starts to roll her hips. Y/N lays her hands on his chest watching him crumble beneath her. A few minutes in he notices she starts to get tired and he doesn’t want that so he flips them over before starting to thrust into her relentlessly.

Sure he loved being a sub but he needed to treat Y/N good.

“F-fuck!” She cried out as Harry pounded into her tight pussy. He moves to press his lips against her making her wrap her legs around his waist.

A loud car door slam did not make Y/N or Harry stop, nothing would’ve made them stop in that moment. They were in their own little world.

Neither a door opening and closing interrupted them.

“What the hell.” Rory whispers taking off her sunglasses to look at the messy living room leaving her luggage by the door. Blankets were thrown everywhere, pillows scattered all over the floor and the coffee table was very crooked not in it’s usual place.

“Typical fucking Harry.” She scoffs rolling her eyes before moving to the large kitchen. Luckily it wasn’t as messy as the living room but there was a lot of dishes.

Rory didn’t bother to go upstairs knowing that Harry was probably at work because it was a 8 AM on a Friday morning.

So she thought.

It wasn’t until a large bang came from upstairs. Rory furrowed her brows as it started to get repeated over and over.

“Harry?”

No response.

“Harry? Is that you.”

No response but more banging.

Rory let’s out a huff walking up the stairs thinking that the sound was a maid but as soon as she heard pornographic sounds coming from Harry’s room she knew it wasn’t a maid.

As soon as she opened the door the sound of skin slapping was more louder and the scene was petrifying. Y/N the girl who she despised was holding her husband’s jaw kissing him as he fucks her. Hard.

“What the fuck!” A loud screech makes the both of them separate from the kiss.

Y/N looks up to see a fuming Rory making her slap Harry off of her and wrap a sheet around her naked body.

“Rory I want a divorce.” Harry says nonchalantly standing up from the bed wrapping a blanket around his waist.

“W-what?” Rory whispers looking at him rummage through his underwear drawer.

“I had millions disappearing and it was all tracked down to you.” He speaks making her face drop. He knew it was all an act. “You shouldn’t write a check after getting your nails done.” He shakes his head laughing.

Y/N thought it was very funny that Rory had billionaire parents that gave her everything but she still wanted money.

“I didn’t steal money from you. M-maybe it was this fucking whore—“

Harry snapped his head toward her as he glares at her with so much hatred. She falters cutting herself off as she’s never seen him look at her like that before. He begins slowly walking towards her as Y/N sits on the bed watching the scene unfold in front of her.

She knew this was going to happen one day and when it did she didn’t know what to do. Everyone would’ve though it was her fault but it really wasn’t. Harry deserved happiness and someone that really loved him. Rory never treated him well. She had always pushed him aside for party’s and night out’s with her friends that she was probably cheating on him with.

But when Y/N came into his life everything suddenly became better. He loved her.

“I’m giving your clothes to charity. Everything you fucking own that is in my house is going to charity so leave! You have nothing. Get the fuck out!” Harry yells at her making the vein in his neck pop out. Rory glances at Y/N before rushing out of the room.

It was very silent until a door was slammed making Harry quickly walk to the bed.

“You alright darling?” He quietly asks holding Y/N’s jaw with his hands.

“Yeah. That was very…intense.” She whispers looking into his eyes. He nods understandingly before leaning in to kiss her forehead.

“I’m sorry you had to see that.”

“It’s fine Harry. Are you okay?” Y/N asks grabbing onto his wrists.

“As long as I’m with you.”

Trompé

means “deceived” in french

warnings: cheating & little bit of smut

summary: y/n is harry’s mistress (for now)

-

Y/N was prominent in Harry’s life.

Even though he was married he would drop everything for her including his wife. She cared more about his public imagine though because he could loose everything if a cheating scandal came out.

When Harry hired Y/N as his assistant he was very thrown off. They would exchange glances and always make excuses to see each other.

Harry’s wife Rory was a horrible person. He didn’t even know why he accepted to marry her. She was a spoiled brat that sucked him dry and got everything she wanted. He hated that she gotten everything handed to her.

He had to work for his position.

Being a CEO to one of the most expensive real estate firms in the world made him well known. Paparazzi would always find a way to catch him leaving his house or a restaurant.

Though all that stopped once he found out Rory was calling them. She purposely put both of them in danger for pictures.

“Harry. We are going to get caught.” Y/N says trying to push Harry’s shoulder back with her heel. He doesn’t move an inch just smirks into her thigh.

“I don’t care.” Harry grunts looking up at the trembling girl from his crouching position. Y/N was the only girl that could get him on his knees. Not even his wife. He trails his fingers up to her silk panties making her breath hitch. “I know you need me pet.”

She throws her head back as Harry slides off her underwear. He tucks the fabric in his trouser pockets blindly before digging his head into Y/N’s pussy.

“Fuck!”

Y/N starts to moan at his tongue lapping at her clit. She rolls her hips against his mouth as she grabs his hair for more friction. She whimpers as he places two fingers in her not giving her anytime to stretch.

“You taste so fucking good.” Harry grunts into her cunt fingering her tight hole.

Y/N’s pleasure suddenly diminishes when she hears a snotty voice in the lobby. She uses all strength to push Harry back with the heel of her foot.

“What—“

“Your wife’s here.” Y/N hushes him before hopping off his desk just in time to see Rory sauntering in busy on her phone.

Y/N pretends to be going through papers making Harry roll his eyes. He wanted to be caught with her.

“Harry baby I—“ Rory looks up from her phone screen to see Y/N also in the office. She didn’t know what was going on behind her back which was slightly comedic to Harry. “Oh your here.”

“Yes she’s here Rory. What do you want I’m working.” Harry speaks up moving to sit down on his chair. He lets out a huff when he hears her whine.

Y/N decides to leave the both of them because it was very awkward to watch, and well she had to clean herself up. Harry watches her with a frown as she walks out of the room. Rory begins to speak again making him tune her out.

He will just give her a couple hundred dollars to shut up.