#buttercream boy

[blueroyalgirl]

happy birthday eve to my favourite storyteller, henry💙

yapping under the stars about how much he longs for the kind of love that could save you from everything… even yourself.❤️‍🩹

[kpop-bbg]

[kitsun369]

[messybrokenlover]

Memory lane hurts, it's been so long since I've gone for a stroll like this. My body feels so heavy, my eyes are stained red, my eyelids half shut. Tears dredge down my cheeks I want to escape back to that time. What I would kill to read "hiya babe if you're reading this" one more time. What I would give to just read "Herro" and feel my heart flutter. I wish I could fall asleep to one more "Good morning" at midnight. What I would give to see the green notification light up, or fall asleep on another messy call. I miss the emotional messes I used to call home.

[bi-writes]

thinking about mob baking simon a cake for his birthday (without his prior knowledge) mm good soup

mail-order bride

"you think he likes chocolate, baby?" you ask the cats. they sit side-by-side at the breakfast counter, being good girls as they sit on their chairs and watch you mix batter. "he totally likes chocolate. big boys like daddy love chocolate, don't they, girls?"

you grease two circular pans, pouring the chocolate cake batter into them. you set them in the oven before getting to work on your chocolate buttercream. you're using the new mixer simon bought you--it's beautiful, stainless steel, heavy. when you saw in the store a few weeks ago, you gushed at it, telling simon you saw someone make cinnamon rolls, bread, cakes, all in this mixer, but when your eyes skimmed over the price, you said nothing more, just smiled up at simon and let him lead you over to where the cast iron pans were (you wanted a real one).

a few weeks later, you noticed it on the kitchen counter. sparkling silver, right there, with the whisk attachment on it just waiting for you. and in the cupboard, ingredients--bread flour, powdered sugar, cornmeal, corn starch, dutch process, baking chocolate, whole wheat flour--all for you to play with. and when you baked him the most decadent triple chocolate coffee cake he had ever had, he bent you over the same table his empty plate sat and ate your cunt out with your apron still on. when you kissed him afterwards, he still tasted like chocolate.

you turn off the mixer, reaching in with a spoon to lick the buttercream off of it. you hum with delight, setting it aside, and when the oven timer dings, you pull the cakes out to let them cool.

you wrap simon's present as everything settles. special order, a favor you called into johnny. it's in a nice wooden box, and you tie a big red bow on it, and when you go back into the kitchen, you level and stack the two pieces of cake between buttercream and use a spoon to make a fancy decoration over the top of it.

the front door sounds as you're putting the finishing touches on the cake. you can hear him coming closer, and you gasp.

"no, no, no, don't come in the kitchen yet!"

"wot?"

"just--wait a little bit in the living room, okay?"

"for wot?"

"simon--" you groan. "please? for me?"

you don't hear anything after that except for the tv turning on. when you finish putting the last candles on the cake, you light them, picking up the plate and coming into the living room.

simon looks surprised. he was concentrating hard on the tv, watching the game, but his face relaxes when he sees you holding the cake. the cats perk up from where they're laid down beside him, and their ears flit as you start to sing happy birthday.

his whole face twitches. he stiffens, his palms flat on his thighs as he grips them tight. you set down the cake on the coffee table in front of him, candles glowing as you take a seat next to him. he's still staring at the cake as you finish the song.

"happy birthday, dear simon...happy birthday to you."

you smile at him, wrapping a hand around his bicep, squeezing it gently. you kiss his shoulder before motioning to the cake.

"you can blow them out now, simon," you say softly. "make a wish."

he doesn't move. he stares straight ahead, his eyes fixated on the flickering candles. you reach down and take his hand in yours, intertwining your fingers and hugging his arm. you sit with him quietly, looking at the cake with him, and after a minute or so, you turn back at him.

"simon?" you whisper.

he's crying. you put a hand on the back of his head, scratching his short hair, and you cup his face gently as you wipe his tears. he's silent. the tears come, but he still doesn't move, still won't meet your eyes. you smile, going over to pick up the cake, and you hold it in front of him.

"here...make a wish, simon," you say softly. he picks up his sleeve and wipes his face, leaning over to blow out the candles. you put down the cake, standing up to go get his gift sitting on the kitchen table. when you sit down next to him again, he's still staring at the cake, still trying to pretend his face isn't wet with tears, but he stops wiping them when you place the box in his lap.

he unravels the bow. when he opens the case, he lets out a little chuckle, smoothing his hand over the foam inside.

there are an array of throwing knives laid before him. perfectly crafted, in different shapes and sizes, and when he picks one up and twirls it around between his fingers, the weight of them and the ease at which they move tells him you only picked out the finest quality. they're beautiful, and it's a thoughtful gift, and when he closes the lid on the box, he still can't meet your eyes.

"i'll cut us some cake," you say softly. you busy yourself getting plates and a cake knife from the kitchen, cutting generous slices before handing him one of the plates. he picks up the fork, and when you notice his hand shakes, you take the plate back from him gently and scoop a bite onto the fork for him. you don't say anything, just hold it up to his mouth, and once he takes a bite, you set the plate down and watch as he chews.

when he swallows, you sit again in silence. you reach over and take simon's hands in your own, squeezing them gently before bringing them up to your mouth to kiss softly. when he finally looks at you, all you do is smile.

he hadn't even remembered it was birthday. he never told you when it was, but he supposes you must have been curious enough to look for yourself. he can't remember the last time someone made him cake. he can't remember when he last received a gift, especially one like this. he doesn't know when he last thought himself happy enough to celebrate anything at all, but there is no other way he would've wanted today to go.

joy. you bring uninhibited, unfiltered, all-consuming joy. the way you're smiling at him--he can already see you in the kitchen in that apron, baking this cake, talking to no one but the cats as you carefully decorate it. the way you're looking at him--he knows you dreamed about this all week, scheduling the day so you could have the cake done as soon as he got home.

and chocolate. his favorite. decadent, sweet chocolate--it's still under his tongue, and he wants another bite already, he cannot wait to devour the slice that waits for him on the table.

"happy birthday, simon," you whisper, and when you lean in to hug him, he cradles the back of your head, tangling a hand into your hair as he presses you to his chest. "i love you."

fuck. fuck, fuck, fuck--

"love you, too, baby."

"what did you wish for?" you mumble into his shoulder. simon snorts a little, shaking his head.

"if i tell ya, it won't come true."

"oh, yeah," you giggle. "keep your secrets then."

he doesn't want more; the only thing he wishes for is more time. more time with you. as much as he can get. to live long enough that he gets to see your face for as long as possible.

that whatever he sees for the last time will be you and you only.

[frudoo]

It’s always baker!reader or butcher!Simon—which is always delicious, mind you—but I’m not sure I’ve ever seen baker!Simon (correct me if I’m wrong). Fem!Reader.

Baker!Simon who decided to take his therapist’s advice to find a relaxing hobby and taught himself to bake and decorate after retiring from the military.

Baker!Simon who runs a home bakery so he can do what he loves where he loves. Where else could he blast his favorite playlists while creating tasty treats (he’s convinced that listening to Tool truly helps make the goodies taste better)?

Baker!Simon who specializes in intricate desserts—flawless layered cakes lathered in rich buttercream, perfectly piped patterns across the surface. Soft, chewy sugar cookies with royal icing that has a satisfying snap to those who can actually bear to bite into them and ruin his beautiful designs. Smooth, vibrant macarons with a gorgeous rise and creamy ganache filling.

Baker!Simon who gets his traction on Facebook. He sells his goods on Marketplace and is a member of nearly every baking group on the site—and is quite popular amongst the older ladies in the same groups.

Baker!Simon who, as amazing as his baked goods look and taste, cannot take a flattering picture of them to save his life. Because of this, he doesn’t get as much business as he’d like. Apparently, Marketplace shoppers are picky about camera quality, as if that has anything to do with talent or flavor. Even the baking groups he’s in have given him warnings in the past to take clearer photos—the admins backed off as soon as the old ladies found out they were picking on their best boy.

Food Photographer!Reader who stumbles upon one of his groups one day, seeing the potential in his treats and knowing she could help him out with his promotion photos.

Baker!Simon who cocks an eyebrow at the ping his phone alerts him of, opening Messenger to see a pretty thing with a camera in his DMs:

Sorry to bother you, but I’ve gone through your profile and I think your work is absolutely gorgeous. If you’re interested, I’m a trained photographer and I’d like to help you out with your pictures? No charge, don’t worry. Consider it a favor between two small businesses! :)

Part 2 <3

[sweetreasures]

dessert before dinner

non-idol!yunho x gn reader

smut, birthday sex, mostly just foreplay involving food, slight sensory deprevation, dom yunho, semi-humorous sexual atmosphere, masturbation, biting (no blood), deep throating

[minors dni, ageless blogs will be blocked]

happy birthday, yuyu ❤️

masterlist

when yunho mentioned craving a slice of cake for his birthday, you’d be lying if you said you didn’t anticipate the evening ending up this way:

you, donning nothing but your favorite pair of pink sheer lace panties, blindfolded and laid out on the kitchen table.

“remind me again why i do these things?” you inquire, lifting at the sides of your blindfold to take another peek at him. yunho’s back was turned as he fiddled around with some utensils in a drawer.

yunho giggles, “because you love me! now where is that…funky looking…the one you use to spread frosting.”

“a spatula?”

“sure!”

you groan, lifting up the blindfold completely before sitting up on your elbows to face your boyfriend. “please don’t use my work shit for sex.”

“i’ll buy you a new one, i promise.”

a brief pause. “in the rack nearest the fridge.”

you could practically see his tail wag as he skipped over to the fridge, collecting both the spatula and a brand new container of buttercream vanilla frosting off the counter.

of course, you had spent the entire morning slaving over an actual cake for yunho’s birthday—decorated in beautiful spring colors to celebrate both the arrival of the season and your lover into the world. but when you arrived home from work, yunho immediately sprung up from the couch to greet you with his own ideas.

“down, boy! heel!” you exclaimed, playfully swatting at the man who had taken you into arms and attacked your neck with little kisses. “how about after dessert? i’m peckish.”

wordlessly, he broke away, a faint trail of saliva following his reddened lips as he stepped back to look you in the eye.

neither of you considered yourselves particularly vanilla as a couple—sure, the two of you weren’t fucking in the dressing room, but that doesn’t mean the conversation never came up. which is why you weren’t exactly surprised to hear when he vocalized his request to test out something he had been wanting to try: food.

“you look so fucking amazing right now.” yunho mumbles, setting his supplies down on the table. he gets excited just thinking about your body. the pliant tissue of your thighs dip into the imprints of where his fingers grip onto you. yunho takes a deep breath, scared that he might release in his pants before the frosting lid even comes off.

an occasional draft of cool air blows into the kitchen and softly grazes at your erect nipples. you shiver under the darkness of the blindfold, relying on little more than the sounds of his actions and the sensation of his touch to predict his next move. you feel vulnerable. and so aroused.

he removes his hands and a soft whine involuntarily escapes from your throat.

pop

click

yunho pries the lid off and lets it fall to the table. he lifts the covering from the frosting, the sickeningly sweet aroma of vanilla and sugar quickly filling the dining room. he takes two fingers and scoops out a hearty serving, slowly lowering his frosted-covered fingers to your left breast before trailing down to your stomach.

you groan at the stimulation against your sensitive nipple. the fats in the frosting provide a surprisingly effective barrier from the cold air and your pussy clenches at the temperature change.

yunho leans over the table, holding onto your waist for stability as he positions himself right over your breast—taking a second to admire both his gorgeous partner and his work. he isn’t the most patient person when it comes to his libido, wanting nothing more in this very moment than to rip your panties off and bury his face inside your heat. but he notices how frustrated you get as he hovers over you, the wet spot on your panties growing darker against the blushed hues. if the suspense was getting to him, it was surely destroying you. he enjoyed witnessing the conflict within your body as you struggled not to squirm.

he starts around the areola, tonguing a circular pattern around your nipple as he lapped up the delectable frosting, stopping frequently to suck down until the skin turned a slight red. you yelp, both hands flying up to grasp at his hair. yunho chuckled before carefully detangling your fingers from his locks, intertwining them with his own instead.

“hey. doing okay?”

you exhale shakily, “yes. i don’t know. please just fuck me, yunho.”

normally, yunho would praise you for being so open and vocal about what you wanted him to do to you. but it seems your exasperation was also a part of his little birthday show.

he continues on starting from the belly button. yunho’s tongue steadily licked up your torso, taking a moment to appreciate the unique landscape of rolls and patches of fine hair. he detours to kiss at some stretch marks, hoping to send the message that there was nobody more special in the world on this very night than you. he smiles against your skin as you whimpered in response.

“yunho-”

“you know what would make this taste even better, my love?” yunho slips a finger underneath the narrow strip of fabric covering your entrance. you were soaked, your juices dripped off of your thighs leaving a slick sheen on the surface beneath you. he presses it inside to the first knuckle, teasing at your hole and taking pleasure in the way it drove you crazy.

“please, please, please…” you repeat softly, a mantra of desperation aimed at nobody in particular. you aren’t sure what you want him to do—finger you, pound you, eat you. he pulls his finger to the right, opening up your hole wide enough to stick another finger inside. he begins to move, pumping his hand at a painstakingly slow pace. you were desperate for friction, but he wasn’t quite ready to give it to you, needing to prepare you for the next step.

you feel as he removes his fingers from your pussy, bringing them up to his mouth before eagerly shoving them past his lips. he always said you were the sweetest person in the world, and he meant it. he licks between his fingers in an attempt to collect every last drop.

yunho picks up the spatula from the table and places the flat side against your folds. he plays with the milky secretion, smearing it around the blade as he presses against your engorged clit. then, he places the spatula in the jar, stirring your slick into a silky mixture tailor made for yunho’s palette. once more he scoops some frosting onto his fingers and spreads it on your inner thighs. much rougher this time.

yunho pulls you down the table until your ass rest on the edge. you listen as the legs of a chair scrape against the faux wooden floor, stopping right in front of you. yunho takes a seat and leans forward to guide his tongue over the haphazard spread of frosting. he’s getting hornier and messier. yunho’s cock had been fighting against his zipper from the moment you agreed to become his pre-dinner treat. he contemplates removing his own clothes to ease the tension, but he also knows the one thing stopping him from jumping onto the table and stuffing you full of his cock is the durable denim of his jeans.

the frosting mixed with the sweat dripping from your thighs leaves a salty aftertaste as yunho continues to enjoy his “meal”. he bites down on your flesh, running his tongue over the teeth marks to soothe any irritation.

“so good to me. ‘m so hot right now, yunho. yunho.” somehow you make your way back into his hair, pushing down slightly as he ravishes your other thigh, stopping just short of your quivering folds. he eyes your clit and blows on it to elicit a reaction. the repetition of his name falls off your lips as you scream, back arching in agony as you ache for more stimulation.

yunho couldn’t wait any longer, diving towards your heat as he slurps up the sweet and musky slick. he pays critical attention to the clit—visibly touch starved—sucking at the bundle of overactive nerves and grazing your nub with his teeth. you mindlessly shove your pussy closer to his face, rubbing your clit on his nose while his tongue explores your spongy walls.

“cumming. yunho ‘m gonna cum. harder. fuck—wait, too hard…SHIT!” you crashed just as yunho had taken to vacuuming your delicate clit again, flicking at it furiously as you soak his chin in pleasure. you continue to shake when he rises to look at the result of his work: your completely fucked out expression and precious, flushed cheeks.

yunho has no idea when his cock ends up in his grip. he rubs comforting circles on your stomach to bring you down from orgasm, stroking his veiny girth at a similar speed. he’s seconds away from coming into his hands, highly aroused by the thought of you entrusting your body to him on his birthday. sticky, clear precum pools in his hand as he passes the tip. he squeezes his shaft tighter, feeling the substance squish through his fingers as he imagines you—any part of you—wrapped around him.

“babe?”

“hmm?” he moans, pace unbroken.

“would you…uh…like any help?”

you and your boyfriend laugh. scheduling conflicts left him heading home right as your head hit the pillow for the night. coupled with a particularly high sex drive, yunho was more than accustomed to getting himself off in the bathroom at the thought of you. even now, as you lie beneath him in physical form, glistening from sweat and displayed in full nudity like an enticing entree, just knowing that you were in his life and so caring, kind and loving was sending him straight to orgasm.

“here, have a taste.”

yunho opens the container and scoops the remaining frosting into his hand. cautiously, he takes his cock, spreading the white sugar just beneath the corona. eyes still covered, you sense his footsteps walking the table’s perimeter as he approached where your head lay. his thumb plays at your bottom lip, motioning for you to part them, and you eagerly comply. the unmistakably distinct taste of his tip—a bit metallic, he subsists solely on red meat—transitions suddenly as your tongue meets the vanilla frosting waiting further down his shaft.

you moan in delight, the vibrations playing at his glans. yunho wants so badly to thrust his hips as the warmth of your mouth enveloped his cock, but he knows he must now return the favor of your unwavering patience by remaining still as you bob your head up and down his shaft, tongue swirling as it laps up the frosting, teeth slightly grazing the underside. you release him with a loud pop before pushing yourself up the table until your head hung over the side.

you were inviting him to fuck your throat. yunho seized the opportunity without a second’s hesitation. you took him so readily, so eagerly, the walls of your throat seemingly stretched just far enough as to allow no other cock to pass but his. he liked to think he trained you up well from the person he met all those months ago, and his heart begins to swell with love as he watches you suck him clean as if it were nothing. the rubber band deep within his stomach bursts as he gives out one last thrust, emptying himself inside of you. as he carefully slides his cock out, a trail of semen follows behind as he spurts another load onto the roof of your mouth.

you take a second to clear your throat—and your head. yunho stumbles to lean against the wall behind him, his breathing laboured as if he had just completed a half marathon. removing the blindfold from your eyes, you scan the room in search of your boyfriend before spotting him crouched on the floor, ears red as ripe tomatoes.

you exaggerate licking your fingers, “no you were right…this is good…”

yunho chuckles. its the only noise he can manage in his post-nut haze. you push yourself from the table, taking a mental note of how much bleach you were going to need to properly sanitize your one shared eating space.

stomachs growl in unison.

“i have the ingredients for seaweed soup in the kitchen,” yunho offers up, embarrassed to know you were only this hungry because he couldn’t keep it in his pants.

you clap excitedly, “i’ll get it started!”

A/N: this was not meant to be this long. it started out as a bedtime drabble because i didn’t want to be awake for the concert stream, ended up with several thousand words and i still missed the stream. thank you for 100+ notes on better 🙏 i’m still relatively new to writing smut, so i appreciate feedback and suggestions on what you want to read. if you’ve made it this far, you could start by voting in this poll as to which unfinished work you would rather read first!

i’m also getting a taglist together! if you are interested, please fill out this form!

[nightingale-prompts]

The Eldritch Coffeehouse-DCxDP prompt-part 2(I guess)

Part 1

Elle had a way of convincing people. Like how she convinced Damian Wayne that they were now best friends and to come over to her family's business after-school.

Damian was only going along with this because of the prodding of his family to make friends. This wasn't something that came easy to him as no one would understand him. But Nightingale had been more understanding than most in his life. She was very...nice. She had these big ideas that always went ahead of her and plans that were larger than life. She always had too much energy and found it hard in school to get it out. Naturally, she was head of the track team but she'd always complain about wanting to join the music club.

Jon had met her once while trying to sneak up on them at the end of the day. She pinned him in a triangle chokehold until Damian called her off. Damian didn't call her off immediately though.

She was still more apologetic than he liked.

"I can make it up to you guys. Let's go to my family's café! We can eat ourselves sick on pastries and cake! My brother should still be making hot chocolate right now!" She told them.

Damian was nice enough to tell Dick where he was going and to not wait up. Alfred was already in the car in front of the school and drove the three to the...graveyard?

"Thank you Mister Pennyworth! Do you want to join us?" Elle asked loudly but politely.

Alfred accepted graciously and agreed to stay for a cup of tea before heading back. He would come pick up Damian later.

The walk through the graveyard was daunting for Jon and only for Jon. It wasn't as scary as he thought since it was only the afternoon and the weather was warm. A few cats rested on tombstones soaking in the heat. A few birds gathered here and there hunting for worms and seeds. There were food and water dishes here and there for the felines and fresh seeds sprinkled on the grass for the birds.

"I usually clean and change the food dishes in the morning. But Dan likes to feed the birds."

Elle walked the row of mausoleums until she stopped at one and pushed the stone door open and a skipped down a stairs and opened the smooth mahogany door in the café.

Behind the counter a young man stood pouring drinks.

"Elle you're back. Take this cup to table 3." He said putting a cup and saucer on a serving tray.

"I just got here! At least let me change or tell you we have guests." She whined but picked up the trey and marched over to the table.

"Guests? I'm sorry. Welcome to the Catacomb Club. How can we make your afterlife?" He said smoothly.

"Elle said we could eat sweets," Jon spoke up first and Damian elbowed him.

"Oh? Well, we have a batch of leftovers from this morning. Since you're her school friends you can get some from the kitchen." The barista said.

"Yay! Thanks Danny!" Elle had returned and opened the door to the backroom to grab some fresh plates and loading them up with sweets.

"Anything I can get for you, sir?" Danny asked Alfred.

"Just an Earl Gray. Or an Early Grave as you call it on the menu." Alfred said.

***

Elle presents a variable buffet of sweets to the boys. She really meant it when she said eat themselves sick.

The menu had no shortage of available snacks:

Tombstone Tarts – Mini fruit tarts with gravestone-shaped pastry toppers. (Jazz's pick)

Phantom Opera Cake – Layers of dark chocolate and coffee mousse with a smoky glaze.(Save a slice for Danny's SPECIAL guest (Jazz STOP)

Ethereal Cheesecake – A white chocolate cheesecake with a "foggy" vanilla glaze (You can just slap the word ethereal on things when you can't come up with something witty.) (Watch me)

Shadow Éclairs – Black cocoa éclairs filled with blood orange cream. (DANNY STOP EATING THE ORANGES) (no)

Soulful Scones – Charcoal scones served with berry jam and clotted cream.

Midnight Mocha Cupcakes – Chocolate cupcakes with espresso buttercream and a ghostly fondant topper. (Ew fondant)

Cemetery Soil – Chocolate pudding "dirt" with gummy worms and cookie gravestones. (Dani ate all the gummy worms again)

Wraith Cupcakes – Vanilla cupcakes with smoky gray frosting and sugar ghost toppers. (Dani's favorite)

Blackberry Bat Muffins – Dark muffins with blackberry compote and bat-shaped toppers. (Save some for that Cass girl)

Candied Skull Pops – Lollipops shaped like skulls in eerie colors.

Necropolis Nougat – Black and white nougat with bits of candied nuts and dried fruit. (Dan's favorite) (Weirdo)

Spirit’s Whisper Bark – White and dark chocolate bark with ghostly swirls and edible glitter.(please don't let Dani eat the glitter)

Moonlight Marshmallows – Homemade marshmallows in ghost or crescent moon shapes. (Danny's favorite)

Blood Velvet Rolls – Red velvet Swiss rolls filled with red cream cheese frosting. (Dan's favorite) (you can't have more than one favorite) (watch me)

Just like the rest of the menu there were comments going back and forth.

"The workers seem to argue constantly." Damian said bitting into a tart

Jon was making his way through the cake pops first.

"Well, we are family. We argue all the time but we don't mean it. Although I'm still mad they didn't like my dessert list." Elle sighed.

"Like what?" Damian asked.

"I had so many ideas like Eyeball pops filled with jelly, Bloody Bones white chocolate covered in raspberry syrup, or Maggot Macaroons with gummy worms in them," Elle said wiggling her fingers to mimic worms. "But Jazz said they were too gross sounding to sell. Humans have such weak stomachs."

Damian wanted to point out that Jon wasn't human and even he turned green. Damian on the other hand was intrigued. Elle was always entertaining to listen to.

The three enjoyed their snacks after Alfred finished his tea and took off.

Jon's Kryptonian appetite helped get through the bulk of it because Damian stopped short to not spoil his appetite.

This was wise since the Cafe preparing to switch to its bar setting with a more lively Jazz band and dinner menu.

Jon groaned at the thought of more food as he rested his face on the cool polished wood that smelled faintly of rose incense. He should have noticed by now that something as off but his stomach has been a major distraction. Had it been his father then who was trained to sense the issue the jig would have been up.

You see, they were the only mortals in the room.

Not one heartbeat could be heard. Jon should have known so much earlier when Elle managed to surprise him without her heart rate going up.

"Dani- I mean Elle?" A voice from the kitchen called.

A young woman with long red locks came into view. Her dress, a 50s style black tea-length poodle skirt. Instead of the usual poodle pattern on the hem, there was a white skeletal cat. She had on a pair of balck frilled short gloves. Other than her dress she wore an apron with a black ribcage design that matched the uniforms of the other workers/family members here. Her teal eyes softened when she saw Elle sitting with her friends

"Yeah, Jazz?" Elle asked.

"Do you still want to go on stage tonight or do you want to stay with your friends? And do you still want dinner?" Jazz asked in succession.

"I'm still going to do my set. And can I get carbonara and a glass of...um..." Elle struggled to find the word for the liquid that every undead in the area came here for. "My medicine."

Damian's ear picked up the hesitation in her voice.

"You take a perception?" Damian said perhaps a bit thoughtless since not everyone wants to talk about their medical issues. But he had never seen her take medicine at school and didn't know a medication that would be taken later in the day that wasn't also taken early.

"Kinda, it's something I have to take to keep living. But it like it, the juice I mean. You'd like it too but you don't need it. Dan is kinda stingy with who gets some. You types aren't allowed. Only members." Elle knew that this place was an open secret. It's not like they kept their ghostly nature secret. Everyone just thinks they are keeping up the theme while they were all completely serious. Besides lying isn't their nature.

Still, Elle wasn't being completely honest which isn't something that comes naturally to her. Bending the truth will have to do.

Damian let it go for now. He didn't need to know her medical history...yet.

Jon was taking a nap now anyways. Damian stole his phone out of his pocket and sent a text to the Kent family in case they wanted to know where Jonathan was.

Ellehad to change clothes into her uniform and grab her violin. It wasn't a surprise to Damian who knew she like music but he had never heard her play. Now she was on stage playing with the folk band as the guest clapped and danced.

Jazz brought out some food for them to eat while Danny traded places with a tall burly man who was definitely the eldest brother.

As Damian ate he listened to Elle play...well the band play but it was mostly Elle who he was listening for. He heard a familiar voice from behind his booth and when he looked over it was none other than Jason fucking Todd talking to the bartender. Talking? I meant failing miserably to flirt and having the tables turned on him easily.

[incorrectbatfam]

Retail steph with damian and Jon? :) i love retail steph so much

(featuring Billy Batson because he only adds chaos and I love him)

Previous: Margie | Batkids | Rogues | Justice League | Retail batkids | Retail Bruce | Young Justice | Black Friday | Valentine's Day

[grocery store]

Steph, working the bakery section: How can I help you boys today?

Jon: We're getting a cake for our friend's birthday. Chocolate with buttercream frosting, please. 

Steph: Do you want it to say anything? 

Jon: Yes. "Happy 14th B-day, Billy!"

Steph: What color?

Damian: Red. 

Steph: *starts writing on the cake*

Damian: Please also add: "Despite your shortcomings and lack of maturity, you are a valuable part of our team and as you get older, I expect you to gain greater wisdom that will aid us in our goals and prospects."

Steph: *struggling to fit it on the cake*

———————

[coffee shop]

Damian: Can we try the five-drink espresso flight?

Steph: You sure?

Billy, eyeing an unsuspecting Jon: Yes.

Steph: Alrighty.

*moments later*

Jon, after his fifth espresso: I'M KING OF THE UNIVERSE!

Jon: *shoots through the ceiling*

Damian: *grumbles and hands Billy ten bucks*

Steph, sighing: I'll get the broom.

———————

[clothing store]

Jon: *dancing in the dressing room with light-up shoes*

Damian: *T-posing in a trenchcoat*

Billy: *filming them*

Steph: What are you doing?

Billy: Making a TikTok. 

Steph: Well, you can't have cameras in the dressing rooms. I'm gonna have to ask you to stop. 

———————

[drive-thru]

Damian: One vegetarian Batburger, one regular Batburger, and one order of Night-Wings. And an extra-extra-extra large Ivy Salad.

Steph: Did you take the Batmobile again? 

Damian: No. 

Steph: Why don't you pull up to the window and prove it? 

Damian, Jon, and Billy: *ride up on Bat-Cow*

———————

[furniture store]

Jon: What's a warranty?

Damian: It's a court order to arrest someone. 

Steph: That's a warrant. A warranty covers the cost of something if it gets damaged within a certain amount of time. In our case, the store has a one-year warranty on all items. What are you looking to buy?

Billy: *enters pushing a Pinball machine*

Damian: ...It's for school.

———————

[restaurant]

Steph: What can I get you?

Damian: We'll split a pizza. 

Steph: Okay, anything else?

Billy, as Shazam: An alcohol.

Steph: "An alcohol?"

Billy: Yes, your finest alcohol. Sharing size, please.

Steph: I'll need to see some ID.

Billy, nervous: What's there to see? I'm clearly an adult. 

Steph: I need them for everyone at the table. 

Damian: *pulls out Jason's crime lord license*

Jon: *sticks on a fake mustache*

———————

[call center]

Steph, stifling a yawn: Wayne Enterprises account support, how can I help you? 

Damian: Why are you still working? It's midnight. 

Steph: Overnight shift. This is a 24-hour line. What do you need, Damian?

Damian: Nothing. We just wanted to annoy you. 

Steph: We?

Jon: Hiya!

Billy: 'Sup.

———————

[sleepover at the Manor]

Steph: Alfred told me to bring you some snacks.

Damian: Excellent. 

Steph: *leaves the room*

Steph, internally: What do kids these days even do at sleepovers? 

Steph: *presses her ear to the door*

Damian: Truth or Dare? 

Jon: Truth. 

Damian: Which one of my siblings do you like best?

Jon: Steph, all the way.

Billy: I agree, she's the coolest. Remember when she drove us to get midnight breakfast on my birthday?

Jon: And when she promised not to tell my parents when I broke the café ceiling.

Billy: Or when she took us for a walk and actually explained why we couldn't make TikToks in the store instead of going "because I said so" like other adults. 

Jon: Plus, she gave all the leftover salad to Bat-Cow and helped us set up the Pinball machine downstairs.

Billy: Ooh, and she's really good at making mocktails. 

Jon: Also, she extended our free trial of the Daily Planet for our social studies project. 

Damian: Hm... point taken.

Billy: And she's hot.

Damian: Say that again and I will smite you with your own powers.  

Steph: *smiles softly*

[nanamiskentos]

So fun how you write Geto, I would love any fic or headcanon post for him? If you take requests?

i'm answering this two months late i'm so sorry 😭 but yess <3 i love him, please have some random, nonsensical headcanons for boyfriend!geto

if you leave food around him, it's gonna be gone. you once brought home a specialty cake, placed it in the fridge, and it somehow went mysteriously missing. geto even has the audacity to look you in the eye and say 'damn, who ate that thing?" while there's still vanilla buttercream crumbs over his mouth

once got so hammered he sang the sailor moon opening during karaoke and vehemently denied it the next day

any time you text him 'pick me up' he's always got some attitude about how he's not your uber, but still shows up in like ten minutes because yes he really does love you

loves staying up late, but will be so confused by you waking up early. you sent him a good morning text at 7am, and he replied at 7:01 with a 'never text me this early again. good night.'

on those rare occasions that he drinks, he gets annoyingly giggly and affectionate. once drunkenly declared 'i have the prettiest girlfriend in the whole world' and immediately planked out on the pavement.

actually falls asleep really easy. always claims he's just resting his eyes but he's dozing off in two minutes tops. you've learnt to just throw a blanket over him at this point.

geto becomes a sad victorian child when he's sick or injured, 'please take me out to the gardens one more time' 'my love, i fear this is the end of me.' (its just a mild cold)

he'll grab things from high shelves for you, but at a price. he'll always hold it out of reach and asks 'what do we say?' or 'whats the magic word?' until you pay him sufficient thanks and compliments

randomly breaks into the bit i fear. you've seen geto whip out a cockney british accent for no reason at all sometimes, "oi, what's all this then?"

when you first started dating, he claimed he wasn't whipped for you, but he has 100% waiting outside a store for you despite the fact that you were taking ages. gojo once quipped 'damn you're just her little errand boy now, huh?' and geto chased him around with a stick for an hour

[saturngas]

sweet names

okay but imagine satoru calling you pet names after every dessert name he comes across with. you two are out, trying a new sweet shop he discovered in his last mission and was overly keen to take you to it. staring and analyzing the menu cutely displayed on the chalkboard, he was internally laughing at the absurdly silly names of the desserts and milkshakes, but once he looked at you, his heart and brain connected.

"im going to a mission this Friday, can you take care of the first years, banana bonanza split?" he asked you once while you were getting ready for bed. you side eyed him and his questionable pet name.

you never said anything negative about it though, you even liked them. they were so silly and so him. he had once told you that every time he looked at you and your pretty face, his train of thought loaded with memories of all the desserts he had ever tasted. you reminded him of the sweet flavor he loved so much. you filled his brain of serotonin and sweetness.

"I love you so much, coconut dream pie."

"are you sure you want this one, buttercream frosting?"

"megumi asked me to give you this, popsicles."

"don't act like a brat, snickerdoodle."

"you look so hot with that dress, dumplings."

"but pumpkin pie! I can literally die from no hugs!"

"hey hot-fudge sundae, can you take down the sex ban, please?"

"good morning, white sugar sponge cakes."

"dont ignore me, bubble wrap mousse."

"can I please go back to sleeping with you, ice cream cakes? the couch is cold."

"muffin cakes! I just told him I dont have any intentions on respecting him, I dont know why he got mad."

"it's physically impossible for me to stop calling you sweet names. anyways, which do you like more, lemon meringue pie or churro?"

your sweet boy satoru.

[kpop-bbg]

[zepskies]

Down to the Crust

Pairing: Dean Winchester x F. Reader

Summary: You’ve set out on a very specific mission for Dean. The problem is, you now have ulterior motives for your (formerly) pure love of baking.

Request: Since reading your imagine, "Dean Gives You an Impossible Choice," I have not been able to shake it, one point specifically. I was wondering if I could request a fic where the reader is learning to bake pies for Dean. She's best friends with the boys, but she and Dean have undisclosed feelings for each other…

AN: You guys know I love baking shenanigans lol. This one is set at a particular time during season 14…

Song Inspo: “Joy” by Blackstreet

Word Count: 2.6K

Tags/Warnings: Flangst, hurt/comfort, hint of spice~

No, no, no, no, NO!

You did your best to scoop out the salt you’d just poured into the flour.

You can’t really be this dumb, you berated yourself. How could you confuse one white powdery thing for another? Salt vs. sugar—it wasn’t that hard!

You shook your head in simmering frustration. You decided to just dump the whole contents of the bowl, salty flour and all, into the garbage. You’d have to start again…for the third time now. 

Frankly, this was getting ridiculous. You could make cookies, brownies, even cupcakes (with homemade buttercream).

How hard could a pie really be?

Maybe it was the telltale tremble of nerves in your hands.

Maybe it was because you had an ulterior motive for doing this, besides your formerly pure love of baking.

Maybe because this promised dessert was for one pie-loving glutton who was set to come upstairs from the garage any minute. Or at least, whenever Dean’s stomach finally called him back to the kitchen.

Though recently, he hadn’t been all that hungry. He’d denied your friendly offer of a snack earlier (since when did he turn down taquitos?), and he’d barely touched the pizza you guys had for dinner yesterday. (One slice? The man could eat half a pizza in one sitting. To your knowledge, there wasn’t a pie he didn’t like.)

Dean hid it well, but he wasn’t on his game. You knew why, of course, but…

You sighed and measured out the last of your flour for a fresh try. If you messed this one up, you’d literally have to wash your hands of this mission. And yes, it had become mission fucking impossible, as far as you were concerned.

Once the flour was safely mixed with a cup of sugar, you cut up some chilled butter to create the pastry dough. You followed the instructions in the recipe even more carefully this time, from your open laptop on the kitchen counter. The keyboard was dusted with flour at this point, along with your hands and arms. You even felt it under your nails and in your hair, but you didn’t care.

You were going to make this damn pie if it killed you.

You’d even bought real cherries, not the canned filling. It meant more work for you in removing all the pits inside them, but this was worth the extra labor.

However, as it just occurred to you, you’d left them simmering with some sugar, lemon juice, and cornstarch in a pan, around the time of your second attempt at pastry dough.

“No!” you gasped, hastening to open the lid and checking the saucepan.

Oh, thank God, you thought, seeing that the cherry filling wasn’t bubbling over. It actually looked like the proper thickened consistency and smelled delicious. You just needed to do some more stirring.

An hour or so later, you had successfully shaped the dough, chilled and poured in the filling, and covered it with the (embarrassingly uneven) lattice work on top.

“Whatever. The man still believes in the Five-Second Rule. He’ll eat this,” you muttered as you slid the pie in. You even remembered to do an egg wash on top. You admired it for a moment in its raw pastry form, then closed the lid to the oven with a nod of satisfaction.

You wore a wide smile, feeling accomplished, until you turned around and saw the disaster you’d made of the kitchen. Flour was dusted across the counters, a pile of dishes in the sink, cherry remnants in the pan and dripping across the stove, and so much more. You winced at the sight.

“What the hell is this?” came a gruff voice.

Your gaze drew to the doorway with a sharp intake of breath. Dean was standing in the doorway to the kitchen with a bewildered expression on his face.

The man had a thing about people in “his kitchen.” You got ready to placate him with your hands raised as you took a step towards him, but then you gasped.

“Shit!” you yelped, slipping in some egg that had dropped on the floor. Your hand accidentally banged the oven on the way down, but your head also hit the corner of the wall.   

You ended up sprawled on your side across the dirty floor, dazed and winded. Dean hurried to your side with one of those frowns that always made you want to smooth the wrinkle between his brows.

He braced your shoulder, almost but not quite touching your hip with his free hand.

“Damn. You okay? This ain’t a slip n’ slide,” he said.

Your lips twitched at a smile, but you sighed. “I’m okay.”

“You hit your head?” he asked, beginning to help you up slowly.

“A little,” you admitted. “Nothing the old bag of frozen carrots in the freezer won’t cure.”

Dean grimaced, but after he made sure you were settled on your feet, he checked the back of your head. You tried not to blush (and revel) at the feeling of his fingers slipping into your hair, even if he was trying to feel for a knot back there.

He was close enough that you could almost feel his body heat through the black shirt he wore, for once without the outer layer of plaid. He smelled like grease and sweat; likely he’d been working on Baby.

Were you weird for kind of liking that smell?

“Well, I don’t feel any goose eggs, so you’re probably fine,” he remarked.

“Thanks, House. Is that your final prognosis?” you asked, beginning to smirk.

Dean’s gaze met yours in amusement.

“Tell you what,” he said, “If you get a headache, I give you full permission to take one of the fun little pills I’ve got in my dresser.”

You laughed. “If it’s not Vicodin, I don’t want it.”

House M.D. was one of those shows you and Dean liked to watch together, along with Game of Thrones, and even Smallville, on occasion.

Dean smiled slightly. But even that was a small feat, and something you hadn’t seen from him in weeks. Not a real smile, anyway. Before today, nothing you’d tried had been working to brighten his mood.

Not pizza Fridays. Not letting him listen to the same damn Zeppelin album without complaint for that eight-hour ride on the last hunt. Not trying to gouge his level of broodiness and offering to hang out, to be a listening ear if he needed it.

He still hadn’t taken you up on the last one. While that hurt, you also understood it. You understood how Dean dealt with things he didn’t want to think about, let alone talk about, even to his own brother.  

Dean now looked down on you knowingly, gesturing at the rest of the kitchen.

“You gonna tell me what you’re doing in here?” he asked.

You crossed your arms and raised your chin, a smile playing on your lips.

“What, can’t handle somebody else in your kitchen? What’re you, Gordon Ramsey?” you teased.

Dean’s brows kicked up, his lips twitching.

“You’ve made a mess of my kitchen any number of times, but I ain’t ever smelled sweet, sweet cherry coming out of that oven,” he said. “You’re finally making me pie?”

You had to laugh. Inside, you were pleased that he now looked excited, his green eyes dancing. You clapped your hands over his arms.

“Yes, I’m making you your damn pie. Only took me fifteen tries, but it’s happening,” you said. You turned to check on it, but the second you opened the oven, black smoke billowed out.

Your eyes widened in horror and your mouth fell open on reflex, but harsh coughs tore from your throat as you waved your hand against the smoke. Dean quickly handed you the oven mitts, and you shoved them on before taking out the steaming dessert.

The entire top crust was scorched black. Cherry filling oozed out, and not in a good way. You slammed the oven shut with your hip, and you had to toss the pan onto the counter for how hot it was.

Inside that pan was a dreadful excuse for a pie.

Dean had an arm crossed under his elbow, while a hand came up to cover his mouth as he took in the state of it. He then looked over at you.

He saw the shock, settling into pursed lips and tight shoulders. You turned in slow movements.

You saw that the oven had been switched to “Broil” on the highest setting. You’d probably messed that up when you fell and hit the dial with your hand. But Christ, was that a powerful oven.

Those old white guys really didn't mess around when they built this damn bunker, you thought sourly.

Dean took another look at the steaming pie and grimaced, despite his amusement.

“Well, she won’t be entering any beauty pageants, that’s for sure,” he teased.

His playful smirk fell, however, the moment you turned around. He saw the way you were biting your lip, and the tears brimming in your eyes.

He softened, and he went to you.

“Aww, sweetheart. It’s okay,” he chuckled, and wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his side. “‘S probably better than I could do.”

You rested your head against his chest and sniffled. You blinked to try to stem off your tears. 

“It’s not about the damn pie! I mean, not really. It’s just…” you trailed.

You quieted, realizing you were about to say things you’d rather not.

Dean noticed though. Because of course he did.

“Then what’s it about?” he asked.

You avoided his gaze at first, though he was too perceptive not to notice. He jostled you a little against his side.

“Huh? You wanna answer me?” he asked. His lips curved at the way you were fighting a smile yourself. Your tears won out though.

You turned under his arm and leaned up on your toes, so you could hug him. Your arms twined around his neck and you held him tight.

To say it surprised Dean would be an understatement, his eyes widening a fraction. He still held you back, almost on reflex.

“I couldn’t do anything else,” you said, through tears. “Not for you, or Sam…or for Mary.”

Dean’s confusion descended into grim understanding. A weight fell deep in his gut, clenching painfully the way it always did, when he thought about his mom.

The fact that Jack didn’t have his soul didn’t make a difference, no matter what Sam said. Not in Dean’s mind, anyway.

Jack had killed their mom.

She was gone, had been taken from them. And that second loss had torn a new chasm in Dean’s heart, deeper than the last one. He held you a bit tighter without realizing it.

“I’m sorry,” you said, rubbing his back. “I know you don’t want to talk about it. I just wanted to…to do something for you.”

Slowly, Dean pulled away a little. His hands moved to your waist as he looked down on you with a heaviness in his eyes. For a moment, he just took in the contours of your face, your eyes shining with tears that clung to your lashes. You were looking up at him like all you wanted to do was fix it. And fix him.

Well, you had to know that was a lost fucking cause. But it just didn’t stop you from staying here with him and Sam, living with them, hunting with them, being one of the last friends they had, after all these years.

It didn’t stop Dean from loving you for it, either.

He let out a breath, and he couldn’t help but raise a hand to get some of the flour off your cheek. He smoothed the back of his hand against your skin, along your jaw, and finally brushed his thumb across your lower lip, where you had worried it with your teeth.

“You’re too damn much, you know that?” he murmured.

You were blushing hot at his touch, but you frowned at his words. Until you noticed the fond glint in his eyes…and for the first time, something more. Something he was finally allowing you to see.

When he bent down and claimed your lips, your thoughts stuttered to a halt. You gripped the front of his shirt instinctively. He framed your face with his hands; they were calloused and smelled like motor oil, but you didn’t give a shit. Not one iota. Because it meant something, and your heart swelled with a warmer, brighter feeling.

You gripped his shirt tighter and leaned up to meet his second kiss. His hand moved to your lower back, pulling you flush against him. You grabbed onto his shoulders and let him invade your mouth with his warm tongue slipping against yours. You moaned, the sound echoing between you both and shooting right to his dick.

His brows furrowing, Dean’s fingers slipped into your hair again, but this time, to tangle in the strands. He walked you back until your ass hit the counter, where he grabbed hold of your thighs and hefted you on top of it, regardless of whatever stains covered its surface.

He moved in between your jean-clad thighs and encouraged you wordlessly to wrap them around his hips. You didn’t need much encouragement.

“Dean,” you whispered, between heated kisses, hands wandering down your body, exploring soft curves and warmth over clothing.

“Hmm?” he said, into your mouth. It was distracting, but you found the strength to slow things down, gently taking his face into your hands.

You both caught your breath for a moment. It allowed Dean to see the thread of uncertainty in your gaze, even though you caressed his stubble-covered cheeks.

“I just…do you…is this…” you tried, but your brain seemed to be on a short fuse. You blamed his sinful lips entirely.

Said lips drew into a smirk. Dean’s hands moved up your thighs and held your waist less gripping, more comforting (and claiming).

“I really do, and damn straight it is,” he said, slightly teasing. He did lean back in to press a gentler kiss to your lips.

“Trust me,” he said, as he became more serious. “If you want more from this…”

At that, your uncertainty melted into warmth. You released his face, holding onto his shoulders instead.

“Yeah, Dean,” you nodded. “More than anything, yes.”

He read your sincerity, and it warmed him too. Again, he gave into the urge to brush his thumb against your blushing cheek.

“I uh…I had a feeling it was always gonna be you,” he said.

You raised a brow at that, even though your smile threatened to unravel him further.

“Oh, yeah? How long?” you asked.

Dean pretended to think.

“Since that first batch of oatmeal cream pies,” he said, with a cheeky grin. “Pretty sure I was marked from there on out.”

And not just because he’d been imagining what you’d be like to taste, ever since.

You giggled, though you gestured with your eyes at the charred pan next to you on the counter.

“Guess I should try again on that pie. Wonder what that’ll get me,” you hedged, letting your thumb graze his neck. Dean smirked.

“All right, sure. Remind me to pick up a new fire extinguisher,” he said.

You guffawed and hit his shoulder, but he just laughed and pulled you in for another kiss.

It was sweet enough on its own.

AN: I know, I know. I'm a sap. 😂 Let me know what you thought of this pie-filled episode! 🥧 💕

Ko-Fi Me ☕

Dean Winchester One-Shots

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Dean W. Tag List:

@hobby27 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms

@foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb @roseblue373

@this-is-me19 @emily-winchester @spnexploration @deans-spinster-witch @deans-baby-momma

@iprobablyshipit91 @melancholictearz @nic-kolas @sanscas @sleepyqueerenergy

@wayward-lost-and-never-found @thewritersaddictions @just-levyy @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @deanwanddamons

@anticxrrupt @lacilou @adoringanakin @theonlymaninthesky @teehxk

@midnightmadwoman @brianochka @branj19 @agalliasi @venicesem

@chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @solariklees @deansbbyx

@candy-coated-misery0731 @curlycarley @sarahgracej @bagpussjocken @deanfreakingwinchester

@chernayawidow @mimaria420 @fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like @waywardxwords @waynes-multiverse

[moonlight-records]

Rich Boys Don't Have Hearts | LN4 (pt. IV)

pairing: Jock!Lando Norris x Nerd!Reader

summary: Formula Ivy Academy, or FIA for short, is the most renowned private in the world who takes such a select few. Usually those from wealth with status and secrets and so much to lose. Yet, you are selected to join the FIA on a full scholarship. You have nothing to lose and everything to gain scares a lot students, especially their star athlete who will do anything to protect those he cares about. Though, he didn't expect you to have as much of a...bite to you for a little nobody.

warning: very tipsy!reader. make out session! lando & reader = rivals to ??? enemies to ???. idk but they're messy and im here for it. they a LIIIIITTLE toxic for each other rn.

fc: none!

wc: 3.8K

a/n: chat, we're SO back

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | current

“Now–stop sniffing me!” Lando hisses.

You lean back blinking because you didn’t even realize what you were doing. Your face flushes as you glance around the doorway of the bathroom trying to pretend that you weren’t just sniffing Lando but he smells really good. It reminds you of when you’re home and your mom is baking sugar cookies with a hint of vanilla while your dad is happily chatting away as if you were downstairs watching TV or the lotion your best friend swears her life by. The small thing of buttercream she carries on her and how sometimes you two would huddle together, enjoying the scent of the lotion when you two would be trapped in gym class with boys who refused to acknowledge the fact that deodorant isn’t an option.

The memory makes you frown slightly. You didn’t realize how much you missed your parents or your best friend. You always knew you were homesick, of course you were, but you’ve been downplaying just how homesick you are until now. Tears threaten to form and spill and you blame it on the alcohol as it curls around you, the warmth filling you once again. You’re brought back to reality, slightly, when something brushes your cheek. You jerk your head back slightly out of surprise and look up at Lando as he recoils his hand holding a tissue. The two of you stand in the doorway awkwardly while the music from the party hums in the background, walls and floor shaking from the unnecessary bass boost.

“What…” you swallow a lump in your throat and make a face at the slight taste of bile in there. “What are you doing?”

“You look like you’re on the verge of tears.” Holding up the tissue, “so thought I’d get a jump start on helping the mascara that’s about to run.”

You know that he’s being sarcastic. You can tell by the tone in his voice but you can’t help the ghost of a smile that appears on your face before taking the napkin from Lando, murmuring a thank you as you gently pat your eyes to catch any stray tears that are lingering. You bring your gaze back to Lando who is now leaning on the other end of the doorway. This is your chance to escape. You know it is but you find yourself planted in your spot, not trusting your legs to actually lead you away.

“So…what do you want?” You finally ask after another awkward silence.

“Not here.” Lando pushes off the doorway, “come on.”

You watch Lando start to walk down the hall, away from the party though you don’t move. You see him look back at you before coming back to you. “Y/N. Come on.” You shake your head while looking at Lando. You see the Brit knit his brows together and grit his teeth while he takes a breath while looking down at you. “I know we haven’t seen eye-to-eye but this is really important and a private manner. It’ll be no more than ten minutes max.” You stare up at Lando before finally speaking.

“I can’t walk.”

Lando blinks slowly at you, trying to figure out if this was some shit joke. “You…can’t walk?”

“No,” you shake your head and stop quickly. “Dizzy.”

“…Oh my god, you’re drunk.” Lando finally concludes.

“I am not drunk.” You try to argue while pouting, “Just—extremely tipsy.” You slur slightly.

You stare at Lando in awe when he laughs. It’s not one of those condescending laughs he typically gives you but a genuine laugh with a genuine smile attached. “No you’re definitely drunk.'“

“I am not!” You whine slightly. Even in the alcoholic haze you refused to let Lando be right. He offers another laugh before holding his hands up in surrender. You smile triumphantly at the Brit before he’s offering an arm and you glance back at him, suspicious.

“You said you couldn’t walk. I’m offering a helping hand, unless you want me to carry you?” He raises a brow.

In newfound determination, you huff and force yourself to push off the doorway. “I don’t need help.” You state as you sway on your feet. You gesture for Lando to lead the way before you accidentally smack Lando in his chest. Any other time you would pretend you didn’t care but instead you cover your mouth and murmur a sorry. Lando stares at you in what you think is disbelief before he reassures you it’s fine. He then gently grabs you by the shoulders and turns you to face away from him before he’s guiding you further into the frat house.

“Where are we?” You ask when Lando opens a door and you enter a bedroom.

“Pierre’s room. Asked him if I could hide out in here for a bit. Perfect place to chat.” Lando says as he leaves the door cracked. You stumble over to the bed before sitting down on the edge. Running your fingers along the bed sheets, you hum gently while Lando leans against the wall.

“What’s so important that you have to talk to me?" On a Friday night no less. Shouldn’t you be out…partying or some shit? Shouldn’t you be getting some random girl’s number and trying to reduce your stress by getting laid?”

“Yeah well, I would but I need some answers about you and Franco,” narrowing his eyes, “I also want answers on why you went to the headmaster and told him I tried to bribe you to leave.”

“What?!” You ask and stand up out of shock. “I never did that!”

“Oh do NOT give me that shit, Y/N! I know it was you!”

“No!” You argue. “I know you don’t like me and I don’t like you. I know we will probably never see eye-to-eye and you will forever believe that I do not belong at this school which I’m not exactly fronting you for but listen. I just wanna keep my head down and graduate.” You explain even though you know it’s falling on deaf ears, “but really. Even if I have every right to go to the headmaster and rat you out, that brings attention to me. Attention I don’t want nor need so really. You probably won’t believe me but I did not go to the headmaster at all about it.”

“Then who the fuck did you tell cause headmaster knows now.” Lando snaps.

“I—I didn’t tell anybody that I would go to the headmaster.” Putting your lips together, you think. “I just told…Arthur and Charles.”

“And Franco, I assume?”

“No.” You admit.

“Listen there’s no need to b—wait, did you say no?”

“Yeah, I said no.”

“Why not?”

“Well he’s a freshman and even though you’re a dick to me, you’re a mentor to him and a good friend so I didn’t want to skew that based on my own shitty experience,” you shrug casually, “so I haven’t brought it up.”

“Oh.” Lando murmurs in thought before shaking his head, “okay. Still. You only told the Leclercs?”

“Yeah and I mean, Mick probably found out from Arthur but they know I wouldn’t want to go to the headmaster so they wouldn’t tell headmaster,” frowning, “how do you even know that headmaster found out?”

“Did you not see your email?”

“No??” You ask bringing your brows together as you pull your phone out. Fumbling, you open your email. You see the words swim around the page and blink a few times before focusing. Your heart drops seeing it was from the headmaster himself.

“Dear Lando and Y/N,” you mumble as you skim through. The email remarks about how it came to his attention about the bribe Lando attempted on you. He applauds you for not buckling under the pressure but he is disappointed about your choice of wording. You mutter the phrase over before deciding to keep reading on. The headmaster continues and explains due to this, Lando was suspended from the lacrosse team till further notice. Your eyes widen when the headmaster mentions that you will not be receiving the letter of recommendation you need unless you and Lando put your differences aside and host the FIA gala this year.

“What?!” You look up from your phone, “What is this?! Why the fuck are we both in trouble because you tried to bribe me?!”

“That’s why.”

“What do you mean ‘that’s why’?”

“The cursing.”

“…You’re joking. Right?” You stare at Lando expecting him to laugh and play a sick joke but it never comes. The distant music from the main part of the frat house fills the air as the realization sets in.

“I’m not getting my letter of recommendation because I cursed?” You grip your phone tightly before taking a deep breath so your phone doesn’t go flying. “I thought that rule was a joke!”

“Well, it’s not a joke.” Lando says as he leans against Pierre’s desk crossing his arms over his chest, “lame rule if you ask me.

“Lame?!” You snap, “It’s utter bullshit! We’re grown adults! Who cares if we curse?! They let so much other shit slide but they draw the line at cursing?!”

“Apparently. Supposed to look like we aren’t heathens or whatever but moving past that. You’re gonna help me since you got me suspend from the team—”

“Cut the bullshit!” You shout as you turn to face Lando. Your anger has turned into pure rage. A new burst of adrenaline soars through while his words replay in your head. You refuse to be blamed for Lando’s actions nor will you have him try to slander you any further. You stalk across the room, jamming your finger into his chest.

“You got yourself suspended. If you hadn’t listened to the cries and worries of others then you wouldn’t be here but you did! Instead of forming your own god damn opinion you decided that the opinions of others about you were more important! You bribed me and you got in trouble for it! You can still graduate without playing on the lacrosse team and be comfortable for life! Don’t try to spin this shit on me for your people pleasing tendencies and getting burned in the end!”

You ignore the way Lando’s jaw goes slack as he stares at you. You see a range of emotions cross his face. Shock, confusion, realization, and finally anger. You had just seen Lando for who he was under the facade and he was scared. You see it in the way his eyes harden as his jaw locks and he stiffens before standing up, looking down at you, walls up.

You don’t dare to break his gaze as you continue, repeatedly jabbing his finger into his chest. “I don’t have that luxury, news flash! I’m on a full ride! So what if I get a degree? I have an internship lined up through the school but I need that letter of recommendation! So no. I will not be helping you, instead you will help me since you owe me this.”

“And if I don’t?” Lando’s voice is clipped.

“I’ll just do it myself and rightfully take all the credit.”

“With what funding? You don’t have enough for the gala.”

“The Leclerc’s and Mick will be more than happy to help me with the funding.”

Lando leans down and you force yourself not to back away. You ignore that you can almost feel his breath ghost your lips as you stare him down.

“You don’t have the guts to.” Lando murmurs.

“Try me.”

The world suddenly disappears around you. In this moment it is just you and Lando in this stare down, both of you breathing a bit heavier with frustration and something else. The tension had become so thick it felt almost suffocating but you blamed it on the alcohol. It had to be that. You see Lando’s gaze flicker so briefly from your eyes to your lips before looking back into your eyes and it just confirms that it’s not the alcohol speaking.

Fuck it.

You lean forward slightly and Lando beats you to it. His hands fly to hold your face, kissing you harshly. Your hands find their way in Lando’s curls as you two kiss. Teeth clashed at first but Lando quickly took the lead. You follow suit as Lando walks you two back. You hear the door slam shut before your back hits the door and you swear you hear the little click of the lock before his hand finds its way to the back of your neck. The kiss is heated and hungry and hot.You feel Lando’s move to the front of your throat and wrap his fingers around and you grab his wrist gently as you melt into the touch. You shouldn’t but god, the way his hand almost covers your throat has you wanting to push your thighs together but you refrain.

When you two part you’re both breathing while you both gather your bearings. The realization that you had just been kissing Lando fucking Norris feels like waking up after a drunken one night stand. One that screamed trouble but was good enough that you were willing to risk it.

“So what was that about me helping you?”

There it was. The moment was gone as fast as it came. Without much thought, you slap Lando as he leans back, holding his cheek. He stares at you in shock but there’s something else dancing in his eyes. Amusement, maybe?

“You’re a cunt, you know that?”

Lando rubs his cheek and offers you a wide smirk, “I am what I eat.”

Your face flushes at the thought and you go to slap Lando again. He catches your wrist with one hand while pulling you close by your throat for another heated kiss. He pins your free hand against the door. You hate the fact you can’t stay mad at him as you melt into the kiss, groaning into the kiss. Your hands find their way back into his hair as he presses you further against the door.

In your lustful haze, you hook a leg around Lando’s waist to pull him closer. You needed him closer. The way that his body and your body slotted together was like two final pieces of a puzzle. You groan again feeling Lando nip at your bottom lip—

You jump when there’s banging on the door before your head is cradled into Lando’s neck as he steps back from the door pulling you with him. Your face flushes again but you bury it into the crook of Lando’s neck and relax, catching another whiff of him.

“Who is it?” Lando asks.

“Ah Lando!” Franco announces from the other side which gets you to lift your head, “have you seen Y/N? Jack said she came upstairs for the bathroom and hasn’t seen her since!”

You and Lando glance at each other before looking down at yourselves. Quickly you two pull away from each other and try to put yourselves together as Lando speaks.

“Yeah! Her and I were having a little chat actually.”

“Wait!” You hiss softly and catch Lando’s wrist. You swipe your thumb on the corners of his lips to remove any evidence you two were making out. You ignore the hungry stare Lando’s giving you before stepping back and turning away as Lando clears his throat murmuring a ‘thank you’ before unlocking and opening the door. You turn to see Franco peering around Lando.

“Y/N! There you are!”

“Hey.” You smile at Franco, “Everything okay?”

“Yeah. I could ask the same for you. What uh, what were you guys talking about?”

“The gala.” You answer without missing a beat, “Headmaster put us in charge of it this year since Lando is great at throwing events and well, he’s making me work a bit harder for my letter.” You laugh gently and thankful Franco believes you, chuckling along. “We just got into a little discussion about the theme. We’ve settled on masquerade this year.”

“Really?!” Franco starts.

“We did?” Lando asks.

“We did.” You say through gritted teeth, shooting Lando a look to play along as Lando turns and smiles. “We did.” He adds, “though I still say a 'rave theme’ would be much more fun.”

“Now you see why we’re going with my theme this year. What time is it?”

“Nearly midnight.”

“Really? Ugh shit, I need to get back to my room.”

Franco frowns as Lando raises a brow. “Why?”

“I have a paper due tomorrow by midnight. I’m almost done but I’ve been putting it off. I really need to finish.”

“Well, I can walk you back to your dorm if you want.” Franco offers.

“That would be great actually.” You start to head out of Pierre’s room before Lando calls out. “Y/N.” You stop and turn to look at him. “Tomorrow. 6pm. Dorms common area. Let's meet up and continue planning the gala, yeah?”

“Library.”

“Library? Seriously?”

“I do my work in the library and this paper is 20 pages and I only have half done and I don’t suspect I’ll be getting up early tomorrow. Take it or leave it.”

Lando ponders it for a moment before nodding, “Okay fine. What do you want?”

“What?”

“Food. It’ll be dinner time. What do you want to eat?”

“Oh.” You’re surprised Lando was offering to get you dinner. “Uh, a chicken sandwich is fine.”

“Got it.”

“Thanks. I’ll…see you tomorrow in the library.” You don't wait for confirmation. You sharply turn and make your way down the hall to where Franco stopped before making your way downstairs. You thank whoever is looking out for you that Franco waits till you two are heading back to your dorm to ask any questions.

“What’s the real reason?”

“What?” You look at him.

“Y/N.” Franco looks at you and smiles, “I wasn’t born yesterday. You and Lando hate each other. I know that much. Headmaster would not have you two paired up to throw the Gala if there wasn’t a bigger thing at play so spill,” he nudges you with his shoulder, “Promise I won’t tell.”

You chuckle softly as you sway before running your fingers anxiously through your hair. “It’s—” You start and sigh. “Stupid. It’s stupid that’s what it is. Lando and I got into a really heated argument,” you start carefully still refusing to admit exactly what happened. “Things were said that shouldn’t have been said and well, somehow the headmaster found out and we both got in trouble for it.”

“Was it for the cursing?” Franco jokes

You snort, “It was.”

“Really?! I was joking!”

“I know. I also thought it was a joke.” Shaking your head out, “but anyway. Yeah so unless we do the gala together, I’m not getting my letter and Lando…” you let your voice drop off and see the way Franco tilts his head expecting you to finish your sentence. It’s not your place to say, but, “isn’t allowed to play lacrosse.”

“What?!”

“I know—”

“So the headmaster just benched him till the end of the semester?!”

You nod as Franco groans. “I mean, at least it’s happening now. Lacrosse is a spring sport and besides. Lando is Lando. He’ll probably sneak some practice in after practice so he doesn’t fall behind.” You tell yourself you’re saying this to reassure Franco. Not because you’re trying to defend Lando.

“I—” Franco starts and sighs, “yeah. Yeah you’re right.” He nods, “Lando isn’t going to let this hold him back.”

You and Franco part ways when you arrive at your dorm. You watch Franco head back to his own dorm before swiping your ID card and entering. “Hold the door!” You turn and see Lando jogging up and you blink before catching the door and holding it open for Lando as he strolls in. “Thanks. I forgot my ID card in my dorm and I did not feel like calling the RA to let me in.” He looks to the empty booth. You look over as well. Must be going on their round.

“Why are you here?”

“Because I live here?” Lando catches the door when you scan them into the common area and follows you in.

“Yeah but I thought that like, you’d be going back to Red Bull or something.”

“Oh well, I was but,” Lando makes a face, “Carlos and Max are fighting again.”

“Again?”

“Yeah they’re,” Lando glances around before leaning in as he drops his voice, “sleeping together.”

You cover your mouth with a small gasp. “What? Really? Carlos and Max? I thought Max was into Daniel.”

“He is but Carlos and he started seeing each other. Max got mad that Teto showed up and was all over Carlos so they’re fighting so Oscar said he and Logan were dipping and I do not want to be stuck between Max and Carlos fighting nor third wheel Lo and Osc so, dorm it was.”

“Oh I see,” you nod and give it a beat, “I’m sorry for slapping you. That was uncalled for.”

“No, no.” Lando chuckles, “No hard feelings I asked for it by being a dick. Masquerade ball? Really?”

“What? It’s fun! Wearing masks and trying to guess who is who. Don’t rich people love that? The thrill of it and messy outcomes?” You ask as you start heading to your hallway. “Besides,” you turn, “Masquerade balls are classic social events and we need the headmaster to approve. We’ll talk more about it tomorrow. Goodnight Lando.”

“..Night Y/N.”

You go to your dorm and shower before changing and getting ready for bed. Turning on Netflix, you flip through before settling down and putting on a random YouTube video. Your mind wanders as you replay the events of tonight. You bring your fingers up to your lips as you replay Lando kissing you over and over again. Your cheeks flush as there’s a ghost of a smile to your lips before the realization hits. This is Lando Norris. The man that tried to bribe you. Has been nothing but an asshole. You even said this isn’t some bully romance. Shaking your head out, you lay down and roll to groan into a pillow. The red flags were all there on why this was a horrible idea. You two weren’t healthy for each other. It would be such a toxic relationship, Rolling back over, your subconscious whispers softly to sway you otherwise as curiosity makes its way through.

Were all the rumors true? You had heard Lando was a good kisser and just had that proven tonight so…was he actually good in bed?

‘Come on’. Your subconscious coos. ‘Just one night is all you need for your answers.’

Weighing the pros and cons, you stare at the ceiling.

You were the last person that should be gracing these school grounds so the least you could do was have fun and try to be a normal college kid. That meant messy one night stands and even messier relationships. Besides, it's for plot.

Right?

tag list: @norrisleclercf1, @dripostsstuff, @tinyhrry, @formulaho, @green--beanie,

@brekkers-whore, @taliya8346282844eliviahgdajs, @fat-meh, @landossainz, @jaydensluv, @carpediem241108, @rayaharper, @bookishnerd1132, @asmoothoperator, @loloekie, @kawaiifurychaos, @st0rmzi3, @eclipsedcherry, @linnygirl09, @ln4-cl16-world, @poppymelonz, @katiascraft, @fangirl125reader, @hadesnumber1daughter, @annispamz, @su0aveee, @strawberryy-kiwii, @landorris, @oikarma, @formula1-motogpfan

@plotpal, @amalialeclerc, @spikershoyo, @oikarma, @bbg-blue-lock, @lilaissa, @clovermoters, @kpoploverxx-12,

[speed-world]

Teddy anon here and...cuddly anon x Royal margarine please? That man is so charming and has an adorable pathetic side I love, I can't resist him! He will always be my knight in shining armor...who also screams like a girl! XD

Royal Margarine Cookie absolutely loves how cuddly his sweetheart Y/N Cookie is. He finds you so adorable and sweet, and is always chuckling when you cuddle together.

Since you guys love cuddling one another so much, both of you initiate the warm embrace whenever one feels like it!

Royal Margarine loves to be the one to initiate the cuddles, mainly because he’ll do so at the most random times when you’re not paying attention. The way you become the biggest blushing mess whenever he scoops your face into his big, warm, soft, and fuzzy chest from outta nowhere is priceless to him!!

Of course, you love to do the same; catching the dragon rider off guard with your own charm makes him stutter on his words and flush completely!

There’s been multiple occasions where Royal Margarine would be chatting about with other Cookies, speaking in his naturally charming and subtly flirtatious manner…only to be completely blindsided when you come up and motorboat his chest!!? (His fault for having those boys out in the wild like that fr fr-)

Buttercream loves seeing the two of you practically competing to be so cuddly and loving on each other! Of course, you can’t resist cuddling the wyvern too!

Just don’t be getting cuddly with Buttercream in front of Royal Margarine. The dragon rider will gradually become a jealous babe and cuddle you for an hour-

Most of all, Royal Margarine enjoys the softer, quieter moments of cuddling with you. Simply relaxing on a couch or bed, spooning and nuzzling one another in calm silence is pure bliss for him.

It’s in those tender moments that he’s always reminded of how blessed he truly is to have a Cookie as beautiful and loving as you, and he couldn’t have possibly imagined anything better than you as his precious parter.

[izzys-focking-resignation]

I want Izzy to become violently, aggressively, militantly protective of the whole crew. Yes, even Stede. ESPECIALLY Stede.

I want Izzy asking Fang for help adjusting to his new leg, I want Izzy asking Frenchie to play a song to raise everyone's spirits, I want Izzy asking Roach to bake a cake for Archie's birthday (yes, she liked the buttercream), I want Izzy asking Jim to tell everyone the story of the wooden boy again. I want Izzy to be clumsy and make people uncomfortable with his new habit of sharing his feelings and asking how the crew is feeling, and I don't want him to ever once apologize for it because it feels good and that's nothing to be ashamed of.

I want a British officer to snicker at Izzy for hugging Stede and I want Izzy to cut his throat open wordlessly for it.

Izzy belongs to the crew now, and he feels safe with them.

I want Izzy to be Stede's new first mate, and when Ed inevitably raises a sword to Stede, I want Izzy to step in front of Stede because he would lay down his life for any member of the crew now.