coffee buns

So after that last set of doodles, I HAD to include my boi Todd…but I didn’t know who’d hold the little bun XD

But then I realized that no one else should have the honors to do this besides Isabelle, his big sista <3 Enjoy! (Continuation of this >>>

5.5.17 || 9/100 days of productivity

It’s been quite the whirlwind week and I’ve been a little bit scatter-brained but I started my morning of sweet with some coffee, custard buns and of course, planning. However, I got a pesky migraine and didn’t end up doing half the things I needed to do, like work on my essay due next week. The weekend is going to be pretty hectic too but hopefully this migraine is gone when I wake up in the morning and I get to churn this essay out. I hope you’re all having wonderfully productive weeks! 💕

🎶 Told You So - Paramore

i put a spell on you (part 1/2, zimbits)

This fic is for the ultra-cool @porcupine-girl who won my Fandom Trumps Hate auction and was so very generous with time and prompt leeway as this fic spun out of control. I hope the resulting silliness was worth the wait! ^_^

Please do me a favor and take nothing in the fic you’re about to read seriously.

Read on AO3

It was unnaturally quiet in the Haus when Bitty crept his way downstairs, picking his way around abandoned solo cups and other party debris to get to the kitchen, Señor Bun hitched on his hip. He swung open the door with a sigh. He had expected the mess, but it was still disappointing to see the sheer amount of trash and spills on the floor after Epikegster the night before. Bitty set his rabbit on the counter and Señor Bun immediately began to sniff around the solo cups.

“Don’t drink anything,” Bitty warned. Señor Bun thumped the counter in protest and Bitty gave him a look and wagged a finger at him. “I mean it.”

The rabbit seemed at least momentarily convinced to stay put so Bitty turned and pulled open one of the bottom cabinets to tear off a new garbage bag from the roll. He made quick work of the various cups and drinks left on the counter and sprayed everything down with bleach before scrubbing away the evidence of any of the sticky tub juice and beer on the counter at least. Señor Bun wrinkled his nose at the bleach but hopped out of the way as Bitty cleaned around him. Bitty’s shoes still stuck to the floor when he moved, but that could be a problem for Ransom and Holster whenever they dragged themselves out of bed. He only needed the clean counter for now.

He checked his phone and rolled his eyes at himself.

“Lord, who am I up at six on a morning after a party like that?” Bitty asked Señor Bun absentmindedly. Señor Bun thumped his foot loudly, registering a complaint at the early hour as well and Bitty scratched behind his ear which elicited even more thumping.

Keep reading

“You nearly killed me during the meeting this afternoon.”

Donut slid his hands over to a particularly stubborn knot of muscle and dug his thumbs in. Locus hissed at the pressure. “What part? I thought it went well. Everyone really opened up to each other. Except you. Apparently I’m the only one who can get you to loosen up.” He ran his hands up and down the mercenary’s back, fingertips catching at the patchworks of scars across it.

The growl was a thing more felt than heard. “You know I have a reputation to maintain. And rolling on the floor laughing does not help that.”

Donut couldn’t help it; he buried his face between Locus’ shoulder blades and giggled. “If I make a ‘hard ass’ comment right now…?”

He squeaked, suddenly finding himself flat on his back, Locus pinning him. “You’d pay for that.”

Threading his fingers through Locus’ hair, he pulled him down to nip at his nose. “Oh, no, I think I left my wallet in my other armor. However shall I manage?”

Perks, Lin-Manuel Miranda x Reader (part three)

Prompt: Reader is a famous actress and gets shipped with Lin by the Internet.

Word-count: 1,049 (shortest one ever holla soz)

Warnings: Cursing, but then again, isn’t it always?


This part is more on the shorter side, but it’s meant to be a bridge in between pre-Norton and post-Norton, if that makes any sense???? Anyway, they meet, they bond, fluff ensues, the whole nine yards! (Kind of.)

I’d like to thank everyone who’s been liking this story so far, and everyone who’s been liking my stories in general. It’s still a little weird to me that people are paying attention to what I have to say. Much, much love. xx

Part One | Part Two

God, you had to be the biggest idiot to ever walk the face of the earth.

What were you thinking, taking this man you barely knew out to coffee? Taking this man, this man that you had been kind of maybe not looking forward to meeting, this man that you had been hoping would be terrible so that you would have something to spite the people who pushed you together with, with you to the nearest possible Starbucks location?

Was it to save face? Most likely, because in any other situation you would have said bye and bolted, but Lin, you find, was frustratingly different from any other situation.

So now you sat in across form him, in a crowded coffee shop you didn’t like, with a venti, iced chai tea latte and a bagel, fidgeting because all that prior confidence had fizzled out the moment you realized what you were doing.

“So,” Lin said, sitting down and nearly making you flinch, but you weren’t an Oscar-nominated actress for nothing. You cracked a smile at him as he set down his cinnamon bun and coffee. (He could drink any coffee, you learned, even the Starbucks black coffee, which was essentially liquid tar.)

“So,” you mirrored, and took a sip of your latte to somewhat douse some of the nerves that had settled in your stomach. You wondered at what the hell you were trying to do here, and what you should be doing. You opted for honesty. “I don’t remember seeing this in my itinerary this morning.” Close enough, you decided. It was true, anyway. None of this was expected.

It was enough of an ice breaker to get a laugh out of Lin.

“Oh, trust me,” Lin said, eyes sparkling, “if I had seen ‘Bump into a person you admire as she runs from cameras’ on my schedule, I would have been a lot less useless in that alley back there.”

You raised an eyebrow, playful. “And what, pray tell, would you have done?”

Lin puffed his chest out. “I would have blasted those assholes away with my ray gun, obviously.”

You laughed.

“You’ve never seen it?” Lin asked, incredulous and impressed at the same time.

You smirked, shook your head. “I’m a big believer in letting the hype die down before going into anything.” Both of your cups were empty by now, and you reckoned that the only reason you weren’t being politely asked to leave was because they knew who you were (which was presumptuous as hell, but these days, it happened a lot more often than you would have liked to admit) or they knew who Lin was. (Which he vehemently denied, claiming that since he had his hair cut, less and less people recognized him. “It must be all you, King.” he said. You chucked your straw at him.)

The conversation at hand was how you, miraculously, had managed to live and breathe in New York City for a period of time (six months, give or take) without having been bitten by the Hamilton bug.

“It took a lot of work,” you said sincerely and in all seriousness, causing Lin to laugh. “I’m serious! Trying to escape from your show was like trying to outrun a constantly oncoming bus. And it didn’t help that everyone back in in LA was trying to get me to listen to it as well.” But they had failed miserably, and you had dutifully remained ignorant to the magical pull of Hamilton that seemed to attract others like flies to honey.

“But you were invited to the Tony’s, and as far as I know, you went.”

“Yeah, I was there.” You nodded. Lin’s brow furrowed further.

“How did you not hear us perform then?”

You smiled innocently. “I went to the bathroom and plugged my ears.”

Lin started to sputter, his eyebrows shooting to his hairline, lips pressing together to try and keep himself quiet, but he was failing. He cracked, laughing so hard that he had to hold his stomach. You couldn’t help it, you joined him.

It was around the time you had pulled yourselves that you noticed the anxious looking staff standing next to your table. The poor teenager was wringing his hands, looking from you to Lin as if terrified.

“I’m sorry, ma’am and sir, we’re going to have to ask you to leave—“

“Oh, no problem, we’re going.” Lin said cheerfully, smiling widely at the boy who looked even more terrified at the prospect of telling Lin-Manuel Miranda and Y/N Y/L/N that they were being kicked out, and them being perfectly lovely about it.

“We must’ve been disturbing the peace, oh dear.” you said, chuckling, as you got up.

With barely a squeak, the staff escorted you and Lin to the exit, the both of you cooperating and going along with it like it was the most typical thing, to be thrown out (although rather politely) of a chain coffee store.

When the doors swung closed behind the two of you, Lin doubled up in laughter once more, and you rolled your eyes, starting to walk in a direction that was familiar to you.

Lin hollered and ran to catch up with you, falling back into step pretty quickly.

“I did see you in your first show, though.” you said, looking at him from the corner of your eye. You saw his raised brow and looked at him fully. “Oh come on, what’s that face about? How else would I have referenced a song as you literally saving me from falling on my ass?”

“It’s nothing! It’s just I didn’t think you knew I existed so…” Lin shrugged, and this show of genuine self-deprecation made him more endearing to you. (More so than he already was.)

You parted ways near Wimbledon, with each other’s numbers on your phones and promises to meet up at some point. (At some point after Norton, at some point after all of the hype you both had made up for yourselves had passed and the waters were steady enough to dip your toes in once more.)

You stalled for a moment as you watched him leave, before looking down at your watch.

“Shit.” you muttered before taking off.

Your lunch break had already ended ten minutes ago.