Cupcake? 2p!England X Implied Chubby!Reader

The cupcake Oliver had given me yesterday was still sitting on the counter, mocking me with its red velvety goodness and sweet cream cheese frosting, driving me up the wall. With a sigh I shook my head, eating instead a ‘low calorie’ granola bar on my walk to school. I really did want to eat it. Why wouldn’t I? After all, it’s not like I’m hopelessly in love with the guy or anything; or like he doesn’t make the best cupcakes on the planet. I just, couldn’t afford the extra calories.

It’s not that I couldn’t have gotten a ride from one of my older siblings, or even one of my parents, I just wasn’t worth the time and apparent gas money required to get me there. I didn’t dare take the bus; that was in and of itself a death sentence.
And so, I trudged through the already knee high snow, flakes still falling, to my personal circle of Hell.

(Time skip brought to you by Oliver’s Cupcakes. Try one they’re delicious.)

PE class has always been the bane of my existence, though after reaching high school it was much more tolerable, if only for the fact that I indirectly knew the teacher, Mr. Bielschmidt, though he insists on being called Herr. Supposedly, he’s a friend of Oliver’s mom going back to when they were in primary school. I have yet to find evidence proving or opposing such claim.

But anyways, there I was, running my laps as if my life depended on it, in an attempt to run for longer than anyone else in the class a feat I had yet to accomplish, with Herr Bielshmidt’s oldest son, Gilen. His fingers flew across the touch screen of his iTouch before brandishing it at her. Did Oliver give you a cupcake yet today? I shook my head in response and continued running.

Why not? He makes them just for you, he refuses to give any cupcake you don’t accept to anyone else. I chose not to dignify that statement with a response and sped up my running. Then suddenly, I faceplanted. My peers, (Gilen exempted) burst out into raucous laughter, my face burning with embarrassment unshed tears spilling over. I didn’t notice Herr Bielschmidt helping me up, nor did I notice him tell Gilen to take me to the nurse’s office. The only thing I know, is that soon after faceplanting, my mind refused to record anything and the next thing that I do remember is sitting next to a sink in the nurse’s office.

Wait here, I’ll go find the nurse.

Lets be someone else, shall we?

(What!?! Wait, I’m not done talking ye---)

-->Now you love cupcakes, deal with it

Oliver scowled down at his hand, an angry red burn consuming his thumb and part of his forefinger. ‘What in the name of all sweet things was Markell thinking? He’s lucky that we’re at school, otherwise it wouldn’t be just my hand that’s burned.’ He sighed at the thought of trying to take on the Dane, he simply wouldn’t be strong enough to cause him harm without help, and François was unlikely to help him. Maybe he could present the harsh Dane with one of his special cupcakes, maybe Vasska would help him.

Either way, he would probably end up speaking with the Romanian at some point today, the culinary teacher, Mr. Adnan, wouldn’t allow him back in the classroom until the burn is treated. Therefore, Oliver was now required to go have the nurse smear aloe on said burn before he could return to hopefully rescue the class from Markell’s horrid cooking. And by that extent, the likelihood of Vasska being in the nurse’s office were high, seeing as he wasn’t the most substantial person to walk the earth and had Gym with Oliver’s dearest friend, (Y/N), and most likely was probably excused from whatever activity they were doing today.

To his surprise, Vasska was not in the nurse’s office as expected, he was rummaging through his locker a pile of textbooks next to him. “Oh, hello Oliver,” he said, voice tired. Sometimes it seemed like the boy carried upon his shoulder’s the weight of the world.

“Mr. Adnan seems more angry today than usual,” the Brit replied, with a glance at the textbooks. “Why aren’t you in the nurse’s office?”

Vasska sighed, “That’s because Ionache is making him sleep on the couch. I think my mom’s having night terrors again, so she sits up at night doing whatever it is she’s being paid to do, and since Sadaqat works here and has to be up early, my uncle thinks he’ll sleep better on the couch. That, and I think mom’s pregnant and that’s what they’re arguing about.”

Oliver had been aware of his friend’s dislike of his step father, going so far as to use his given name on purpose. “That doesn’t tell me why you’re not in the nurse’s office.”
The Romanian looked slightly surprised, “It was occupied when I got there. Herr Bielschmidt didn’t even notice me leave, but that’s not new. Um, actually I think (Y/N), that is her name right? Anyway, she like collapsed or something in the middle of class, Gilen took her. Therefore, I cannot go to the nurse’s office because she’s already there. They should like, make it bigger or something.” Oliver’s face brightened, considering the pain in his hand, and yanked open his locker pulling out yet another red velvet cupcake with cream cheese frosting.

Before Oliver could leave to visit (Y/N), Vasska had one last thing to tell him, “By the way, she looked really upset when Gilen made her leave. From what I gather, she was rather upset.” With that, Vasska pulled a book from his locker, shut it and left the school.
Oliver, cupcake in hand, strode down the hall towards the destination of many a student seeking to get out of class. He peered around the doorway, wondering if he should knock or not and heard the sound of running water. His thick eyebrows shot up his forehead in confusion. Surely someone didn’t need to nearly flood the nurse’s office to merely wash their hands or whatever. So he stepped in, unprepared for the sight before him. There was his best friend, submerged face first in the commercial-grade sink (You know, the ones with really deep basins).

So he did what any other person would do. He panicked. Loudly.

(Tiny time skip brought to you by baseball, it’s Al’s favorite sport and I said so)

Due to the panicking that Oliver was engaged in, the Principal and François ended up pulling her out of the sink. François then forced Oliver to give (Y/N) CPR because, ‘he doesn’t know her, zherefore, it didn’t matter if zhe girl lived or died.’ Currently, Oliver was making comforting cooing noises, while the Principal did not call her parents, something Vasska insisted was not to be done, where Vasska had come from, no  one really knew seeing as when Oliver last saw him, he was in the process of leaving. No one was sure how he even knew about (Y/N)’s home life, he would later claim that it was his job to know.

Vasska had reached an agreement with the slightly older male, teaming up against anyone opposing the cupcakes, or Oliver’s cupcake, better known as (Y/N).

(Ok, now we can switch back to who we used to be

-->Now, you’re nibbling on a red velvet cupcake

“Sometime after my close brush with death, cupcakes started popping up everywhere, anyone stupid enough to eat one, or too stupid to realize that I was the only one who ever received untainted cupcakes and ate one anyway fell ill and were all hospitalized. They never found a trace of anything in the contents of their stomachs nor in any of the ‘criminalized cupcakes.’ It was a long time before anyone at the school ate such sweetness.

Vasska left school early, and no one is certain what it is that he does to make money, and occasionally helps Oliver with the bakery he finally came to own. He does not sell red velvet cupcakes claiming they are for his cupcake only. I moved out of the toxic environment called my family’s house and in with Oliver and his three brothers, cousin and mother. They were surprisingly accepting of this whole situation.

Oliver skipped over an entire courtship and we ended up getting married the day before he opened his bakery, and eventually we adopted you.” I smiled down at the kittens in my lap.

“Poppet, are Crumpet and Cupcake ok?” Oliver called from the bakery downstairs.

“They’re fine,” I shouted back. Cupcake, the kitten with the pink ribbon meowed before leaping from my lap to the floor. “Well I thought it was a sweet story.” And Crumpet purred in agreement.

All was finally right with my world.