#if I could get my mitts on that one

[dragon-chica]

absolutely soul crushing to not find a specific 1999 computer learning game on any downloading sites

[kingworm]

they could never make me hate you my reanimated zombie frankensteins monster trauma machine baby girl

[tswwwit]

I would love, even if its just its just brief summaries, to know the different thoughts going through bills head throughout the last smut. (mainly when he got the text and when dipper starts just blurting out thoughts and ideas bc i think those moments would be fun to see)

Imagine you're having the shittiest day at work. You're gritting your teeth and hanging onto it by your fingernails, knowing that eventually dealing with this absolutely idiotic, waffling, overstuffed, condescending dipshit of a client will be done with, you'll charge him out the nose for your services - which will probably be, like a hundred dollars, the way this is going! What bullshit. At least afterwards, you can collapse onto the bed and complain to your spouse about it. Which you have been doing, actually, waiting for a decent excuse to bail or check out early.

Then you get a text. And it's your partner saying they got you a brand new console, your favorite pizza - Oh! And a million bucks in untraceable cash - but you might have to kick your shitty client in the nuts so hard his eyes pop out. Does that sound... okay? No pressure or anything.

The reason Bill was a minute later than expected is because even he needed a moment. It was the sheer whiplash from going from Shit to Fucking Amazing.

[whump-queen]

you're saying you wouldn't go with oven mitt after putting me in mitts? i mean i voted for it bc i wanted it to be someone else for a change

first off the mitt thing happened in addition to a whole bunch of other shit, plus I knew you’d hate it and I was right 😘

[lonewolflink]

sometimes i think about how mike green didn't win a norris trophy the season he scored THIRTY GOALS AS A DEFENSEMAN in the fucking dead puck era and i want to break something

[progeniterror]

reliving my childhood by watching puppet master 2 with no memory of puppet master

[luveline]

kisses before dinner —the harrington family gets ready for a dinner party. mom!reader, 3k

"...and I told mommy she needed my help but your mom doesn't like listening to me anymore," Steve says, eyebrows pulled together, "because of that one time I told her the side of the refrigerator was supposed to feel warm and it broke. But I'm usually right."

Wren blinks at him dopily where she lies in the dip of his thighs. Steve has his knees up, back flat on the couch and head propped by a pink fluffy heart pillow from Bethie's bed to speak to her face to face. 

"I promise you'll understand when you're older. I'm a genius." He strokes her little forehead. Steve's youngest daughter is too baby to look like anybody, but he's starting to think she looks like him anyway. "And now mom has to run the washing machine again when we were already super duper busy." 

"Shut up!" you yell from the kitchen. 

Bethie giggles from the same place, seemingly, raising her voice to join in, "Yeah, daddy! Shut up!" 

"That's so not nice." Steve shakes his head at Wren in dramatic disbelief. She smiles at him. "Isn't that mean? Don't you think that's sick?" 

"You're being a know-it-all again!" you continue. "And we'd be less busy if you were helping me!" 

"I'm sick of helping," Steve says conversationally. "I help all day long." 

Wren gurgles and lifts one of her hands toward him. Steve holds it in his, rubbing at her palm with a gentle thumb. She totally gets what he's saying, agrees with him no doubt, breathing out heavily as Steve gives her hand a wave up and down. 

"Steve," you say, dropping the angry act to pull him in, "please, sweetheart, I really do need your help."

"How am I supposed to say no to that?" Steve whispers. "Does she guilt trip you that way?" 

Wren doesn't giggle, but the breathy, happy sound she makes as he crunches forward to kiss her forehead is close enough to make Steve laugh himself. He moves her carefully into the curve of his arm and stands, wishing he could stretch, exhausted by another long week but undeniably happy. "Let's go see what they want," he murmurs to Wren. 

You and Bethie are in the kitchen by the stove. She's wearing oven mitts too big for her, and you're crouched behind her offering steady instructions. "Don't touch the sides, my love. Only the baking tray. If it feels warm and you're not happy, tell me, and I'll take it straight away." You wear your own oven gloves.

"I can do it," Beth insists, squaring her features. 

Beth takes the baking tray and its cookies into her hands, walking with short steps to the counter, where she slides the tray up high. You lean over her to make sure it's settled before closing the oven and dashing a kiss into her cheek. "Well done, gorgeous girl," you say, scratching lightly at her shoulder as she preens under the praise. "One day you'll be making cookies all by yourself."

"But not for a while?" she asks, startled. 

You kiss her again. "Not for a long, long time." 

"Did you need my help or my approval?" Steve asks, his hand making a small thump with each pat he taps into Wren's back. "A taste tester, right?" 

"I need you to find your other daughters. I have no idea where they are," you say with a rueful smile. 

"Okay." Steve has carried babies. He's carried them for years, tiny ones and ones too big to need it, carried nonetheless. But something about Wren in all her newness makes him nervous. He hates carrying her up and down the stairs, too aware of the times he's missed a step or tripped up. "Can you take her?" 

"Yes!" Bethie says, running to her unofficial chair at the dining table and holding out her mitted arms as she sits. 

You nod at him and take the seat next to her. Steve hands Wren over into her sister's waiting hold, more than confident you're still there to take over if things get overwhelming. Wren looks comically large in Bethie's lap. 

"I have her, dad." Beth leans down to touch her nose to Wren's. "Hi, Wren. Hello, hello," she says softly.

Steve gives your cheek a swift but loving stroke and leaves in search of the other kids. He can hear Dove in her room talking to herself in make believe, but Avery, the oldest, isn't with her, nor is she in her bedroom. Steve knocks on the bathroom door. 

"Are you in there, Ave?" 

No answer. Steve raises his voice. "I'm coming in." 

He peeks inside slowly but she's not there. Eyebrows raised, Steve asks, "Avery, where are you?" Nothing. "Avery Harrington, don't make me worry! Please." 

He lets his head drift to one side, listening for an answer. Avery rarely gets told off and she hates it; she'd jump to tell him where she was if she were up here. 

Or so he thinks. Just as he's taking the stairs again to look for her someplace he must have missed, he hears sniffling coming from the master bedroom. 

Idiot, he thinks, relief taking tight hold. He doesn't like not knowing where the girls are. He should've checked your room to begin with. 

"Ave?" he says, opening his bedroom door. "You in here?" 

"I'm here, dad," she says, peering up from the space between the top of the bed and his nightstand, kneeling on the carpeted floor. 

"What are you doing down there? We gotta get ready for Aunt Robin's party." 

Her cheeks shine in the slice of light from the open door. Steve closes it behind him and flicks on the big light, rounding the end of the bed to help her up. He hooks his hands under her arms and pulls her into his chest, bed springs creaking as their joined weight lands. 

"Why are you crying?" he asks, cuddling her to his front. "What's wrong? Why didn't you come and find me? You can't stay here crying all by yourself, that's not cool. How am I supposed to make it better if I don't know what's wrong?" 

"Dove bit me." 

Steve gasps. "Again?" 

"On my hand, dad." She holds up her wrist. "It hurts." 

He presses his cheek to the top of her head, taking her arm tenderly to analyse the bite. It's a nasty thing, not bleeding but cruel and stark. "I'm sorry," he says. 

"You said I can't be mean–" 

"No, you can't–" 

"But it was really mean." 

"I know," he murmurs, "but I just don't… we can't be mean to Dove when she bites because she doesn't know it's wrong, okay? She doesn't remember. She knows it's the wrong thing to do, but by the time I tell her she doesn't know what she did." What Steve means is that the first time Dove bit Avery, Avery reacted on impulse and slapped her sister in the stomach. There isn't a bridge yet to connect to Dove why she might have received such a thing (though Steve teaches all the girls that hitting is never okay no matter what), so Dove just thought she was being hit. It was a very tense half hour of tears. 

Steve rubs Avery's back as she starts to cry in earnest. "I will tell her not to bite you, honey. I swear, I won't let her be mean to you. I'll tell her until she understands." 

He's been trying to teach Dove not to bite, but saying 'no' doesn't seem to do anything. Positive incentives don't last, and taking her toys wouldn't make much sense, because again, she doesn't get it. 

"You know," Steve says, wiping her cheeks tenderly, "I'll tell her again and again and again until she stops, and it'll work, because it worked with you." 

"What?" 

"You used to bite me sometimes, but you used to bite mom all the time." 

Avery looks at him in horror. "I did?" 

He puts her down onto her feet and takes her hand. He'd like to tell her this story while sitting down, but Robin's house beckons and time is running short. "Mom would come home from work and you'd be very happy to see her, but she would ask you what you did today and where we went and you'd bite her." 

He peeks into Dove's room and finds her missing. Downstairs, you say, "No! No, no, babe!" and he assumes she's been found. 

"Why would I do that?" 

Steve holds her hand buoyed between them as he descends the stairs. "We decided it was because you missed her. When your Dove's age you don't know how to say that. You don't even know what that is. I'm a thousand years old and I don't even know what I'm feeling half the time. So mom stopped hugging you after work for a bit until you calmed down." 

"But I don't go to work, dad. Why did Dove bite me?" 

"What were you doing?" 

"We were playing with Mr Scruffles and the care bears and she just bit me for no reason!" 

Steve stops at the bottom of the stairs. "Were you being a bossy boots?" 

Avery glares at him. "I just told her to stop taking Funshine bear." 

"Well," Steve says, smiling at her in apology, "maybe, next time, you can come and tell me, and then I'll tell her to stop taking Funshine bear, and then when she wants to bite someone she bites me instead of you. That could work, yeah?" He would much prefer it. 

Steve takes Avery to the kitchen, where you've transferred Wren into her bassinet while Bethie eats a cookie, her cheeks messy with chocolate, and Dove languishes in your arms, small hands touching your hair curiously. 

"Dove, will you look at this?" he asks, showing her Avery's bite mark. "You see that, honey? That's what you did when you bit your sister. We don't bite."

You gasp. "No!" you say, stern but far from cruel. "We don't bite. We only bite when we want to eat something." 

Dove frowns. 

"When you bite," Steve says, trying to appeal to her smarts. It'll stick eventually. "You give Avery an owie. That's why we can't bite, okay?" 

Dove can tell she's being chided even if she doesn't totally get why. "No," she says unhappily. 

"Can you say sorry to Avery?" you ask, reassuring her with a gentle squeeze. "Say, I'm sorry, Avery." 

"Sorry, Ave'y," she mumbles. 

Avery can't glare for long. She doesn't hold a grudge, not like her dad. "It's okay. You didn't mean to." 

You beam at Avery like she's hung the moon. "You're so nice, my big girl. Can I have a look at your wrist? Did that hurt?" 

Her mother's concern draws fresh tears. You swap children, and Dove quickly forgets what happened as Avery cries in little sniffles on the countertop. Steve brims with a familiar brand of pride as you comfort her, kissing and offering treats to help her feel better. I picked the right one might be applicable, only Steve didn't choose you so much as he happened upon you one day like a miracle, and then begged to keep you. Luckily for him, you've always been very agreeable on that front. 

(As in, you love him more than can be said in any one language.) 

"What are you upto?" Steve asks Bethie.

She shows him her food-covered hands. He nods like this is awesome, but in reality chocolate stains her t-shirt and she's going to have to change before they leave. Dove rams herself against his leg and looks up with her eyes widened. 

"What?" he asks. 

"Um…" 

"What do you want?" he asks, softer. She starts to frown again. Steve bends. "Drink? Crackers?" No dice. "What about some pear slices?" 

Dove loves pears more than anything, the sticky, sugary sliced kind from the can. Her frown disappears and she walks off, thankful to be understood. Steve's just grateful he wasn't bitten.

"What else did you need?" Steve asks, winding around you where you're cleaning Avery's cheeks. A damp washcloth drips down your arm.

"More time. Have any?" 

"Wren's bag is done, bottles done, Bethie's dinner." He whispers the last part. Bethie is a picky eater and she grows pickier with time, and Robin knows this, but she's not a parent (as sweet and caring as she might be for the girls). Only something you or Steve have made is something Bethie will deign to eat, and she's insecure about it despite having no reason to be. "Beth needs a new top. Your blouse needs to go in the dryer, and I can't find my nice pants. Avery?" 

"I don't need anything." 

"You sure? You have Mr Scruffles?" 

She wraps her arms around your neck. "Just want a hug." 

"Then I guess I'm busy while daddy does all my chores," you tease Steve lightly, your touch similarly soft where it tracks up and down Avery's arm. "I'm sorry Dove bit you again. It's not fair. Not fair at all. Maybe we should only have you playing downstairs until me and dad figure it out, okay? I don't want her to keep taking bits of you." 

Steve clears the checklist. Not to brag or anything, but he's a pro. You both are. Life is hectic as always and you knew getting out the door would be a process, so you planned accordingly, and you arrive at Robin's with time to spare, though Dove smells strongly of sugary pears and Bethie's new shirt has fingerprints on the back. 

"Hi, crew!" Robin greets. "It's my favourite Harringtons!" 

"We're your only Harringtons." 

"That's not true, I went to college with a Harrington." Robin ushers the girls inside. They want one thing and one thing alone —hugs. Dove is the most insistent, dropping your hand to offer Robin her arms. She picks the small girl up and smiles at her with a monumental amount of love. Robin doesn't have favourites but Dove demands it, sometimes. Avery says, "Hello, Aunt Robin," and hugs her stomach, while Bethie puts her arm behind Avery and hugs them both. 

Steve's arm shakes. "Any chance I can get through? This is a really heavy baby." 

"Hi," Robin says, ignoring him without guilt. "You guys are the best part about having a best friend." 

Steve logs that one for later revenge and eases around the mass of bodies to take Wren into the living room. "Holy fuck," he says, "I thought you weren't coming?" 

Eddie rolls his eyes. "I wanted to see the girls. It has nothing to do with you." 

They hug and pat each other on the back, and then Eddie drops to his knees in front of Wren's car seat to smile at her. "I love her so much. Can I have this one? Y'already have so many." 

"No you absolutely cannot. Where's Dustin?" 

"They're all in the backyard. Mora's teaching them how to make grass flutes, or something." 

"How'd you get out of that?" 

Eddie shrugs. "She doesn't like me. Doesn't make any sense, goth and metal are like brothers." 

"Is she goth? I thought we settled on hippie who wears dark clothing." 

"You guys are such losers!" Robin says, like a tree adorned in girl-shaped ornaments. "Don't bitch about Mora." 

"Don't swear in front of my kids!" 

You, having taken off your shoes and coat, unlike Steve, shimmy around the table. "He said 'fucking bitch' in front of Bethie the other day," you gossip, sitting by your friend's side. Eddie gives you a quick hug. You're undoubtedly his favourite Harrington. 

"He's a disgusting man who shouldn't have kids." 

You gasp and elbow him. "How dare you." 

"Can we go play with Stinky?" Avery asks Robin. 

Robin puts Dove down, short hair flying every which way, "If you can find him. But be nice, okay? He's agitated today. Mora says it's something about the supermoon." 

Avery laughs and Dove races to follow her sister up the stairs. "Ave, remember what I said, okay?" Steve calls after her. "Come and tell me if she's being bad! And no going in the bathroom!" 

Bethie remains, oddly. Though it's obvious why she's stayed the longer she lingers, her gaze flickering between you and Eddie. 

He holds his arms out. "Hello, Beth. You want a bro hug?" 

Bethie laughs and meanders into his waiting arms, where he pat-pat-pats her back like he did to Steve, eliciting a wave of happy giggles. "You've gotten so big again!" Eddie says, moving her away kindly. "Woah!" 

"I'm glad people have stopped saying that to me," you joke. 

Steve's delighted, laughing loud and sudden, and you're always pleased to have made him laugh, practically collapsing in his direction. He pulls at you until you're arm's reach. 

"What does that mean, Eddie?" Bethie whispers. 

Eddie pulls her into his lap. "It means your mom is happy about baby Wren being born." 

"I'm really happy too." 

"I bet you are! Your dad told me you're like his little helper, is that true?" 

Steve turns into your cheek. A quick stolen moment before he kisses under your ear and pulls away. "Wow," he says, smiling at you, "could we, like, actually have a conversation right now? A full one?" 

You beam. "What do you wanna talk about?" 

Steve could happily talk about everything and nothing with you. Before bed you guys are usually tired but excited enough to be alone together that you'll talk about the colour of the new dish soap or Avery's broken pinky nail. "Seen any good movies lately?" 

You give him the look. He practically invented it, that sticky, gooey eyed love as you murmur, "Mm, no. Don't think so. How about you?" 

He leans in for a kiss. 

"Yikes," Eddie says, covering a giggling Bethie's eyes with his hands. "Robin, house rules, please!" 

Steve drops his arms heavily over your shoulders for a warm hug. "He's just jealous," he whispers. 

[astroph1les]

sleepovers & impressions | e.e

summary: you and emily’s relationship is growing beautifully but there’s two obstacles at the moment: she has to meet your bestfriend and win her over and you have to successfully have your first sleepover with her without being an awkward mess.

part one | part two | part three

pairing: emily engstler x fem!reader

contains: nothing but fluff to the max!

word count: 3.4K

a/n: this shouldn’t have take me as long as it did but here you guys go! i’m really loving this little series <3 special thank you to @girlokwhatever i love YOU she read this for me to make sure it was good! this is the last thing for emily i’ll be posting this week due to the strike so please please SPREAD AWARENESS ABOUT PALESTINE! there is a GENOCIDE HAPPENING IN PALESTINE.

You were smitten.

Delilah was rubbing it in your face like it was nobody’s business but you were head over heels for Emily. For the past month, the two of you were going on dates at least twice a week. She even dropped by while you were at work to ‘browse the poetry section’ but you knew that meant so that she could sneak a few kisses in before she had to zoom to practice.

Even your coworkers were starting to notice your more happy-go-lucky attitude ever since you and Emily began dating.

Weirdly enough, her being in the WNBA wasn’t a problem for you. She told you about the away games and how that was something that got in the way with her past relationships. You were quick to assure her that you are 100% supportive of her career.

No, the only thing that really made you anxious about your relationship at the moment was her sleeping over.

Oh, and meeting Delilah.

You’ve had to physically hold her back with your foot every time Emily dropped you off at your apartment because you just weren't ready yet. Sleeping over at each other’s places for the first time hasn’t been a line that you’ve crossed yet. It was strangely intimate for you.

Your apartment was a direct reflection of who you are.

But as much as you were avoiding it, Emily was staying over tonight — with no peer pressure from Delilah, that’s for damn sure. You called her after practice the day before to ask her if she wanted to.

She agreed and now you actually had to follow through.

“How far have y’all gone in bed?” Delilah asked as she was stirring the creamy pasta that was for tonight’s dinner.

You nearly dropped the pan of garlic knots at your best friend's forward question.

“Oh my god, I am not telling you that.” You shake your head as you place the hot tray on a cooling rack, removing your Shrek themed oven mitts once you did.

“What? Come on. You don’t have to go in detail. I’m just wondering. It’s been a month.” Delilah hummed, tucking a piece of her long, bright strawberry hair behind her ear.

“You really want to know?” You ask her, hooking the mitts back onto the inside of one of your cabinets.

Delilah spun around, staring at you with her wide blue eyes.

“Yes, hello? Tell me,” she snatches her glass of diet Coke off of the table, holding it up to her lips.

You clear your throat, brushing your flyaways out of your face.

“We haven’t done anything… sexual.” You avoid eye-contact with her, messing with a dish towel.

Delilah stared at you for a moment, trying to figure out whether or not you were joking. When you simply stared back, feeling your face get hot with embarrassment, her eyes widened.

“Wait, really?”

“Yes, the most we’ve done is a hot make out with, like, a little bit of ass grabbing and hickies,” you admit, wondering if it was obvious how flustered you were getting from just talking about the slight intimacy you’ve experienced being with Emily.

Delilah snorted as she glanced at the fading one on your neck.

“Trust me. I can see that,” she took a sip of her drink, smiling behind her can.

You grab the dish towel to smack her arm, maniacal laughter leaving her lips.

“I’m nervous, okay?” You said through your own laughter, covering your face with your free hand.

“Is it also because she who shall not be named because she’s a manipulative cunt?” Delilah stared at you with raised brows.

You wanted to say no but your past relationship, even having ended a year ago, left a detrimental mark on your psyche. You wanted to move on and let yourself enjoy what was growing between you and Emily.

“Maybe, but I don’t want to talk about it right now. Em should be coming soon,” you shake your head, setting the dish towel back in its rightful place.

“Em?” She repeated with a shit-eating grin on her face.

“Oh my god, enough. Are you going to be nice and act like an adult when she gets here?” You double check with your best friend, wiping your sweaty palms on your pant leg.

You hoped your outfit was good: a simple white fitted tank top, a pair of flare yoga pants and some fluffy socks since you were just inside of your own place. Delilah was sporting a dark gray knitted crew neck with a pair of white pajama pants decorated with red and pink hearts, matching you with her own fluffy socks.

“Yes, I’ll be nice. I won’t mention how I maced your ex as much as I would love to threaten her.” Delilah grinned, checking on her pasta.

“Please don’t.” You point a stern finger at her, sighing out.

Delilah held her hands up in defense before putting the stove on low heat to keep the pasta nice and warm. You make sure everything is placed neatly at you and Delilah’s cozy dining table, double checking everything was in its correct place. Before you could move anything, you hear a few knocks on your door. You and Delilah give each glance before you walk over to the door, unlocking it and pulling open the door.

There stood Emily in a plain white tee with mocha brown cardigan over it with a pair of matching sweats. She had her hair with two braids tied into a ponytail with a cutest smile on her face.

“Hi, Em. Come in,” you match her smile, leaning up to place a kiss on her lips.

“Hi, you look cozy,” she chuckled as she gave you a gentle hug, her palm lingering on your lower back. “It smells amazing in here.”

“That’s all Delilah’s cooking. I am shit at it,” you motion to the kitchen where Delilah stood, leaning against the island in your kitchen.

Emily chuckled at your words, walking over to the kitchen to greet Delilah with a handshake. Delilah glanced over at you before taking Emily’s hand in yours, a kind smile on her face.

“Hi, I’ve heard a lot about you,” Emily smiled back at Delilah.

“Same with you. You’re all I hear about now,” Delilah made sure to tilt her head at you teasingly,

Emily looked at you with a surprised glint in her soft brown eyes, your face heating up at the attention being drawn back to you.

”Alright, I think we should eat now.” You interrupt before Delilah can spill everything you’ve ever said about Emily to her face.

“What? I want to hear all these you’ve said about me since clearly, I’m all you talk about now,” Emily teased, raising her brows and folding her arms over her chest.

“Like you wouldn’t believe,” Delilah added, shrugging her shoulders and taking another long sip of her diet Coke.

“I think, personally, dinner sounds amazing.”

“We’ll discuss her later when she uses the bathroom,” Delilah says in a hushed tone towards Emily before sending you one more teasing glance.

You felt tense; not being able to tell if she was joking or not. You were scared to leave them alone together.

Emily seemed to notice your change in attitude and leaned into you, bumping her shoulder with yours. You turn your head to her, tilting your head up to bump hers back. You place a kiss on her cheek before motioning towards the table. Delilah’s back was turned as she stirred the pasta a bit to spread the warmth around.

“I set your place for you. Feel free to grab as much as you want, Em, okay?” You place a hand on her bicep, nodding towards where Delilah was standing.

“Thank you, babe,” Emily placed a soft kiss onto your lips once more before Delilah turned around again to grab her diet Coke.

Emily grabbed her bowl from its place next to your own white wine, walking over to next to Delilah to grab the big pasta ladle from her. She picked up a few scoops to plop onto her plate and asked her to make small talk with Delilah. You could hear them distinctively talking about music and concerts which made you smile.

After you all had gotten your food, you all sat at your cute dining table. Emily had gotten some of the white wine in her cup which you weren't expecting but you guessed since she was sleeping over, it didn’t hurt.

“Delilah, this pasta is seriously incredible. What the hell did you put in this?” Emily groaned as she seemed to be inhaling the noodles.

Delilah grinned behind her own fork, shooting you a knowing look.

“I’m going to be real with you, I eyeball everything every time I cook and I hope for the best.” Delilah snorted as she took a few bites of the pasta. “But thank you. This one over here is a crazy baker though. She makes these delicious banana cinnamon crumble muffins once a month and it’s the best thing I’ve ever had.”

You blush behind your cup of wine as you try not to down it like you usually would if you were eating dinner with Delilah. After the chugging, it would usually turn to you crying over rom-coms and how none of it is real. The usual.

Now you get to slowly drink it like a normal person. Because your girlfriend — you think — is here having the first of hopefully many dinners at your place.

“Have you made them this month yet?” Emily turned to you, her eyes visibly softening when she spoke to you.

“No…” You trail off, looking over at Delilah before turning back to Emily. “I might make them next week.”

“Can I help when you do?” Emily’s eyes lit up excitedly.

You nod with a soft chuckle and turn to Delilah, fake pouting.

“You’re not going to be my sous-chef this time, Del. You’ve been replaced,” you tease as you grab one of Emily’s tattooed hands, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“I’ve been told I’m a pretty good baker too so sorry,” Emily said in a hushed tone to Delilah before leaning over to place a kiss on your cheek.

Delilah shook her slowly as she repeatedly poked at her pasta before shoving a huge chunk in her mouth. You laugh softly at her expression before digging into the pasta yourself. You could hear her muttering nonsense, probably hateful words as she devoured the rest of her food.

Dinner was short for the most part but you, Emily and Delilah to wind down with some drinks and watch a movie. Emily got up to help you with the dishes since Delilah cooked so she was picking the movie for the evening.

“Does she like me?” Emily whispers to you, turning her head for a moment to see if Delilah was paying attention but she was sitting on the couch, eyes squinted as she scrolled through the selection.

You almost coo at her to stop worrying but you knew Delilah was intimidating and meeting your girlfriend's best friend was twice as intimidating.

“Yeah, I promise you. She thinks you’re very sweet,” you reassure, tilting your head at her.

“Really? Because I’m not going to lie I was terrified the entire time,” Emily chuckled but it seemed more insecure than joyous.

You frown at this as you set the dish you were washing down, drying your hands to give her a hug. Emily welcomed the embrace, drying her own hands to wrap around your torso. She let out a sigh into your temple, kissing the baby hairs there. You could feel her shoulders relax under your palms.

“Thank you for coming, Em. Do you want to… stay the night still?” You carefully ask, rubbing across her shoulders under her cardigan.

A small smile spread onto her face, her hands resting comfortably at your lower hips. You swore her cheeks flushed at your question.

“I would love to, baby.”

You beam up at her, pulling her into a gentle kiss. Your teeth clank for a moment from how giddy you were to have her here in your home.

“Hey! I didn’t turn my back to have you two suck faces. I was giving you privacy to be polite,” Delilah spoke up from the couch, pointing at you and Emily accusingly.

You chuckle against her lips as Emily pulls away to bury her face into your neck, feeling a bit embarrassed. You give her one more kiss to her pale cheek before grabbing her land to lead you both to the couch. You let out a long sigh when you see that Delilah had chosen ‘Thor: Ragnarok’.

“This movie? Again, Del?” You groan, plopping down onto your couch.

Emily followed your movements, resting her arm against the back of the couch. You rest lean into Emily’s warm side, melting into the warmth of her body like you were meant to be there strangely enough.

“I’m sorry? Is there something wrong with this piece of art and absolute bisexual panic of a movie?” Delilah defended with a scoff.

“No, it is amazing but Del, we have seen this movie about 100 times since it got put on Disney Plus.”

Emily shook her head at the two of you arguing like siblings, rubbing your arm up and down gently. After a few minutes of bickering, the movie began to play. All three of you settled down into the soft plush of the cushions. Without even realizing, Luna crawled into Emily’s lap, curling into the comfort of her sweats.

Your heavy eyes drifted to your cat, smiling weakly as Emily’s hand scratched underneath her jaw and the length of her back. Her eyes were locked on the screen, fluttering a bit to show her own exhaustion. You shifted ever so slightly so glance at Delilah who was knocked out, mouth slightly ajar with her diet Coke still in her hand.

You make a mental note to take a photo of her before you head off to bed with Emily.

“Em, I’m feeling a little tired. You wanna…?” You trailed off, sitting upright so you could lean closer.

Emily slowly nodded before rubbing her tired eyes, sitting upright as well. Little Luna scurried off of Emily’s lap, sprinting to your room the moment she shifted.

“Yeah. You got an extra toothbrush?” She stood up, stretching her sore limbs out.

You hum to confirm, motioning for her to follow you to the bathroom. Her socked feet trail behind you as you turn on the yellow shaded light in the restroom, kneeling down underneath the sink to retrieve the multicolored toothbrushes for guests. You handed her a green and purple one, giving her a tired smile.

“Here you go. I’ll put a cap on it so we know that’s yours for next time,” you say without thinking.

Emily takes it from her fingers, tilting her head as she runs the bristles underneath the tap as you do the same with your own toothbrush.

“Next time?” Emily questioned softly, leaning in closer to you as she grabbed the tube of toothpaste.

“I would hope so,” you blush as you hold your toothbrush to her.

She applies some toothpaste to yours before her own, setting it back down in its rightful place. As you both begin to brush your teeth, it felt so natural to be standing here beside her, sleep etched into your eyes.

After doing your own night routine — with Emily lingering and watching you the whole time — you both made your way to your bedroom. Emily scanned the layout as soon as she entered your bedroom.

“Oh, um, I can turn around if you need to change,” Emily looked at you as she tensely stood near the door of your room.

“I don’t mind if you don’t. It’s just my underwear,” you shrug, not really thinking much of it.

You took off your yoga pants first, your seamless lace hip-huggers on display. Emily glanced but looked away as she clasped her palms behind her back as she made her way around your room. If she was being honest with herself, she just wanted to be respectful to you.

You tried to change as quickly as possible, wanting to be in Emily’s arms again. With your oversized graphic tee on and a pair of Super Mario sleeping shorts.

“Oh, shit. I don’t have anything for you to sleep in, Em.” You sigh, turning to Emily who was examining a poster of ‘10 Things I Hate about You’.

Emily turns around to face you, a small smile when she sees your sleepwear. She couldn’t believe how beautiful you are naturally.

“That’s okay. I can just sleep in my briefs and shirt, if that’s okay with you?” Emily shrugged her shoulders, motioning to your bed.

You nod slowly then rapidly as you try to be as casual as possible. You always felt like she could feel every nerve that was exuding from your pores. Emily removed her cardigan and hung it on the back of the door and removed her sweats to reveal her colorful inked leg; a tattoo you had never seen before.

You didn’t have the energy to ask about it as you honestly were on the brink of collapsing onto the mattress.

“Can you turn off the lights? I’ll be right back. I have to make sure that Delilah gets to her bed.”

Emily nodded and flicked the switch off, giving you a kiss on the lips before pointing to your bed.

“I’ll be here. If I’m asleep when you get back, I’m sorry. Practice is catching up to me today,” Emily laid down on the bed comfortably, eyes already fluttering when she rested her head on your pillows.

You smile in admiration at her sleepy figure and trot to the living room to see Delilah still in her sleeping position. You snap a quick photo on your camera before gently taking her diet Coke from her palm which jolted her awake. A snort from her slumber woke her up, wiping her tired eyes with the back of her hand.

“What happened?” Delilah groggily asked, smacking her lips together.

“You fell asleep and me and Em are going to bed. I wanted to make sure you wake up so you sleep on your bed and won’t get a crick in your neck like the last time,” you whisper to her, brushing her hair out of her face.

“Awww, you love me,” Delilah grinned tiredly up at you, stretching her arms upwards. “Emily is probably the best girlfriend you’ve ever had, by the way. I feel she’s good for you, babe.”

Did that make you feel ten times more at ease about your relationship? Yeah, as embarrassing as it is. She was your best friend. She knew your soul; inside and out and you trusted her with your entire life.

“I’m glad, Del. I love you.” You murmur to her as you lean down to give her as strong a hug as you could muster in your fatigued state.

“I love you to death, you know this,” Delilah yawned against your ear with a soft sigh.

You squeeze her once more before patting her on top of her head. You trudged back to your room, shutting the door behind you with a soft click. Just as Emily had warned you, she was sound asleep in your bed, arms crossed in front of her. You sneakily take a photo hoping it wasn’t too weird before setting your phone aside to charge on your bedside table.

You take your place right beside her, snuggling underneath the sheets and silently admiring how peaceful she looked while she slept. Emily seemed to have sensed that you were in bed as she turned her body towards yours, reaching her arm to drape around your torso. You gradually move more into her warmth, snuggling into the pillows.

“Everything okay?” Emily hums tiredly, her thumbs caressing your hip underneath your shirt.

“Yeah. It’s all good,” you whisper, ignoring the chills that were crawling down your back.

“Hey, I know this is very late to ask but I’ve been putting it off for too long,” Emily cleared her throat, finding your eyes through the moonbeams piercing through the windows. “Do you want to come to my next game? I want you to be there.”

You craned your neck to give her a soft kiss, cupping her face gently.

“I would love to go to your game, Em.”

She placed a few more lazy pecks to your lips, her arms tugging you even more into her embrace. As you allowed your affections to die down, sleep took over your subconscious and you and Emily fell asleep in each other's embrace with a sense of belonging and comfort.

tag-list: @uraesthete @patscorner @breezy-sapphic <33

[emmyrosee]

Okay hear me out…

Trying to surprise Sukuna with breakfast in bed but it goes wrong and Sukuna wakes up smelling smoke and us making a mess in the kitchen. He scolds us a little ofc but it’s all soft and fluffy still. You can make up the ending I just think this is a sweet concept lol.

I’m a sucker for bfs who fix our messes 🤭

of course he could smell fire. but sukuna's mind merely brushed it off.

in his dream, the smell of smoke appeared as a campfire himself and megumi, of all people, had started. it smells strong, like he can physically taste the smoke.

then, in his dream, there's an incessant beeping, one that comes out of Megumi's mouth in place of words.

But finally, he hears you scream in the real world. And his eyes fly open to wake up, his head spinning from the sudden shift from sleep to cognizance. Without a moment to spare, he barrels from the bed into the kitchen, dark clouds of smoke dancing in the air. There’s a baking sheet of burned cinnamon rolls crashed onto the floor- you, cradling your hand not far from it- a pan with a burnt egg sizzling on the stove, and the toaster smoking from whatever contents have now been roasted inside of it.

"What the fuck!" He snarls, grabbing a dish towel and waving it around to break up the dark clouds of smoke near the fire alarm. He leans over to shut off the stove and pop the toaster up, heat coating his arm You wince at the pain on your palm, and he furrows his brows, "fuck sake, go run it under water! What’re you doing grabbing things out of the oven with no mitt, you freak!"

"I couldn't find it!" you whimper, making your way to the sink to, in fact, run your hand under the cold water, hissing at the sting before letting yourself cry softly, be it from the pain or the stimulation of everything at once, Sukuna doesn’t know yet.

Just as soon as the chaos started, it ended, the smoke alarm silencing and the only noise being your whimpers and the running sink. He pants softly and cards a hand through his messy bed head, tossing away the rag and coming up to wrap his big arms around you. You bury your face in the fabric of his nightshirt, crying quietly.

“I just wanted to do something nice for you,” you whimper, and he sighs and rests his head on yours. “I know you’ve been working a lot… I thought I would surprise you.”

“You surprised me alright,” he grumbles, gently cradling the back of your head. “I told you, the oven in my apartment is fucking weird, don’t mess with it. And you did. Now you’re hurt.”

“Breakfast is ruined,” you sniffle, and he pulls back with a scrunched face.

“Breakfast is- babe, you literally have blisters on your hand!” He snips. “Who cares about breakfast, I’m worried about your damn hand!”

You wince slightly at his words, and he groans again, “I just want to make sure you’re okay. We can always remake breakfast. Your third degree burns are my concern right now. Since your goofy ass grabbed a damned cookie sheet square out of the oven.”

You wipe your nose with the back of your hand, “‘m not goofy,” you pout. He tucks in his lips to try and fight back the smirk that wants to spread on his face, not wanting to make you feel worse.

“How’s your hand?” He asks after a few beats of silence, pulling back to gently grab your hand and inspect the blistering burn, which you whine at clench your palm at. “I know, I know,” he soothes. Then, he presses a kiss to each of your fingers, playfully biting your pinky to make you giggle and giving you back your hand. “How about we load into the truck and get you some bandaids and a breakfast sandwich, huh? Save what bit of breakfast we can?”

“Okay, kuna.”

“Good,” he says, pulling away. “Go get on shoes. I’ll take care of ya.” When you leave to go get some shoes on, he’s quick to call after you, “I do appreciate you trying to do something nice for me. I knew you always had a soft spot for me.”

You titter and shake your head as you smile at him. “More than you could know, sukuna.”

[worldlxvlys]

hey babyyy i have an actual real req this time cause im too lazy to write it and i know you’ll eat it up (plus it fits dwb chris a lot)

alr, chris goes away on a trip to visit family or wtv and when he gets back reader surprises him with a freshly healed tongue piercing. do with that what u will

i love u bestieee

brownies

dealer! chris sturniolo x reader

warnings: smutttt, p in v, cream pie, oral fixation, oral (male receiving), drug use (edibles), cursing

a/n: I LOVE YOU @bernardenjoyer <333

CHRIS’ POV

when i opened her front door, i was immediately met with the smell of something sweet.

the scent of chocolate hung in the air, the warm air of her apartment making it feel inviting. there was music playing in the background, being overpowered by the sound of her screaming out the lyrics.

when i rounded the corner, i was met with the source of the singing. she wore a t-shirt of mine, it was long enough to just cover her ass.

she was wiping down the counter, though she was doing more dancing than cleaning. she was barely able to get the words out, her movements leaving her out of breath.

when she stopped dancing, she leaned on the counter in front of her to steady her breathing.

i quietly made my way up to her, wrapping my arms around her waist from behind. she jumped slightly at the touch, relaxing into my hold when she realized it was me.

“what are you making?” i asked, leaving a kiss to her cheek.

i felt her smile grow wider against my lips, “special brownies” she answered.

“special? what’s so special about them?” i asked as she craned her neck to look at me.

“you’ll see” she whispered, before closing the gap between us.

she had a small bit of batter on her lips, which i eagerly collected on my tongue with a swipe.

she took that as a cue to allow my tongue entrance into her mouth, which i graciously took.

as my tongue skimmed along the surface of hers, i felt something cool and hard rub against mine. i removed my lips from hers at the feeling, watching as a shy smile grew on them.

she stuck her tongue out, showing off the small jewelry that laid embedded in it.

“you- you got…” i was barely able to finish my question, my brain going wild with images of her tongue in different places.

“yup, you like it?” she asked, taking in my bewildered expression.

“what do you think?” i asked as i turned her body to face mine, pushing my lips back onto hers.

she let out a quiet moan into my mouth, her hand cupping my jaw as the other tugged on my hair.

my own hands found her waist, pushing it into the counter behind her while she began to place kisses down my neck.

“missed you so much, baby” she whispered into my skin.

before i could say anything back, i was cut off by the ringing of her kitchen timer.

i kept a firm grip on her waist, while she licked a stripe up my neck and pressed a kiss to my jaw.

i let out a moan at the feeling of her piercing dragging against the skin.

“i gotta get that, chris” she whispered against me, grabbing my hands. she placed a kiss to each of them before moving to the oven.

she grabbed an oven mitt and bent over to grab the brownies, giving me a perfect view of her lacy panties that were previously hidden under her shirt.

just as quickly as she had bent over, she stood upright again. she placed the baking pan on top of the stove, throwing the mitt onto the counter beside her.

now that the brownies were fully baked, the smell of the chocolate grew stronger. i went to reach for one, only to have my hand smacked away.

“chris, they need to cool” she spoke, “plus, they’re not even cut yet” she pointed out, moving the pan farther away from me.

“ok, then i’ll cut them” i spoke, reaching for a knife.

she let out a quick sigh before cutting me a piece and putting it on a plate.

“they’re your favorite” she spoke as she handed me the plate, a knowing grin grew on my face at that.

“edibles?” i asked, causing her to nod excitedly. she cut herself a piece of her own, quick to put it on a plate before burning her fingers.

we both ate our brownies, catching each other up on our day and talking about whatever came to our minds.

suddenly, she pulled me into a tight hug, whispering sweet words into my ear.

“missed you so fucking much” she spoke before pressing a kiss to the tip of my ear.

“missed talking to you face-to-face like this” she said as she placed her hands on my hips.

“missed kissing you” she spoke against my skin, trailing kisses down my neck. her hands snuck under my shirt, nails dragging across my chest as she moved lower down my body.

her eyes never left mine as she bunched my shirt up to my chest, causing me to take hold of it and pull it off of my body. “want my tongue, baby?” she asked, smiling when i nodded my head feverishly.

she folded the waistband of my sweatpants down, immediately running her tongue along the newly exposed skin.

i let out a groan at her teasing, moving my hands to tug my sweatpants down. “eager much?” she asked, raising her eyebrows at me.

she guided me over to a chair, lightly pushing my shoulders to sit down. instead of answering her previous question, i lifted my hips, pulling down my boxers and throwing them to the side.

i watched as a string of spit fell from her mouth onto my dick, making me squirm slightly as it rolled down my length.

she gave my tip a kitten lick, eliciting a groan from me as i gripped the sides of my seat.

i could tell the weed was starting to kick in, as her every touch seemed to drive me crazy.

she swirled her tongue around my tip, the coolness of her jewelry causing my hips to buck up. she held my hips down as she continued to tease my tip.

her droopy, red eyes met mine as she moaned around me, making my head fall back.

she ran her tongue along the underside of my dick, causing my hand to shoot out to her arm to hold onto.

“p-please, don’t tease baby. too sensitive” i mumbled out, fingers digging into her skin.

“but i like watching you get worked up” she chuckled, leaving kisses up and down my length.

spurts of pre-cum began to drip down from my tip, causing her to run her tongue along me sensually.

she looked up at me through her lashes as she moved her tongue as slow as possible, making me whine out.

“p-please baby, need you so badly” i spoke, causing her to tilt her head slightly. she removed her mouth from me altogether, making me screw my eyes shut in frustration.

without warning, she climbed onto my lap. due to my slower reaction time, i wasn’t able to process what was happening until she had sunken down onto me fully.

i let out a groan in surprise, hands shooting to her waist as she began to ride me. “so fucking needy, chris. this what you wanted?” she asked, her words slurring into each other slightly.

“yes, yes, yes” i heaved as my hands slid down to her ass, gripping the skin firmly as she moved on top of me.

she felt impossibly tight around me, her walls clamping down on me harshly. her hard nipples pressed against the fabric of the t-shirt tauntingly.

i reached for the bottom of the shirt before speaking, “can i-” i started.

she seemed to understand what i was asking before i even finished, nodding her head and raising her arms to help me pull it off.

i immediately wrapped my arms around her waist, pulling her closer as i took one of her boobs into my mouth.

one of her hands came up to the back of my head, carding through my hair. her hips moved quickly against mine, never breaking their rhythm.

she pushed my head further into my chest, her head falling back as she became lost in her own euphoric world.

i drew my hand back to slap her ass a few times, finding pleasure in the way that she clenched around me in response with loud cries falling out of her mouth.

when i felt her begin to slow down, i tightened my grip around her, thrusting up into her. her loud moans bounced off of the kitchen walls, along with the wet squelches of my dick plunging in and out of her.

“chris, i’m so close” she choked out, nails digging into my back as she clung onto me. i brought a hand down to rub her clit, causing her legs to begin to shake around me.

“i got you, let go for me” i spoke right before she released all over me. she let out soft moans into my neck, continuing to grind down on me through her high.

“fuck, c’mon chris. i know you’re close, give it to me baby” she spoke between moans, leaving light kisses against my neck.

i let out a long moan as i held her down against me, filling her up with my seed. she shuddered against me at the feeling, nuzzling her nose into the crook of my neck as we both tried to catch our breath.

i rubbed her back gently, my chin resting on her shoulder as i held her close. i felt her back rise and fall, watching her breathing begin to slow.

“alright, let’s get you cleaned up before you fall asleep on me” i spoke, only to be met with the sound of soft snores.

too late.

masterlist

dealer chris masterlist

tag list: @lustfulslxt @flowerxbunnie @sturnssx @mattslolita @its-jennarose @sophssturn @bernardsleftbootycheek @queen161718 @cupidsword @imwetforyourmom @nickmillersn1gf @mattsneezing @chrisstankyleg @sturniolobltch @bethsturn @mbbsgf @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @ssturniolo @blueeyedbesson @mxqdii @sturniolowhore @readerakayourname @defnotayonna @urmom2bitch @rootbeerworshiper @starsturniolo @hearts4chriss @theyluv-meee @carolinalikesthings @itzdarling @chrisstopherfilmed @judespoision @sstvrnioloo @littlebookworm803 @nicksdrpepper @chrisloyalgf @robins-scoop @fandomhopped @chr1sgirl4life @bbglmfao @55sturn @nickgetsmewetter @meg-sturniolo @yamamasjumpercables @vanteguccir @ineedchriscock @junnniiieee07 @breeloveschris @luverboychris

[stars4chratt]

Confections

Pairing: Matt x fem!reader

Warnings: pure smut / established relationship / softdom!matt / breeding kink / nipple play / mutual orgasms / cunnilingus / p in v / unprotected sex (do NOT) / creampie / FILTHY kitchen sex / LOTS of praise / pet names (baby, my love, sweetheart, good girl) / aftercare

Summary: The reader walks into her home after a prolonged and stressful day to Matt - her boyfriend - making baked goods in her kitchen. He welcomes her and gives her a taste of the delicious desserts. However, in return for the favour, Matt gets to taste her.

Author’s note: hiii guysss, i love you all for liking and enjoying Pins n’ Needles (there is a part 2 btw) After seeing the most recent Wednesday video, this made my fantasy grow even worse LMAOO. Also, leave a comment if you want to be added onto my taglist! Anyways, i hope you enjoy this one! From Maxine, with love ♡.

“Cause I’m all that you want, boy. All that you can have, boy. Got me spread like a buffet. Bon a– Bon appetit, baby.” - BON APPETIT, KATY PERRY

╔══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══╗

Your shoulders ache and the migraine you have encapsulated in the back of your head feels like it’s going to split your skull in half.

People gave you a lot of shit at work today. Both coworkers and customers. Nagging and berating you and reiterating the same jaw clenching phrase that ‘the customer is always right.’

You close your eyes and let your chest fall as you sigh longly with relief after you arrive home.

The strong and pleasant scent of stiff caster sugar alongside a tangible hint of lemon citrus whiffs through your sinuses.

Ah, Matt’s baking again. You comprehend yourself.

You plop your keys on the marble countertop and set your bag down. The feeling of a thousand weights being lifted off of you as you remove accessory after accessory attached to you.

Peeking around the corner, you see Matt whisking dairy products mashed with madagascan vanilla extract whisked into butter cream. You peer down and see something resting in the oven at exactly 195 degrees celsius.

The peacefulness Matt baking brings you is heavenly. Just him concocting a sugary delight for the simple enjoyment of doing so can’t help but make your cheeks flush bright red and your core ache desperately.

The paternity your boyfriend holds within him orchestrating treats of chocolate frosting and yeasty dough makes you fall for him even more. Not only do his sweet delicacies taste amazing, but he also does it for pure comfort and vindication for you both.

Sometimes you wonder if he would enjoy baking for a family of three, maybe even four.

You sneak up behind him and wrap your arms around his waist. He looks over his shoulder, he has a large piping bag in his grasp. A large grin appears on his face as he sneers. “Hi my love, how was work?”

You let out a fatigued sigh and your clasp around him tightens. “Not great, it was super stressful.”

He turns around to face you and pulls you in by your hips in an act of reassurance.

“Aww, my poor baby. What can I do to make you feel better? Hm?”

Matt’s words make the caterpillars in your stomach hatch into butterflies. You two have been dating for quite a while now and yet you still giggle and squeal like a small child whenever he asserts words of refreshment.

“There may be one thing I have in mind…” You whisper softly into his ear. After the distress of work and the mind blowingly stupid and egotistical customers you dealt with all day, you only wanted one thing that could ease your displeasure. For Matt to fuck your brains out.

As you were about to inform him about your dilemma, a soul-jumping alarm sitting on the table top starts dinging. Blaring across the entire kitchen. 

The migraine you’re suffering from induces even more, spreading through every crevice of your skull.

Matt notices the discomfort of the ear-splitting noise written all over your face and quickly shuts the alarm off.

“One second, sweetheart.” Abruptly, Matt grabs his teal blue oven mitts and crouches down to the oven to release the now strong scent of citric lemon flow through the room.

He takes out the tray and reveals to you that he had baked lemon drizzle cupcakes. Very tasty looking lemon drizzle cupcakes at that.

The glint in Matt’s eye along with his pearly whites framed with his smile presents his joy to you.

“Oh my god… They look delicious”

“Exactly, I’m a fantastic chef.”

“Damn right.” You both giggle together whilst Matt sets down the tray on a heatproof mat.

“What were you saying again, baby?” He twists back around to face you, letting you continue where you left off.

“No, no. It’s fine. I’ll leave it for after you finish off your cupcakes.” Matt’s eyes now glow with anticipation and curiosity.

“What you want won’t be an inconvenience for me at all, I can finish the cupcakes afterwards baby. I don’t wanna make you wait.” Matt crosses his arms patiently waiting for you to respond.

You gently stride over to him and lift your arms up to tug behind his neck over his shoulders.

“Matt..” You whisper softly into his ear. Trying to contain the burning sensation in between your legs. You really wanted to fuck. The intensity of today made you grow greedy with lust, and your boyfriend was the only person who could assist with that.

“Yes, baby?” He returns, completely oblivious to the pent-up arousal you’re experiencing.

You move one of your hands up the back of his head whilst the other tangles in the silver chain of his jewellery. 

You don’t say anything before you rapidly intertwine your lips with Matt’s. Your cravings of thirst for Matt’s touch starts to fester passionately.

He almost immediately reciprocates and swings his arms around your figure, your whole upper body in his grasp. You whine loudly at the sudden action as it makes your entrance leak and his touch makes you tingle like electricity shooting up your spine.

You advance your hands onto his chest and push him up against the wall beside the table top island stranded in the middle of the room.

The bulge throbbing slightly in his grey sweatpants presses against your core. Which makes you both gasp and sob into eachothers mouths.

“I’m so impatient, Matt. I need your dick now. Today has been so shitty and I really want it. Please, baby.” You choke up the words through the desperate whines thickening the air around you.

“Get on the counter then, sweetheart. Let me relieve all that stress for you.” Matt states delicately as he peppers kisses all over you up until he stops at your collarbone. He grips onto your shoulders as he forces you down on the counter until you're fully laying down with your legs spread wide.

“I don’t think we have any more condoms left.” Matt speaks softly whilst he towers over you. There’s a small worry in his pupils before you reassure him.

“Fuck it, we can go without. I need you so badly right now Matt, you don’t understand. Condom or not, I don’t care anymore. Just please fuck me.”

Your constant begging in impatience makes Matt’s prick pulse harshly. He rushes over on top of you to connect his lips with yours again.

The sloppy wetness of the kiss alongside his rock hard cock restricted in his sweats rubbed against your clothed heat has him writhing in a needy haze. His eyes go cloudy and his skin is painted ruby.

Matt viscously tugs at the hem of your work shirt pulling it upwards to reveal your laced bra. Your chest rising and falling heavily underneath Matt’s aggression.

He pulls down your underclothes instantaneously. Your tits spilling out and your nipples are swollen red.

“Oh, fuck yeah… Wait just one second sweetheart.” Matt leaves the enclosure of the space in between your legs but you can still see him in your peripheral. 

You look over to see him grab the piping bag. He races back over to the original position he was just in. His horse pendant jangling about and grazing over his defined collarbones.

“What’re you gonna do with the piping bag..?” You question him hesitantly, feeding your bottom lip into your mouth.

“You taste so good on my tongue baby. I bet you’d taste even better with cream on top of your tits. Hm?”

Matt’s filthy idea makes you tremble and your folds become velvety slick. Who would’ve thought that Matt, your boyfriend, a professional baker would want to fuck you as messily as this.

Matt leans over you and squeezes the piping bag slowly. The cream grazes your skin and the coldness of the substance makes you squirm and your back arches.

He moves the piping bag down and leaves a trail of sugary white down to just above your belly button.

His bottom lip fully concealed under his teeth in concentration before he sets the bag down and reels your hips in so the lower half of your body is hanging off the edge of the counter.

Matt then drops down to your height and starts to suck on your rock hard bud. Fully licking the cream off and nibbling at the centre, his mouth on your fully perched out nipples makes your entrance twitch and soak in your juices.

“You taste so fucking good, I’ve been wanting to do this to you for so long. You don’t understand.” Matt gasps between licks on your tit.

He moves his head up slightly to suckle and nibble on the flesh of your neck. Leaving hickeys and bite marks all over your skin. Making you whimper into the air of the kitchen.

He advances down the thick, sugary trail that stops at your belly button. Licking and consuming the cream off of your now hot and plush flesh.

After all of the cream is gone, Matt brushes against his lip with his tongue and grabs the bag again. 

He hastily undoes the button on your work jeans and rips them off your legs in keenness. He uses his thumb and index finger to push your matching lace panties to the side. Now fully unveiling your bare, bright pink pussy.

Matt repositions his hands and puts the nub of the piping bag on the very peak of your clit.

“Matt, what are you doing?” Your eyebrows furrowed and your breath is still heavy and uneven.

“I’m eating you my love, wasn’t it obvious?” Suddenly, you feel a thick and freezing cold liquid resting on your swollen heat. This kind of filth during intimate times like this really makes you think about what other kind of things Matt is into, and you fucking love it

He throws the bag back onto the counter and crouches down until his face is barely touching your pussy. He blows on your clit gently, making your entire body shiver.

His lips are just slightly touching your soaking wet entrance. Just as you thought he was going to eat you out right then and there, he turns his head to pay his full attention to your thighs. Kissing and sucking on them gently. Whilst his hands have their full grip on them, squeezing them in temptation at relishing at your throbbing core.

“Matt..” You whine in impatience. You were so desperate for him to just consume all of you. His tongue felt amazing on your skin. He knew all of your weak spots and he knew exactly how to take advantage of that.

“Shhh, I’m here. I promise.” He drawls out faintly, his breath brushing over you again.

Matt focuses on your dripping centre again, and gradually sticks his tongue inside your entrance.

His saliva mixing with your silky juices and the cream still laying on your clit makes your head tilt back and your eyes roll back into your skull.

Matt pulls out his tongue straight away after he notices you broke eye contact.

“No, sweetheart. Look at me. Look at me whilst I eat you out like a good girl.”

You whimper at Matt’s mixture of a command and a praise. You turn your head back down to see him staring up at you through his eyelashes with his tongue deep inside you.

He licks a stripe up your folds and fully swallows up the sugary goodness of both the cream and your juices. 

You could not stop trembling under his tongue circling around your throbbing clit. His nose resting slightly above with his irises still dilated onto yours. 

You can feel your body tensing as Matt’s mouth is latched onto your slippery heat.

“Matt.. I-I’m gonna…” You mumble faintly.

“Cum for me. Cum all over my mouth. Let me taste more of you.”

An overwhelming flush or euphoria strikes all through your body in waves. Your breath hitches and you grab onto Matt’s hair, making him hum into your heat.

Your chest rises and falls smoothly whilst coming down from your high and Matt slows the rhythm of his tongue down on your clit.

Suddenly he detaches his mouth from your skin and pulls his sweatpants down.

Matt’s dick comes sprawling out of his garments. The vein that runs down the middle of his length spikes outwards. The very sight of his cock is an aphrodisiac to your senses within itself.

“I’ve always wanted to fuck you raw. I’ve never asked you because I didn’t think you’d like it.” His necklace glints under the artificial light beaming down on the both of you that hangs just above the counter.

“Matt, you really should’ve asked. Fuck a baby into me, fill me up with your cum. Forget about the fucking cream. I want yours.” You sigh out. Your core twitching at the sight of his taffy pink prick fully exposed practically grazing against you.

The gaze in Matt’s eyes is full to the brim with hot pink lust. He’s practically drooling in admiration at how fuckable you look right now.

He grips onto your thighs again and presses his tip against your slippery entrance. He hisses at the overwhelming thrill of the feeling of your drenched folds.

Matt pushes his length inside of you at a sluggish pace, almost like he’s teasing you by going slow in the beginning.

Your spongy, slick walls squeeze down on his cock and it makes it pulse inside you. He whimpers on top of you while he sits inside of you in and out stagantly.

“Fuck…you’re so tight sweetheart.” Matt stutters, the utmost feeling of your pussy clenched around his dick is like heaven to him. Your breathless whines and moans are like harmonic symphonies ringing and humming in his ears. His visual stimuli are more than satisfactory from your tender and curvaceous figure that he has held in his hands at this very moment.

Matt’s pace starts to quicken and becomes more rapid inside you. Every single time he rams into you, he slightly grazes that sweet spot that drives you absolutely fucking insane. It’s like his cock was made for you. “I want to fuck you so good your pussy turns into the shape of my dick baby. It’s so perfect. I can’t wait to fuck my cum into you.”

“Please do it Matt… cum inside me.” His dick is slightly bulging out of your stomach. He sees this as an opportunity to use his two fingers and press on your abdomen slightly. “This is where my babies are gonna be, sweetheart. All for you. Taking it all like such a good girl.” He huffs out smugly.

The sound of your skin clapping and beating against each other every single time he pounds his dick into you and his waist clashes into your thighs and ass cheeks almost hypnotises you. “M-Matt… I’m gonna cum again…”

“Fuck… me too baby. I’m s-so close..” The rhythm of Matt fucking his cock into you starts to slow down and you can feel his lower body start to stutter and his member pulses thickly inside of you.

“Oh f-fuck… take all of my cum sweetheart…I’m gonna cum…c-cumming…” His arms give in and he loses all balance as he feeds his cum into your hole. His and your juices swirl and mix together inside you.

Suddenly, your stomach starts to feel warm. The feeling of Matt’s hot and thick load spilling inside all the way through your cervix pulls and twists at your neurons, especially alongside your soul-shattering orgasm Matt just gave you.

He drops his whole weight on you completely and hides his head in the crook of your neck. His heavy breath brushes on your skin while his prick still rests inside you, you can’t tell if he’s too tired to take it out or he wants all of his cum to stay inside.

Either way you both savour the moment while you lay still on top of each other. Catching your breath and coming down from your second high.

Matt raises his head up and reaches out for the cloth laying next to the piping bag. He balls it up and wipes at the skin with small spots of butter cream from earlier.

“I wasn’t too rough on you this time, was I?” He enquires. He looks down on you, still swiping away the white mess all over you.

“No, of course not baby. I loved it.” You respond, giggling exhaustedly. “We should do this again, sometime.”

“I’d love to, sweetheart.” Matt smiles before pecking your cheek and rests his head on your collarbone once more.

“A-are you still inside me?” 

“Pfft, yeah.” 

╚══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══╝

Author’s Note No.2: MY GOD THIS WAS ANNOYING TO WRITE. Sorry for the slight delay, I was incredibly tired and fell asleep and I got preoccupied with school. Anyways. Again, thank you so much for enjoying Pins n’ Needles. I WILL be making a part 2 very soon! :)

༝༚༝༚, Maxine.

Taglist: @gamermattsgf @luverboychris @worldlxvlys @chrissystur @chaosisalwayscrying @bellasfavbisexual

[vivwritesfics]

First Poly!landoscar thought! Reader is OBSESSED with Christmas and super excited to decorate but they’re away at races. Maybe they come home to a super over the top decorated house or something?? And Christmas baking! And movies! And hot chocolate!

Abu Dhabi. The final race of the year. Because of her studies, Y/N wasn't able to join her boyfriends on the last race. She had to stay home, cramming for all of the exams she had before Christmas.

Oscar and Lando kept themselves occupied, though. They called her when they could, but, usually, Y/N was far too busy to stay on the call for long.

Busy doing what, though? The boys thought studying.

Well, that was bullshit.

Over the years Y/N had amassed a great collection of Christmas decorations. She kept them up in the attic, the box completely overflowing. Boxes, I mean. There were several.

She dragged them down in the attic and left them in the hallway. The boxes had been very well organised and labelled from the previous years, so Y/N got right on with it.

She wrapped tinsel around the banister and placed a wreath on the front door. Y/N put lights up in every room, attaching them to mirrors, the kitchen cupboards, around the doorframes. She had three stockings, two with the boys logos and Y/N's with one of her passions.

Cushion covered with swapped to Christmas ones. The coasters, placemats, and kitchenware were swapped to the Christmas ones Y/N had been collecting. She had these mini light up plastic trees that she put in the window and Christmas-y candles that she put on any free surface.

When Y/N was done inside of the house, there was just one box of decorations left. It was the biggest, the one Y/N hadn't been able to close properly.

Pulling on her shoes and her coat, Y/N dragged the box outside with her.

***

It was Oscars first Christmas with Y/N and Lando. Oscar hadn't prepared him for the Christmas season with Y/N, and there was a good reason for it.

Lando drove them from the airport to the house the three of them shared. Their street was pretty much glowing as they drove down it, towards their house. It wasn't the street lights, though.

"Surprise," Lando said as he pulled into their driveway.

Oscar stepped out of the car with his mouth open. "Holy shit," he muttered as he looked at all of the lights on the front of their house. There were lights wrapped around their fence and lights draped over the hedges. Y/N had wrapped it around the little tree they had growing in the front garden.

Y/N had put out the light up reindeer and sleigh; she had individual lights lining the path and a small, plastic tree in the porch.

"Does she do this every year?" Oscar asked as Lando pushed his key into the lock and twisted it.

"It gets worse and worse every year," he answered as they dropped their bags.

Lando pushed the door shut and turned his attention to the rest of the house. "Y/N!" He called as he and Oscar walked through the hallway, heading straight towards the kitchen.

That was where they found Y/N. She was balancing rather precariously on a chair as Y/N attached fake mistletoe to the ceiling.

"Woah," Oscar cried. He rushed over to her as she stepped from the chair onto the counter. Oscar reached up, placed his hand on her waist as she finally managed to get the mistletoe onto the ceiling.

"Hey, Osc!" Y/N called as she stepped down and into arms. "Do you like the house?"

Oscar looked around at the kitchen. It genuinely smelt like pine and cookies. "I... love it. It's really bright," he answered quickly and kissed the top of her head.

"Lan, can you get the cookies out of the oven, please?" She asked as Oscar kept her in his arms. He leaned down, placing his chin on her shoulder as they watched Lando.

"You made cookies?!" He called as he raced over to the oven. Lando used the oven mitts to pull the cookies from the oven. "Oh my god, I love you!"

"Do you two love me enough to bring in the tree?"

The tree in question was out in the garden. It was tiny, only going up to Y/N's waist, but it was far too busy for her to bring in on her own. Y/N had bought it two years before and had been keeping it alive ever since. It was never going to get much bigger, not since Y/N was keeping it in a pot to bring it in the house for Christmas.

Lando and Oscar looked outside of the house, towards the tree in the garden, but they couldn't see anything. It was far too dark, being five in the evening and all. "Can we do it all tomorrow, babe?" Asked Lando as he joined them.

For a moment, Y/N thought about it. The little tree and a big tree was all they needed, but it could wait. "I have conditions."

"Go on."

"We watch movies in matching pyjamas."

Lando's face dropped. "You bought us matching pyjamas?"

"I bought us matching pyjamas."

"Let's fucking go."

[munsonson]

𝐇𝐮𝐫𝐭 𝐅𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟐『••✎••』

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝘌𝘥𝘥𝘪𝘦 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘬𝘴 𝘶𝘱 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯'𝘵 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳. 𝘜𝘯𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘶𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘩𝘪𝘮, 𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘻𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘣𝘪𝘨 𝘰𝘧 𝘢 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘢𝘴.

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠(𝐬): 𝘌𝘥𝘥𝘪𝘦 𝘔𝘶𝘯𝘴𝘰𝘯/𝘍𝘦𝘮!𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳, 𝘚𝘵𝘦𝘷𝘦 𝘏𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘵𝘰𝘯/𝘍𝘦𝘮!𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠(𝐬): 𝘈𝘯𝘨𝘴𝘵, 𝘗𝘳𝘰𝘧𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘵𝘺

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 3.1 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐎𝐧𝐞

The cookie smell wafted welcomingly into her nose as she pulls open the oven door, The chocolate chips were plentiful, and she could see it was hot enough that it would practically melt over your tastebuds. She smiles, slipping on an oven mitt before taking the pan out.

What was supposed to be a day of tears and emotional eating turned into a productive day of baking and dressing herself nicer than she even had for school, and that was because she had tried to dress to impress Eddie. The thought saddened her a little, but she remembered Steve and the night he had planned for them and it didn’t hurt so much anymore.

While the cookies cooled, she removed her apron and went to grab some tupperware to fit it in before she pulled the phone off the receiver and dialed. It rang for just a minute before someone picked up.

It was the typical pizza joint greeting until, “this is Gareth, what can I get started for you today?”

Her mouth ran dry and she suddenly lost the ability to speak. Gareth was there when Eddie had started talking about her and much like the other Hellfire club members aside from Dustin and Mike, he didn’t jump to her defense. Would he recognize her voice? How embarrassing would that be? Should she just play stupid?

“Hel-” She quickly slams the receiver back down and picks it up, dialing a different number.

“Harrington residence!” Steve sings.

“I need to know if this is progress or not,” she starts, twirling the cord between her fingers. “Say Eddie’s friend works at the only pizza place Hawkins has, is hanging up before saying anything a good or bad thing?”

“Well, it’s not great,” Steve said. “But A for effort, love, no worries! You’ll get better. Comes with time, everything is still a little fresh, I mean it happened just today at lunch.”

She nods in agreement, glad she once again turned to Steve with this.

“Man, does this mean I’m not getting my Sausage Lovers’ Pizza?” he complains jokingly.

“In short of you making the call and requesting only non-Hellfire Club members deliver it, probably not,” she says, stretching the phone as far as it could go so she could start carefully placing the cookies into the tupperware, still hot and soft in her hands.

“I can make it happen, just get over here already,” Steve groans.

“Okay, okay, I’ll only be a minute. See you there,” she huffs, hanging up the phone and placing the plastic top onto the container. With her cookies safe and secure, she turns off the oven and gives her kitchen a once over before retrieving her car keys and leaving.

The night was still very young, the sun hadn’t even disappeared yet, painting Hawkins in a heavenly orange glow. Her car was in its typical place parked at the far end of her lawn. She opens the door and places the cookies down before hoisting herself up into the driver’s seat.

Pulling out of her drive, she takes the familiar route to Steve’s home, one hand on the wheel and the other keeping the tupperware steady.

Things tonight were going pretty good thus far. She’d been trying to keep her mind off of Eddie and all the awful things he’d said at lunch, knowing if she’d dwell on it it’d just make her feel worse. She didn’t wanna focus on that, she wanted to think about the night ahead of her that she’d get to spend with one of her best friends. Eating junk food and watching all the silly movies he liked. That sounded a great deal better.

Her old car sputtered and coughed as she ascended the lean hill that led up to Steve’s house, still perched at the top with the same intimidating hedges, walls, and the glow of his swimming pool he still neglected to properly take care of. Even still, it’s a welcoming sight.

She parks off the driveway, not wanting to block him or his parents from coming in and out, switching off the car and taking the container of cookies up towards the front doors.

She doesn’t get the chance to knock before Steve opens it, grinning down at her.

“My, my, my, what brings you here?” he asks.

“You gonna invite me in or let me freeze on your doorstep?” she sniggers. He clears his throat and holds his hand out expectantly. Rolling her eyes, she shoves the container into his chest and pushes past him. 

“I was actually offering you a hand inside, jerk!” he calls over his shoulder. He shuts the door and follows her into the living room where the fire was already going and he had the movie paused on the TV. Blankets were piled haphazardly on the cushions along with two pillows from his bed from upstairs and the coffee table was pulled suspiciously closer. She can’t help but smile. He knew her legs couldn’t stretch as far as his to reach it, so he’d adjusted it without telling her. 

“Wow, you really go all out for a casual movie night with your friend,” she says, turning back to him. He blushes in embarrassment, but he still smiles. “You didn’t have to go through all this trouble, Steve, honestly.”

“Give me a break, I needed the reason to strip my bed. Bed bugs,” he says dramatically, lifting the comforter and holding it threateningly towards her. She yelps and jumps out of the way. He starts laughing. “No, but...look, I wanted you to forget everything that happened earlier today. Show you how you should be treated, even if it’s just by little ‘ol me.” 

Her heart swelled. “Thank you.” 

He shakes his head as if to tell her not to worry about it. He takes the cookie container and places it on the coffee table, walking around and flicking the light switches so the only thing keeping their faces illuminated was his abnormally big television screen his father swung for two Christmases ago. 

“The pizza should be here any minute,” he says conversationally as he goes to finally sit on the couch. He pats the spot beside him invitingly. “I don’t wanna have to pause the movie again, so pop a squat and entertain me for a little, would ya?” 

She nods and goes to sit down, instantly raveling herself up in his comforter. It smelled like him, and she was sure if she accidentally nodded off she’d get a mouthful of Steve Harrington’s glorious hairs plucked off his head from tossing and turning throughout the night.

“What movies you gonna burden me with tonight?”

“Bold talk for someone who didn’t have a hand in sneaking them out under Keith’s careful watch with those nifty security cameras he’s got installed.” Steve said. “Nothin’ special, though. Figured I’d appeal to your frilly girly senses, managed to snag Sixteen Candles and Footloose. But, just to clear my eyes at the end, I also nabbed Gremlins.”

“Seriously?”

“Hey, I gave you Molly Ringwald and Kevin Bacon, gimme a little leeway.”

“Fair enough.” 

Steve pats her head, turning so she’d face him. “How you feeling?”

“Fine.”

“You sure?”

“Yes,” she says defensively. He shakes his head, throwing an arm over the back of the couch and sneakily sliding his hand over her shoulders to tug her into his side. She doesn’t reject the contact. The closeness actually felt a little nice. He smelled like the video store. That was a strange thing to say, but Family Video did have a pretty distinctive aroma. 

“He’s a dick,” Steve said again. “He doesn’t know great you are. And once he realizes it’s gonna be too late. You’re not boring, otherwise I wouldn’t have you here with me. Understand?” She nods and he kisses the crown of her head. “Stop getting mad over people who don’t have any kind of control over your life, alright? Especially not Eddie Munson.”

“Hard not to. God, it just sounds so pathetic. I want someone to be crazy for me, to want to constantly talk to me or think about me or wondering what I’m doing. And...I really wanted it to be Eddie for some reason. And there’s always wishful thinking, you know? Like you just hope and that’s enough because there’s just certain things you don’t wanna find out. And then...I did. I looked behind the curtain,” she rambled. 

Steve doesn’t seem to know what to say to that. Really, she didn’t even know if she wanted him to add his two cents. That was just her flaunting her wounds like she was best at. Unfortunately for Steve, he was really easy to unload on because she knew he’d still be there after. It’s what made him so great. 

“Is it narcissism? Or just loneliness?” 

“Being human,” Steve gives the hidden third answer. “I feel shitty that he made you feel shitty.” 

“Why?”

“Because you shouldn’t be feeling shitty at all. Of all people, you know?” Steve said with a shrug. “It just surprises me someone like him could do this to someone like you.”

“Someone like him?”

“Come on, don’t make me say it,” Steve scoffs. 

“Well no...you brought it up, Steve, just tell me.” 

“Well, Munson’s pretty...out there. I remember when I was in school, he’d just always be makin’ a complete fool of himself or he’d be mixing it up with the wrong crowds because he’s into that drug shit. He sold to me once, you know? But it was just weed.” Steve said. “When you told me you were seeing him I didn’t really believe it at first. That someone like him...could win over someone like you. It just didn’t make any sense. So the fact you’re taking this so hard, it’s...a little daunting.” 

She didn’t know how to take that. Steve was clearly telling her she was way out of Eddie’s league and his words shouldn’t be bringing her as far down as they were. But that thought kind of angered her. She didn’t believe in leagues. She supposed the idea of it was just the remnants of King Steve still clinging to his subconscious, that some people were capable of attracting some people and not others. Or however they worked. 

At the same time it was strangely comforting that he saw her this way, that...she was this unattainable being that someone like Eddie goddamn Munson could possibly think she was less than.

Before she could try to find the words to explain that to Steve, the doorbell rang. The pizza was here. 

“I’ll get it,” Steve says softly. 

For the rest of the night, they didn’t talk about Eddie again. She never got to tell him how she felt about his view on Eddie Munson and how he thought his words should(or, in her case, shouldn’t) affect her. Maybe that was a good thing. It seemed like whatever negative feeling about herself that she had, he had a way to counter it. 

Nevertheless, she did have a really good time. Steve had kept things relatively normal, he made her laugh, he dropped a piece of pizza on the couch and she had to watch while trying not to laugh as he furiously dabbed it with one of his mom’s good towels. 

He really did make her forget. Steve was a friend, a real friend to her tonight. 

By now they were lounging, back to cable TV as she was slowly being lulled to sleep by the repetitive commercials and their incessant ramblings as they tried to get bored housewives to buy their products. Then Steve’s phone rang, startling them both into sudden consciousness. 

“What the hell?” he grunts, stumbling to his feet. He was a little unsteady, having just been asleep. She reaches forward and stands him upright. 

He makes it to the phone and practically rips it off the receiver. 

“Harrington resi...” he trails off into a yawn. “Harrington residence....yeah....yeah, she’s here. Why? ...So? ....Relax, Henderson, I’ll just...Jesus.” He turns to her. “It’s for you!” 

Confused, she gets up. She grabs the phone from him. 

“Hello?” she says cautiously. 

“Jesus, there you are! You realize how hard you are to track down?” Dustin’s voice said, irritated. 

“Dustin? What’s the matter? Is everything okay?” she asks, worried. 

“Yes! Yeah, it’s just....I didn’t see you at lunch, you know? I got worried. I tried to call you as soon as I got out of Hellfire about an hour ago and you didn’t answer, so...kind of called around until I could get ahold of you,” Dustin said. 

Her heart swelled. This kid was a good one. 

“What’re you doing at Steve’s?” he asks. 

“Oh, um...Steve invited me to watch some movies and I fell asleep.” she said. That was technically the truth. She decided not to mention that the purpose of movie night was to help her forget Eddie’s cruel words. 

“Oh, really?” Dustin asked, suddenly sounding like he was grinning. “I didn’t know you and Steve liked to host movie nights without us.”

“I don’t follow,” she said. 

“Don’t let me interrupt you guys. I just wanted to make sure you were okay. Lunch was pretty weird without you,” Dustin said. 

“I doubt that,” she said, turning to give Steve an apologetic look. He shakes his head as if to tell her not to worry about it before trailing back towards the couch probably to fall back asleep. 

“No, really. I think I prefer the dynamic with you around. Things get weird...um...Eddie today was weird.” Dustin said. She was tempted to to press on, get Dustin to come out and repeat what Eddie had said but decided against it. “You’ll still sit with us again Monday, won’t you?”

No. She definitely did not want to sit at that table again knowing the truth. What was worse, she couldn’t bare lying to Dustin. She really wanted to avoid talking about this, but it seemed like she didn’t have a choice. 

“Actually, Dustin...I was there...today. You guys just didn’t see me,” she said. Before Dustin could question her now intentional absence, she continued, “I overheard what you guys were talking about.”

There was a long pause on his end. 

“I’m so sorry. I don’t know what his problem is. B-But you heard Mike and I, right? How we...”

“You have nothing to prove, Dustin, this isn’t on you. And honestly I can’t even be mad at Eddie. He’s more than welcome to his opinion. I just don’t think I can sit there knowing he doesn’t think much of me. I’ll still be able to see you guys, I’m not gonna completely avoid...that would be childish. I think I’ll just sit with Robin o-or Nancy.” 

“Maybe I can talk to him! Get him to apologize!”

“He has nothing to apologize for, Dustin, don’t do that,” she said sternly. “It’s fine, Dustin! This doesn’t change anything! I just think some space would be good.”

“Okay,” Dustin said, noticeably disappointed. “I gotta go. I have to meet Lucas and Mike tomorrow at the arcade. Maybe you can meet us there?”

“Yeah, maybe,” she said. “Night, Dustin.” He wished her a goodnight and, at last, she hung up the phone. She glances at the clock hung up on the wall, wincing at how late it was. She walks back towards the living area where Steve had made himself very comfortable in the little blanket and pillow fort they’d unintentionally made. 

“Everything good?” he asks sleepily. 

“Perfectly fine. Um...it’s getting late, Steve, I should go.”

“What? Why?” 

“You probably wanna get some shut eye and I don’t need to burden you with my problems any longer. Thanks so much for tonight, though, Steve. It really helped.” 

Steve scoffs, rolling his eyes. He lifts up the comforter he had covering the lower half of his body. 

“Come on,” he said, leaving little room for argument. “It’s too late anyway. Robin crashes here all the time.” She hesitates for a moment, then moves around the couch to curl up beside him, surprised at how warm he was. He covers them both up and shuts his eyes again, as if this was completely normal. And why shouldn’t it be? They were friends. Close friends. Close friends had sleepovers. 

She turned over to politely give him some space and not be all up in his business. She pulls the comforter up to her chin and shuts her eyes, trying to calm all of her swimming thoughts. Tonight was about forgetting Eddie Munson. Tonight was about fun. 

With that, she slowly drifted off to sleep again. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜

Dustin hangs up the phone a little harder than he should have, clearly upset. Eddie, Mike, Lucas, and Jeff remained unburdened by his sudden hostility, all lazily lounging in Dustin’s living room as they watched his Friday the 13th copy he convinced Steve to let him rent despite his age.

“Who the hell was that that kept you so occupied?” Mike asked as he rejoins them, taking back his spot. Dustin doesn’t answer at first, accepting the bowl of popcorn offered to him by Jeff. After swallowing two handfuls, he gives it back and glares pointedly at Eddie. The metalhead doesn’t notice at first, too into the film to notice Dustin had even left in the first place. 

“Steve was hosting a movie night, too,” he says instead, out of nowhere sporting a not-so-nice plot. He loved Eddie, respected him. He considered Eddie to be one of his best friends, but he knew he screwed up big time with her. And Dustin wanted him to get a little taste of his own medicine. “Wasn’t alone though.”

“Buckley keeping him company?” Eddie asked, eyes still not moving from the screen. So he was listening. Good. 

Dustin smirks and looks at Mike. “No, you won’t believe who he’s got spending the night there with him.”

“Not my sister,” Mike said, looking green. 

“What? No, man, she wouldn’t do that to Jonathan! No, it was...” Even Jeff had to look away from the movie. 

“Steve and her? Really?” he asks. 

Eddie, at last, seemed to finally look away from the TV screen. He didn’t look distraught, but he wasn’t exactly too keen on the news either. Good enough, in Dustin’s opinion. 

“I didn’t know she and Steve were going steady,” he said. 

“Eh, they’re not. Figure it’s a first date kinda thing. I actually think I interrupted something when I called,” Dustin said. Eddie’s eye twitches. “Decided to leave them to it. I’ll bug Steve tomorrow on the details when he goes to work.” 

“Good for Steve,” Lucas chuckles from the beanbag, his smile quickly disappearing when Eddie’s head shot towards him. “I mean...wow...pretty surprising stuff. Uh, Jeff! Can I get some popcorn over here?” 

“I guess that’s why she wasn’t there for lunch,” Dustin continued. “Think she wanted to go visit him at the video place.”

Eddie sits back in Dustin’s mother’s armchair, slowly moving his gaze back to the TV screen. He definitely didn’t look as comfortable as he was beforehand. Dustin knew she told him to not punish Eddie for this. But Dustin was notorious for not doing as he was told. 

[wqnwoos]

jeonghan thinks that having you as his roommate is possibly one of the best and worst things that’s happened to him.

you are, by far, the best roommate he’s ever had. you’re clean. not too loud. you don’t disturb him when he’s sleeping, you don’t take food from the fridge that’s clearly his and you never leave your dishes in the sink.

coming from sharing with soonyoung, seungkwan and seokmin, jeonghan doesn’t think his living situation could get any better.

or at least, he didn’t. now he’s starting to realise he has a problem, and that problem is his teensy tiny crush on you.

because not only are you clean and hygienic, you’re also nice. incredibly nice — and incredibly gorgeous, and jeonghan really doesn’t think it’s fair that you tick all three boxes so easily. and yeah, maybe it’s not the biggest crush, but it certainly doesn’t help when you go around doing stupidly endearing things, like tripping over the rug that’s been there since you moved in, or dancing when you’re cooking dinner.

or baking at odd hours of the evening — because when he gets home at nearing midnight after hanging out at joshua’s house, he can hear you clattering around the kitchen from the doorway. you don’t see him when he first enters the room, eyes fixated on the measuring scale in front of you, as you pour brown sugar into a bowl.

“what are you doing?”

you jump when you hear his voice, somehow knocking a wooden spoon to the ground with your elbow as you yelp. “when did you get here?”

“just now.” jeonghan leans against the doorway with narrowed eyes. “do you know what time it is?”

“i’m — i’m stress-baking,” you enunciate, with heavy, deliberate emphasis. “it’s relieving my stress.”

jeonghan directs a dubious glance around the kitchen. there’s a pile of flour on the counter that should definitely be in some sort of packet; chocolate chips are sprinkled across the surface; there are at least seven different dirty bowls in the sink. “is it?”

you let out a deflated sigh, rubbing at your nose and leaving an adorable smudge of flour on the top. sourly, you admit —“no.”

jeonghan pushes off the doorframe, helping himself to a handful of chocolate chips before you can bat away his hand with the wooden spoon. “so, darling roommate of mine,” he begins, lifting himself onto the few clean inches of the surface. “why are we stress baking at such an hour?”

your nose wrinkles, and you avoid his gaze with admirable intensity. “i don’t want to talk about it.”

jeonghan prides himself on knowing when to push and when not to push. he can tell, even after knowing you for only a matter of months, that you’re not ready to talk about it yet. this exact scenario, late-night, stress-fuelled baking, has happened a few times before. and, right on schedule —

“you should go to bed,” you say after a moment. but your voice wavers ever so slightly, and jeonghan knows that even though you’d never ask, you don’t want to be alone right now.

“what, so you can stress yourself out all alone?” he asks lightly. “not a chance.”

so he sits there and talks to you as you finish up your cookies, stealing chocolate chips and laughing when you scowl at him, and then offering them to you at the last second. he puts them in the oven for you because somehow, despite your nocturnal hobbies, you’re yet to invest in oven mitts, and he doesn’t want you to get burnt.

sometimes, jeonghan considers telling you how he feels. sometimes, like now, when it’s late at night and his logical thinking is dulled, and you’re laughing at all his jokes, even the stupid ones, and everything feels so indescribably right — jeonghan feels like he’s spilling over. he feels like sometimes there’s a light in your eyes when you look at him, smile with him, that makes him think that reciprocation is more than a possibility — it’s a probability.

but he won’t. he knows he won’t, not yet. maybe one day, maybe sooner than he thinks, but not yet. for now, he just slips off the counter to dry the dishes when you wash them. to flick soap at your eyes and blow bubbles with you and connect his phone to the bluetooth speaker and coax you into dancing with him in the middle of the kitchen until your brows are no longer furrowed and your smile feels fuller than it was when he walked in. until the cookies are done, golden-brown and warm and sweet, just how he feels on nights like this.

edit: if you’d like to read a sequel to this couple, in my head this drabble is about them getting together :)

an / i don’t have anything to say. hi guys

perm taglist: @n4mj00nvq @eoieopda @som1ig @wondering-out-loud @graybaeismytae @hannyoontify @sahazzy @dokyeomin @icyminghao @smilehui @nicholasluvbot @lvlystars @immabecreepin @hanniehaee @kokoiinuts @astrozuya @doublasting @yepimthatonequirkyteenager @qaramu @weird-bookworm @phenomenalgirl9 @lightnjng @strnsvt @onlyyjeonghan @athanasiasakura

[scuderiahoney]

Love Of My Life

Max Verstappen x Reader // Strawberry Wine Part 5

Masterlist // Series Masterlist

Summary: Four moments leading up to the big day, and the moment you and Max have been dreaming of.

a/n: I actually have SO much to say but I will save it for the end or maybe a separate post. title thanks to Mr. Harry Styles. Hope you all enjoy this one!

Warnings: alcohol/intoxication, mild sexual content

1. something old

“You should come over Friday,” Louise tells you over the phone. “I’m having some friends over, you’ll love them. It’ll be fun.”

You don’t have anything better to do, really. You’ve had a hard time making friends since you moved here- people were still hesitant to socialize due to Covid. But things are opening back up now, and the one friend you have made wants to introduce you to more people. You should take the chance. You’d be silly not to.

So you head over with a bottle of white wine. You slip your coat off at the door, finding the apartment full of people. You’re suddenly anxious. You don’t know anyone here besides Louise, and you feel like such an outsider already. These people are all already friends, why would you think you could just insert yourself?

Just as you’re thinking about putting your coat back on and pretending you were never there, Louise spots you in the hallway. She calls out your name and beckons you over. Now you’re stuck. There’s no escaping anymore.

She greets you with a hug, squealing in your ear- you can tell she’s already tipsy. You hug her back and smile at her when she pulls away.

“I’m so glad you made it,” she says, loud enough to be heard over the music playing in her apartment. “I’ve got so many people I want you to meet.”

She takes you to the kitchen first, where there’s a wide array of alcohol and mixers. You help yourself to a tequila & soda. Then she holds your hand and pulls you through the crowd, making stops along the way. She introduces you to all her friends one by one, and you start to put faces to the names in the stories she’s told you. Everyone is kind and excited to meet you- apparently, they’ve heard a lot about you, too.

By the time you meet Max, you’re three drinks in. Louise doesn’t give you any sort of heads up. You suppose it shouldn’t really matter- to her, he’s just her friend Max. You’re not a big F1 fan, but you know enough to know who Max is. So when you’re suddenly face to face with him in a crowded apartment?

You handle it well, all things considered. The alcohol helps, keeps your hand from shaking when you give him a little wave as Louise gushes about you. Max helps, too- for someone who should be intimidating, he’s incredibly kind. It’s not long before Louise is dragging you off again, someone else she needs you to meet.

Max yells after the two of you, his hand cupped around his mouth. “Nice to meet you!”

You echo it back and laugh as she drags you away. You don’t see him again that night, but Max’s soft smile stays imprinted in the back of your brain for days.

2. something new

Just before Christmas, you and Max host a party. Half your friends are out of town visiting family, but you invite the people who are there to come over for dinner and drinks and games. Daniel, who is usually first to arrive and last to leave, gets there far too early. He rings the doorbell and Max looks at you with a wide grin. He has oven mitts on his hands, and he’s wearing an apron. It’s all very domestic, and it makes your heart sing.

“I’ll get it,” you say, sliding off the kitchen stool and heading for the door.

You take a deep breath before you open it. Daniel comes tumbling in, arms full of food and drinks, kicking off his shoes in the doorway. He’s grinning so wide at you that for a moment you think he already knows, but Max had sworn he hadn’t told him yet. He heads towards the kitchen, already talking a mile a minute, but when he turns over his shoulder to look at you he stops in his tracks. He cocks his head at you.

“Something’s different,” he says, one brow quirked. “Did you cut your hair? Something’s… new.”

You shake your head and frown at him. He frowns right back. Then he drops the bottles and bags of food on the couch. He casts a glance towards the kitchen, where Max has his head in the fridge. For a second, you’re worried about what he’s going to ask you.

Then he reaches for your left hand, and you start to laugh.

His grin grows impossibly wider when he spots the ring on your finger. He pulls you into a tight hug before he says anything. You hear Max let out a noise of confusion in the kitchen, but you’re busy hugging Daniel back.

“Congrats,” he says, voice low. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to him.”

You laugh, tears suddenly threatening to build up in your eyes. “Thank you. And. Thank you,” you say. “For picking me up and bringing me here that night.”

He nods, squeezes his arms around you once more before he pulls away. Max is standing at the kitchen island, watching the two of you with a soft smile.

“Told you he’d notice immediately,” he says. “Lando’s the one who’ll be oblivious.”

Daniel charges across the room to get to Max and wraps him up in a bear hug. Max reciprocates happily, smiling at you over his friend’s shoulder. They hold onto each other for a long time.

“Wait, so is this an engagement party?” He asks, and Max laughs. “Wait, when did you ask her?”

“Just after we got back from Japan,” you answer.

Daniel turns to you, eyes wide. “You little assholes! You’ve been keeping it a secret for weeks?”

He shoves Max’s shoulder lightly. Max shoves him back. Before long, the two of them are playfully wrestling in the kitchen. The timer on the oven goes off, but it doesn’t seem to stop either of them. You sigh, walk over, take the oven mits from the counter, and sidestep the scramble to get to the oven and pull the tray of cookies out.

Louise walks in without knocking and takes in the entire situation- you, a tray of cookies in your hands, Daniel, his arms around Max, Max, with Daniel in a headlock, and she starts to laugh.

“Oh my god, did you guys get engaged?” She asks.

“How did you know?” Max squeaks- Daniel’s pinched his side mid sentence.

“You’re wearing an apron that says fiancé,” Louise laughs.

You collapse into laughter, barely making sure to set the cookies down on the counter. You’d forgotten about the apron, a gag gift from you to him that he’d insisted on actually wearing. Max looks down at his own chest, tucking his chin comically to do so. He still has Daniel in a headlock. The other man is jabbing at Max’s stomach now.

“Huh. Forgot about that,” he says with a shrug.

“Let me see the ring!” Louise says, making her way towards you.

“Shoes off!” Both you and Max call out, pointing at her feet.

She sighs and shares a look of exasperation with Daniel. He rolls his eyes in agreement. Max sees and remembers his previous fight with Daniel, and seems to decide to return to that, shoving his elbow into his friend’s side.

You ignore them and head for Louise, holding your hand out to her. She squeals over the ring, holding onto your hand tightly, eyes lit up.

“Wouldn’t be here without you,” you tell her.

“And that awful strawberry wine,” she says knowingly.

She’s not exactly wrong. Without that night, the strawberry wine that everyone else hated but you and Max liked, you’re not sure what would’ve happened. You like to believe you would’ve found your way to each other- something else to have in common, something else to share. But you wouldn’t trade any of those shared bottles of wine for the entire world. You treasure each moment.

“They got engaged like three weeks ago!” Daniel calls out. “They’re assholes!”

You slip the ring off your finger and turn it around so Louise can see the strawberry, and you watch her face crumple into a sob. You laugh and feel yours do the same.

“Shit,” Daniel says. “I didn’t mean it.”

Max gives up on wrestling Daniel. “Baby?”

“It’s okay,” you reassure him, as you pull Louise into a hug. “Happy tears.”

3. something borrowed

You follow Max to Bahrain for the beginning of the F1 season. He’s often busy before he gets in the car, and you usually spend the time hanging out in hospitality or in the garage. But before the first practice of the season, he finds you and pulls you to the side.

He slips the bracelet you gave him from his wrist and hands it to you. “Keep this safe for me?”

You know the rest of his jewelry- his other bracelets, his watch, and any rings he’d worn- are sitting in his driver room. Your chest warms at the thought that he’s worn this one as long as possible, and that he wants you to hold onto it. You smile up at him and slide the bracelet into your own wrist. It’s a bit too big, but it’ll work.

“Sure, I’ll just borrow it for now,” you tell him.

A wide, soft smile spreads across Max’s lips. “Oh. That’s. That’s nice.”

His face has morphed into something warm and full of affection. His eyes are trained on the bracelet, sitting on your wrist, the way it hangs loosely against the base of your hand. It’s comforting to you, too.

You laugh, noticing the tears in his eyes. “You big sap.”

He brushes his thumb against your wrist and kisses your forehead. “But I’m yours.”

“Yeah, you are,” you say, and you kiss his cheek. “Forever. I’ll see you soon, love.”

After the practice, he finds you, his race suit tied around his waist. He pulls you into a hug, and you slip the bracelet off your wrist and onto his. And so, the tradition begins.

By the end of the race the next weekend, the two of you have it down to a science. He takes it off just before he heads to the grid, leaves it with you. You rub your thumb against the metal during the race, wrap your whole hand around it during the more stressful moments. The cold metal against the palm of your other hand is grounding, somehow. When he crosses the finish line in first, you run to greet him with the crew. He pulls you halfway over the barricade when he finds you, helmet still on, and you press your lips to the top of it as he holds you, strong arms right around your middle. He smells like sweat and shakes with the adrenaline of it all. There are people slapping his shoulders eagerly, people reaching to tap his helmet, but for just a moment, all he’s focused on is you. He reaches for your wrist.

You slip the bracelet off and put it back on his wrist for him. You watch his shoulders relax, like the last bit of tension is draining away. You hold onto the sides of his helmet, staring into his eyes, which are nearly squeezed shut. He holds your face in his hands for just a moment, fingers pressed to your skin.

He’s going to be your husband. In all of this chaos, you’re the person he wants by his side, the first one he runs to. It hits you like a freight train, and you swallow down the tears.

“I’ll see you soon,” he promises, smiling through all of it. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you tell him, as you let go of him.

Someone pulls him away- he has other things he has to do now. But he’ll come back to you. He always does.

4. something blue

Soon, it’s late summer in Monaco. The hazy afternoon sun is about to slip below the horizon. You’ve just climbed out of bed after a long nap with Max, both of you having been exhausted from the race weekend and the journey back home. For once, you’d been the one trying to coax him to stay in bed. He’d insisted on getting up, on trying to scrape together dinner from what’s left of the groceries in your apartment. So far, you haven’t made much progress beyond opening a bottle of wine and starting a playlist playing.

“Maybe this could be a first dance song,” you suggest, some sappy love song playing over the speakers in the kitchen.

Max shakes his head, wrinkles his nose. “You don’t even know this song.”

“Sounds pretty.”

“It has to mean something, no?” He says, reaching out and pulling you close. “Not just… sounds pretty.”

“Yeah, but… how do we pick a song that sums it all up?” You ask, and his shoulders drop. “I mean. Have you found the song yet?”

“I have ideas,” he says.

“So do I,” you answer, and then you sigh. “But I don’t think any of them are the one.”

Max stands there, hands on your hips. “Let’s test them out,” he says.

You blink up at him, sliding your hands up his abdomen. “Now?”

You look down at yourself, and at him. He’s shirtless, in nothing but a pair of navy sweatpants and socks. You’re not much more dressed- one of his navy Red Bull tshirts, big enough that it falls down to mid thigh, nothing but your underwear underneath, a pair of light blue cable knit socks on your feet. Your hair is a mess. There are definitely dark circles under your eyes, courtesy of your near-permanent jet lag.

“Yeah, now,” he says, brushing his thumbs against your hips. “You’ve got a list, so do I. How are we going to know which one’s right till we try them out?”

You shrug, then nod, reaching for your phone. You open your music, scrolling to the playlist you’ve already made. Max looks at the screen upside down, trying to read the names of the songs. When the first one begins to play, he takes you into his arms and starts to dance.

The kitchen is big, but it’s no dance floor. The living room might be better, but he seems insistent on staying put. The two of you sway on the tile floors, careful not to bump your hips on the countertops. He spins you in dizzying circles, ones that make you laugh and smile and send you crashing back into his chest. And when you’ve heard enough of each song to know it’s not the song, you skip it.

“Too boring,” he says about one.

“Too cheesy,” you respond to another.

He wrinkles his nose at the next one. “This is even cheesier.”

It’s not long until you’ve exhausted both of your lists. You sigh in defeat, resting your head on his shoulder. His hand sweeps up your back.

“We’ll find it,” you tell him. “Or we’ll get Charles to write us a song.”

Max snorts out a laugh. “I’m not so sure about that.”

“He was the first of your friends that I met, you know,” you remind him with a teasing lilt.

He bends his head to kiss your forehead, but he stops halfway. His brows furrow. Then he reaches for your phone off the counter, swiping to open it.

“What?” You ask, softly.

“Danny- he suggested a song, a while ago. A long time ago, actually-“ he says. “I had forgotten about it. But. We should try, no?”

You nod. He pressed play. You don’t recognize the song as the first chords play out, but you’ll give it a shot. You rest your head against Max’s chest, let him hold you and sway back and forth. For a moment, you think you’re starting to feel it. That this might be the song. There’s a flutter in your chest.

And then the chorus hits, and you hear the lyrics, and you just know. You look up at Max with tears in your eyes and you know he feels it too. The sun is long gone, now, and the kitchen is filled with that blue, post sunset light. It matches Max’s eyes, brings out the color in them. He leans you back in the kitchen of your apartment and kisses you like you’re his wife- like this could be your first dance at your wedding. You wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him right back.

You’re not sure how many times you listen to that song that night. Enough to learn all the lyrics, enough to commit the feeling of it to memory. By the end of the night, Max is singing it to you while you wash your face and laugh, and you’re humming it while you climb into bed. You lay there, your head on the pillow, looking over at him. Neither of you can wipe the giant smiles off your lips.

5. and a sixpence in your shoe

You wake up just after the sun on a Saturday morning in early January. The year is still fresh, and Max is in bed next to you. He’s got his arm around your waist, face pressed into the pillow. The sight makes you smile.

Today, you get to marry him. You can’t wipe the stupid grin off your face. As Max starts to wake up, you see the smile slip across his face, too. He opens his eyes and meets yours, and the smile only grows. He reaches out, runs the back of his finger over your cheek.

“My beautiful girlfriend,” he says, softly.

You laugh. “My handsome boyfriend.”

“We have to use that up, you know. Say it while we still can,” he says.

He tugs at your side to pull you closer. You go easily.

“We’re getting married today,” you say to him.

He nods, eyes tracing your face. “Any second thoughts? Cold feet?”

You laugh and bury your face in his chest. You press your feet to his calves and he hisses, rolling over on top of you in retaliation. He presses quick, ticklish kisses to the sensitive skin of your neck, and you squeal and try to push him away. He’s much stronger, though, and he keeps you pinned under him.

“My feet are always cold,” you tell him. “But no second thoughts. I’m all in.”

“Are we getting married or playing poker?” He teases. When you groan and shove at his shoulder lightly, he laughs into your neck.

“What about you? Second thoughts?” You ask.

Max laughs again, louder this time. He presses himself closer, if that’s even possible, and kisses the hinge of your jaw gently. His nose brushes against your temple, then, as he presses his lips to your ear.

“Never,” he whispers, making you shiver. “I’m all in, too.”

He pulls away to look at your face, and you’re met with a soft gaze that sends your heart into overdrive. He leans close, lips aiming for yours, his nose bumping against your nose. You let your eyes fall shut, and then there’s someone knocking on your front door, loudly.

“You two better be decent!” Daniel calls out. “We’re here, time to get up!”

You sigh, throwing your head back on the pillow. Max lets out a long, loud groan, hands suddenly everywhere on your body, like he’s trying to get as much touching in as he can before it’s too late. You laugh and try to push him away again, but it’s no use.

“Why’d we tell him to come get us so early?” Max says, bordering on a whine. “And why did he listen to us?”

“He’s your best man,” you remind him. “You chose him.”

There’s a knock on the bedroom door. “Come on, lovebirds. We’ve got a schedule to keep. It’s your wedding day!” This time it’s Louise, who’s your maid of honor.

You sigh and try to sit up, bringing Max with you. He doesn’t go easily, or willingly. He seems perfectly content to stay tucked in bed, despite the threats from your friends. In fact, the second you’re halfway sitting up, he’s trying to push you back down onto the pillows.

“Max. I’m not wearing a shirt,” you hiss, gesturing down at yourself. “And Danny is threatening to come in here-“

Max sits up suddenly, eyes wide. “Okay, okay, we’re getting up,” he calls out. “Give us a minute to get dressed, yeah?”

You meet the two of them in the kitchen ten minutes later. Max is in a t-shirt and a pair of sweats, while you’re in a cream lounge set your friend Audrey bought you as a wedding shower gift. You have one of Max’s shirts overtop of it, unbuttoned and hanging like a jacket. Daniel and Louise are sitting at the kitchen counter, coffee and breakfast waiting for both you and Max. Your friends greet each of you with hugs and then rush you both out the door.

You ride to the wedding venue together, and even as you head to get ready, you don’t separate. This is what you both decided- you get ready for every other big event in your lives together, side by side, so why would this one be any different? Your friends all join you, your family members too, trickling in and out of the space. The morning is full of love and light. Max sits next to you and watches you get your hair and makeup done. Your makeup artist has to tell him to stop making you laugh- she’s worried she’s going to mess up your lipstick.

Max just grins and shakes his head. “We can’t have that,” he teases. “That’s my job.”

You wait until the last possible second to put on your dress. That’s when you leave Max’s side, letting go of him until you meet him at the end of the aisle. He's in his tux, a blue bow tie around his neck. There’s this peaceful smile on his face, one that grounds you and comforts you every time you see it. He kisses your temple to avoid messing up your makeup, and you smile up at him softly.

“I’ll see you soon,” he promises eyes sparkling.

“Yeah, see you soon,” you answer, feeling giddy.

The wedding itself is a tiny, intimate affair. Just your closest friends and family and someone to officiate. You can see the garden where you’re going to get married from the room you’ve been getting ready in. The guests are all in the seats- your family and Max’s in the front row. GP and his wife are there, craning their necks when they spot Max. Lando is there, sitting next to Martin. Your mutual friends take up a whole row, the ones you met the same night you met Max, the ones who welcomed you with open arms. A whole lot of love in such a little space.

You take a deep breath and head downstairs with Louise, who helps make sure your dress is perfect before you head down the aisle. You stay hidden, watching through a window as Max walks down to the front. Daniel gives you a gentle hug, tears already forming in his eyes. Then the music begins, and Louise grabs you by the shoulders.

“This is your last chance,” she says. “I can be your getaway car.”

You laugh, tears already forming in your eyes, and you shake your head. “No. No second thoughts, no cold feet. I’ve never been more sure.”

She grins at you and squeezes your shoulders. “Cool, because we would’ve had to steal Danny’s car. Oh, I have something for you.”

She reaches into the pocket of her dress and pulls out a coin- a sixpence. Suddenly, you remember the old rhyme, and panic rushes through your body. She’s smiling, though, and shaking her head.

“Something old,” she says, pointing at the vintage bracelet you’d been gifted by Max’s mother for the day. “The something new is the perfume you bought special for today.”

“Something borrowed,” Daniel chimes in, a wide grin on his face, “is the pair of cufflinks I lent Max. And something blue-“

“His bow tie,” you say, softly. “I picked it because it brings out his eyes, but… it works, right?”

Daniel and Louise both nod, grinning brightly. Tears are already forming in your eyes. Louise swipes them away quickly with a tissue as you slip one of your heels off and place the coin there. You take a deep breath.

“Now I’m ready,” you say with a firm nod.

But really, you’ve been ready since the day you met him.

The rest of it is a bit of a blur. It’s like one moment, you’re standing there, watching it all from the outside. Then the next, you’re at the front with Max, his hands in yours, tears in both of your eyes. You hate crowds, hate public speaking, but for him you’d do anything. For him, you’d shout it all from the rooftops.

He has that soft look on his face, the one that makes you melt every time. His cheeks are rosy red, and you have to fight the urge to sweep your thumb against his face, to lean in and kiss him right there. You barely hear what the officiant is saying, but that’s okay because you already know it by heart.

“Now, I believe the two of you have prepared vows?” The officiant says. “Max, would you like to start us off?”

Max nods, squeezes your hands, smiles at you. You smile right back and hold onto him tightly.

“My wonderful love,” he says, voice so soft and tender it makes your chest hurt. “I spent a lot of my life before I met you wondering how you know when it’s love. But you’ve taught me that it’s not just a feeling, it’s a choice. At every turn, I choose you, and you have done the same. You’re my sunshine, my quiet in the noise. So in all the messes, in the stressful days, I love you. Not in spite of, or anyways. I love you in all of it, the good and the tough parts. I’d choose you over and over again.” He squeezes your hands softly. “I promise to save you the best strawberries, to listen when you need to talk, to talk when you need to listen. Most of all, I promise to always walk you home.”

God, you love him. You love him so much it’ll burn you up, so much it aches deep in your chest. You can’t quite believe that you get to spend your whole life with him. You hold onto his hands and blink away tears. His blue eyes stare straight into yours, calm and kind as always. If you could, you’d kiss him right then and there. You take a deep breath instead and begin to speak.

“I heard a quote once, that said there are years that ask questions and years that answer. I think that since I’ve met you, it’s all felt like an answer to a question I didn’t even know I had. You pick me up when I fall, you cheer me on when I succeed, and I love being able to do the same for you,” you say, softly. “I am so thankful for every moment I get to spend with you, from the dances in our kitchen to watching you win on the racetrack. You’re the best part of my life, my steady rock, my anchor in a storm. I can’t wait to be by your side for the rest of our lives. I promise to always share the wine, to cheer you on, to be the sane person in a room full of chaos.” He grins widely at that, eyes glittering with tears. “Above all else, I promise to love you for the rest of my life.”

Then it’s the I dos and the rings, handed to you by Daniel, who’s got tears in his eyes. Your hands shake as you slip the ring onto his finger. Max’s do too. The bands sit perfectly on your fingers, and you can’t take your eyes off Max’s hand- the ring, the bracelet, too. When you finally drag your gaze away, you look up at him again, tears slipping down your cheeks. His face mirrors yours, teary eyed but oh-so-happy.

When the officiant tells him to kiss the bride, he sweeps you up in his arms, the same way he did in the hallway of the club all that time ago, when you were still unsure, when you didn’t realize he wanted this, too. He kisses you sweetly, holds you close, and you feel it in every bone in your body, every muscle, every nerve. You wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him back. You could do this forever. Forever and ever.

…..

While the wedding was small, the reception is huge, and it’s packed with people. Everyone you or Max have ever spoken to seems to be there. There’s good food, better drinks, and enough strawberry wine to supply the entire city for a month, you’re sure. Someone forces you and Max to sit and eat dinner- you do your best. Then you wander the reception, hand in hand with him, greeting all of your guests.

You’ve changed dresses since the ceremony- out of your more simple white dress and into a bit more of an elegant one. You give so many hugs you think your arms will fall off, and accept countless compliments on the dress and the decor and the food. People tell you how proud they are of the two of you, how happy they are for you, how in love the two of you look.

You’ve just barely collapsed into your chair again, wincing at the ache already present in your feet, when they announce the first dance. Suddenly, you’re rejuvenated. Max grabs your hand and helps you up, a wide smile on his face.

“My wife,” he says, seemingly never tiring of using your new title. “May I have this dance?”

“My husband,” you respond, smiling. “This dance and every single other one.”

He laughs. It’s incredibly cheesy, overly sappy. But someday, a long time ago, you pulled your heart out of your chest and handed it over to him. And he took it, wrapped it up and held it safely, promised to protect it with his life, and then gave you his in exhchange. You have the right to be sappy and cheesy and emotional. He leads you to the dance floor, a million eyes on you. You just stare into his, and the rest of the world disappears as the song begins to play. It’s not the typical kind of music you two listen to, and it’s probably not what your friends were expecting. But when the chorus plays…

You're as smooth as Tennessee whiskey

You're as sweet as strawberry wine

You're as warm as a glass of brandy

And honey, I stay stoned on your love all the time

You rest your head on his shoulder as he holds you close, one hand linked with yours.

“I love you,” you whisper, fingers dancing in the hair at the nape of his neck.

“I love you, liefje,” he says, brushing a kiss against your forehead.

He kisses you on the lips at the end of the song. Everyone cheers, and you smile into it, unable to help yourself. Max raises one fist above your heads, like he’s just won a race, and you start to laugh. It’s one of the happiest moments of your life.

…..

When the reception ends, the afterparty begins. Most of the older or calmer guests head out. Louise helps you change your dress one more time- from the ballgown to a short party dress. You ditch your heels for a pair of white sneakers and sigh in relief at the feeling. By the time you make an appearance, the party is truly in full swing, and you spot Max up on the DJ stand with Lando and Martin. Years ago, if you’d have guessed who’d DJ your wedding afterparty, you’d have never suggested Martin Garrix and Lando Norris, and yet, here you are.

You climb up there with them, greeting your two friends with hugs before sliding up to Max’s side. He’s lost his suit jacket somewhere along the way, and his neatly tied bow tie hangs loose and crooked from his neck. You reach to try and fix it for him. He looks you up and down, a sly smile on his lips.

He wraps his arms around you, letting his hands fall low on your back. “This might be my favorite dress of the day,” he says into your ear.

You shove at his shoulder lightly. “You’re just drunk and horny.”

He shakes his head and kisses your cheek. “No, it’s just… you look the most like you in this one. Like the you I fell in love with.” He nudges his foot against your sneakers. “More comfortable, too.”

You feel warm and soft over that, over the way he’s looking at you right now. “Aw, Maxie,” you say, leaning up to kiss his cheek.

“I mean, you also look hot,” he says, hands slipping down to squeeze your ass. “But that is just an added bonus.”

You laugh, your forehead pressed to his chest. There are people all around you, music pounding in your chest, but you’ve got Max, and that’s all you need.

“Should we go dance?” He asks.

You press your lips to his jaw, then his ear. “Yeah, we should.”

The two of you climb down from the platform. Soon enough, you disappear into the crowd of people, his hand linked with yours the whole time.

You stumble out of the club at 3am, Max’s arm wrapped around your waist. Daniel, ever the dutiful best man, is the one to get the two of you into the car, despite Max’s protests that he can walk you home. You wave goodbye to all your friends, who cheer and wave from the sidewalk. Max has his arm around your waist as you lean out the window to hug Louise, and he yelps and pulls you back in when you start to lean too far.

By the time you’re halfway through the elevator ride up to your apartment, you’re pinned between him and the mirrored wall, his lips on yours. It’s messy and hot and you drag your hands down his torso as his hands slide down your back. When the elevator doors slide open on your floor, he picks you up easily, and you wrap your legs around his waist. He carries you to the front door, pins you against it so he can unlock it, and then stumbles inside, your legs wrapped around his waist. You press your lips to his neck and laugh.

“My wife,” he says, kicking his shoes off and shoving them aside.

You nip at his jaw. “My husband.”

He carries you all the way into the bedroom and lays you down on the bed. You’re a giggly mess, covering your face with your hands as he tugs your shoes off your feet for you. When his hands are free, you reach for him, pulling on his dress shirt until it comes untucked from his pants. The motion knocks him off balance, and he catches himself with both hands on either side of your head, face to face with you.

You always love him, really, but he’s your husband now. It makes butterflies swirl in your stomach, makes you giddy and warm inside. You reach for the collar of his shirt and start working on his buttons.

He starts pressing kisses all over your face- your cheeks, your nose, your eyelids. Each time you try to chase his lips with your own, he pulls away, kissing some other part of your face. You’re three buttons in on his shirt when you give up, grab for his jaw, and start doing the same to him.

When you pull away, he smiles down at you, and you admire your handiwork. There’s lipstick on his cheeks, now, smudged and messy. There’s a line of it down his jaw, leading to a spot that looks so inviting you have to leave a mark there. You dive in and seal your lips there, pulling a groan from his.

You’ll admit it- you’re the first one to yawn. You have your hands under his shirt, pressed against his warm skin, and his lips are dragging against your neck, and the exhaustion hits you all at once. You cover the yawn with your hand, blinking frantically to try and wake yourself up. You can’t fall asleep during this part of your wedding night.

But. Max’s lips are slow against your neck, and his kisses are messier and messier. You run your fingers along his side and he sighs softly. When you feel him yawn, you nudge his shoulder until he looks up at you. His eyes are half lidded, lips red and puffy, and he looks exhausted.

“Do you really want to have sex right now?” You ask, carding your fingers through his hair.

“With you? Always,” he mumbles into the bare skin of your collarbone. Then he lets his head drop back against your chest.

“You’re literally falling asleep,” you say, tugging lightly on his hair. You get no reaction. “See? I just pulled your hair, and nothing. That always makes you-“

“Mm. Yeah. Morning sex it is,” he says, nodding against you. “Probably for the best. We have a flight in…” he looks at the clock on the bedside table. “Six hours.”

You groan and cover your face with your hands again. “Why did we do that? It’s your plane, we could’ve picked any time.”

“Your plane, too,” he says against your skin. “Our plane.”

You stare at the ceiling with wide eyes. “Are you sure you don’t want to have sex? That sentence was hotter than it should’ve been. Ours.”

Max laughs against you and squeezes your hips. “How about this. We sleep. Wake up at the last possible second. Get in the car, go to the plane. Maybe more sleep. Then, we have-“

“Sex on the plane,” you say with him, nodding. “Fuck, we really are married, huh? We’re scheduling sex.”

“Yes. But it’s okay, because it’s mile high club scheduled sex, so it’s cooler.” Max says, which sends you into a fit of giggles.

Then he shoves at your hips, trying to push you further onto the bed. You go willingly and he follows. The two of you fall asleep still half dressed in your wedding clothes, with his head on your chest and your lipstick all over his face.

…..

You’d had a thought, a long time ago, about a honeymoon phase with Max. It’s what those first weeks had felt like, before anything was official, when you thought nobody knew. Now, you lay between his legs on a beach chair on your actual honeymoon, running your hands through his hair, your chest against his. The morning sun beats down on your skin, warming you up the same way he warms your heart. You look at him, at the smile on his face that matches the one on yours, and you think that maybe this is what relationships are all about. Finding the next honeymoon, the next thing to jump into headfirst, together, hand in hand.

“You’ll walk me home, right?” You’d asked him, so many nights ago in the restaurant lobby.

“Always,” he’d answered.

You look at your rings on your finger, laying against his chest. You feel his ring against your cheek when he cups your face, cold in stark contrast to the warmth of his hand, the warmth of him. Always.

That sounds pretty perfect.

a/n: I actually didn’t know about the sixpence in your shoe part of the wedding rhyme until I wrote this. learn something new every day! anyways. this all started with a oneshot and somehow transformed into this. i have a deeper love for max and a deeper hatred for his affinity for wearing Red Bull merch- it makes it very difficult to make fic headers. thank you to everyone who has helped encourage me while writing this fic, and to everyone who has read any of it i love you all! And now, we say goodbye to the strawberry wine universe, thanks for reading! 🍓🍷

ps. this is the last full part but i might have some blurbs if anyone is interested

taglist: @4-mula1 @celestialams @struggling-with-delia @lovekt @i-wish-this-was-me @forzalando @iloveyou3000morgan @callsign-scully @ggaslyp1

[pixiesfz]

such a tease k.c

plot: you make a comment in an interview and Kerstin makes you pay for it

warnings: suggestive, fluff

You were sat down in the press room with Sarina on your left, you were repping some of the England Lionesses merch and your hair was brushed and out, smiling out of nerves that you were chosen to take the interview.

The interview was for your opinions and predictions for the England vs Netherlands match for the Olympic qualifiers.

Your feet were jumping up and down under the table and your fingers were playing together behind the microphone.

"You ready y/n?" one of the interviewers asked and you nodded.

The interview eased in as you tried to joke around with most questions, even making a joke about Leah's coaching comments as Sarina laughed saying that she was coming for her job.

"Are you okay for a personal question?" a young interviewer raised her hand with paper in her hand.

You knew immediately where this was going as she nervously raised her hand. You were versing Netherlands.

You were versing Kerstin.

You and Kerstin had recently announced your relationship online with a picture of you two together at a winning celebration for Manchester City. This was the first game as girlfriends that you would be versing each other.

But your mood was up so you nodded your head "it's okay" you said and the girl smiled.

"Are you scared of playing your teammate Kerstin Casperij?"

You covered your ear with your hand "who?" you smirked and the room was filled with chuckles.

You let the laughter down before finishing off the question.

You groaned as you opened the door to your and Kerstin's shared apartment to hear the stove on and happily sniff the yummy smell that came from it.

"Sorry I'm late I was chosen for an interview for the game" you sighed and turned into the kitchen to only see such a sight.

Kristen was in her pajama shorts (your old Melbourne City shorts) and just a sports bra. She wasn't wearing a t-shirt, giving you access to roam your eyes on her abs.

"babe" you deadpanned and the Dutch smiled and hummed.

"How was the interview?" she asked, quickly turning to you with a soft smirk before going back to her pot "Alright, just made some jokes" you sighed and grabbed two plates as you could see your girlfriend almost finished.

"Jokes huh?" Kerstin questioned and you nodded "yeah it was the only way I could get through it though"

Looking for the salt and pepper you were lost "Kerstin?" you called out

"Who?"

Your head shot up momentarily before looking to your girlfriend who had a full smirk on her face as she held the pasta pot and was pouring them into both your bowls.

"So you watched it?" you frowned and she nodded "very funny joke, all though you don't usually forget my name, especially in the bed-"

"I panicked!"

Kirsten just smiled smugly and took off her oven mitts and wiped her hands off on her stomach which you kept on stealing glances at.

You came to a conclusion after her action, she was getting back at you.

"Kerstin put a top on," you told her and she shook her head "I thought you liked my abbs?" she asked as if she didn't know you had picked up on her plot.

"I do" you sang out "but we are eating and it's a tease" you told her "but I'm cold" she shrugged and you rolled your eyes

"We live in Manchester Kerstin there is no way you could be cold" you crossed your arms and the Dutch's girl smile grew.

"Sorry, who's Kerstin again?" she asked, her hand covering her ear, similar to how you did at the interview.

You stepped forward, closer to your girlfriend "Kerstin we have to eat dinner" you told her softly, reaching your hands out to the sides of her waist to pull her closer.

"pretty please" you added with a sickly sweet smile.

But Kerstin seemed to be liking her teasing too much "I'm not quite sure who this person you speak of is?" she cocked her head and you groaned out in annoyment before grabbing her face and pulling down so it could be close to yours.

"Kerstin is my Dutch bloody girlfriend who I love very much-"

"you also love her abs"

"Who I also love her abs and I would like to eat dinner with her before we go to the bedroom and do unspeakable things!"

You finished with raised brows at your girlfriend's satisfied gaze "Well if you wanted me that bad you could've just asked" she teased and leaned in to kiss you.

It was sweet until your hands moved around her toned stomach and she leaned away.

"I thought you wanted to eat dinner first"

"It can wait"