#coffeetable books

[noahwhitexyz]

Cassina ixc

[chambergambit]

[britneyshakespeare]

might fuck around and buy my friend a copy of the riverside shakespeare (1973) for his birthday

side note it astonishes me that ppl are selling this book for between $50 to $100 secondhand in some places. you can get it for under 10 bucks at so many online retailers. it's a fifty-year-old tome that was commonly used as a college textbook, there are so many fuckin copies still floating around out there and most of them on the market are in the acceptable-to-good category of condition. how could one you have be worth much more than that? is yours in extra special superb condition? what?

do ppl just think everything vintage is valuable... bc oftentimes it just isn't

[foursidecity]

I wish we had those little art refrence books here like they have in japan... you know those books just filled with pictures of cats or people or buildings/location for art refrnece.... I'm not sure what their called and anytime I try to find some on ebay I get the more ehem.... interesting ones

[cleveland76]

[zoanzon]

I want a website that tells me if a history book actually has citations, or if it just says stuff and expects me to believe it.

[shojoboy]

<- guy who Cannot stop putting books on hold at his local library

[urhoneycombwitch]

workin' 9 to 5

Steve Harrington x Reader x Eddie Munson established poly relationship

foreword: ya’ll asked for more Steddie x Reader and I’m holding up this wet cat of a fic by the scruff of its neck for your reading pleasure <3 not necessary to do any reading beforehand, but I consider this to be a companion fic to all the 'quickie' ones listed here! 

cw: Established poly relationship between Steve/Reader/Eddie, Steve POV, Steve hates his job (briefly), big job/life changes, R referred to as ‘girl’ in passing, discussions of finances, open communication between partners (okay healthyyy), R has breasts, R+Eddie use sexual wiles™️ on one Steve H.,  no actual smut but 18+ MDNI as always

wc: 3.4k

____

In a fourth-floor office of the Indianapolis Business and Commerce building, Steve Harrington sits behind his desk wearing a deep frown.

The small desk holds its usual ephemera across the oak surface- pen cup, notepads, a mug of coffee long gone cold. At the top right edge, a black framed picture of you and Eddie- arms around the other, hair whipping in the ocean breeze, a shared laugh lighting up both your faces for the person behind the camera.

What’s new, however, is the scattered remains of today’s four-hour-long committee meeting. Sheafs of paper stacked book-height border a map of southern Indiana, its surface covered with multicolored scribbles and random outlines. 

With a weary sigh, Steve rolls the sleeves of his starched white work shirt up the length of his arms, head at a tilt as his eyes roam the mapped territory. 

It should not be this hard to plan where to put another damn business building that no one’s gonna care about in six years, tops. 

Maybe Steve’s a bit of a cynic, but that's what working for your dad in the business world will get you.

There’s this dull, piercing throb behind Steve’s left temple, pulsing with each minute surge of the overhead fluorescents. He digs four fingers against the ache, trying to remember the steady rhythm of breaths- Steve feels woefully off-tempo, lacking the musician boyfriend who usually coaches him through the pain. 

The analog clock hanging on the wall tells Steve it’s technically lunch time, and based on the absence of noise in the hall most Harrington Sr. employees have taken advantage of the hour to be somewhere else.

Steve thinks of you- an hour and some change south of here back at the Hawkins diner- tucked away apronless in some quiet corner, snapping carrot sticks with your molars while absorbed in a library paperback. 

Steve thinks of Eddie- god knows if wandering misfits have a work/lunch schedule, but Steve’s using his imagination- in the back of the van, limber legs swinging over the sides while he devours a PB&J in typical messy Eddie fashion. 

It smells stale in this crammed corner office, the ghosts of reheated leftovers and astringent lemon cleaner left to permeate. Steve knows from experience that the small window behind his chair is welded shut; no chance of fresh air.

The headache is blooming still. Steve lays his forearms on the desk, using them as cushion for his forehead. It’s darker in the shadow of his arms, a little easier to breathe- Steve thinks of the smells of the trailer. 

Spicy homemade chorizo that Eddie bartered some weed for, oily and sizzling on the stove. Your Tuesday perfume, light and floral, wafting sweet with each pass of your body through the rooms. The worn couch, the dented coffeetable, the three-wide cushions imprinted with the people Steve loves most. 

All of the memory is good enough to eat; Steve is thinking this might sustain him through the lunch hour and he can get away with simply downing some Tylenol before the next meeting- when the office phone on his desk rings out. 

Steve lifts his head, wincing with the movement, and jabs the speaker button. “Jenny?”

“Hi, Mr. Harrington, sorry to bother you on lunch-”

“It’s okay,” Steve assures the receptionist- she’s still new to the job and too spooked to call him by his first name even though he's requested it many a time. “Wasn’t doin’ much- what’s up?”

“Um, there’s a- a Mr. Long, here to see you?”

Even staring at the ceiling doesn’t help his name recall this time. “A client?”

“Yes, he says he’s- oh.” There’s a pause, and Steve can hear the faint noise of someone else speaking in the background, words indistinguishable until Jenny speaks again. “His first name is Dick, if that rings a bell?”

Steve blinks. 

“Yeah, send him up, please.”

As soon as the call disconnects, Steve drums his fingers on the desk and stares at the door directly across from his vantage point, waiting for the elevator to deposit Mr. Long on the fourth floor. 

A minute later, there’s a showy knock, which is all the warning Steve gets before the door swings open to reveal a grinning Eddie. 

“Heya, Big Business. Came to see how the sausage gets made.”

“You’d know more about sausage than me,” Steve retorts, crossing his arms, secretly thrilled to see Eddie at such unconventional hours but playing hard to get all the same. “Seriously? Dick Long?”

“Can’t deny it’s the truth,” Eddie says, grinning Cheshire-like and stepping fully into the carpeted office. His hair is pulled back in a loose bun, tendrils spooling out around the shoulders of his black leather jacket. 

Steve watches as the familiar pair of combat boots tromps closer to the desk; Eddie snags an ink pen with the Harrington business logo from the cup and begins twirling it between lithe fingers.

Refusing to be mesmerized so easily, Steve tsks, admonishing- “C’mon, man, put it back. I bring you plenty of good drawing pens from this place- you can’t start taking my desk ones, too. Gonna bankrupt me.”

In that catlike, loose-limbed way of his, Eddie sidles up to the single other piece of furniture in the room- a metal chair filched from the second floor- and sits, arms braced on knees, hands hanging casual between the V of his legs, still fiddling with the pen. “I’d bankrupt Daddy, you mean. Where is your evil overlord, anyways?”

Steve can’t lie and say that hearing Eddie use the D-word out of context has zero effect on his psyche. 

He clears his throat, finding stray crumbs to brush from his slacks to get out from under the kinetic stare of those doey brown eyes. “Business trip. I see him even less than I did when we shared a house, which is really the only upside of this gig.”

“Besides the sick amount of money?” Eddie’s grin has dimmed, humor still in his eyes but tinged with understanding, empathy. 

It hurts to look at for too long. Steve’s eyes drop again.

“Yeah. ‘Sides that.”

“Well cheer up, boss. Brought you a present.” Eddie slaps his thighs before standing, then tosses the pen back to Steve and puffs out his chest, thumbs in belt loops looking very proud of himself. “You got a stack of ones lying around somewhere, yeah?”

“Eddie.” Steve returns the pen to its cup, headache almost forgotten with the sudden rush of adrenaline spiking through his veins. “I know you didn’t actually bring a stripper to my place of business, but at least tell me-”

“Oh, so that’s what we’re calling working girls now?”

Your voice is the sweetest thing Steve’s heard all day, the sight of you even better- it looks like you’re fresh off a shift, still in a pair of dark jeans and a long sleeve partially buttoned over your scoop neck tanktop. Over your left shoulder, the straps of a Grateful Dead printed tote bag, your ballet flats noiseless on the carpet as you shut the door behind yourself. 

In the corner, Eddie snickers at your opening line; you give him an eye roll before setting the laden tote upright on the desk, smiling soft at Steve as you explain- “Sorry I was late to the party. The bathrooms here are insane- ladies’ room has a whole vat of mints by the door.”

“Didja steal some?” Eddie pipes up.

You pause halfway in your track around the desk to pull a crinkling handful of plastic-wrapped mints from the depths of your jeans pocket, sending one through the air to Eddie, who catches it in a dramatic two-handed fashion. “Atta girl.”

A few more steps and you’ve rounded the desk completely, bending to give the top of Steve’s head a kiss- he does you one better, scooching and swiveling his desk chair to make some room and open his arms to you. 

You sit with a happy hum, arms twining automatically around Steve’s shoulders as his own cage you in, nudging your nose into the spot under his chin as you say dreamily- “Nabbed some soaps, too. The pretty pink scalloped ones. Thought we could keep ‘em under the sink for when guests visit.”

“You’re so smart,” Steve breathes into the crown of your hairline, taking in the weight and warmth of your body against his, squeezing any parts his hands can reach.

“Unbelievable.” Eddie scoffs, faux-bitter, shaking his head as he paces in front of the desk for show. “I see how it is. When I steal a mere inking tool from the premises I get hanged for it. And Princess here gets off scot-free?”

“It’s really unfair,” you agree, sighing prettily into the hollow of Steve’s neck. “Maybe you should punish me for it.”

Steve jiggles his leg, causing you to jolt unsteadily with a squeal, holding tighter to his shoulders- Eddie scoffs again, then moves towards the door, but only to get to the light switch. “I feel like I’m getting slowly but surely flash-banged by these goddamn overheads.”

With a click, the office is suffused in comforting shade- the combined light of the little window and dim yellow lamp on the wall shelf is plenty. 

Steve’s not sure if Eddie picked up on the migraine warning signs or if Eddie really did just want to fuck with the lighting; either way, Eddie plays it cool, dragging the metal chair around the desk so he can sit closer.

Your flats get toed off, sock feet deposited safely in Eddie’s lap from the comfort of Steve’s, whose arm you reach over to pull the tote towards you. “Loverboy picked me up early so we could bring you some lunch.”

Steve’s heart twists with each tupperware you lay out on the desktop, a familiar spread of employee-discounted diner sandwiches plus the family-size bag of Lays he’d bought for the trailer last week. 

Too grateful for words, Steve buries his face in the side of your neck, hugging tighter around your middle, blindly reaching a loafered foot out to hook behind Eddie’s ankle. 

“Told you he was easy,” Eddie says, teasing but tender, stretching an arm down to hold the back of Steve’s calf, stroking over the muscle with his thumb. “Quickest way to Harrington’s heart is some grub and a hug.”

___

It’s a pleasant twenty minutes spent in the company of his lovers, talking and laughing over the meal, asking after each others’ days and catching up on gossip. After you’re all full, the paper dishes get thrown away and everything else repacked in the tote. 

Regrettably, your warm form moves from Steve to instead perch on his desk. You’re sitting between both boys, now, ankles crossed and hands folded like you’re about to start a meeting. “So. We’ve got an order of business here, actually. Besides seeing your pretty face.”

“Oh?” Steve leans his elbow on the desk, draping one hand just above your knee. He looks sideways at Eddie to find his expression muted, like he already knows what’s coming. 

“Um.” Your hands wrap around themselves, a nervous tic leftover from old traumas that has Steve reaching up to take them into his. “So… you know how, like, you and me both hate our jobs but it sucks ‘cuz it’s the only way to pay the bills?”

This can’t be good, Steve thinks, dread creeping into his stomach- but before it has time to sour, your face breaks into a tentative smile.

“So, my friend Eden- you remember, right? Hot goth, works at the library? She’s gonna get me a shelving job, no experience required. Pays a hell of a lot better than the diner and I start next week.”

“Holy shit.” Steve squeezes both your hands with a mixture of pride and love, genuine excitement evident in his voice as he says, “And I bet the hours will be great, too- oh, honey. This is amazing! Look at you go!”

“There’s one condition, though,” Eddie interjects, pawing at the front pocket of his jacket. “Can I smoke in here?”

“No,” Steve stresses, not in the mood to be toyed with. “What condition?”

Eddie produces a carton of cigarettes, ignoring the earlier order by tapping one into his waiting palm. “The deal is, you have to serve ol’ Pops your two weeks.”

Steve chuckles dryly at the idea. “Yeah, not gonna happen. I gotta bring home the corporate salary to make our rent, babe- I mean, even with the amazing new job-” he tilts his head in your direction, an encouraging squeeze again to your hands because he’s so happy for you, really, but someone has to be the adult here and rein in Eddie’s overly ambitious plans. “I can’t quit mine. For stability’s sake.”

Eddie shakes his head, loosing more curls in the process, ringed pointer finger lifting towards you. “Nah, man, just listen. Little math genius over here has it all figured.”

You inhale, tilting forward, flipping Steve’s hands to guide his palms up the length of your outer thighs. 

Steve’s suddenly, painfully aware that he’s just about eye-level with your breasts, a fact made all the more clear with the tops of them now partially visible over the neck of your tank. 

He swallows hard, fighting valiantly to maintain eye contact as you explain your plan further in an even keel.

“Eddie’s been hustling side jobs here and there, and it’s only gonna pick up in the summer. He’ll mow some extra lawns, I’ll work some longer shifts- we’re gonna make it work, Stevie. We really want you to quit.”

“You hate this job.” Eddie’s voice is low-toned, soothing, just like the path of his thumb on the inside of Steve’s knee, slung over Eddie’s own- and when did he manage to get so close?

Steve can’t recall. All he knows is the spiced smell of the boy’s cologne and the touches from you both and the pounding of his heart in his ears. 

The previous fear is quickly spiraling into something else; he feels like a deer caught in love-beam headlights, flustered and sputtering out- “Okay, we- no. No. This is not even- up for discussion, guys, you’ve got to be serious-”

“We are serious.” You’ve now moved Steve’s palms to your waist, his chair wheeling minutely closer until your knees come to fit around either side of his ribs. “This job sucks. Let us take care of you for a month or so until you figure out what you wanna do.”

Steve’s breathing obviously hard as Eddie presses into his side, one of your legs now pinned between the crush of their bodies. 

Eddie wastes no time in sliding his hand to flex over Steve’s abdomen, rings cool even through the layer of fabric, breath fanning over the column of Steve’s bared neck. “C’mon. Be good and say yes. Tell Daddy you’re gonna quit.”

“Oh my god.” Steve’s voice is a thin shadow of itself, half a whine, betraying the cool demeanor he’s desperate to stick to as both you and Eddie draw closer. “I’m- what about… health insurance…”

“The hell do you think we keep Nance around for?” Eddie points out, as if it's obvious- six months of nursing school constitutes “doctor” status, according to the Munson doctrine.

Steve is about to protest again when your hands move, cupping his face, keeping his gaze locked on yours as you whisper, urgent and earnest- “Think of it. You can be anything you want. Teacher, basketball star, astronaut. You can go back to school or burn the building to the ground, I don’t care- as long as you’re doing what you wanna do.”

Steve allows himself to imagine it, for a moment, from the comfort of your warm hands- something other than an office, waking up without the dread of fluorescents from 9 to 5. 

He doesn’t feel creative enough yet to picture what’s on the other side, but there’s already some relief in knowing that he’ll be supported and loved through the change.

“Okay,” he says, after a few moments of silence. “Okay. Yeah. What the hell. I’ll quit.”

Eddie whoops with delight and you cover Steve’s face- the bridge of his nose, the tops of his cheeks, anywhere you can reach- in kisses, all three of you sharing the same elated grin.

“You realize this means all your anti-capitalist, working-for-the-Man jokes have a time limit now?” Your brow arches in Eddie’s direction; unphased, he gives you a wink, pulling back from the cocoon of entangled limbs to rise from his seat.

“Gotta get ‘em in while I can, I guess,” Eddie declares (as if teasing Steve is a ritual of great importance), then bends to smack a loud kiss on the top of Steve’s head before straightening again, offering a hand palm-up to you, conspiratorial- “Kid’s got a great head of hair. Too good for corporate, ‘f you ask me.”

This gets a giggle out of you, but Steve’s heart sinks when you take Eddie’s hand as help, slipping from desk to floor in a smooth motion. “Wait, you’re not- neither of you are staying?”

It’s still twenty minutes until the lunchtime hour ends, and Steve thought maybe- well, he’s not insane enough to think the three of you were about to have full blown sex in an office building-

-but the lights are low, he’s getting touched- a lot- and he’s always been a sucker for a bit of praise. Sue him.

Steve stands, too, pulling subtly at the inside of his slacks while you carefully smooth wrinkles from your shirt, Eddie muttering something nasty about fire marshalls as he repockets the lone cigarette. 

Your hand lifts to rest at Steve’s bicep, a light squeeze in apology when you say- “Sorry, baby. Eddie promised Dustin a ride back from chess camp and we gotta beat traffic.”

In further consolation, Eddie gives him a firm and chaste shoulder pat, a salacious wiggle to his dark brows. “Can’t be makin’ too good of memories in this place. How else are we s’posed to motivate you to come back to us?”

Steve doesn’t duck in time to avoid Eddie’s spindly fingers winding their way into an awful hair ruffle- Eddie is adept at fucking up a good hairstyle with impressively limited movement, chuckling when Steve’s hands linger after giving out a playful shove.

You’re standing in the open frame of the door, silhouetted in the bright hallway lights with the tote bag straps over your shoulder once more. “What he said. Come home to us soon, okay?”

With a finger waggle and another sweet smile, Eddie follows you out, shutting the door in his wake after throwing one last wink Steve’s way.

Steve empties all the air from his lungs, head spinning but not from pain, this time. His thoughts are racing, energy rushing to greet the actions- he should quit next week, before his dad gets back and has time to get pissed or talk to Steve, at all. 

That means Steve needs to take a trip to HR on the first floor, maybe poke around in the filing cabinets to sneak a copy of the resignation forms. He’ll have to time it right, maybe just before Sharon gets back from lunch-

Steve takes a step to round the desk but quickly remembers the pressing issue that’s nearly immobilizing; he’s practically panting from all the love you and Eddie heaped on him, and by the feel of it, his cheeks are tinged with a deep flush. 

Feeling slightly useless, Steve grits his teeth, sinking slowly back into his chair, hands forming into fists on the desktop. His eyes catch on the framed photo of you and Eddie, which is a mistake- he jolts forward to flip the picture face-down, nearly knocking it off the desk in his haste. 

This time, when Steve rests his head on the desk, it’s not from a burgeoning headache- it’s to try and get a handle on the overwhelming glee of freedom being close enough to taste. 

[megamassikalove]

4t2 Lovestruck (EP16) Hearts furniture

From the new pack:

Loveseat - poly: 494, § 225

Chair - poly: 363, § 375

Herbert Heart (deco pluche) - poly: 462, § 100

Books (works as bookcase) - poly: 307, § 165

Endtable - poly: 408, § 150

Repo'd coffeetable - poly: 332, § 150

Added slots to tables, seating has morphs, books need FT, all, except pluche, have two subsets. You'll need the LC Sims4shadowfile for shadows to work (included). Swatches included.

DOWNLOAD SFS

*updated aug. 19, 2024

[femmeleatherface]

okay so this wonderful and INCREDIBLY PATIENT librarian encouraged me to request the other classic who books i wanted since they were all going to be in the same boat in terms of rarity and difficulty. so i did.

cue me spending the next two weeks obsessively checking my library account daily to see if there's any update. one of the books is rejected within a week despite being the only one with a "yeah no problemo we'll get it to you by X date" label on it (this label is a liar). but the other ones are hanging in there, just stuck on the "in process" status, meaning the wonderful librarian is still shuffling them from library to library on my behalf.

OR SO I THINK. because then, next thing i know, today at the end of my shift i get an email saying two of the remaining three books have arrived and are ready for pickup. BECAUSE I FIND OUT. BY SOME MIRACLE. that the librarian managed to get them from NOT overseas and because of this they didn't need the estimated 4-8 weeks.

anyway i have been vomitously stressed all week so this is all very :O :D<!!!! and there's still (potentially) one more on its way!

they're both due in 4 weeks which is a bit tricky since i'm going to have very little opportunity to read next week and we're looking at the next couple weeks after that being VERY stressful after i hopefully switch to a new job(!!!!) BUT I WILL DO IT.

literally feel like i'm floating on air right now! i have felt so horrible the past week, this is such a great surprise. crossing my fingers that that third one comes soon too.

must remember to send a thank you email to the librarian tomorrow!!!! aaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

oh my goddd. i requested a classic who novel through interlibrary loan and of COURSE it's only available at two libraries in my country, one of whom refuses to share it and the other of whom is not responding to my librarian's inquiries about it even after saying that their interlibrary loan was closed but would be reopening sometime this week (this did not happen), meaning that the next step will likely be to request it from an oversees library (which if accepted will take 4-8 weeks to ship). the librarian has been stalking my request for the past two weeks and committing so many hours to pestering other librarians across the country and soon to be globally on my behalf. and all because i wanted to read more exciting adventures about my current favorite silly little genderguys. my god.

[ahedderick]

A hint of snow! Last night around 9:30, when the kids went up to the barn to do chores, the ground was fully white. I had planned my fall/winter switch for December first, but the snow took precedence. I walked dogs up to see them and ask how the tree-lighting in town went (fun! but COLD!). Then I went home and flipped the coffeetable runner over from fall side to winter.

A very small thing to get happy about, but it's important to enjoy those small things as much as possible. (Did I have to pick up a bunch of books, sewing supplies, and Random Bits up first? Yes, yes I did.)

[hislittledragonthings]

UHHHHDORABLE Game of Thrones babies by the talented Junkbox AI on TikTok who has a new coffeetable book w his AI babies.

[albi-bumblebee]

Prompt: March 5th 2025 — Cruel

For: @taylorswiftmicrofic

Fandom: Harry Potter

Ship: Remus/Sirius.

Wordcount: 343

Remus yawned, and rubbed his bleary eyes so hard he saw stars. He had taken a kip so he wouldn’t be sleepy when he got to the Werewolf camp.

Sirius was curled up next to the armrest in a way that made it so he could be as away from Remus as possible.

Remus looked at his watch. It was half-past four. He ought to say goodbye, even if they hadn’t been getting on recently he didn’t want to leave without saying anything, not when the Death Eaters were so liberal with their curses.

He scooted across the too-hard couch, until he was right next to Sirius, and fidgeted with his hands.

Sirius was paging through a book, and looked up from it to scowl.

“You know I’ve been busy with Order stuff, stop getting up in my work. You’ve been pestering all week, just leave it alone,” said Sirius.

The ‘I don’t trust you enough to let you research with me anymore’ went unspoken.

Remus was a bit sensitive, and Sirius knew that. His words stung like alcohol in a papercut.

Remus shrunk back.

Sirius went back to his book.

“I’m leaving for my mission soon…I won’t be back ‘till Christmas,” Remus muttered weakly.

“I’ll be fine without you.”

Remus’ breath went shallow.

He got off of the couch, and grabbed his fleece jacket from the coffeetable.

He pulled it on as quick as he could with his shaking hands.

He made for the exit of their flat. When he got to the door, he heard Sirius sigh behind him.

He reached for the knob.

“Wait.”

Remus looked over his shoulder.

Sirius was walking towards him, fists clenched.

Sirius crossed the few steps separating them, and caressed his cheek.

“Let me kiss you before you go.”

Remus relaxed as he felt Sirius’ lips brush against his cheek. Maybe he didn’t hate him after all.

But as Sirius went back to the couch, Remus noticed his cheek ached painfully where he had kissed him.

He pressed his hand against his cheek, and left.

[pinkmoondoll9shihtzu]

pmd9photography book Hardcover? put it on my coffeetable in my livingroom my cats sit upon it #yes

It would be a dream 🐺💭💭💭.... i need Investors 🤑 !!! For real thou i wonder how people get their foot in the door W that kind of thing. I Would Die to be able to make physical versions of my pics IDek how to make prints 🥴 The World If I Went To Art School And Had Connects (But this would Be a World Where id be required to have a Comepletely different personality In Order to sustain That Lifestyle) . ❤️❤️❤️

[spiel-mit-mir-ein-spiel]

Homesick ~Christoph Schneider

Another one dedicated to @j0eyj0rdis0n and all Schneider lovers.

Enjoy:3

You came home after a long day of work. You were tired and most of all very sad. You walked over to your calender and you crossed off another day. Two more weeks and then Christoph would be home again. You missed him so much. You got startled when your phone rang. When you grabbed it of the coffeetable you saw a random phone number. ''Hello?'' you said and you heard Paul laughing. ''Hey, it's Paul.''Hey Paul, how are you?'' you smiled happily. ''We're good. The tour is really going well but you need to come over. Schneider won't stop talking about you. Will you come please?'' Paul almost begged you and your mouth fell open. ''But how?'' you said and Paul laughed. ''Don't worry, we got you covered. We ordered a plane ticket . Hope you don't have any plans tomorrow because you will be flying over'' he interrupt you and you couldn't believe your ears . ''Omg Paul, thank you so much!'' you said on the edge of tears. '' No worries sweetheart, i will text you all the info and we will be seeing you tomorrow" you hang up and you did a happy dance in the kitchen. You were so stoked ! You immediatley started packing .

That night you didn't sleep well. You were to excited to sleep. You only got a couple hours of sleep before your alarm went off. You quickly took a shower, eat breakfast and you went out the door. The management of Rammstein booked a first class ticket and you never have traveled that fancy. Lucky for you, you got some sleep on the plane. Once you went off board , someone of the crew stood ready to bring you to the boys. The way there you felt butterflies in your stomach and you couldn't stop smiling. '' You're doing everyone a big favor'' the crewmember said. '' he won't stop talking about you'' he grinned and you laughed. ''Sorry, can't help it''

Once you arrived you saw Paul waiting for you. You went straight towards him and you hugged him. '' Hey sweetheart, come'' he said while he took your hand laughing and run backstage. Paul barged down the door of the dressingroom and you looked shooked. '' Yo Doom, we got you a present'' Paul said while he gently pushed you towards Christoph. ''Babe!'' he smiled ear from ear and hugged you tight. '' I missed you so, so much'' he said while he put you face into his hands and softly kissed your lips. '' I missed you too baby. You have no idea'' you said smiling through your happy tears. ''Thank you guys'''Christoph thanked the boys before looking back to you. ''Will you please stay the rest of the tour?'' he said and you smiled when you kissed his hand. '' Ofcourse honey''

[guard-1225]

Enjoying the holidays with my family right now, this was meant for Raymond but I suppose you'll do. Tell your boyfriend happy birthday for me dear! Also BE SAFE! OH! and how are you liking the blanket so far? These are a bit last minute but I hope you two like them!

(\/)

⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

A red pair of oven mitts, two mugs (one red, one green) a heating pad with massage settings and a cook book!

Hope you two have a lovely rest of your day! I'm so glad the party at Julie's was fun!

🐇🍰

i hope you’re enjoying time with your family! and i will tell him happy birthday for you, even though i’ve told him quite a lot today haha

the blanket is great, i haven’t woken up at night since being sick. thank you so much for that and also these!!! you really are so nice :P

Evbo gets up from the bed and puts the gifts on the coffeetable to show them to Raymond later. He examines the box of the heating pad and decides to leave it on his nightstand.

i wonder where you get all this stuff from… i really am thankful but if you have to buy all this i don’t want you spending so much on us, no matter what currency you use…