#pink pumpkin cookie

[pinkfairiesteaparty]

[lilyprettyremy]

“Autumn’s It Girl: Flawless, Chic, and Effortlessly Cool”

Flawless waves, always styled. Nails perfectly manicured. High boots with chic short skirts. Effortless strut, runway-ready. Channeling Gossip Girl. Top of the class, effortlessly smart. Sipping pumpkin spice lattes. Cozy autumn layers. Sundays are for baking, with a touch of glam. Dreamy fall wardrobe, pure it girl energy.

[djrockers]

NEW DJ ART!?!?!? HELLO!??

IT'S BEEN SO LOONG, WELCOME HOOME!!!!!!!

Some screenshots of other favs and pretty art too<3

No idea who this last cookie is, but I dig their design. I think their name translates to Durian Cookie? Don't quote me on that tho

Source: Royal Mike

[champagnexowishes]

[itsraining-honey]

a scene from a stupid little drabble i wrote of them where he was going to confess but was interrupted, thus, never doing so until thousands of years later after the dark flour war. anyways more old art lol

[weheartstims]

Can I have a stim for pink pumpkins please

A stimboard with pink pumpkins!

🎃|💗|🎃 💗|🎃|💗 🎃|💗|🎃

[polluteme]

Source

[masoncarr2244]

[dolluvsyun]

pls never stop writing this exact fic has been sustaining me from falling for losers on the street

PUMPKIN SPICE & EVERYTHING NICE

s. jaeyun x reader

0.95k

love, rosie au...-esque! original request here

light streams through the shutters, evening sun warming your room in a slow, steady drawl of golden hour. jake lays on the side of your twin bed, crammed alongside you as he balances precariously near the edge of the mattress.

it smells like you—the pillow, the blanket, the room. all warm and familiar and so full of home he just wants to close his eyes and fall asleep like when you were kids. the scent of cinnamon drifts into the room, and jake knows your mom is probably making her pumpkin spice cookies downstairs, the way she always does when the weather starts getting chilly. jake wonders if he can steal a freshly baked one before he goes home tonight, just like he used to.

but he supposes it's not like how it was before. maybe it can never be the same.

"i broke up with minju."

the word strikes a fracture in the air, your body stiffening slightly beside his before you relax, voice taking on a casual lilt he can tell is masking something beneath. “oh, really? why?”

"it just..." jake pauses. "didn't work."

"oh." short, concise, maybe a little hurt. and then, timidly, "sorry to hear that."

he shakes his head, pillow rustling. "don't be. not your fault."

"you just really seemed to like her a lot."

he shrugs, biting back his words. "yeah."

"you know," you start, almost timidly. "i almost thought you hated me, or something."

"what?" jake's head turns to you on instinct, swift motion that leads his nose to almost brush against yours. his breath hitches, a split second of smelling the leftover peppermint on your breath, before he turns back again, ironing out his cracking voice. "what makes you say that?"

"i don't know, you just..." you trail off. "we just stopped hanging out. like you were avoiding me."

you try to make it lighthearted, but the hurt peeks through enough for the pang in jake's chest to shoot into his throat. he swallows hard, eyes pinned on the leftover glow-in-the-dark stars still stuck on the ceiling.

“that’s not…” jake manages, but the rest of words lump up and lodge in his throat. he can’t lie to you. “it’s complicated.”

a pause. "is it?"

he hesitates, blinking. the peppermint still lingers. "yeah."

jake hopes you'll just leave it at that and not press him further, because if he were being honest then he'd say yes, he has been avoiding you. that's the partial truth, at least.

the whole truth is that he can't look at you the same after the night of your 18th birthday, not after you had three tequila shots too many and blacked out for the rest of the night. not after he can still taste the feeling of your lips on his, even months since that night has passed.

jake likes you—he's admitted that to himself for a while now. in fact, he may even be in love with you, but that seems way too big and scary of a concept for a guy his age to even wrap his head around. at the very least, like or not, in love or not, jake knows he loves you. he has for as long as he can remember, as his twin flame, as his best friend, as just who you are wholly, as a person.

but he knows you best, which means that there's no way in hell he can tell you that he started dating minju to distract himself from a kiss you don't even remember and feelings he's fairly sure you don't even return. jake can't even tell you that minju is the one that dumped him, because the truth would come tumbling out that the reason she did was because she was sick and tired of him never being able to shut up about you.

(when minju broke it off, she said she was setting him free. "untethered to follow his heart," or whatever that means. she probably thought she was doing a good deed, considering the wise look she gave him when she left his house, but it really just set him back to square one. without anyone stopping him, jake would always find himself coming back to you.)

it's not like he's proud of his bout of ghosting, but at the time, it was the only thing he felt like he could do to get his newfound feelings under control. he's better at it now, more practiced. jake is happy to shove his feelings underneath the rug and continue like everything is normal if it means things will continue like they always have been.

it's fine. it'll all be fine. as long as he doesn't lose you, it'll all be okay.

jake peers to his side, catching a glimpse of your face. brows scrunched, lips set in a slight frown, body slightly turned away from him. his fault, admittedly. jake pushes aside the slight guilt and pokes your side, watching you squirm and yelp.

the best solution to avoidance is distraction—jake's tried and true method.

"do you think your mom will let us have a cookie before dinner?"

you drag yourself up, hair mussed from the pillow as you look down at him. "when has she ever?"

sunlight tinges your hair warm, the dust particles floating between the streams of light through the window. there's a pillow mark on your face that draws the corners of his lips up before he can stop himself.

tried and true, jake repeats to himself. tried and true.

"how long do you think it'll take her to notice two are missing?"

you hum, tilting your head. "only one way to find out."

he grins, sitting up beside you. "then let's find out."

[prael]

An Oral Agreement

QWER Magenta x male reader

Masterlist word count: 3,008 Kofi(donations/commissions)

She's equal parts infuriating and fascinating.

Magenta.

No last name. Or maybe that is her last name. Either way, that's all it said on the rental agreement and her bedroom door when you first moved in: Magenta. The letters were all lowercase like she was too cool for proper grammar. You know Magenta, in the Biblical sense (and it didn’t take long).

She's always in her room streaming or recording or...doing whatever it is social media influencers do when they aren't online. But she likes candles, fried rice and catcore aesthetics. She thinks pumpkin spice season starts September 1st and she loves reality TV. Not exactly the makings of a deep and spiritual connection.

Now, living with Magenta, well, it has its ups and downs.

There are some things that never get done around here without you doing them; she rarely cooks, which wouldn't bother you so much if she at least did dishes once in a while. It doesn't help that she takes long hot showers. In a house with only one bathroom, this can really put a cramp in your morning routine.

Magenta doesn't clean the place very often either. At first, you just let it go because everybody has their own ways of doing things, right? But after a few weeks of living together, you realised that she's just...not going to do it. Like ever. So then there's nothing for it but to either live in a constant state of messiness or bite the bullet yourself.

Sometimes you feel like you're not living with a roommate so much as providing lodging for some kind of freeloading spirit that passes through periodically.

When you first moved in, you were worried about what your roommate might think of you: would they be weirded out by your habits? Would they judge your taste in decorations? Would you get along? Would you have enough space for both of you?

Those fears melted away pretty quickly once you met her. You could tell from the moment she opened the door that day (and didn't even look up from her phone) that she didn’t care.

You soon learned that Magenta is messy but friendly. She stays up all night and sleeps during the day. She's everywhere online: Instagrammer, Tiktokker (is that what they call it?), live streamer or these days she’s even on the radio and TV. She doing something for one of those things right now, with her bedroom door closed and music playing faintly behind it.

You're standing in the kitchen, staring down her latest infringement. Now, these empty take-out boxes were here this morning when you left. They were also here last night, and yesterday afternoon, and...you get where this is going.

"Hey, you awake in there?!" you shout towards her bedroom but get no response.

With a sigh, you walk over to her door and knock. Twice. Then again, louder when you still get no response. Finally, you resort to pounding on it repeatedly until it suddenly swings open to reveal your roommate shouting, "What!?" You step back, slightly taken aback by how loudly she said that single word. Her eyes soften instantly, though when they land on you.

She looks good. Not even just in a 'good for someone who hasn't slept yet today' kind of way. Just straight-up hot. Magenta wears a faded pink crop top emblazoned with an anime character and little cut-off cotton shorts covered in cookie prints. The low waistband of the shorts hangs off her hips, exposing the start of a light purple thong that cuts diagonally across her hip bones.

"I think our apartment might get condemned if you don't clean sometime soon."

Your roommate leans against the door frame. She pushes some dark brown hair behind her ear as she says, "Can't you do it for me? Just this once?"

"Just this once?" you repeat, crossing your arms. Your lips curl into a smile as you ask back to her, "Can't you do it just this once?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I'm always reminding you to clean, and you never do it. So guess who does it? It's not the magical cleaning fairy—it's me."

Her eyes roll skyward so forcefully you imagine you can hear them squeaking in their sockets.

"Why are you giving me such a hard time about this?" she says. "This seems really petty."

"It's not petty," you protest. "I have stuff to do and I shouldn't have to keep picking up after my adult roommate." You say the word 'adult' laden with implications. She gets your meaning immediately. Her lips twist.

"oh, I get it," she says with a smirk. "I guess it's been a while since I gave you a little thank you. Well, I need to get this video finished, so could you maybe clean it up and come back here after?"

So there's the perks. Two of them actually, as she pulls up her pink crop top and flashes you what's beneath. A pair of purple lace bra cups strain to contain your roommate's ample endowment. Pale skin pours out from beneath them, flesh squeezing together into a deep cleavage that entices you closer even as you shake your head.

"You can't keep pulling tricks like this, Magenta," you say, trying desperately to hold onto your train of thought while also enjoying the view. It helps that you know those breasts intimately. Hell, you've worshipped those breasts. They've spilt around your hands, smothered your face and laid upon your thighs. You know what the soft warmth inside each cup feels like. And, God, they feel really fucking good.

"I really appreciate your help and everything," she says, her bottom lip suddenly pushing out into a cute pout that goes well beyond suggestive. "And I'd like to show you just how much I appreciate it..."

Your resolve lasts right up until Magenta runs a finger down one of her tits to tease along the edge of the lacy purple material. That's when you give up. There's no point in fighting anymore—she has won this battle (just like all others).

"Just go finish your work already," you finally say, letting out a sigh.

Magenta smiles and giggles, lowering her shirt. "Thanks. Love ya!"

With a wink, she slips back into her room. You stand alone for several seconds before shaking your head. Back to cleaning, then.

-

It's not exactly easy to focus on sorting the recycling into the correct bins when your roommate has just reminded you how nice her tits are. They're on your mind a lot, to be honest. More than they should be probably. Sometimes they're on your cock, though not as often as they should be. Probably.

You're counting your blessings that none of the neighbours are doing late-night recycling because then you'd have to explain why your face is red and your pants are bulging.

That doesn't stop the occasional glance towards your neighbour's house, where Mrs Kim likes to smoke on her front porch some nights. You think she smokes more than she should, but that's really none of your business. Her watching you from across the street, however, is very much your business, so you peek over your shoulder once in a while to check if she's spying. Again. Or still. Whatever.

One last box. The light outside is fading rapidly, but you can just barely make out that it comes from...the Greek place you love?

Oh. Oh no. Did she eat gyros and not bring you any? Damn, that girl knows how to be cruel!

When the recycling is finally squared away you dust off your hands. It's a symbolic gesture since all you've done is shove cardboard and glass into the right bins, but it makes you feel accomplished nonetheless.

Back in the apartment and lock the door behind you.

"There you are. Where have you been?"

"The bins, have you ever seen them before?" You mock while still fiddling with the lock chain.

"That was quick," comes her response. Your eyes follow the sound of her voice. Magenta is lying upside-down on the couch. She swings her feet lazily in the air while looking at something on her phone. Her dark hair cascades nearly to the floor. Those short shorts mean you can see most of her long legs. Then there's the curve of her hip, the crease of her thigh... "Get over here."

It's a rare occasion that Magenta voluntarily puts her phone down, yet she does just that as you walk over. The closer you get, the more enticing her position becomes: laying across the couch, head tipped backwards off the cushions to watch you approach her.

"So," she says. Her fingertips brush over the exposed skin of her belly. The fingers trace lines up and across her abdomen, moving between the edge of her shorts and her top. The motion catches your eye—and she knows it. "I owe you, don't I?" Her eyelids flutter innocently. Or rather, far less than innocently.

"For today? Yeah. Definitely." You clear your throat and try again, "For quite a few days, actually."

"Quite a few," she echoes in agreement. Her hand continues to crawl upward until it reaches the peak of her breasts rising beneath her faded pink crop top. The movement presses the supple skin together in a way that has you standing right in front of her before you even realize you've walked over.

She pushes them hard together before letting them settle back to normal. Gravity spreads them apart, flesh pouring across her chest from the tightly gathered fabric keeping them barely contained. She reaches out over her head, to you, and grabs you by the belt buckle. Pulls you forward until you are stood over her. Even though she's upside down, she makes such effortless work of unbuckling the leather strap that you barely notice. One second it's on; the next it's flapping loose.

It takes only two sharp tugs to force your pants and boxers down past your knees. Magenta doesn't waste any time reaching out to touch your cock, gently running her hands over it until she can wrap her entire hand around the warm shaft and pull you until you fall to your knees. Her head hangs right in front your your length, and you see the teasing sparkle in her eye even upside down.

Her hot breath hits the skin of your bare cock. Lips press a series of soft, wet kisses down from your tip towards your balls. Then back up again, trailing even more tiny pecks that leave your skin tingling. You let your cock nudge against her cheek, feeling it slide along the smooth skin.

With both hands wrapped around your cock, Magenta holds your tip right in front of her mouth. Her tongue sticks out from between her lips, slowly, methodically lapping circles around the crown of your cock.

"Oh, God," you mutter, and you need to hold onto something, anything. First, it's the couch, then it's her tits.

Your hand lands heavily atop the nearest swell of flesh and squeezes tight, pushing it further out of her crop top. She hums approvingly at the groping and wraps her lips around your cockhead. Suckles sweetly. Slurps noisily until spit pools at the corner of her stretched lips.

She lets gravity help guide your cock into her waiting mouth. The further you slip inside, the more she relaxes her jaw to accept you. But then she reaches up and pulls on your hips. You glide up against her grateful tongue. Until her nose meets your stomach. She gags. It's so fucking lewd.

The whole thing makes you squeeze her chest harder. So big in your palm and yet somehow always bigger than you remember. You forget sometimes just how incredible these tits are. When they bounce in a video she's recorded, you remember—but never quite how heavy they are when you hold them; the way they give to your grasp in exactly the right amount; or the way her nipple puckers just slightly as it stiffens beneath your kneading grip.

"You're so sexy like this," you say.

The compliment elicits an appreciative groan from Magenta. Her head moves with your hips now, bobbing to meet each thrust, spit dripping down her cheeks. The messiness of the sloppy blowjob matches her other personality traits frighteningly well.

With her head pinned and her arms on you, you're free to pull up her shirt and expose her. The dirty minx has taken off her bra, so the expanse of her milky skin greets you. You cup them in each palm, feeling the heft of them, squeezing them greedily. They push back, moulding into the shape of your desire, and she moans, a low guttural note vibrating right through your length.

Her body writhes beneath your attention. Her thighs spread outwards, feet rolling at the ankle in time with each gently guided thrust into her throat. Fingers squeeze you, scratching lightly at the skin above your ass to encourage you deeper inside her hungry maw. Deeper into her throat until she chokes—

You let up, panting, admiring the sight of her stretched out for your viewing pleasure. Her eyes flutter open, looking up at you from her upside-down position. The intensity in them draws you in again.

"Oh shit," you groan as you drive into her, plunging your cock balls deep until her purple-painted nails dig into the small of your back. You pump faster, lost in the warm embrace of her greedy sucking.

Magenta squirms beneath you, whining and groaning and bucking, begging you for more. Her cunt must be throbbing with anticipation. Poor thing wants your cum. You can tell.

You want her tits.

She gasps when you fully withdraw from her mouth. Her face is a fucking mess of saliva and smudged makeup. Before she can question you, you reposition yourself in front of her, straddling her beautiful face as you lower your rigid length between her breasts.

She's quick to pick up what you're putting down. With both hands pressing the creamy flesh of her boobs inward, she creates a tunnel for you to slide your dick into.

It feels as good as it looks. Soft pressure envelops your slick length, wrapping around the sensitive skin and creating a delightful sleeve for you to hump into. You can't get enough.

As soon as you hit a good pace, fucking your roommate's chest hard and fast, she starts giggling.

"What?" you ask.

"It tickles." Her laugh is breathy but not as loud as it usually is. "Keep going."

So you do. Thrust after thrust you plunge deeper, drawing more and more of yourself into the valley between her perfect tits. The more you use her, the further she parts her legs that run up the back of the sofa. Soft thighs splayed for nothing but display. Then, just as you start to admire them, she clenches them together. Your eyes trace down the pale skin until they arrive at her crotch where the bottoms of her cookie-patterned shorts have ridden up against her wet slit. She's gyrating her hips in all sorts of directions and rubbing herself against the material in some attempt to satiate her growing needs.

The soft flesh of her midriff jiggles between the thrusting into her tits and the twisting of her hips below. You can't stop staring. Fuck. How does this girl have every single curve?

At first, you try holding back—you want this to last longer. But after a few seconds, you realize you can't fight this feeling. Not when you've got such a good view. And certainly not with her nipples so hard under the press of your thumbs. She arches up when you pinch them, and you know you're done for.

And then, as if she can feel it by the way you're thrusting, she begins to coo and beg under you. She knows she's getting you close, and she wants it. Bad.

"Cum on me," she coaxes sweetly, the words barely audible over the slapping sounds. "I've been so bad, baby. You deserve to paint my body."

That's all it takes. That final little plea. Your eyes roll back, your hips snap forward and your cock explodes. Thick ropes over her body, the first reaching her thighs before you adjust your aim and finish across the plane of her belly. Soft curves take your load while she encourages you through soft, little pleasured mewls. You may have got some on her shorts, but you paint her stomach white before pulling up and jerking the final drops onto her chest.

"Mmmm, messy boy," Magenta laughs breathlessly as your cum drips down her curves. She lays there beneath you, her smile wide and wickedly innocent, one hand slowly running circles over the sticky mess on her tummy, smearing it across her skin.

After a few seconds of panting and trying to gather yourself, you climb off of her and sit back against the couch. She turns so her head rests in your lap, facing your spent and dripping length. Magenta teases you still by using her own fingertip to collect your seed and place it across her lips, then licking them clean while making sure you're watching. And fuck are you ever.

"So, about my room," she purrs, eyes twinkling mischievously up at you.

"What about it?"

"Well... It needs cleaning, and I was thinking—"

"No," you feign protest, knowing you've already agreed. "Just clean it yourself." Her negotiation will come next. You can see it on her lips. "I'm not doing it."

Magenta leans up and whispers, "But you might change your mind if you find out what's waiting for you beneath my shorts."

That damn purple thong, still visible at her waistband, calls you toward her like a beacon. "What's beneath your shorts?"

Her laugh is playful. A little shrug as her fingers toy at the hem of the garment in question. "Agree to clean my room and you’ll find out."

[tomoeegawa]

A bunch of Cookie Run OCs i made from days ago

This is the first batch of the cookies

More comin soon

[pinkfairiesteaparty]

[joeyfranchise]

𝟙𝟚 𝕕𝕒𝕪𝕤 𝕠𝕗 𝕗𝕚𝕔-𝕞𝕒𝕤: 𝕕𝕒𝕪 𝕗𝕠𝕦𝕣

a star on top…

boyfriend!joe x fem!reader

summary: joe helps you put up your christmas decorations… and a star on top completes all the scenery ;)

warnings: nsfw mdni!!! kinda sweet smutty fluff, riding, p in v (wrap yo willy!!), lots of kissing and cheesiness

word count: 2k.

note: ALAS! i made it in time. if it sucks i’m sorry. i listened to a nonsense christmas by sabrina carpenter, music for a sushi restaurant and santa baby by ariana grande & liz gillies while writing 🤍 (please appreciate the spongebob joke in the summary hehe)

you’d think six boxes full of christmas decorations would be enough for just two people. joe dragged them out of storage one by one so you could go through them and arrange them how you wanted, but here you were elbows deep in the fourth box while you chatted to him about more stuff you needed.

he wasn’t mad, not by any means, he actually found it cute how much you loved to decorate… but jeez. did anyone need this much stuff? anyone in the world?

“i realllllly need them joe!” you exaggerated, earning a sarcastic eyeroll from him. “they’re flocked nutcrackers! and they come in white, pink, red, black… and i even saw a disco ball nutcracker, and…”

joe crossed the room quickly and silenced your ranting with a kiss. “bub, i promise, this weekend we’ll go find the nutcrackers, okay? for now, let’s decorate with what we do have.”

you looked up at him with big, puppy dog eyes. he was right, you needed to use what you had. “sorry for sounding like a spoiled brat.” you apologized, looking down at your decorations in defeat. joe chuckled at your reaction.

you continued pulling things out of the boxes, there was an endless amount of garland and strings of lights. you set aside the garland and lights for the banister of the stairway, the set that went outside, and the final set that went across the mantle. joe finally began digging inside a box, pulling out a bunch of tiny christmas houses and store-fronts wrapped in newspaper.

it was a village set that once belonged to your mother, but now belonged to you. you quietly reminisced on hours you’d spend with your sister imagining tiny people living in the christmas village, what they did for work and how they spent their life. you two always had the wildest imagination. a smile crept across your face as you watched joe unwrap them and place them in the exact order you liked. to be loved is to be known.

you took a box to the kitchen next, getting out all of your christmas themed hand towels to set aside for washing, and placing all of your kitchen trinkets in their designated areas. joe finished with the village and started working on decorating the banister. the sight of him decorating was enough to make you feel emotional, you didn’t ask or expect him to help.

he always just did it.

you kept your eyes trained on him, watching as he worked. he wrapped the garland and lights so carefully before plugging them in to admire them. you smiled at him as walked down the stairs, happy with how it turned out. “looks great, babe!” you assure him as he pulls you in for a sweet hug. he kisses your forehead before looking around the kitchen at all the things you’d placed around.

there was a mischievous glint in his eye as he looked at your favorite cookie plate that sat empty in the corner of the counter. “soooo…. you gonna bake some cookies for us?” he asked teasingly, tickling at your sides gently with his fingertips.

“mhm. what kind do you want?”

“chocolate chip, chocolate brownie… maybe some of those chai cookies you made a few weeks ago. and something pumpkin if you can?”

“you got it, babe!” you replied. you pulled him down for a sweet kiss, resting your arms around his shoulders as his hands found your hips. joe pulled away after a minute.

“i’m gonna finish up on the garland and lights, that way when you’re done we can do the christmas tree together.” he said, grabbing another set and heading to the porch to wrap them around the rails just like he did inside.

you finished placing your decorations around the kitchen and you put a few in the guest bathroom too just to feel extra festive. you always enjoyed changing the toothbrush holders to holiday themed ones, and changing out your throw blankets for the holidays, you could go on… being festive was something you were insanely good at.

joe always helped you decorate, even though he sometimes had a grinchy reputation. you watched him finish up outside through the window, and when he came back in the tip of his nose was red. he pulled his beanie down a bit farther over his red ears and you chuckled.

you didn’t let him get too far in the door before jumping into his arms, and he held you close to suck up some of your warmth. you placed a gentle kiss to the tip of his nose, then to the corners of his eyes, and then to both cheeks. joe smiled up at you.

he let you down gently and walked over to the giant box that sat in the corner. he opened it up and began taking out the christmas tree pieces and you grabbed the base, opening it up and placing it where you wanted it to go. one by one you pieced the tree together.

it took a while to fluff the tree, but since you were both working on it, it took a lot less longer than you expected. joe helped you wrap the silver-white lights around it carefully, and then you hung silver and gold ornaments all around it.

you stepped back and admired your work, shimmying and doing a little happy dance as you took in all the decorations around you. everything was perfect, and aside from a few treat-related things, you were essentially done decorating.

joe reached his hand into the final box and pulled out the last decoration, the tree topper. it was a glittery silver star. you suddenly remembered the height of the tree. last year joe had to finish decorating it, and you weren’t sure how he got the star up there.

“you need me to get you a step stool?” you asked him, already turning to head for the garage. “nah,” he responded quickly. “come back, i have a better idea.”

you walked over to him slowly, recognizing that mischievous glint in his eye. “joey…” you start, your eyes widening. he crouches down in front of you, smirk pulling across his face. “get on my shoulders.”

“hell no! what if i fall?” you ask incredulously. you couldn’t believe he was suggesting this… but then again, yes you could. “get on, it’ll be quick. you just have to put the star on!”

you roll your eyes at him. “fine. but if i get hurt then i’m gonna be really mad. and if i die i’m haunting you.”

“i’m looking forward to that.” he jokes, laughing as you gently kick his shin. “what? then you’d be able to see my every move. and watch me when i’m naked. ghost perv.”

you laugh incredibly loud at his joke before throwing your leg over and sitting on his shoulders. suddenly, you felt like a kid again, riding on someone’s shoulders on a hot summer day. you weren’t surprised joe could carry your weight, of course he could. you were more worried about your coordination and afraid you’d topple the tree over almost instantly.

joe handed you the tree topper as he stood, his hands holding a firm grip on your thighs. he walked forward slowly until he was directly in front of the tree, and you leaned over and placed the topper on with ease. you were happy that it went so well, because you were honestly scared shitless. joe backed up a bit and crouched again so you could hop off his shoulders.

you did another victory dance, giddy at how beautiful your decorations looked. joe scooped you up into his arms quickly, laughing into your neck as he began to press kisses to your column.

“you’re so cute.” he said with mirth, walking over to the couch and plopping down with you on his lap. you grabbed his face and pressed your lips to his, kissing him lazily as his hands slipped under your sweater and roamed over the expanse of your back. the sounds of your smacking lips and laboured breaths filled the room as your kisses drew deeper and deeper.

you began to grind your hips into joe’s subconsciously, and joe moaned into your kisses as his length hardened against you. the friction of your movements felt so good even though there were layers of clothes between you, and you moaned back against his lips just as fervently. joe began pulling your sweater over your head and you let him, gasping as the cool air hit your naked skin. you weren’t wearing a bra and the chill of the room hardened your buds almost instantly, but joe didn’t care. he began kissing at your chest, his tongue rolling over one of your nipples while his large hands grasped at the other.

you tilted your head back, moaning as joe continued his ministrations on you, and you pressed your hips into his roughly. joe pulled you closer to him, moving his kisses from your chest to your neck again before nibbling on your ear. “let’s take this to the bedroom.” you whispered, looking down at him.

he shook his head no before lifting you up and sitting you on the couch next to him. “let’s do it right here, i don’t wanna wait. plus i love the way the christmas lights look on your skin.”

you blushed at his comment and watched as he pulled his pants and boxers down his legs. his cock sprang free, the tip was angry and red. you leaned over and took him in your mouth, bobbing your head up and down a few times to get him wet enough to slide into you. joe fisted the couch pillows in his grip as you hollowed your cheeks.

you pulled off him with a loud pop and quickly shimmied out of your shorts before throwing your legs back over his and hovering over his cock. he used his thumb to push himself forward and you sank down onto his length slowly, taking a few moments to adjust. while joe sat fully sheathed inside of you he began kissing you again, his hand finding their way into your hair as he held you close.

the intimacy of the moment ran a shiver through you.

you finally lifted yourself up slightly before quickly moving back down, beginning to ride him at a tantalizingly slow pace. joe hissed at your teasing but you kept going, moving to your own liking.

his hands found your hips and they gripped you firmly but he made no attempt to push you to go faster, he wanted you to enjoy this too. you continued your slow, soft, steady movements as joe let out quiet moans beneath you.

your legs started to feel a bit weak but you pushed through, yet joe sensed your uncomfortability. he finally began moving his hips upward, pressing his tip right into your sweet spot as his thumb gently rubbed circles into your clit. you gasped suddenly, the feeling of your orgasm finally taking over.

warmth spread throughout your body as you shook slightly above joe, and seconds later he came too, resting his forehead against your shoulder as he spilled into you. neither of you were quick to make a move. joe looked up at you and giggled and you tilted your head wondering what was funny.

as if he read your mind, he gave you an answer to his amusement. “guess you were my star on top.” he said with a wink. you pretended to gag at his cheesy joke before kissing him again, raking your nails through his hair.

“i guess we should shower.” he said softly, looking into your eyes and waiting for an answer. you nodded slowly, pulling off of him. he carried you to the shower before turning on the hot stream.

“after this we can have hot chocolate and watch a movie. plus, you owe me cookies.” he joked, leaning down to kiss your forehead.

“yeah, and you owe me flocked nutcrackers.”

photos and dividers used are not mine. all cred to owners.

taglist: @slimshiesty @starsinthesky5 @kykysinlovewithafairytale @burrowdarling @bengals-barnesbabe @joeyb1989 @loveyatopluto @toterry @unhingedfangirl @superheroprincess22 @burreauxsworld @definitelynotdomanique @samanthamark5 @superstarshitblog @fa1ry03 @wickedfun9 @xbriexx @venic-bxtch @burrowdarling @angels555 @idbe-theman @yelenasbraid @ladyluvduv @joeburrowshaircurl @joeybisbootiful @livinobx @blairsworld22 @jarring-behavior @joeyburrrow @yomamaslays4lyfe

[chelseeebe]

happy coincidences

18+. smut. mdni. modern au.

day four of spooky week back with steve who meets reader at robin’s halloween party, only, you may have more than just costumes in common

a/n: in honour of joe saying he thinks that modern steve would have a swiftie girlfriend.. i had to make r a swiftie

･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

Louise had called it off. 

Again. 

“I think you just need to get the fuck over it and get the fuck over someone else,” Robin states plainly, continuing to decorate her scarily bright orange pumpkin cookies. 

“Rob,” he sighs, dipping his finger into the leftover batter, “it doesn’t work like that.” 

“But it does,” ignoring his pleas of despair, “I’ve seen you break up with hundreds of women and not once have you been so pathetic about it,” snatching the bowl from his reach, “we’re going to get you laid and if you’re still sad about it after then I’ll take pity on you.” 

Steve frowns, a deep set crease between his thick brows. Sex would’ve normally cheered him up, no doubt. But Louise was different. 

They’d been on-again, off-again for almost a year now, too far gone for some meaningless pussy to fix. 

-

“No fucking way,” Robin exclaims, grabbing his hand and tugging him off towards the other side of the kitchen, “this is perfect! Perfect!” muttering along to herself as Steve's heels dig into the floor in protest. 

“What’re you doing?” he spits, almost knocking her over when she stops abruptly in front of him.

A group of girls sit equally as confused on the couch, smiling up at Robin with a shared baffled look in their eye. 

That’s when he sees the hat, pink and sparkly, slowly trailing down to the matching costume. So that’s why she’d dragged him over here. You were unintentionally matching with him. The perfect Barbie and Ken duo, a fitting part in Robin’s master plan to get him over Louise. 

“Can you believe you’re matching?” she fusses, fingering the details of your jean jacket, “I don’t think you two have met before? How crazy is that?” pinching Steve's arm, nudging him to say something.. anything really. 

You hum, smiling up at him from underneath the brim of your cowboy hat, “you look great,” eyeing the tassels around his pecks, the vest that now felt a touch too much. 

He felt stupid before but now, he felt utterly idiotic. Realising quite how extravagant and completely unnecessary the costume was. 

“Thanks,” he nods, receiving another sharp pinch from his best friend, forcing him to cough up a real reply, “yeah.. you do too.”

Your eyes fall back to Robin as she backs slowly away, “I’ll let you two get to know each other, okay? i’ve gotta check on my.. cookies! Yeah! My cookies!” 

A bare-faced lie. Those fucking cookies had been out of the over for hours at this point. Steve had taxed a few for the inconvenience of her pestering him all night. 

You flash him a thin-lipped smile, clearly as interested in this as he was. “Your girlfriend make you dress up as Ken, huh?” your own friends shuffling to the other side of the couch, away from the awkward conversation. 

“Oh! No.. no, Rob made me,” unsure of whether you were implying the massive lesbian that had forced him over here was his girlfriend or if there was another lady in his life. 

Neither would be true.  

Robin hollers from across the room, “he’s a liar! He wanted to be Ken all on his own!” before disappearing into the kitchen to check on her cookies. 

Your smile grows, “hey.. I don’t judge,” taking a slow sip from your glass, totally undeserving of having Robin force Steve onto your night. 

God he needs a drink. Or five. 

Maybe after a couple beers he’d have the confidence to talk to you properly. 

“I really liked the movie, okay? it was fun,” deciding to lean into it, slowly but surely. “And you know, Barbie’s hot.” 

Oh. 

He doesn’t just mean Margot Robbie either. 

Your cleavage spills out of your shirt, only really visible from this angle he was leering from. 

“She is,” you laugh, “I’m sorry- what was your name again?”

“Steve,” offering his hand for you to shake. Why did he do that? You aren’t agreeing on a new marketing strategy for fuck sake. 

“Nice to meet you, Steve,” rabbiting your name as if his brain would do anything other than call you Barbie all night. “You look like you need a drink.” 

He nods, chuckling under his breath, “I do.” 

“Well,” you stand, unexpectedly a lot closer than probably intended, “let’s get you a drink, Steve.” 

-

The party thumps on, you and Steve still reluctantly circle around one another, both too awkward or maybe just unwilling to take it further. 

Robin makes it known that Steve would be a colossal fucking idiot for not immediately trying to win you over, making it very obvious as she sidles up next to him at the makeshift beer-pong table. 

“What is your problem?” she hisses, shoving a cup of liquid courage into his chest, “make a move before someone else does, idiot.”

“I dunno,” exhaling pathetically, “I just don’t think I’m ready yet,” eyeing you from across the table, too engrossed in the game of beer-pong to care about his whining. 

Robin’s sharp elbow connects with his ribcage, “don’t be so fucking stupid,” snarling loud enough for him to hear over the music, “I think you should go for it. God knows I’m sick of hearing you cry over Louise.” 

He truly wants to be offended, even opening his mouth to offer a rebuttal, though nothing comes out. 

Regrettably, Robin was right. 

Louise had made it clear that she no longer wanted him, so why was he still so hung up over her? It was exhausting. Not only for Robin, but him too. 

The ping pong ball lands in Steve’s drink with a loud plunk, pulling him out of his head to find you already smiling back at him. 

“I think that means I win,” rocking on your heels, a syrupy sweet smile sticks to your lips. You deserved far better than the lacklustre night he was giving you, that’s for sure. 

Steve nods, downing the rest of his drink and attempting to hide his grimace as the liquid burns his throat. Robin had slipped him pure ethanol or something, her grin made her ill intentions very clear. 

You continue to beat his ass for a while, Steve was better at basketball than beer-pong that’s for certain. He didn’t care anyway, the new-found haze in his head was welcomed, sidling closer and closer to your side as his chest warms up. 

“I’m just gonna go to the bathroom,” he whispers, lips practically touching your ear, this was the bravest he’d gotten all night, perhaps he wasn’t such a lost cause after all. 

He stumbles into the bathroom, finding his balance against the cold wall when his phone buzzes against his thigh. 

what r u doing tonight? 

The message reads, sending a sinking feeling through his chest. 

Louise, making sure than even though they’re not together anymore, he can’t move on. 

Why does she even care? 

Why does he care enough to respond? 

He stews on it, using the bathroom to buy himself some time to figure out what he should do. Slinking off into the hallway after a moment of consideration, finger hovering over the call button for an embarrassingly long amount of time until he just does it. 

It rings. And rings. And rings. 

“Hello?” Louise’s voice echoes into his ear. 

“Hey.” 

There’s an empty sigh down the line, “I didn’t mean.. that text wasn’t meant for you.” 

“Oh.” 

Another dagger to his chest, piercing through his thumping heart. The confirmation he needed that not only did she not care about him but that she had moved on. 

“Steve I’m-“ 

The tone beeps, not allowing her to take up any more of his time. She didn’t care, he shouldn’t care. That was the end of it.

He slinks down onto the stairs, eyeing the door. He could be out of here before you even remembered he existed, sulking in his room like he’d wanted to in the first place. 

The music gets louder, light creeping in as the door creaks open, your face soft as your eyes meet his hunched over frame, like a pathetic little weasel. 

“I thought I should find my Ken again,” chuckling awkwardly. 

Your Ken? That was a little presumptuous of you. 

He’s immediately sorry. 

Soured by the conversation with Louise. An unnecessary hindrance to his entire night. 

“You okay?” you pry, no doubt noticing his glum demeanour, coming to sit on the cramped step next to him.

Steve sighs, looking at the blank phone screen in front of him, deciding whether to impede all of his misery onto you or to not ruin this entire night. 

Remembering Robin’s, albeit harsh, words. 

He goes for the latter. 

“Yeah.. I’m good,” knee knocking into yours, “are you?” 

You nod, smiling softly, “I’m gonna head home now, I just wanted to let you know that it was really nice to meet you, Steve,” standing from the staircase, leaving a sudden, cold ache to his side, “I hope your.. girl problems get better soon.”

they would, almost immediately, get better if he just stopped acting like a pussy. 

You weren’t exactly being inconspicuous with your flirting either. This was on him and him alone. 

He’s not shocked Robin had divulged to you all about his lingering annoyance of a relationship, no doubt trying to sell him to you at the same time too. 

So Steve does something he never does. He thinks on his feet. 

“Let me walk you back,” jumping up, “it’s dark and i can’t let you walk home alone,” a contained smile, the previously empty confidence now coming back.

You pucker your lips, tilting your head to the side, all the while Steve prays to God that you’ll give him one last chance. 

“Sure,” shrugging coyly, as if you weren’t banking on him volunteering anyway. 

“Alright,” he grins, enthusiastically nodding his head, “I’ll just say goodbye to Rob and then we can.. go,” faltering now that he’d made the leap into uncharted territory. 

Steve had been a master at one night stands, only that was two years ago and Louise had served a harsh knock to his confidence. Besides all that, you were worth more than just one night. 

“I’m gonna walk this one home and then head home myself,” announcing your departure to the dwindling room, heads spinning to watch the door. 

Robin contains her grin, only just. Sipping on her drink to keep her blathering mouth occupied, she’d put in the work to even get him here in the first place, now all he needed to do was not fuck it up. 

A chorus of goodbyes ring out behind you, stepping into the cool October air, he suddenly wishes he was wearing a little more than just his rhinestone shirt. 

“This one?” you tease once out onto the street, wrapping 

your arms around yourself. 

Steve inhales, staring at the star filled sky, fully embracing his cringe, “don’t.. don’t talk about it.” 

“Why?” you laugh, stumbling into him as you traipse down the road, “you don’t remember my name, do you?” 

“Of course I do,” blowing the air out of his cheeks with full confidence, “your name… is Barbie,” so certain that that’d work on you. 

You scoff, stopping dead in your tracks, “you fucking forgot,” in complete disbelief that he’d even attempt to bullshit his answer, “you’re unbelievable Steve,” really making your point, only slightly pissed off. 

“Don’t do that,” unable to hold the smile from his face any longer, “I can’t help that you’re the best Barbie I’ve ever seen, you know?” 

Your eyes roll back, striding past him but not without reiterating your name again, perfectly clear and right into his ear. You’re not really annoyed, at least he doesn’t think so. Steve’s sure he’ll remember your name forever after tonight, one way or another. 

He expertly changes the conversation for the rest of the duration of the walk back, asking about your job and not-so-discreetly slipping your name into every other sentence. 

“Well, this is me,” you smile, stopping just before the house with the extravagantly decorated door, a plethora of pumpkins litter the steps all as badly carved as the other. 

He marvels at the display, the dedication to the holiday, Eddie would laugh in his face if he ever suggested carving pumpkins for their house. “Alright.. it was really nice to meet you tonight,” standing with his arms tucked neatly behind his back, “I’ve had a really nice time with you.” 

You nod, slowly ascending the steps to the door, “you too, Steve. Are you.. close to here or..?” weighing up whether inviting him inside was a sane idea. 

“Oh no,” shaking his head, once perfected hair now falling into his warm face, “I live like.. two miles that way,” pointing in the direction you’d walked from. 

“And you decided to walk me home? Why didn’t you say something?” falling into a fit of laughter. He didn’t blame you, really, it would be crazy to anyone else. 

“Because I’m a gentleman,” smiling sweetly, “it’s not a big deal,” he shrugs, though he really doesn’t anticipate having to actually walk home. 

“Well thanks a lot,” unsure of the sarcasm twinge to your tone, “I didn’t realise Ken was such a gentleman.” 

“Of course I am,” bowing down to tip his imaginary hat, a total performance all just to earn a sweet giggle from your mouth. 

You turn, just before opening the door, your eyes low and dark,  “you wouldn’t wanna.. come in, would you?” shivering under the moonlight. 

“Do you? Want me to come in, I mean,” Steve can’t really think straight at all, he’s been so preoccupied with Louise to even think about the possibility of anything more happening between you two. 

But now he’s here, he can’t stop his dick from twitching in his pants. You are pretty, gorgeous really. He’d be an idiot to say no. 

“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want you to,” scoffing quietly. 

“Well I wouldn’t want to upset you now,” cocking his grin to the side as he makes his way up the steps. 

You shake your head, unmoving when he reaches the top, your bodies inches apart. The tension thick, as it had been all night. only now he was able to really feel it. Had you been looking at him like this all night? With your features pinched and your chest heaving.

Steve doesn’t think so, but then, he was so oblivious that it wouldn’t surprise him at all. 

Excitement and slight intoxication courses through his veins, an excitement he hadn’t felt in months. Louise was never this happy or eager to have sex with him, it felt something like a chore most times. 

You spin, breaking the tension abruptly, unlocking the door to your dark house and ushering him inside. 

“You live alone?” he asks, wondering if any nosy roommates would be interfering tonight. 

“Nope,” flicking the light on, “they’re all still at the party,” it’s obvious now, in the light. Pairs of shoes strewn across the floor and pictures of grinning girls line the walls, his gaze is drawn to the one of you in the summer, beaming from ear to ear as the sun beats down on your face. 

Not to mention the cherry red bikini peeking out of the bottom of the picture. 

“That’s.. good,” twisting his lips into a shrouded smirk. 

“Oh yeah?” kicking your shoes off, the tense atmosphere made slightly softer by your nonchalance, “why’s that?” you level with him, the space between you shrinking with every step.  

“I just meant.. it’s good that you don’t live all on.. your own,” struggling to make sense of his rambling with your eyes staring up at him like that, glittering while ever-so-slightly judging. 

You laugh, loud and sudden, “I think you should just stop talking and kiss me,” teetering on your tiptoes as you wet your lips, an entire night of dancing around one another had led to you barking instructions at him. 

He needed it, to be honest, completely fumbling around, his nerve shot and depleted. 

Soft skin meets his cheek, making the first move while he stands buffering, only snapping out of his trance when your thumb grazes his lip, pressing his lips to yours in a haste. Steve had wasted too much time overthinking every move, decidedly trying not to fuck this up all night. 

He can feel your smile grow against his lips, taking the control over the kiss back by finding your waist with his cold hands. Opening up an entirely new world, the metaphorical sparks fly from your skin, a passion unfelt for far too long. 

You pull back only just, still brushing against his lips with your eyes pressed shut, “should we go upstairs?” 

Steve thinks the answer is obvious, his grip on your waist gave that much away for sure. He nods anyway, for good measure, letting you take his hand to lead him up the cluttered stairway, almost sprinting as the urge to get you out of your clothes explodes. 

“Ignore the mess,” you warn but he’s not paying any attention to anything other than you, drinking in your hips and the way they sway. 

He knocks the hat from your head, hands finding solace on your back as he pulls you in again, this kiss more fiery than the last, grabby and hungry making you hum in shock. Eager to satisfy the ache in his cock, even if it were just by making out. 

Your fingers work at the buttons on his shirt, brushing against his chest as his tongue moves between your lips, a fervent battle with your own. There had been no this with Louise, that was certain, a vanilla love affair that often ended in disappointment for the both of them. 

The cloth leaves his shoulders, hitting the ground with a soft thump to welcome your hands around his neck, clammy as they grasp his skin. He’s a novice now, once filled with an overbearing confidence to now, a fumbling mess. 

His hands feel around for your bed, laying you back across the mattress tumbling on top clumsily. Unbuttoning your waistcoat with a trembling hand, you take the reins even from underneath, sliding your legs up against his waist, further closing the distance. 

Your lips unlock, allowing him time to take in a much needed breath. You’re braless underneath your costume, shimmying the fabric off and tossing it to the ground all the while actively ignoring Steve’s gawping. 

“It’s rude to stare,” you jest, though you don’t attempt to hide at all. 

Steve’s gaze flickers, once to your eyes and back down again, eyes wide and adoring, “I’m not sorry,” he quips back before resuming the kiss, focused on getting your pants down. 

Your panties already soaked, legs opening to welcome him inside perfectly, he sits up on his knees, mouth slack as he admires the view laid before him. There hadn’t been any thought in his mind that this was how you’d end up tonight, but he’s sure glad he’s here. 

His hands glide up the soft skin of your thighs, squeezing gently for good measure, fingers hooking into the waistband of your panties, taking his time to slide them down your legs. The tight feel of his pants suddenly becoming too much, his leaking tip pressed against the shoddy costume fabric. 

“I haven’t.. it’s been a while,” he warns, a subconscious effort to turn you off as if you weren’t glistening before his eyes, pupils blown and aching for him. 

“I don’t care,” you huff in response, tightening your calves around his waist. 

Steve swallows the lump in his throat, in awe of your vigour, struggling to get his own pants off with the newfound tent in his crotch. Clambering back over to hover above, his dick straining against his boxers. 

Your hands come to find his shoulders as his boxers come down, “you’re.. Jesus Christ,” you remark, looking down at the space between your bodies. 

It was no secret that his dick was on the bigger side, that was made clear very early on in his life.

“I’m not.. not quite,” laughing to himself, the pressure easing only the tiniest bit as he fists his cock, guiding his fat tip to your weeping hole, sliding between your slick folds before easing himself inside. 

Your breathing stutters in synchronicity, digging your fingernails into the sweaty skin of his neck. “Fucking.. shit,” Steve splutters, fisting the pillowcase with an almighty need to not cum right then and there. 

Quickly finding his rhythm, kept in time by your in heady moans and the slight rut of your hips against his. You were an entirely new experience, your pussy drinking him in immediately and with every stroke he loses brain cells. 

You whine, needily bucking your hips to meet his, sending shivers up his spine when your fingertips graze his scalp alongside the gentle tugging of his hair. 

He’s grateful you’re alone as the mattress creaks inconspicuously in time with his hips, one night stands had been his forte a few years ago and he’d been caught out by rusty bed springs more times than he’d like to admit. 

Your eyes struggle to stay open, jaw slack, allowing your sweet wails to escape. “Has anyone ever told you how pretty you are?” Steve gushes, a bumbling mess transfixed by your warmth. 

You breathe airly, cracking a smile at his blown out eyes and furrowed brow, “not while they were inside of me no,” sliding your calf up his side, allowing him deeper. 

“They should’ve,” he pants, unsure of where this was even coming from. He feels giddy, like this was always meant to happen. 

You brush back the loose strands of hair from in front of his eyes, clung to his sweaty forehead, “thank you, but I kinda need you to move,” his cock stilled while he babbles on. 

“Yeah.. yeah,” Steve nods, leaning down to lazily connect your lips, drawing a dulcet whimper from your throat when he sinks back into your cunt. 

Warmth arises from his stomach to his chest and almost back out of his mouth, his head turning to complete fuzz. You taste like sweet wine and peppermint, your tongue dancing between his lips to battle with his. If your plan was to make him fall in love, you might’ve just succeeded. 

“Shitshitshit,” you mumble, leaving the kiss to press your lips to the stubble on his jaw instead, vibrating the skin with every desperate curse and plea. 

His fingers grip the space around your head, moving over to gently stroke your cheek, slowly losing his stature as the knot tightens in his stomach. “I’m gonna.. shit, I’m gonna cum,” rushing the words out before they lose all meaning in his noisy brain. 

“Yeah?” lips twitching upward, “just.. just not inside,” making sure to get your very important point across before the line was blurred forever. 

Pulling out of your pussy in record time before he shudders, hot ropes of his seed paint your stomach, Steve’s brain collapses in on itself before he has time to move himself. Sputtering a half-assed apology before collapsing onto the mattress next to you, breathless as he reels. 

“Holy shit,” panting softly, reaching over for some discarded item of clothing to clean yourself up, letting him recover with his face pressed into your pillow, his deep, heaving breaths eventually slowing. 

“Sorry for uh.. that,” glancing downward, hoping you wouldn’t now make him walk home in his costume and acres of shame. 

Instead, you throw the blanket over him before snuggling in closer, a particular shine in your eye before delving into your barrage of thoughts about the night. 

-

The sun beats through your blinds, forcing him awake far too early. 

You don’t stir, still peacefully asleep on the pillow next to him. Steve couldn’t even remember falling asleep, one minute asking about your major to waking up with your legs intertwined. 

The sound of his phone vibrating against the bedside table shocks him fully awake. Robin probably thought he was dead. Five missed calls and the barrage of texts definitely solidified that. 

are you alive??? 

steve 

this is serious now can you reply to me before i call the cops

He reaches down, swooping the pink bejeweled hat off of the ground and lazily placing it on his own head. sticking his tongue out at his phone before snapping a quick picture, his thumb immediately sending the picture to his, no doubt, curious best friend. 

She replies almost immediately, making sure to heart react to the image before going on her tangent. 

i fucking knew it! 

i knew ot!!!!!!

how was it? 

do u like her?? 

His phone vibrates in his hand, afraid he’d wake you with the incessant sound. 

great

and 

yes 

Steve replies, leaving everything to her wild imagination. 

you bastard tell me more 

i knew you’d like her!

why don’t u ever trust me

He sighs, knowing that once again Robin was right.

shut up 

dinner later? 

She pings back instantaneously.

yes. 

He clicks his phone shut, placing it back on the nightstand, the bright pink hat still perched on his head. He wanted to wake you, hoping you’d still like him the same now that you were sober. 

Black streaks of your mascara are smeared across your under eye and cheeks, hell, Steve was definitely wearing it too. There’s glitter everywhere, scattered across your bedsheets and his tan skin and almost certainly his hair. His eyes slide around your cluttered room, the pictures and Taylor Swift posters that adorned the walls, piles of unfinished books on your desk. He’s particularly interested in the shelf of vinyl records, though he could fathom a guess as to what they probably were. 

You rouse from your slumber next to him, sighing softly as you awaken, “nice hat,” mumble from the pillow, squinting at the sight before you, he probably looked a mess. Sure as shit felt like one. 

“Oh shit,” Steve laughs, forgetting he even still had it on, “Robin was just making sure you weren’t a murderer,” tossing the hat back to the floor, his cheeks flushing a deep scarlet red. 

“Not a murderer,” you chuckle, “but I might murder you for an aspirin and some fries though.”

“I think I could make that happen without you having to kill me,” he smiles, volunteering to venture into the depths of your scary house for an aspirin. 

“Please do, and quickly,” grumbling from your perch on the pillow, suffering worse than he was. 

“You just wait here and I’ll be back in no time,” he’s just about to clamber from the bed when the door swings open, hurriedly grabbing the blanket to keep his dignity intact as some girl he quickly identifies as your roommate bursts in. 

“Oh woah,” she exclaims, pretending to cover her eyes while she peeks through the middle two, “so that’s where you went! We weren’t sure if you were dead or not,” not so unfamiliar with his snooping friends. 

You groan, shuffling around your cocoon to face her, “I feel like I’m dying,” your voice gruff in comparison to the angelic tones ringing in his ears last night. He still absolutely loved it either way. 

“That’s a shame,” the girl sarcastically pouts, “I was just about to ask if you and your friend would like to join us at Flannery’s tonight but if you’re dying…”

Your head perks up ever so slightly, “oh really? I think I could get myself together enough to come..” turning back to ask Steve, “what about you?”

He nods in a rather overzealous manner, “yeah, yeah I’ll be there.” 

“You should invite your friend Robin I think, I mean- it’d be cool if she was there too,” shrugging her obvious pining off before flouncing out of the room in a cloud of curls and sickly perfume. 

He looks over to you, your eyes already staring back, glinting with a withheld laugh, “you don’t have to if you don’t want to.. I’m sure you and Robin have something way better to do.”

“No!” far too enthusiastic a response for an invite to some college town bar, “I mean, I’m sure we could show our faces.. if we really had to,” Steve wasn’t blasé about anything ever, much less confirmation that you just might like him too. 

You beam, taking your bottom lip between your teeth, “okay.. good, because..  I’d really like you to be there.” 

[champagnexowishes]

[itsraining-honey]

happy valentines day 💝💐💫

(THIS IS OLD ART)