#he ordered a pizza and they gave him free breadsticks and a drink

[girldriveroscar]

do u guys think oscar knows hes hot.. like objectively attractive.

if anyone interacts im making a lando post bc i have SO many thoughts abt him and his self image lmao

i imagine he knows but doesn’t really care at all bc he doesnt feel a need to attract anyone.. (unlike someone)

like Objectively speaking he works out so Body is Tea. but then he doesn’t really put effort in elsewhere? my guess is he considers aesthetics a Consequence of needing to maintain his diet and physicality. but like if his hair isnt combed and his eyebrows r overgrown well thats just not my problem…

tldr: oscar is gods strongest in the idgaf war

or im sorely mistaken and he takes salacious pump pics every workout idk TALK TO ME!!!!!

[tiliamericana]

Muay Thai: 1.13

“I can’t believe you’ve done this,” said Agatha acidly as Nairi held the door to the pizza place open for her.

“I’m sorry,” said Nairi, no longer feeling particularly apologetic after a week of saying nothing but. “We’ll only be here for what, an hour? And then we can go.”

She didn’t love that she was already on edge. It was hardly the first time in her life that she was deliberately sitting down to spend a couple of hours with an unpleasant man, but it was still frustrating. She liked spending time with Agatha and Linden who were only occasionally frustrating, but they tended to get tense and catty with each other, and Nairi’s teeth were aching at the thought of dealing with that on top of Simon.

Well. They were usually catty, but when not talking about relationships they could be relied on to be friendly-catty rather than terse-catty.

Linden was sitting alone at one of the tall tables near the centre of the restaurant, and she waved at them as they approached, her smile wide. “Hey guys!” she said as Nairi sat down across from her, and if her smile was fake then she at least sounded pleased—or, well, relieved, at any rate.

“No boyfriend yet?” asked Agatha archly, sitting next to Nairi with a disapproving curve to her lips as their eyes met.

“He’s running late,” said Linden, clasping her hands together in front of her and making her bracelets jingle. “Promised he’d treat me to a nice big pie and dessert to make it up to me, though!”

“Nice of him,” said Nairi, snagging a complimentary breadstick, more out of habit than hunger.

“Very,” said Agatha, inspecting a menu without looking up.

Linden’s expression faltered. “Yeah,” she said anyway.

Nairi knocked their ankles together under the table in an attempt to reassure, and Linden flashed her a grateful look, the tension across her shoulders loosening a little. “Things are going well then?” she asked, pouring herself a glass of water and pushing the jug towards Agatha, who ignored her.

“As well as they can be,” said Linden, nodding a little too much, her bracelets jingling again. “I mean, things get bumpy occasionally, but we really haven’t known each other for long in like, the grand scheme of things. We already know we like each other, so we’re just feeling everything else out as we go.”

“Oh goodie,” muttered Agatha, pushing her glasses up her nose again before setting the menu down and joining the conversation. “Nick likes this one, then?”

Linden snorted. “Simon’s not that exceptional,” she said dismissively. “Nick thinks he’s too flaky.”

Agatha glanced at her watch conspicuously. “I wonderwhy.”

Linden gave her a sharp curve of a smile, darkly amused. “Look, that might be a dealbreaker for Nick, but he’s not the one dating him. I can handle a little flakiness, and besides, he’s working on it.”

“Is he working on anything else?”

“Yes,” said Linden, looking Agatha right in the eye. “Nick told me—I promise he won’t call you that ever again, I even slapped him around a little to make it stick.”

“Right,” said Agatha, unimpressed in the face of Linden’s humour. “Because if he does then I’m just going to leave. Why does he even talk like that in the first place?”

Linden wrinkled her nose. “It’s his masters, I swear, he spends his entire time with his nose up the ass of these old school poets, and then he like, forgets that language has changed in the last eighty years? It’s really annoying, he literally called me the ‘whore of Babylon’ the other day and then got offended when I told him to fuck off because I ‘didn’t get the compliment’.”

Nairi snorted.

“Oh! Such a catch! I suddenly understand why you’re so determined to make this relationship work,” drawled Agatha.

“It’s a better basis for a relationship than some I could name,” said Linden snidely, narrowing her eyes across the table.

Damn, Agatha’s last boyfriend must have been a real piece of work. “There’s always going to be worse relationships out there,” said Nairi diplomatically. “And I mean, people are even meeting and dating on the internet these days, everything starts somewhere.”

“Exactly,” said Linden, relaxing a little with a grin. “That’s a bad basis, we all know the internet’s for porn and arguing with strangers.”

“And LOLcats, don’t forget those,” said Agatha, nodding at her.

“How could I?” said Linden, her grin widening.

Nairi was saved from having to ask what the fuck a ‘LOLcat’ was by Simon’s arrival. “Hello ladies,” he said breezily, draping his coat over the back of the free chair with a waft of eau-de-cigarette over the table. He leaned in and kissed Linden’s cheek from behind before sitting. “Hello babe, sorry I’m late, transport was a bit of an issue.”

“You’re fine,” said Linden, smiling indulgently at him as he sat. “Just gave us time to work up an appetite.”

Thankfully, the process of deciding on pizzas and drinks, and then the conveying all of that information to the waitress meant that Nairi didn’t have to speak directly to Simon. It also meant that he didn’t try to speak with Agatha, who was coolly ignoring him from across the table with a total lack of eye contact that veered dangerously close to the border between ‘civility’ and ‘rudeness’.

Once the food actually arrived however, she was out of luck.

Pretty much every pizza on the menu that wasn’t explicitly vegetarian had some kind of bacon or ham or pork-based sausage in its toppings, so there wasn’t any quibbling or half-and-halfing on the one Nairi was sharing with Agatha. Simon, however, had ordered without asking Linden, which she’d ignored, much the same way she’d ignored Agatha’s quiet snort at him doing so. Nairi was about ninety percent certain Linden didn’t even like green peppers.

“So,” said Simon brightly, gesturing across the table with his wine glass. “How have you two been this week? Anything exciting?”

Agatha took an enormous bite of pizza and chewed loudly, glancing at Nairi. Nairi sighed internally and lowered her own slice to answer him. “Not terribly exciting. Work, mostly.”

“That’s right,” he said, chewing obnoxiously and giving Nairi a chance to start eating. Next to him, Linden was carefully tugging peppers off the surface of her pizza. “Lindy said you did some kind of fighting thing, right? MMA? Kickboxing? Sweaty punch ups in sports bras?”

“…I teach judo,” said Nairi eventually. “Early days at my dojo, I don’t have a lot of students yet, I’m afraid. Uh, Agatha’s working on a paper at the moment though, that’s a bit more interesting.”

“Really? What’s it about?” asked Simon, turning both his attention and his chewing maw towards Agatha.

“Diatomic elements,” said Agatha shortly. “It’s just about nucleics, I’m not reinventing the wheel or anything.”

Simon stared at her blankly. “Oh, of course. Uh, I’m afraid I’m not familiar, is your field—?”

“Chemistry,” supplied Agatha, turning her attention back to her dinner. “My PhD was on inorganic, but I’m still in the process of post-doc applications so I’m mostly twiddling my thumbs and writing contributions in the meanwhile.”

“Right,” said Simon, his face showing a total lack of comprehension. “Academia’s a lot like that, terribly stiff in the paperwork and appropriateness departments. The right body of work and all that—I know exactly how it feels, I was going to do my thesis on the erotic underpinnings of Virginia Woolf’s work and the reflection of her relationship with her husband, but my advisor was really very pushy about playing it safe and sticking to Eliot’s body of work in the immediate post-war era.”

“Oh yes, much safer,” said Agatha with no inflection in her tone.

Simon laughed loudly, leaning back in his chair and taking another long drink of his wine. “You know, Lindy said you had a sense of humour, and I must confess I didn’t quite believe her at first! Mistakes all around.”

He punctuated this with a conspiratorial wink across the table at her, though Nairi didn’t quite understand what was so funny about it. At a glance, neither did Agatha or Linden. Linden actually looked… embarrassed? It was only for a second, the expression gone almost as soon as Nairi noticed it, Linden covering the bottom half of her face with her glass as she took a sip.

“So how long have you two lovebirds been dating anyway?” Simon continued, not even glancing at Linden next to him with her small pile of peppers or his ignored slice of pizza on the plate in front of him.

“A few months,” said Nairi, her own dinner looking more unappetising by the second. “Since September, I think?”

“That’s about right,” said Agatha, the lines around the corners of her eyes easing as she glanced at Nairi. “Five or six months now.”

“Charming,” said Simon, polishing off his wine, smile bright and enthusiastic as he gestured. “You know I’ve always greatly enjoyed the figure of the lesbian, in real life as well as literature. Excising the men from the bed and the home—it’s always so representative of the purest form of womanhood, really illuminates the truth of femininity. And the politics of it! The ultimate commitment to the feminist ideal, the usurpation of the patriarchy from its most foundational stronghold in the home at the head of the family. Really brilliant stuff!”

Agatha’s eyebrows were somewhere around her hairline.

Linden laughed awkwardly, nudging Simon as she leaned in a little over her plate. “Well, I mean, it’s always gonna be a bit different from books, hun. People are people, real life is always more, uh—”

“Oh yes, yes, of course,” said Simon dismissively, nodding at her. “And writers have a tendency to exaggerate and eroticise that type of relationship as well.”

“And what exactly do you mean by that kind of relationship?” asked Agatha, tone sharp.

Nairi tensed as Simon opened his mouth and started bloviating again. Linden swallowed whatever she was going to say, giving up and quietly eating instead, leaning on one elbow.

Simon’s phone buzzed loudly, and he took a second to check it while Agatha sucked down on the straw in her water glass through her furious, pinched expression.

“Oh, I’m so sorry ladies,” he said, standing up as he punched a few buttons on his phone. “I have to run. I have thoroughlyenjoyed this discussion though, especially with you Miss Davids, we’ll have to do this again sometime—”

“Doctor,” corrected Agatha.

“Oh, that’s right, very good, attagirl!” said Simon breezily as he tugged his coat on, and a muscle in Agatha’s jaw visibly twitched.

“Oh, Si, really?” said Linden, frowning at him anxiously as he kissed her cheek. “But we were gonna go get ice cream af—”

“Really?” said Simon, with a piss-poor attempt at a surprised look. “I didn’t think so, babe, I had plans. There’s no need to end the night just because I’m leaving though! You should all have some fun, I’ll see you later, and I promise I’ll catch the next cheque!”

He was already walking away as he spoke, hand raised in farewell even as Linden opened her mouth in dismay. “Wait, Si, I can’t—and he’s out. Great.” She slumped in her seat as the door swung shut across the room and gave them a glum sort of smile. “Sorry guys, I kind of thought that would go better.”

“Really?” said Agatha under her breath, covering it with the movement of setting her glass down.

Nairi ignored it. “I mean, it’s not exactly your fault—” Agatha snorted “—do you want me to grab you a pizza you actually like?”

Linden gestured at Simon’s largely untouched pizza with an eyeroll. “No, I’ll live. Already gonna have to pay for this one.”

“I’ve got it,” said Nairi, tugging her wallet out. “May as well just pay for everything while I’m up. Do you want something a bit cheesier?”

Linden looked at her for a moment, expression unreadable, and then something in her relaxed and her mouth twitched into a wry smile. “Yeah. Thanks.”

Agatha turned her head as Nairi left the table, saying something she couldn’t quite hear. Her tone sounded dry rather than snappish, so Nairi didn’t think too hard about it. She got them another round of drinks while she was sorting out the extra pizza as well—it would probably go a ways to easing Agatha’s temper and cheering Linden up.

From the looks of things when she returned to the table though, they’d managed to have an argument in the few minutes she’d been gone.

“Better food and new drinks on the way,” she said, sliding into her seat and pretending she couldn’t see the angry twist in Linden’s lips, or the clenched tension in Agatha’s hands.

“Awesome,” said Linden, flashing her a sunny, fake smile as Agatha scoffed. “You know, I was just saying to Aggy that since this turned out to be such a bust that maybe we should try having a girl’s night instead, you know? Just us, maybe with Flo too.”

“Oh yeah,” said Nairi mildly, gently pressing the back of her hand against Agatha’s on the tabletop. “What did you have in mind?”

[sunshines-and-tatertots]

Y/N’s affair (Part 1?)

By: The 4 payasos.

This was a little something where you write something and one of your friends continue it, so it’s kind of weird lmao. Horribly edited and it’s just embarrassing, quite frankly.  My friends irl don’t know I posted this. 

God, the things cheese could do to you. Feta, Brie, Gouda, the sheer variety of cheeses drove you to the brink of madness. In fact, the very thought of cheese caused a surge of warmth through your body and clouded all sense of reason. "I should call him...." you thought.  

Reaching out to your phone, you called the person you were daydreaming about, Dominos. The things he could do to you- oh god. You call him, and after three rings he answers. "Hello?' he said tentatively, his voice clear yet inquisitive. 

You clear your throat. "Hello, Dominos? Yeah, remember when you said you'd give me 20% off my garlic bread? Well, I wanna cash the offer. I like bread"

The man on the other end replies slowly but carefully. "Y-Y-Yes. I'm sorry to ask but is this (Y/N)?" You look at the phone surprised he noticed your voice. As you think more deeply you realize it is none other than Levi. As you still desire bread you hang up and call your local Papa John.

Surprisingly, Papa Johns picked up the phone immediately. "(Y/N), I've been waiting for you call for quite some time now, why did you keep me waiting?" The man on the other line said, lust lacing his every word as his deep register evoked unknown emotions deep within you. 

"Papa..........please....give me the breadsticks....I'm begging you... Please Papa," you replied.

 The man on the other side of the phone went silent for a few moments before saying, "Yes I know, (Y/N), I know how much you like our breadsticks." You could feel his breath fan over your body, turning you hot, "Do you want anything else that's not on the menu?" 

"Yeah," you said, your breathing getting more rapid by the second. "I would really..." 

"Go on, don't be shy," Papa John said slyly. 

"I would really love some potato corner French fries. specifically, tater tots that are bbq flavored and curly fries that are sour cream and onion."

Papa being caught off guard looked at the phone "Yes, the fries but anything else more breadstick like?" You start to gasp at the thought of it as your cheeks turn a rosy pink.

"Papa...please...I can't wait for any longer..." you managed to gasp. 

"Oh (Y/N)," his long, veiny fingers trailed down his bulging adam's apple and down to his sharp collarbones. "The things I would do if you were right here, in the pizza-making shop. The flour sticking onto those rosy cheeks of yours, the sticky dough attached to your clear skin, and the saucy tomato paste hanging out of the corners of your mouth..." Papa John's replied.

You could feel your body getting hot over the sinful things he was telling you, "You know we can't go on like this, you and me. We aren't fated to be together." You could hear a sigh from the other end of the phone, "You will always come back to me for more, I know you will.”

Your blush deepens, cheeks red as the tomato sauce papa so lustfully described. your mind was racing, the thoughts coming too fast to count. You take a few deep breaths before you continue, knowing full well that he heard them. you could almost feel his grin through the receiver. "Yes papa, I will always come back to you. you know how much I love a medium pizza with mushrooms on top and a side of cherry coke"

You knew deep inside that wasn't the only thing you wanted but you stopped yourself there because you knew things weren't going to end up the way you wanted to. 

All of a sudden, the wooden door burst open, revealing your husband: Pizza Hut. "(Y/N)! I knew it! I knew you were having an affair with my worst enemy!" he exclaimed. 

"Fine, you were right. I only married you in order to get closer to Papa John's. You were never able to get my order right or provide the perfect thickness of the crust to me! Your breadsticks are stale and soft, while his is rock hard and juicy. Why would I ever devote myself to a man that fails to satisfy my needs?!" You screamed. 

However, while both of you were lost in the midst of your argument, you failed to realize that Papa's Johns was smirking all while listening on the other side of the phone.  

This is what he was planning all along. He knew how fragile their relationship was and this was the perfect opportunity for him to grab the dream woman for him. To beat Pizza Hut once and for all, by stealing his woman. It was worth it too. He knew that he had her all over him. The things he could do once he had her was too much for him to think about. He knew their relationship was about to end, and he would be able to snatch her up.

It somewhat irked you. you wonder if he liked you at all, as the person you are. you wonder if he saw you as nothing but a prize, as a way to get back at his fiercest rival. you wonder if you had been nothing but a pawn to him this entire time. alas, these are not pleasant thoughts, and they leave your head almost as soon as they showed up. he had his benefits: the coupons, the free drinks, and sides. it’s not like you felt anything for either of them, after all. you, too, sought a prize. The prize being the things he gave you at night. Every morning waking up you thought just one more chance. Even when you felt used, you pushed through for that prize.

His garlic parmesan scent lingered around your bedroom, further angering your husband. "I have always known of your true intentions, but some part of me wished that you would look at me the way I looked at you. I truly loved you (Y/N), no matter how many times you may use me, no matter how much I want to hate you, my heart still yearns for you." Pizza hut pleaded. The room was silent, the once lustful atmosphere dissipated and time seemed to have stopped. Where did you go wrong in life? Why must the cheeses above curse you?

 You could feel your heart stop. You were torn between 2 men, one of them who truly loved you and one who was using you. You had no idea who to choose. The silence was terrifying and you could hear your own heartbeat growing louder. Did you even know who you wanted? Did it even matter? You didn't care for either of them, you just wanted the snacks. Papa John can hook you up with fire ramen at three in the morning and that's what matters. 

You look at pizza hut, whose bright green eyes were lined with silver tears. They pleaded with you wordlessly, begging you to stay. How could you resist? You lean in close and you see hope spark in them. Distantly, you hear Papa John let out an annoyed huff on the phone. You brush the hair back from pizza hut's face. "Hmm, you're kind of ugly and you only stock regular coke, not the cherry kind. Bye-bye" turns out, resisting those eyes was very easy.

You turn to walk away and from a distance, you hear Papa john chuckle. Just as you think that you can resist you run back into his arms grasping pizza hut's face. Just as his green eyes lit up with hope, a sharp sound sliced through the tense air. A crimson red hand-print replaced his pale, crusty skin. Your hand was throbbing, but that did not stop the grin that spread across your face. 

"You are a fool to think that I would return to a man like you. I will admit, you were fun, but the two of us were never meant to be. Get your head out of the clouds and realize that there is someone else out in the world that is waiting for you. Did you think that I did not know that I was a mere rebound at the beginning of our relationship? I know that time has passed, but your foolishness has left you blind to the world around you." you exclaimed as the wind in your hair soared. "Now, this is goodbye, Pizza Hut, this was fun while it lasted." 

Tags: @tiger1719 @fullmetalfangirl21

[littlecrookedheart]

Shadows

Pairing : Clove and Elliot | Tom x Clove

Rating : Fluff, M for language

Word Count : 6,080

Author’s Note : Please take caution reading this if you are sensitive to sexual harassment (in the family of cat calling / staring.) Please take caution reading if you struggle with grief / death discussion.

Disclaimer : I do not own these characters. I’ve added a bit of a flare to them for the sake of this piece, but they do not belong to me.

Clove grabbed her phone from the bedside table, jumping up as she saw the time and Elliot’s missed messages, quickly typing back a reply. She swiped a sweater and black jeggings from her bag, running her fingers through her hair like a comb and leaving Tom with a note and a kiss on the cheek.

She pulled up to the driveway, sending her text before seeing Elliot already running up to the car, a wide smile on his face.

“You look sunny today.”

“I've been up for awhile.”

“Nope, Scooter, not what I meant. You look happy.”

Elliot shyly grinned, playing with his sleeves as she drove off down the road.

“I um...I may have asked Robbie to a dance.”

“Whaaat!”

“I know I'm not going to school with him this year but he should still go, right?”

“For sure. How'd you do it?”

“It was so dumb. I wrote it on the inside of a box of breadsticks.”

“Carbs are never dumb, first of all. Second, that's really cute!”

“You think? They're his favorite, you know the ones from that pizza place that has the best bread?”

“Yeah, the one by the spice market?”

“Yep.”

“Okay, critical question. Does he dip them in ranch, garlic sauce, or marinara?”

“How is that a critical question?”

“He's practically my brother in law-”

“Clove!”

“It matters!”

Elliot rolled his eyes and mumbled, “Garlic.”

“Ah, see? That wasn't so hard. And now he has an extra stamp of approval from your favorite me!”

“You're my least favorite you.”

“Elliot, you know how much I love you, but I will dump you out of this car.”

“Right here? Nah. We’re by that diaper place.”

“You lost me.”

“This whole area smells like a diaper.”

“No way?” Clove rolled her window down, immediately making a face and closing it. “Wow. It really does smell like a diaper.”

He chuckled, turning away to stifle the sound, “Like massive diaper.”

“I've considered it and I think that this would be the perfect Elliot dumping zone.”

-

“Welcome! Just the two of you?” The hostess perked, smiling from behind a couple of menus. Before either of them could reply, she gestured for them to follow her, leaving the menus at the table. “Your server will be over in just a moment.”

“Sit next to me, Scoot. Miss you.”

Elliot rolled his eyes and slid in the booth next to her, immediately flipping to a place in the menu full of waffles and pancakes.

A few moments later, a server came to take their order quickly dropping off drinks and a basket of toast.

“This is what I live for.”

“Toast in a basket?”

“Carbs!” Clove spread butter and jam on two pieces of toast, stacking them before taking a big bite. “I could literally just have this and I'd be content.”

“What are you gonna get?”

“I don't know! What do you think I should?”

“We've been sitting here for like ten minutes and you haven't decided what you want? I'm getting the supreme pancake thing.”

“Oh! Do they still have those birthday cake pancakes?”

“We have the birthday cake waffles,” the server said as he reappeared, pulling out his notepad. “Your birthday?”

“Nah, they just taste like dessert and I like dessert.”

“I haven't tried them but they do look delicious…” He gave her a long, full bodied once over, “Those cakes.”

Elliot looked to her with a scowl, confused.

“Not even trying to hide it, huh?”

The server moved his eyes along her curves, obviously staring at her chest. She pretended not to be bothered, zipping her jacket up higher.

“I need a sec. Scoot, go first.”

“Um...okay...I want the pancake supreme breakfast.”

“Sausage or bacon?”

“Both?”

“Okay. And for you, sweetcheeks?”

Clove started cracking up, holding a finger up to signify that she needed a moment. She stood up, facing him straight on.

“You think I'm hot, right? Do you always creepy stare at hot girls?”

“I'm not supposed to flirt on the job, sweetie-”

“'Sweetie,' my foot in your ass. I hope you like the unemployment line.”

She marched up to the front desk, pounding her fist on the wooden counter. The server quickly followed over, murmuring under his breath.

“Hi! I'd really like to see the manager. Like, head honcho. Who is in charge?”

“Ma’am, if you'll please-”

“I'm ma'am now? Twenty seconds ago I was, ‘sweet cheeks.’”

Elliot grabbed his phone to record her, a man with a large beard approaching her at the counter.

“Hello, I'm Peter. I'm the manager, what can I help you with?”

“I came here for a breakfast with my kid brother. He's right over there,” she nodded toward him, “Instead, I'm being sexually harassed by the guy that's meant to be my server.”

“Are we sure this wasn't a misunderstanding?”

“Right, I suppose I misunderstood him staring at my tits and making a comment about my ‘cakes,’ along with calling me, ‘sweet cheeks.’”

Peter's face turned a deep shade of red as he whipped around to face the server, who stood with his hands up in surrender.

“Didn't mean anything by it! If she didn't have those things out in the open like that-”

“I'm wearing a sweater, asshole. I could walk in here completely naked and you being a creep would still not be okay!” She used her hands to talk, keeping her volume cool and collected despite the rage in her eyes, “Clothes don't determine consent! Having breasts does not mean I'm dying for you to talk to me like that! You need to take a few lessons on common fucking courtesy, because my dude, you are lacking.”

“My office, Clancy. Now.”

Peter turned back to face her, shaking his head, “I am so sorry. He will be dealt with and your meal today will be free of charge.”

“Thanks, but listen, Peter. First of all, don't doubt someone when they say they're being sexually harassed. Second, he doesn't need to be, ‘dealt with,’ he needs to be fired. Keeping him employed here poses a risk to every single female patron that walks through that door with your seal of approval. That isn't an establishment most people want to support.”

As she turned away, Elliot began to clap, attracting the attention of a few other customers who joined in. She did a little twirl and bow, elbowing him as she got back in the booth.

“Tom thinks you're a badass.”

“Did you record me?”

“Yeah, because you're a badass. So I sent it to Tom.”

“Don't ever be like that guy, Scoot. You're so much better than that.”

“I'm not gonna objectify someone's body. I know how bad that is.”

“You're right. And you're smart for remembering.”

-

“You sure you're okay? That guy was a creep.”

“I'm fine! No scratches. Plus, I felt pretty brave doing what I did.”

“Yeah..you were.”

She wiped her mouth, grinning at him, “So...why do you think that area smells like diaper?”

“Dunno,” he shoved a huge bite of pancakes in his mouth, “But it didn't smell like that until after the flood.”

“Something wicked in those waters.”

Elliot glared at her, pouring more syrup over his food.

“Sorry, jeez. Something more wicked. Like poop.”

He snorted, covering his nose and mouth, “Goober, don't say, ‘poop,’ at the table.”

“Okay, dad. I forgot we can't say any of the gross words.”

Elliot’s face went slack, a weak smile slowly curling on his lips. “Dad hated that.”

“He did! He was the only one who was allowed to talk about poop while we ate.”

“I don't know why that made me really sad.”

“It’s okay, Scooter. We’re allowed to miss them.”

At the front of the restaurant, a small girl sat beside her mother, looking up as she watched her reapply her lipstick after their meal. Elliot’s gaze locked on them, his fake smile beginning to become genuine. Clove turned her head and watched them for a moment before saying, “That’s adorable.”

“I remember you used to do that with mom.”

“You do?”

“I remember when we were younger and you’d sit on the hamper in the bathroom and watch mom do her makeup. She always said, ‘Clove, draw your eyebrows as high as your hopes will take you-’”

“And when you dream, aim higher,” she joined him in unison, putting her arm around him. “I miss her.”

“Me too.”

“Remember when she’d sing to you when you were little? You’d hum along but never sing. She told you that your lungs were made to belt it out and you were doing the world and injustice by keeping it in.”

“I really can’t sing, either. She was the one doing the world and injustice by wanting me to belt it out.”

“Nah, Scoot. She just loves you.”

“Do…you believe in heaven?”

“I’ve seen enough of it to know it’s out there.”

“I don’t know if I do…but if it’s real, mom’s there. Dad too, but…mom is like the queen of the angels.”

“You know something? It might sound crazy, but-”

“Can you feel her, too?”

“Yeah. Right now, sitting across the table,” she pointed her fork to the empty spot, “Telling you that this hair looks so nice since it’s grown out.”

“She’d like Tom, I think.”

Clove’s eyes welled with tears, picturing a world in which her mother may have known him.

“I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

“No, it’s okay. It’s just bittersweet.”

She wrapped her arms around him, feeling him sniffle against her.

“Mom would love Robbie. God, Scooter. She’d be so proud of you. I know she is, wherever she is. They both are.”

“Do you think..” Elliot poked at his breakfast, choosing his words. “Do you think they’d care? Y’know…about me…liking guys?”

“I don’t have to think, I know they’d be happy to know that you were being true to yourself. I know they’d care, but only about your happiness. They’d never treat you differently.”

“Yeah…but how can you know that? It’s not like I ever got close to saying anything.”

“Because I know they didn’t mind. You know, one time I told mom that I liked girls.”

“You like girls?”

Clove shrugged, finishing off her drink, “Yeah. Not super often, but if I met a girl and I got feelings for her, I wouldn’t think any differently. One time when I was younger than you, though? I had a crush on our old neighbor. Remember Mia?”

“The girl with short hair? She was so much older than you!”

“Yeah, but I didn’t care. It was just a harmless crush, anyway. I told mom, ‘I think Mia is really hot.’ and she just laughed and said, ‘I don’t blame you.’”

“She really said that?”

“Why would I make that up?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t mean it like that.”

“I feel bad that we’ve mostly talked about mom.”

“Dad was great, but Scooter, me and you were always glued to mom’s hip. Of course we’re gonna have these times where we just talk about her, but we will have those times about dad, too.”

“My favorite thing about dad was his Saturday morning speech.”

“Oh, God. Kill me now.”

Elliot cleared his throat and began to do an impression. “Today is Saturday and I am going to sit right here-”

“In my pj’s-”

“And no kid or wife-”

“Is going to make me put on real pants!”

“-So if you need anything today…”

“Ask your mother or call a delivery service.”

They both stared at one another for a moment before doubling over in laughter.

“There is no question where we get our humor from.”

“Hey, Clove? I know we can’t visit their gravestones…not today, at least. But could we do something for them?”

“Whatcha have in mind?”

“Maybe we could write notes and burn them or something.”

“Huh. Okay. You ready to go?”

“Yeah.”

Clove pulled her jacket on, slipping a twenty dollar bill to Elliot.

“What’s that for?”

“Being you. But can you run up and get grandpa’s to go? It’s free like the rest of this meal, thanks to Clancy.“

He made his way to the counter to grab the order while Clove pulled out her phone, swiping through a photo album she had complied of she and Elliot with their parents through the years. He met her back at the table and slid the change under his glass for a tip, looking over her shoulder.

“Come on, Goob. Let’s go.”

-

“Just up that hill.”

Elliot pointed ahead to a pathway of trees, dead and barren from Winter’s wrath, the surrounding woods plush with evergreens. Atop the hill sat a dead patch of grass, remnants of a bonfire still smoking at a makeshift fire pit.

“Someone had fun here last night,” Clove smiled, “I love bonfires.”

“Actually…that was me. I came up here to think.”

A look of concern crossed her face as she sat on the ground next to him, bumping his knee with her own.

“You’re not just playing with fire…right?”

“No, I swear. I just got the idea from the fire last night. Watching the branches and sticks curl up and basically just become ash? It..it was like..why can’t bad memories do that, too?”

“Because memories are a part of us.”

“I wish not all of them were.”

“Tom told me something once that helped me a lot. Can I share it with you?”

Elliot nodded, pulling his beanie off. He stretched it in his hands, looking into the distance.

“We are the people we are. Our grandpa is the guy who was involved with the cult. Our parents..were murdered by that cult. We can’t run from it, but we have to remember that it doesn’t define us.”

“I don’t know if I know what you mean.”

“When you look at me, do you see any of that?”

“No.”

“What do you see?”

“My sister. That’s it.”

“Exactly, Scooter. Because we aren’t our past. Nobody should ever look at you and see those things, especially yourself. You were amazing before, during, and now, after all of that. You aren’t, ‘Elliot, kid who almost died however many times.’ You’re Elliot, my baby brother. You’re smart, you’ve got a great head on your shoulders. You’re a big sweetie-”

“Don’t push it.”

“…Even though you don’t believe it.”

“Thanks, Clove. I guess you’re right. I don’t think Robbie is anything like his dad or something..that’s kind of similar, right?”

“Yeah, it’s similar.”

Elliot laid back, folding his arms under his head. Clove joined him, watching the overcast sky as the clouds drifted along. She thought of the moments in between the sadness, taking her brother’s hand in her own.

“We made it.”

“Yeah, we did, didn’t we?”

“And we’re gonna keep on making it. Somewhere up there in all of those clouds, mom and dad are there. They’re looking at us now and they’re proud, I can feel it in my heart.” She placed a hand to her chest, choking back tears, “One day in a couple years, you’re gonna graduate high school, and you’re gonna look in the seats and wish they were there. It’s gonna feel like acid in your heart, but I need you to know something.”

She turned to him, wiping her eyes with her other hand, “I swear to you, no matter what you feel, they will be there. I will be there. You still have a family, okay?”

Elliot dove forward, embracing her tightly.

“Why did they have to leave, Clove?”

She squeezed her eyes, desperate to hold back her emotions as he sobbed in her arms. Be strong. Be strong.

“I don’t know, Scooter. They are right here with us, right now,” she wiped his tears, pressing her hand over his, aligning it at his heart, “You can’t tell me you don’t feel that.”

“I’m so scared..I-” he buried his face in his hands, “It’s been this long and I’m still so scared to lose you, too.”

“I’m not going anywhere. You hear me? I’m not leaving.” Clove’s arms wrapped around him, rocking back and forth as she began to hum, her touch maternal against his heartache. “We’re okay, Elliot. Breathe with me,” she said, her voice soft. She inhaled deeply, waiting for him to mirror her, slowing down his sobs one breath at a time.

Once he’d gone quiet, her humming the only sound against the blowing wind, she kissed the crown of his head and tightened her embrace.

“You okay?”

“Yeah.” He sat up, using his sleeves to wipe his face.

“Still wanna burn a note?”

“Yeah.”

She dug through her purse, taking out a miniature journal and a pen. She scribbled something of her own and handed him the items, digging a book of matches from her things.

“Do you want me to read it?” Elliot asked, pulling his hat back on.

“Only if you want to. I didn’t think you would.”

“Um…Doctor Ripley…wants me to be more open with you.”

Their therapist, a kind, plump man with thinning hair and very large, square glasses, had been working with Elliot twice weekly over the past year and a half. Clove joined him in seeing a therapist, sometimes the same, sometimes a tall woman with a harsh smokers rasp and eyes like a river. Always helpful, regardless - and she was delighted to see that Elliot, too, was having a good experience.

“Okay.”

He took a shaky breath and cleared his throat before starting, “Mom and Dad…I’m not mad anymore. I’m sorry that I was. I didn’t know how to..how to think about you actually not being here anymore. I kept..thinking about you, hoping we could go home again. I think it took me this long to let you go..and I just want to. I want to let you go. I love you so much…but you deserve to be free.”

Clove swiped the matchstick along the panel, placing the flame along the edge of his note. He dropped it, watching as it blew to the blackened pile of sticks. Once it dissipated, it was nothing but a clipping the size of a snowflake, and it floated off with the breeze.

“I’ll go now.”

She dug the tip of her boot into the dirt, doing her best to keep her eyes from flooding.

“Mom…Dad..”

Elliot placed a hand on her shoulder, feeling her body tremble beneath his touch. “You don’t have to, Goob.”

“It’s okay. Mom, Dad…you taught me love for so long I never actually realized that one day, I wouldn’t feel yours anymore. I just want to say thank you for Elliot…”

He looked to her, his brows bent in confusion.

“Thank you for Elliot because when I look at him, your love is everywhere. All around me. And I don’t think I could live without him for one second.”

She lit a new match, placing her note on the embers.

“I didn’t write this..but I want to add something. Grandma Josephine…wherever you are, thank you for my mom. Because she has always been an angel, and me and Elliot miss her so much. I wish I could have met you before you were hurt. But all of you…Elliot’s right. We have to let you go. You have to be free.” Clove reached for her brother’s hand, looking to the sky. “We’ll always love you.”

“Always.”

Their hands linked as they looked to the sky, taking in the crisp air. Elliot reached to hug her again, his eyes going wide as he broke away, “Grandpa’s breakfast!”

“Oh, shit! Okay, ready? I’m ready.”

-

She waved goodbye as Elliot ran inside, dodging many beginning drops of rain. She pulled up Tom’s contact and called him, leaning her head back against the seat rest.

“Hello, beautiful.”

“Hey. You busy?”

“Nope. Did Elliot tell you he sent me a video of you absolutely slaying that-”

“Tommy?”

Her voice was breaking, chest riddled in emotion and a heavy sound of tears.

“What’s wrong, angel?”

“I just really need you right now.”

“Okay, I’m here. Want me to meet you anywhere?”

“Are you home?”

“Yeah. Come over.”

“I’m gonna take a minute to myself and I’ll be on my way.”

“I’ll come pick you up if you need me to. Can you drive?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

“It’s gonna be okay, my love. See you when you get here.”

-

Tom hung up the phone, scrubbing his face with his palm before sending Elliot a text.

He grabbed his keys and ran outside, speeding to the farmers market down the street before Clove arrived. Nearly slipping on the slick sidewalk, he pummeled through the door, running into an elderly woman who was sweeping the floor. The air smelled of fresh produce and rain, his eyes scanning around for plants and flowers.

“You okay there, son?”

“Yeah! Sorry, I slipped.”

“You’re in a real hurry.”

“The love of my life is on her way over and she’s bawling her eyes out. I need flowers. Can you point me-”

“What kind?”

Tom pulled his phone out to verify the texts from Elliot.

“Red carnations and white daisies.”

“You want the mini carnations?”

“What looks better?”

“The mini ones.”

“Yeah, that’s fine.”

The woman gathered a bundle of flowers and wrapped them in newspaper, tying a ribbon around the base.

“Wait, what are those tiny tiny white little things that come with flowers? On green branches?”

“Baby’s breath. I’ll add some.”

“Thank you!” He pulled out his wallet, but she shooed him away.

“You came in here and nearly bowled me over. I asked if you were okay and you didn’t say, ‘a girl I like,’ or, ‘my girlfriend,’ you said the love of your life.”

“Yeah?”

“Young people finding that is something special. On the house.”

“Thank you! Thank you so much!”

“Yeah, yeah, now you go on.”

Tom smiled and ran out the door, jumping in the car.

When he pulled up to his apartment, sheets of rain blanketed the sky, Clove’s car nowhere to be seen. Safe, he thought, darting from the car to the front door, pushing it open to see her already sitting on the couch, her hair and sweater soaking wet.

He set the bouquet down along with his keys and grabbed a towel from the hall closet, pulling the throw blanket off the back of the couch.

Her eyes were rimmed in red, face puffy from her tears. He pulled her into an embrace, holding her tight as she collapsed in his arms, crying with all of her might.

“I’m here, I’m here.”

-

Once her crying slowed, he unfolded the towel, scrunching her curls within it to dry them. Lifting her sweater over her head, he dried her skin, draping the blanket around her shoulders.

“Don’t go anywhere. I’m gonna get you a top.”

She nodded, sniffling, using her sweater to wipe her face.

Tom shuffled through his drawers, finding an oversized t-shirt and a washcloth, stopping by the bathroom to warm up the cloth before heading back to her spot on the couch.

“Okay. Hand me that towel?”

He took it from her, drying the top of her back and spots on her hair he’d missed as he stood behind her, unhooking her bra before handing her the shirt. He smoothed his hands over her shoulders, running his fingers along the imprint of her bra straps, noting the indentation across her back where the band rested.

She pulled the top on, kicking off her jeans as she nestled into the corner of the couch, Tom squeezing his way next to her. He wiped her face with the washcloth and kissed her cheek, pulling her into his embrace.

“You know..when I was little before Elliot was born, sometimes my mom and I would order pizza and have a girls night. She’d bake cookies and play with my hair…”

Tom zoned out for a second, her hair in his hands as she told this story, her voice aching in grief. And back to reality, he took her hand, kissing the top of it.

“…It was just…everything.”

“Missing them extra today?”

“Yeah. Elliot and I talked about them and it was so nice but just..I can’t help but be heartbroken when I think about some things.”

“Do you want to tell me about those things?”

“Graduation. I know it was just a sheet of paper, but I did it, you know? They weren’t there. They won’t be there when I open my store. They…”

She choked on her words, tears spilling from her eyes again. Tom’s own eyes began to water as he wrapped her in his arms even tighter, easing her through the moment.

“If I ever get married, I- I always dreamed of them being there. And I know I have Elliot, I just…it’s not the same. I dreamt of it my whole life, Tommy. They’ll never be there. They won’t see me fall in love with you every single day. They won’t see it if I…what if we have a baby one day? How can I explain to my kids how amazing they were, but ‘sorry, you’ll never meet them?’ It’s just…it’s not fair. And I’m angry!” Her voice grew louder, “I’m so mad and I’m so fucking upset because I deserved them to be there. I deserved them holding my hands as I walked down the aisle. I’m angry and I’m sad and I feel like my chest is caving in.”

Tom rubbed her back, gently holding her to his chest.

“It’s not fair. You’re right. It’s the opposite of fair. But you know what you’re forgetting? They see you, Clove. You know they do.”

“Seeing me from another plane doesn’t make me feel less alone.”

“It’s know, baby. I wish I could mend your heart a million times over. Let me see those eyes.”

She looked to him and gave him a small, sad smile.

“They’re so fucking proud of you. Look at you, you’re a powerhouse. Not only are you a total badass, you’re an amazing artist. You have the best heart. The best head on your shoulders. You’re everything, Clove. And if for one second you ever feel alone, remember that you will always, always have my heart and soul. Plus, you know what? You can be pissed off. Throw something, kick a wall in, punch me in the face! It’s justified. You are allowed to be angry!”

She blinked a few times in a deadpan stare, “Did you just yell at me to punch you in the face?”

“Yes. Punch me, baby. If you feel better after beating the shit out of someone, I’ll volunteer.”

She giggled, his laughter joining hers.

“I’d never hurt you. I just…I’m so..”

“You don’t have to explain. I’m gonna be here every step of the way, even if that means making you laugh at me.”

“Why are you so good to me?”

“Because you’re the love of my life. Oh! Speaking of.”

He hopped up and grabbed the flowers, handing her the bouquet.

“Tommy…”

“Do you like them?”

He kneeled on the floor next to her, stroking her cheek with his thumb.

“They’re perfect. My mom…you..you remembered?”

“Elliot helped me out, but yeah. I remembered the story where she put them in every window on your birthday. You said that’s where you got that from…and if you have kids, you’ll do the same for them.”

She held them to her chest and kissed him, his lips like feathers against her own, the warmth of his love radiating from where he knelt.

“I’m gonna love you forever.”

“I’m gonna love you for even longer. And so do they. Their love for you is limitless, angel. They see you. They’re proud of you. They love you.”

“I’m wish they could have met you.”

“Me too.”

-

Late in the evening, Tom stood in the open doorway, listening to the birds sing after the storm. Clove sat curled up on the couch, streaming YouTube videos on Tom’s laptop as she munched on Doritos.

“Do you mind if I ask Elliot over to stay the night with us? I just really want him here.”

“Absolutely. I’ll text him and pick him up.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“It’s cool. We can get dinner on the way back.”

He sent the text, stepping inside to put his shoes on.

“Your hair looks nice like that.”

“What, like wild? You just like it down.”

“I do. You can’t blame me, you look like some fancy poet.”

“Now, that’s a compliment I’ll take. Elliot says he’ll be ready in fifteen. I should head over. What do you want food wise?”

“Can I say…junk? I want junk.”

“I can do that. Toppings?”

“You know me so well. Just a bunch of cheese…and some of that garlic bread?”

“Say no more, my lady. I’ll tell him to text when we’re on the way.”

“Tommy?”

“Hm?”

“I love you.”

“I love you too, angel.”

-

After picking up Elliot and a massive order of pizza, Tom pulled into the parking lot of a grocery store, taking the key from the ignition.

“Ice cream?”

“Hell yeah!”

Tom chuckled, raising his eyebrows. “Okay, what kind?”

“Anything chocolate.”

“You…really, really are Clove’s brother.”

“What of it?! Can you get me some tea? I have mone-”

“Shut up, dork. I don’t want your money. Do you also have a weird flavored tea addiction? I’m grabbing raspberry while I’m in here anyway.”

“I might like it.”

“I might dump it on you when I get back then. Put that money away.”

Elliot stuffed the bill back in his pocket, trying not to grin as widely as he was.

At Tom’s return, he grabbed the grocery bags, sifting through them to eye the items inside.

“You’re like, a really good boyfriend.”

“What do you say that for?”

“Clove is lucky to have you. She had a bad day and you went like,” he gestured with his hands, “Massively all out. People don’t usually do that.”

“I’m in love with her. That’s what you do when someone you love is hurting.”

“Thanks for being there for her. I know she loves you like that, too.”

“Can I…Elliot, I really want to tell you something. But it can’t make it back to Clove.”

“Okay?”

“Um..I have been thinking and I just-”

“Watch out!”

Tom slammed on the brake just in time to avoid a loose dog sprinting down the road, owners chasing behind.

“Who does that!”

“This town isn’t ever boring, huh?”

“I feel like I almost shit my heart out.”

“Same.”

They parked in Tom’s parking spot, unhooking their seat belts simultaneously.

“I’ll get the bags if you get the boxes?” Elliot smiled, reaching behind him to grab the few grocery bags they’d gotten.

-

“So wait, your mom was this jack of every trade, and your dad sold cars?”

“He said he’d been selling cars since he was seventeen.” Elliot chimed, slurping what was left of his ice cream.

“It sounds so boring!”

“Mom was the magic, dad was…the stage?”

“Scooter, what does that even mean?”

“Like, mom was all lights and colors, ya know? But dad was just stable. And he always would support her.”

“That…was a great metaphor. I’m sorry I doubted you.”

“You should be.”

“Oh! Another time, mom came in from being out all morning and called a family meeting-”

“Oh my god.”

“You remember, Scoot? Oh yeah. She came in with this old, hideous, weird beaded wedding dress from the thrift shop. She said she needed to work her magic and it would be as good as new.”

“Was it?”

Clove and Elliot looked to each other and said, “No!”

Elliot laughed, “She made it big enough for the neighbors dog. That’s it! Mia, right Clove? Her first girl crush.”

“I’ve heard of Mia.”

“What? You have?”

“He’s my boyfriend, Elliot, what did you expect? He just had no idea?”

“Maaaybe?”

“Nah, she told me about Mia the same day I told her about-”

“Ben Park.”

“The comic guy?”

“Yeah, and Tom’s first guy crush.”

“You like guys?”

“I don’t really have a preference. I’d be into anyone who made the world light up, but I don’t have to worry about that anymore.”

He kissed Clove sweetly, pulling away quickly as not to annoy Elliot.

“Wow. This is actually really cool to know. I guess..I guess more people get it than I thought.”

“You’re never alone, man. Even if it feels like it.”

“You guys are cooler than I give you credit for. Can we do this again sometime? Maybe Robbie could have dinner with us.”

“We can do this any time. My place is open to both of you whenever.”

“Oh…speaking of. Scooter, what do you think about me moving a town over?”

“Why?”

“We’ve just been thinking about finding somewhere-”

“Like you guys living together? That’d be cool. We could do this more. Plus, you could give me my dresser back that you took to your studio.”

“If we can, we’ll get a place big enough for you to have your own room for when you’re over. And close enough to not really make a difference, like less than an hour.”

“Really?” Elliot laid back against the couch, “Cool.”

Tom pulled an array of blankets from the closet, tossing them behind him.

“What are you doing, baby?”

“Fort time.”

“Oh my god! For real? Scooter, when was the last time we built a fort?!”

“Like your birthday that one year?”

“Oh boy. I love forts.”

They spent the next thirty minutes layering blankets over the furniture, tossing them over one another, laughing until their sides hurt. Finally, after many slips and fumbles, the three of them settled in beneath the fort, television streaming old Adam Sandler comedies.

-

“Elliot’s out officially,” Tom whispered, “We had fun tonight, didn’t we?”

“So much fun.”

“It’s kinda funny, when I was talking to him in the car before we got the food, he had much of the same sentiments as you regarding your parents. Like…different experiences, but still saw them the same way.”

He climbed behind her, holding her close.

“Elliot and I wrote them notes and burned them today. But we read them out loud and it…was nice.”

“If I could say one thing to them, I’d thank them for giving the world someone like you.”

“My mom would cry.”

“That’s where you got that from.”

“Hey! You love that about me.”

“I do. I love every piece of you.”

“Thank you for being here for me..for loving me. For loving him,” she nodded to her snoring brother, “He needs people like you in his life.”

“He’s a part of you. Of course I love him. I’ll always be here for him, too.”

“You’re amazing.”

She kissed him, sweet pecks, silently pulling beautiful affections from within him. Tom held her into the night, gently singing to her as she fell asleep. He grabbed his phone, going to her social media and scrolling down to find photos of them that she’d posted.

He felt his chest swell with emotion, blinking away fresh mist. He closed the app and looked toward the ceiling, imagining their faces as happy as they were in the photo. With a voice as low as a whisper, he said, “I’ll never be able to thank you for everything you’ve given me. I want to…I love her more than anything. I want to marry her so badly. I hope that if she says yes…if she says yes, I hope you’d approve. I hope I can make her as happy as she deserves. And I’ll be anything I can to Elliot. I swear to you, he has my heart, too. I’ll help him. I’ll guide him. Whatever I can do. Thank you…from the bottom of my heart…for these two. They’re my family.”

And he dozed away, his cheek resting in a bed of Clove’s hair, their fingers laced together. This night was full of quiet love, happy, happy love - the light of the moon dancing across the walls, much like the slow fade of two lingering silhouettes watching over them.

[letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked]

Oneshot: “You’re perfect. Which is beyond annoying. I can’t look at you.”

Steve Rogers X Reader

A/N: Day 4 of the countdown to summer, people! @bettercallsabs and I are doing this together! Go check her out! This was supposed to be done and posted hours ago, but… I may or may not have gotten myself on a Youtube binge session. LOL Not edited at all! Sorry! I just wanted to post it and go to sleep! It’s 5am! Idk, does anyone actually read my author’s note? 

Warnings: Steve comforting Y/n’s drunk ass, lots of slurring and repeating, swears n shit, me not knowing what to write so I choose some random shit, etc.

Word Count: 1650ish

Main Masterlist

 ‘Why the hell did you agree to this?’ You thought to yourself as you tipped your head back, shot glass pressed against your opened lips, face scrunching in disgust when the alcohol burned your tongue and throat. Your stomach lurched for a moment, while you slammed the thick shot glass down onto the wooden table of the small town bar, and your free hand flew to your chest. You coughed, feeling a shiver run down your spine when the alcohol warmed your belly, “Holy shit. That’ll put hair on your damn chest.”

You felt your head swim, heat smoldering in your stomach and radiating to the tips of your fingers and toes. It was an idiot decision, thought of by one Tony Stark. He thought it would be great to show up to a random bar in the Midwest, after a mission. The bar – which was decorated with barrels as tables, had a mechanical bull, and served amazing burgers – had graciously accepted the team, who were littered throughout the small building.

You, being a complete dumbass, were standing with a group of college girls. 

Taking shots. 

You were properly fucking drunk.

“I can’t believe you’re dating Captain America!” One of the women slurred, slamming her shot down on the table, pointing a finger at you. “You’re one lucky girl!”

“Don’t I know it.” You grinned, pointing back at her. You were starting to get way too drunk, too quickly. You were not a huge drinker, but you’d let the women con you into no less than 3 shots – on top of the few drinks you’d sucked down during dinner. “He’s my favorite supersoldier.”

“Don’t let Bucky hear you say that.” You heard a familiar, feminine voice next to you. “You’d break his poor heart.”

“I love him, too, Nat!” You giggled, wrapping your arms around her and laying your head on her warm shoulder – which was bare from her tank top. “Just like I love you.”

“I love you, too.” She snorted, wrapping an arm around your swaying body, so you wouldn’t fall off your barstool. “How many shots have you ladies had?”

“Too many.” One of the other ladies laughed, leaning her face into her hand, elbow on the wooden bar. “She’s fun. We like her.”

“Awh. I like you guys, too.” You moved from Natasha, wrapping your arms around two of the three women. “I paid your tabs.”

“You didn’t have to do that!” The third one shrieked, hand flying to her chest in shock. “You’re so sweet!”

“Okay, Y/n.” Natasha laughed, rolling her eyes with a smile. “Let’s go find Steve.”

“He’s at the other end of the bar.” You grab her cheeks, squishing them together as she raises an eyebrow at you. “You’re so cute, do you know that?”

“Shanks.” Her voice is muffled from her cheeks being pushed together. You notice her eyes flick over to the side, and – following her gaze – you see your favorite supersoldier attempting to make his way over.

You let go of Natasha with a small gasp, joy rushing through your veins, “Steve!”

Saying goodbye to your new friends, you hopped down from your stool to go see the gorgeous man. His hair was getting long, falling a little too close to his baby blues. The stubble on his face was starting to fill out, making him look more rugged than usual.

Fuck, he was so hot.

You stumble over to where he was standing, talking to an older couple, and wrap your arms around his waist so you could rest your head on his chest. “Hi, honey.”

You felt his chest shake as he chuckled, wrapping his arms around you to hold you close. “Hi, sweetheart. Having fun?”

“Too much fun.” You sigh, closing your eyes when his hand brushes over the back of your head. “I think I’m getting drunk?”

“Getting drunk?” He snorted, leaning his head down to press his warm lips to the crown of your head. “I watched you ping pong your way over here, Y/n. You’re drunk.”

You shook your buzzing head, nuzzling as close as you could. “Mm-not.”

Liar. You totally were.

“Alright, beautiful.” His hand continued to run through your hair, as you hummed in content. “Do you want to leave?”

“Steve, nooooo.” You whined shifting so you were looking up at him with your chin pressed against his large chest. “We’re having funnnn.”

He shook his head, warm breath washing over your face as he chuckled lowly, hand coming up and poking you in the nose. “You’re adorable.”

“I’m a fierce warrior princess, and you should fear me.”

The couple behind you chuckled, which you chose to ignore. You opted to lay your ear against his chest, listening to the low vibrations of his voice as he continued his conversation. You continued to breathe in the woodsy scent of his soap, melding with the citrusy scent of his aftershave. It was your favorite scent. One that you could never get enough of.

You shifted, sliding your arms up and around his neck so you could watch him talk to the nice couple. You watched the movements of his pink lips, imagining the way that they moved against your own when he kissed you.

Another rush of warmth shot through your veins, and you bit your lip.

He was so attractive.

God, you loved this man.

This perfect, attractive man.

“I love you.” You murmured when he looked down at you, after ending his conversation with the couple. You felt tears well up in your eyes, lip starting to wobble.

“Hey.” His hands moved from around you, cupping your face. “I love you, too, silly girl.”

“I’m not silly, I just… I just really love you, you know?” Your tongue felt heavy, but you continued to slur, “I’m not drunk, I just love you.”

“Come on.” He laughed, pulling you along with both arms towards the back patio of the bar, where the smoking section was located. He ignored a large cloud of smoke that someone had accidentally blown his way, pulling you towards a metal firepit and pulling you towards a chair. He sat down in one of the chairs, pulling you into his lap. “Why are you crying?”

“Be-because you’re the best boyfriend in the world and I love you.” You sniffed, snuggling up under his arms trying to ground yourself from the spins. You felt like you’d done about 400 rounds on a tilt-a-whirl. You felt tears fall from your eyes, leaving cold trails down your hot cheeks. “I think I’m getting drunk.”

He ignored you, probably thinking that you were definitely three sheets to the damn wind. “I love you, too, sweetheart. You’re my best girl.”

“How- how can I be you’re best girl…” You hiccupped, halting your words for a moment while Steve’s warm hand gently ran along your back, “How can I be your best girl when I am not the best?”

“Honey, you’re the best girl I could ever ask for.” His lips brushed against your temple, curled up in a small smile. “I’ve loved you since the day I met you, when you told me to fuck off.”

“You said a swear.” You giggled, turning your head so you could press a sloppy kiss against the underside of his stubbled jaw. “I’m telling Tony.”

“You are the best, sweetheart. Please don’t think otherwise.”

“Ugh.” You groaned, wrapping your arms around his neck and jutting out your lower lip. “But you’re perfect. Which is- which is beyond annoying.” You hid into his neck, lips brushing against his neck as you continued to slur. “I can’t look at you.”

He pulled you away from him, so he could look at your face – using his thumbs to wipe away any trace of tears. “Come on, sweetheart.” He leaned forward, chastely pressing his soft lips against yours for a moment, squishing your cheeks together so your lips were puckered. He pulled back quickly, leaving a tingle on your lips as his forehead pressed against yours. “I’m far from perfect. I’ve made mistakes, and I’ll probably continue to make mistakes for the rest of my life.”

You didn’t reply, swallowing down a thick lump in your throat.

Oh, god…

Oh, no….

You pulled away as quick as you could, hand flying to your mouth as you stumbled off his lap and towards the side of the building.

You barely made it out of sight before emptying the contents of your stomach all over the wood siding of the bar, retching drowned out by the loud crowd inside and the loud music. Steve, who had followed you with a look of concern, hastily held you steady, grabbing your small purse so you didn’t vomit all over it.

“Jesus, sweetheart. How many drinks did you have?” He chuckled, brushing his hand up and down your back as you dry heaved.

“I-” You stopped to retch, spitting the acid from your mouth before continuing, “I told you I’m a lightweight. Someone gave me tequila.”

“Alright, let’s get you back to the hotel.” He sighed, wrapping his arm around your waist and dragging you towards the car. “You can shower, and I’ll order pizza.”

“You mean it?” You hummed, a smile on your face as you wobbled along with the greatest boyfriend of all time, stumbling in your heels. “With pepperoni and sausage?”

“Whatever you want, sweetheart.”

“You’re the most- the most perfect boyfriend in the whole- the whole entire universe.” You huffed as he lifted you into the passenger seat, your world spinning around and around and around… “I love you so much, and you’re the best.”

“Wow. You really love me when you’re drunk.” He laughed when he hopped into the driver’s seat, shaking his head. “I’ll make a mental note of that.”

“I’d love you even more if you ordered breadsticks with the- with the pizza.”

“Deal.”

------------------

LOL! This is how I get when I drink. I repeat myself, love everyone, cry, puke, shower, eat pizza, then sleep! (Sabrena, don’t say a damn word LOL)

Forever Tags (OPEN):

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[canaryatlaw]

okay. well today was pretty good. I had no reason to get up at any specific time, so I just slept for a while and eventually woke up at like 12:36, and then kinda laid in bed and pet NICKZANO for a while before actually getting up. I spent a bit of time on my computer getting some stuff done while also messaging this guy from this silly dating app I’m on who wanted to go out tonight and I was like okay sure, so we made plans to meet up at 5 at this restaurant that’s like a bar and pizza place, with like, individual pizzas, not slices. After I got some stuff done I got dressed and stuck my old sodastream in my cart to go to the UPS store. I think I neglected to tell you the story of what happened yesterday. Basically about two weeks ago, my sodastream somehow lost the ability to hold the bottle up like it’s supposed to do, so I called their support and they said well it’s probably defective so we’ll send you a new one, just send the old one back when you get it. Okay fine, the new one got here yesterday and I’m setting it up and go to stick the bottle in....and I have the same problem....so it’s the bottle that’s the problem, not the machine. At this point I remembered that when we were at the ren faire two weekends ago we had left our water bottles in the car and they got super hot, and I remarked afterwards that it felt like the plastic at the top of the bottle had been warped in some way when I was putting the cap on. So I tried the new machine with a different bottle and it worked, and I tried the old machine with a different bottle, and it also worked. WELL FUCK. I still had to return one of them to them, with a slip of paper saying it was defective, so I’m hoping they’re not going to like, follow up to make sure it was defective in the exact way I told them it was, and to be fair I called their support and described the problem and this is the answer they gave me, so it’s not really my fault. Just another example of my complete lack of common sense to figure really obvious things out. Sigh. But anyway, I stuck the old one in my cart and went down to the UPS store. I didn’t have a box that could fit it and they didn’t want you to use the one they just sent you the new one in because it’s all marked up from being in the mail system already. So I got there and told them what was going on, they weighed it and got a box, and I gave them the shipping label, then just paid for the box and we were good to go, so I’m glad that’s done. I came back home and chilled for a bit watching 30 Rock before getting ready for tonight around 3:30. I did fairly basic make up, and caught the bus around 4 so I’d have plenty of time to get there, which was a good choice because that bus route goes directly through Wrigleyville and the Cubs had a game tonight, meaning it was swamped with traffic and people, so it took forever to get through there. I eventually got there at like 5:15, but he wasn’t there yet either so I didn’t feel bad about it. He showed up a few minutes later and we got a table, one of the high ones with chairs that have no backs which is like, my two least favorite set up at a restaurant, but I don’t really care that much. We get drinks, he gets a beer after I assure him I couldn’t care less if people drink in my presence despite me not being able to have alcohol. we decide to order a mozzarella breadstick appetizer, which I originally just expected to be normal mozzarella sticks (yay for reading comprehension, right?) but was actually just breadsticks topped with cheese, which is also a good option so I didn’t really care. They somehow turned out to be like, super filling, to the point where I was like I don’t even wanna get a pizza at this point lol. Conversation was going pretty well, we talked about a bunch of different stuff as these things tend to go, we touched on politics and what a shitshow it is, a bit about our families (he’s from India and the rest of his family is still there), and then some commentary about the college football playing on the giant tv screens on the wall in front of us, and how we both prefer soccer to football lol. The work I want to do did come up and I described my current job predicament, and ended up getting into a mini-rant about the issues in the foster care system, but I kept it pretty limited as far as these things go lol, I could’ve gone on a lot longer. But yeah, I enjoyed talking to him, it was nice. We ended up just ordering dessert, which was a funnel cake, which we only ended up eating like half of because we were both full lol. He paid, I didn’t protest, just said thank you. Once we left he wanted to walk me back to the bus stop I was taking home, even though his place was a few blocks back. I’m gonna be out of town next weekend, but since it’s a long weekend I said I’d let him know if I ended up being free on Monday, but that I may end up having plans. When we were saying goodbye he asked if he could kiss me and I was like ah what the hell so I said yes, so we shared a brief kiss. I have a lot of feelings I’m trying to work through with all this (and other shit I’m not sharing on here for certain reasons) and I’m just trying to figure shit out with all of this, so I had kinda mixed feelings about the night overall. I got on the bus, which took me pretty close to home, unfortunately about 5 minutes before my stop it started downpouring, which makes this the second time in the past week where I’ve had to walk home in the downpouring rain, so that’s always fun. I had my umbrella thankfully, but that doesn’t do too much good with the water gathered at the sides of the roads are like, 4 inches deep and it’s took big to get around it, you’re just going to end up getting soaked up to your ankles. Thankfully I was wearing sandals, which are much less annoying than having to do so in like, socks and sneakers. I made it home without getting too drenched, just had to dry off my legs and feet a bit. Once I did that I went through a few packages I got today, one of which being a certain shirt I found online for a certain cosplay for HVFF NJ next weekend which I’m currently keeping a secret because y’all are gonna lose your shit when you see how great it is, lol. So that was cool. I then went to the couch and watched a few episodes of 30 Rock before starting to get ready for bed and here we are. It’s a bit past midnight and I do have to get up for church in the morning, so I think I’ll end this here. Goodnight my friends. Hope you had an awesome Saturday and will have an even better Sunday.

[dragon-temeraire]

Jordan Parrish’s 7 Step Plan for Wooing Stiles Stilinski

I dredged up this old fic in honor of @shippingwithstiles starting up. If you like Stiles rarepairs, you should definitely check it out!

Summary: In which Jordan has a plan and Stiles is suspicious.

It’s been a year since I wrote this, I forgot how silly it was. (On AO3)

“Dude, what is up with Parrish?”

“What do you mean?” Scott asks. “What’s he doing?”

“He said he’s coming to pack night, for one!” Stiles huffs, throwing his hands in the air.

“So? What’s wrong with him coming to pack night?” Scott asks reasonably. “He’s helped us out a lot over the years. I consider him an honorary pack member.”

“That’s not what I meant! He’s a great guy, no doubt. I mean, why is he showing up now?” Stiles says.

“Oh!” Scott says, grinning. “That’s easy. He asked me where you were every Wednesday night, and I told him we had weekly pack get-togethers. So he asked me if he could come.”

“And you said yes,” Stiles cuts in.

“Of course I did. Like you said, Jordan’s a great guy. And I think it’d be good for him to be around people like us, who understand the supernatural. Besides, he looks like he could use a chance to just chill.”

“Yeah, good point. Maybe he’s looking for an excuse to be around Lydia,” Stiles muses.

“Dude, you know he’s been over her for years. And it wouldn’t matter anyway, because she’s dating Malia,” Scott says.

“Trust me, I know,” Stiles says. “Malia likes to call me up and tell me all these sordid details.”

Scott raises his eyebrows. “Can I get in on these phone calls?”

“Dude, no!” Stiles says, giving Scott a playful shove. “Those calls are my burden to bear. Besides, you have a girlfriend. You don’t need any sexy phone calls.”

Scott looks like he wants to argue, but lets it go. “What else has Jordan done?”

“Yesterday, right after he told me he was coming to pack night, he gave me a cupcake. It had a smiley face on it!” He says, outraged.

Scott just laughs. “Was it good?”

“It was delicious,” Stiles concedes. “But that’s not the point. The day before that, he’s eating lunch at his desk, and I’m working and minding my own business. He gets up and says ‘the burger place gave me an extra order of fries, do you want them’?”

“You took them, didn’t you?”

“Of course I did! They were curly fries,” Stiles says reverently.

Scott nods, acknowledging the greatness of curly fries. “Wait a minute. Did you have lunch that day?”

“Er, no.” Stiles scratches the back of his neck. “I got distracted working.”

“So Jordan found a way to feed you without insulting your pride.” Scott looks impressed.

“How devious. And just today, he offered to cover my late shift because I looked tired. Seriously, what is going on?”

“Sounds like you’re mad that Jordan’s being nice you,” Scott says.

“I just want to know why. I’m beginning to suspect an ulterior motive.”

Scott looks at him kindly. “I think you can trust him. Maybe he’s just looking for a friend. He seems kind of lonely.”

Stiles shrugs. “Maybe you’re right. I think I’ll wait and see how this plays out. But if he asks me to join his super-secret fight club or something, I’m calling you!”

Scott laughs. “It’s a deal.”

 *

 Jordan arrives at pack night carrying five boxes of pizza. He puts a bag of breadsticks directly into Stiles’ hands and says, “You don’t have to share if you don’t want to.” Then he just casually walks away. Stiles stares after him even as he shoves the first breadstick into his mouth.

It doesn’t take long before the smell of garlic lures Scott to his location. He reaches for the bag, which Stiles snatches away, cradling it against his chest. “No way, dude! He said I didn’t have to share.”

“Who did?”

“Jordan!” He exclaims, throwing himself down on the end of the couch. He curls up his legs, protecting the breadsticks from Scott.

“Oh, did he?” Scott says, smirking.

“Did someone call my name?” Jordan asks, walking out of the kitchen. He hands Stiles a plate of pizza, a root beer, and a stack of napkins. “You looked busy,” he says by way of explanation, and walks back to the kitchen.

“Uh, thanks!” Stiles calls after him. He’s distracted, staring after Jordan, until Scott’s snickering catches his attention. “What’s so funny?”

“I think I solved the mystery,” Scott says.

“Are you Scooby Doo now? What mystery?”

“The mystery of why Jordan is being nice to you,” Scott says smugly.

“Oh. Well, what’s the answer?”

“I’m not telling. You’ll figure it out, Velma,” he says, ruffling Stiles’ hair. “It’s nothing bad, I promise.”

“Am I interrupting something?” Jordan asks, looking at them curiously. He’s leaning against the other end of the couch, plate of pizza in hand.

“You just interrupted Scott being a terrible friend, so no big deal,” Stiles says, waving a hand dismissively in Scott’s direction.

Scott rolls his eyes. “Whatever you say, Stiles. I’m gonna get some food now.” Stiles watches him go, feeling victorious.

“You mind if I sit here?” Jordan asks, gesturing to the couch.

“No, man, feel free,” Stiles says. Though he can’t help but notice that the other couch and the armchairs are mostly unoccupied. Malia’s the only other person in the living room. Maybe they made seating arrangements while they were all in the kitchen. He’ll roll with it. “So, not that I mind, but why did you bring me my own bag of breadsticks?”

Jordan sat down next to him. “Scott told me the story of one of your first pack nights. He said you brought pasta and breadsticks, but everyone was so hungry that they ate them all, and you didn’t get a single one. It was a deeply moving tragedy,” he says, deadpan.

Stiles can’t help but laugh. “Well, it sucks to have pasta, but no delicious bread to go with it!” He peeks into the breadstick bag, then offers it to Jordan. “Want one?”

“I don’t have any pasta, but sure. Thanks.” He takes one cautiously.

“So answer me this,” Stiles says, just as Jordan’s about to take a bite. “Why did you want to come to pack night?”

“I wanted to get to know you better,” Jordan says promptly.

“Me? But you already know me. We work together!”

“Work isn’t the best place to form friendships,” Jordan says, taking a bite of bread. “Besides we hardly ever get to talk about anything besides cases.”

“That’s a fair point. But why me?”

Jordan shrugs. “You understand the job. You know what it means to have a bad day at work. Despite your sarcasm, you care a lot about people. You always try to do the right thing. And you’re pretty funny.”

Stiles pokes him in the shoulder, grinning. “How can you say that to me? You never laugh at my jokes!”

“I do,” Jordan says, pointing to his stoic face, “on the inside.”

“Well, maybe you should try laughing on the outside occasionally. I always thought my sarcastic commentary annoyed you.”

“No, not at all. Sorry you thought that. I’m just not a very expressive person, as you’ve probably noticed.” He cleared his throat. “I was also going to say that you know what I am, which is pretty important. You won’t freak out if I start to look…”

“Like Johnny Storm?” Stiles finishes.

“Who?”

Slapping his hand dramatically to his forehead, Stiles flops back on the couch as though he’s fainted. “Look, you really need to come to my house sometime. So we can watch Fantastic 4.”

“Sure,” Jordan says easily. “I’m off at three on Friday.”

Stiles pulls his hand away from his face, shocked. “Really?” He sits back up. “Okay, come over around five. I’ll have food and drinks, so you don’t have to bring anything.”

“Sounds good,” Jordan says, just as Scott bursts in from the kitchen at a run, shielding his plate of pizza. Kira follows at a more sedate pace, carrying a large bowl of salad.

“Anybody want some of this before I dump it over Scott’s head?” she asks sweetly.

“I do,” Jordan says, extending his plate.

“Traitor!” Stiles hisses, snickering. Kira immediately scoops a pile of lettuce onto his last slice of pizza. She then places a neat serving on Jordan’s plate. Stiles picks up his slice, still covered in salad, and takes a bite. “Ooh, its Caesar!” he exclaims, and keeps eating it.

Lydia picks a movie as Kira diligently piles up half of Scott’s plate with salad. Malia tells Lydia they could watch something without dancing this time. Lydia sticks out her tongue and puts Footloose in anyway. Scott’s just leaning against the couch, laughing at Kira’s mock-serious face. She doesn’t crack a grin until the bowl is empty, but then she looks over and starts laughing at Scott.

Their laughter is infectious, and Stiles fights the urge to giggle. He really loves pack night.

Leaning close, Jordan whispers “are they always like this?”

“Sometimes they’re worse,” Stiles says cheerfully. “Welcome to pack night. There’s never a dull moment,” he says, patting Jordan on the back.

 *

 He keeps looking at the clock. He taps his fingers on the counter and checks his phone again. The last message from Jordan is see you at 5. He shouldn’t be nervous. He’s known Jordan for ages, and they work together, so really they’re practically friends. Or something like that.

He startles when the doorbell rings. He takes a running start from the living room and slides across the hardwood floor. Throwing open the front door dramatically, he exclaims “Hi, Jordan!”

“Hello, Stiles,” Jordan says, unflappable as ever. None of Stiles’ antics ever seem to faze him. “I know you said not to bring anything, but…” He holds up a container of ice cream. “I figured you’d appreciate this.”

Stiles accepts the ice cream, tilting the carton to read the label. “Fudge ripple! I knew there was a reason I liked you,” he says, putting it in the freezer.

“Someone told me it was your favorite,” Jordan says, giving him a small smile.

“I gotta stop telling Scotty all my secrets,” Stiles says, grinning. “Let’s get the movie going. Dinner’s in the oven, we can eat in thirty.” He heads into the living room, and presses play once Jordan has joined him on the couch.

The watch The Fantastic Four while enjoying Stiles’ Santa Fe casserole, and even have a little fudge ripple for dessert.

“Well,” Stiles says as the credits roll, “at least now you’ll know what I mean when I yell flame on! at you.”

“Just call me Johnny Storm,” Jordan says boldly, doing his best impersonation.

Stiles laughs. “We’re definitely watching the sequel. You need to develop a repertoire of Johnny Storm quotes. It’ll be a great inside joke.”

“Okay, let’s watch it tonight,” Jordan says, turning toward Stiles on the couch. He looks very serious. “But first. The new Batman movie is coming out next weekend. Would you like to go see it with me?”

Stiles looks at him oddly. “You don’t really like Batman. Wouldn’t you rather see the James Bond flick?”

“I would, that’s true. But since I’m asking you on a date, I want to do something you like,” Jordan says patiently.

Stiles is so startled, he says the first thing that comes to mind. “Is this a joke? Is there a hidden camera somewhere?” He makes a show of looking around suspiciously.

Jordan looks taken aback. “Why would you think that?”

Stiles shrugs. “I’m just surprised, is all. You’re a mature, responsible adult, and I’m…kind of a mess, really. Not to mention, you’re way out of my league.”

“Stiles, there are no leagues,” Jordan says softly. “I like you. I like who you are, and I’d like to have a chance to know you better.” He thinks for a moment, then reaches into his wallet and pulls out a piece of paper. “Here, this should prove it,” he says, handing it to Stiles.

Carefully unfolding it, he notices the absurdly long title first: Jordan Parrish’s 7 Step Plan for Wooing Stiles Stilinski. He can’t help but smile. What a dork.

Every number on the list except 7 has a check mark next to it. Each entry is neatly written, but some of them have messily-scribbled notes next to them. He carefully reads the entire thing:

 1.     Listen to him. (This should be easy, he loves to talk)

2.     Pay attention to his interests.

3.     Be honest. (He will doubt you if you lie)

4.     Give him a small gift, something he likes. (He likes food. And “nerd stuff”)

5.     Show him you care.

6.     Spend time with him.

7.     Ask him out!

  “This is a good plan,” Stiles says, trying to keep a straight face. “I like it. My plans usually involve a timeline, but still.” He thinks for a moment. “However, I’m pretty sure your plan is missing something.” He fishes a pen out from under the couch and, in a very secretive manner, adds something to Jordan’s list. He folds it once and hands it back.

Opening it, Jordan finds that Stiles has added a number 8 to the bottom of the list. Next to it, in large block letters, it says KISS HIM!

He grins when Stiles moves pointedly closer on the couch. He reaches out and strokes his fingers along Stiles’ cheek. “Guess that’s a yes to the date, then?” He leans forward and kisses Stiles right as he starts to agree.

Jordan’s caught him by surprise, but he recovers quickly. He lets his tongue brush against Jordan’s, teasing, savoring. It feels amazing, and he curls his fingers into Jordan’s shirt, trying to pull him closer. He kisses him deeper and swears he can actually feel the temperature rising. He pulls back, panting, but leaves his arms looped around Jordan’s shoulders.

Jordan is breathing hard, too. His cheeks are flushed, and his lips look plush and tempting. When he opens his eyes, his irises are nothing but burning flame.

“Wow, that’s really sexy,” Stiles says, and kisses him again.

They can watch the sequel tomorrow.

[mattfcknsmith]

009.

misslilycjames:

The flirty banter between them as they sat at the bar was certainly a way to make the night more enjoyable since the only flirting she usually endured at family gatherings was from a completely shitfaced uncle who forgot they were related and she smirked into her glass once it arrived, feeling naughty for even having a glass of wine so early in the day. “I’m sure we can claim our section of the free drinks in the form of a bottle and just sneak that up to the hotel room?” She suggested with a smile, setting her glass down on the edge of the bar so she didn’t drink it all at once. The longer she could enjoy the first glass, the more chance the guests would have properly started to arrive by the time she was done and they could enjoy the tab. As Matt slowly changed the subject toward the invitation, Lily raised her brow and turned to face him, intrigued at where his sentence was headed judging by the first part of it alone. Once he came out with the whole deal, she couldn’t help but feel touched and her grin melted into a more flattered smile, reaching up to tuck her hair behind her ears. “Am I cool enough to hang out with at Legoland?” She chuckled softly, shaking her head with a shrug. “Cinders will be sad not to be invited but I mean, I’d love to come if you want me to.” Reaching for her glass to take another sip, she hoped he wouldn’t change his mind and the thought of spending another weekend with him warmed her better than the wine did.

By the time they got through their first set of drinks, the hall had slowly started to fill up and they were no longer the early birds who were hanging out by themselves. She quite liked being left alone at the start though but the bride and groom weren’t too far behind the crowd, so attention was quickly thrown their way again and Lily and Matt could just blend in to the tables and talk amongst themselves. Only a few people came up to say hello to Lily and ask who Matt was, so it was pretty simple to get away with pretending he was a more serious part of her life than he was but she still found herself counting down the minutes until they could leave without seeming rude. “I’m so bored of all this lovey dovey stuff.” She whispered to Matt as she picked at some confetti that was scattered across the table to make it look more cutesy. It was almost as if the Gods had heard her groaned complaint as just as she finished talking, it was announced by the DJ that the couples of the room could kindly join the bride and groom up on the dance floor to celebrate the union of love. Lily felt herself die inside but just to add a little more pain to it, one of the people at the table with them practically nudged her to her feet and she sighed, looking down at Matt, biting the inside of her bottom lip to stop her from grinning. “We have to go share our love with the world, sugarplum.” She teased, holding her hand out for him to take as the other couples stumbled past them to get to the floor almost as if it were a race to pick the best spot where they could be seen and admired.

With Lily content to give him some grown-up company on a day trip with his pride and joy, Matt couldn’t help but smile at her response. He could understand why Charlie could be confused with the current situation, but honestly, it didn’t seem to bother his excitable mind one bit. He grasped that Lily was his teacher at school, but he was never surprised to see her outside of the classroom either, and luckily saw her more as a friend than of an authority figure he had to be mildly fearful of. It worked out for everyone though, and a fun weekend at a theme park was bound to be fun -- they wouldn’t have to spend all day outside given that the excitement would tire Charlie out by no later than 2, but the trip would give them enough time to enjoy what he hoped would be decent weather and a few rides. As the rest of the wedding party streamed in, they soon found their seats only a couple of tables away from the buffet, and helped themselves to mini sausage rolls and breadsticks until the more substantial food was out in the hot cabinets. Matt wouldn’t be opposed to ordering a pizza once they got back to the hotel though, and soon lost his peckish desire after a bowl of chilli. 

With another drink or so down, it took a moment or so for him to catch onto what Lily whispered as the bride and groom swayed away for their first dance. The food had soaked up whatever alcohol would’ve left him buzzed, but he still grinned at her words. “How dare you, darling, this is so romantic,” he quipped with a smirk, glancing out at the dancefloor again before taking a sip of beer. His eyebrows rose at the announcement from the DJ though, and was even more surprised when Lily suggested they get up and join the rest of the rabble on the floor. Whilst he was tempted to offer a jested remark, he was still subconsciously aware of the role he was playing, and simply gave her a sigh and a knowing look. “If we must, dear,” Matt replied with a smile, draining the last of his glass before getting up from his seat with his hand in hers. “C’mon,” he murmured, lifting their hands to press a kiss to the back of hers, and guiding them out onto the dancefloor -- wherever seemed the most out-of-the-way. Clearing his throat, Matt wasn’t entirely sure what to do once they’d picked a free spot, but he shifted both hands to rest at her waist for want of a better position. “I haven’t slow-danced in years,” he admitted with a sheepish grin, glancing between them and hoping he didn’t stand on her toes.