#blkgrlwrites

[hunnamsgoldchain]

🍻+ “ is there anyone you regret kissing ?” (finncedes)

He’d had a feeling when they started this little game of Q&A there’d be a question he’d groan about. It should have been when she’d asked about his most embarrassing high school memory and Finn, edging into comfortably buzzed described the time that he, in a fit of frustration, kicked a chair that somehow ended up flipping backwards and knocking him clean over and flat on his ass.

And as he suspected, Mercedes had gotten a kick (pun absolutely intended) out of that. Dark eyes held a faint trace of amusement watching as she tossed her head back and laughed, the sound of it soaked in the ‘whiskey ands’ they’d been sipping on for a better part of an hour. And fuck, he was loathed to admit he liked looking at her…usually for the annoyed reaction that would surface whenever he said something to grate her nerves, but shit, her laugh might make him rethink it.

Her whole face lit up, sunshine blooming under brown skin that was–if he could recall faint memories of the last time they’d been drunk enough to be close enough that fighting didn’t feel as much fun as touching and grinding had–was very soft. 

So maybe he still remembered parts of that night. Sue him. Wasn’t his best moment by a mile but there’d some good parts, despite their mutual protests of the ‘worst goddamn experience ever’. And they protested a lot. Even now, trapped in this weekend getaway that once again, found them as the only single pringles among a squad full of #couplegoals but really (and he’d never admit to it, shut the hell up) Finn didn’t find it such a fucking chore to be saddled with her. 

Maybe it was her laugh. This time not so much at him. But because of him. And the good time they were apparently having. Her legs resting in his lap and he was bigger (and she never let him forget it) but somehow she managed to take over more couch space just by being in his space. Their drinks were almost gone so he poured another and then she hit him with that question and he was two sips in before pausing to look up at her, lips curving into a grin. Because he was sure, judging from the casual of it all, she was expecting a very specific, very-her related answer.

“Why? Think I regret kissing you? I don’t. Or maybe I do. It’s still a blur.” And he could very well blame it on the alcohol, as they’d done that night before, the sloppy, hot mess of a trainwreck night they never spoke of except in mutual roasting but this was different because she was soft and damn near sitting in his lap and he never liked doing what she expected anyway. So he leaned in, dipping his head to catch her gaze, waiting for soft brown eyes to meet his own before finishing with “How about you refresh my memory?” @blkgrlwrites

[neicywrts]

❅ for my muse to cuddle up next to yours while asleep on the couch

Shawn x Eli

With each passing day, it got a little easier. It had been two weeks since her home was broken into and trashed, and two days since she came back. The first day was hard. Having to clean up all of her ruined things, some of them irreplaceable, had hurt more than she thought it would. But Elijah was there. Without even having her ask. When her sister dropped Shawn off at her apartment that first day, he was already there waiting (No doubt, her mother tipped him off). Her first instinct was to send him on his way, but she was drained, and she didn’t feel like fighting him. Plus, she didn’t realize it, but she needed the help. 

Two days later, and her apartment was cleaned out. Now, she was in the process of replacing items. In the morning, she untangled herself from their position on the couch and proceeded to get ready for the day. Because as much as she wanted to lay around and cry, she was stronger than that. Had to be stronger than that. After showering, she put on a pair of black leggings and sweater before walking back out to her living room. Her heart did a funny little flip when she saw Eli still sitting on the couch. Being around him like this made it too easy to forget what happened three years ago.

Clearing her throat, she softly spoke her first full sentence to him in two days. “Can you take me to Ikea?”

An hour and a half later they were walking through the isles of the big department store. He pushed the cart while she walked in front, grabbing things she needed as she went. Every once in a while she would turn around and ask his opinion on something. It was domestic and comfortable. Everything that she wanted with him. Everything they should’ve had. 

Once they got back to her apartment, they began putting her things away. Unlike the other day, Shawnie offered him more than one worded replies when he sparked a conversation. Perhaps it was the silent gratitude that he was there for her at one of her lowest moments. When the sun went down and her home started to look like her home again, she cooked for them. Something quick and easy. She could feel his eyes on her while he sat at her breakfast nook and she stood over the stove. Sometimes she could see it in his eyes, when they were thinking the same thing. How they missed each other, and the regret. She knew he was sincere, but Shawnie would never make it that easy for him.

When it was time for bed, she expected him to tell her he was leaving, and she’d have to figure out a way to get him to stay. Shawnie was surprised to see him making himself comfortable on her couch again. After her night routine in her room, she padded back out to the livingroom, rounding the couch. Neither of them said anything, Eli only lifted the blanket and Shawn climbed on top of him like she had done the other night. Safety blanketed her in his arms. His heartbeat under her ear. His scent clouding her senses. Her Eli.  That night, tears slipped out of her eyes for a different reason. She didn’t know if he knew why she was crying, but nonetheless, he held her tighter, stroked her back, and whispered calming words into her ear. It wasn’t long before she fell asleep against him, clinging to him as if he would leave like he did three years ago.

[pareidoliajules]

📱 + kurtcedes

NDHQ!KURTCEDES + A LATE NIGHT TEXT

KURT ↬ CEDES

[2:47 A.M.] So……..

[2:49 A.M.] I told Sam.

[2:53 A.M.] About how I’m…you know.

[2:54 A.M.] About how I feel about him.

[2:55 A.M.] He didn’t run screaming for the hills.

[3:08 A.M.] I thought maybe I’d sleep better once he knew, but now I’m just worried I’m going to wake up and he’s going to be gone.

meme | @blkgrlwrites

[lleuadauwrites]

if i flip a coin, what are my chances of getting head?

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh here we go! [Kenan and Kel theme song plays]

Sav chuckles, eyes crawling over Rey’s form. “How about this instead,” he begins, closing the distance between them. He licks his lips, resisting the urge to kiss her. “Heads, you’ll come in ten minutes. Tails, you’ll come in five.”

Tuesday snorts, rolling her eyes. “Bitch! You know damn well it’s your turn to get on your knees. Matter of fact, stop talking and just stretch that jaw.”

“Seriously.” Sinatra huffs, a look of disgust forms on her face before she rolls her eyes. “That’s, like, the worst foreplay I’ve ever heard.”

[coolgirltactics]

blkgrlwrites replied to your post: hunnamsgoldchain replied to your post: ...

imagine thinking one of us wouldn’t remember the GOOFY ASS SHIT they’ve pulled in other places

but we’ll be nice and not even go into vague details about those things

....maybe.

[hunnamsgoldchain]

“I care too much about you to just leave you alone like this.”+ cport!samcedes

Some would call it foolish. He’d probably say the same thing, depending on the day and how deep in his feelings he found himself. Love felt like too strong, too stupid a word to describe the ‘why’ for half the shit he did when it came to Mercedes. 

Today it was curiosity that propelled him towards the rec center, where her artwork would be on display. It was strange to think she’d gone from galleries in Brooklyn and Manhattan to sharing spaces with the poster advertising the senior citizens spring shuffleboard league, but it didn’t make her work any less impressive. He remembered when he’d been the first to see her fresh sketches. Hasty drawings on napkins and scraps of paper, to the idle strokes of a paintbrush that trailed across his skin, leaving color in its wake and a blush in his cheeks because he was a stupid teenager infatuated with her and her talent. 

He was so far removed from that sixteen year old with love in his eyes. Today, staring at the piece on display, he viewed it critically. Sam bit his lip, remembering too late about the cut on his lip and hissed at the still tender spot. He knew how it must have looked, how he did. The bruise under his eye from the fight had faded to a dull purple but it was still visible. He heard her voice in the distance, the sound of her laughter bouncing off the flyer-covered walls of the Castleport Community Center, bringing forth a faint grin of his own, amused that he could still recognize her ‘polite but over this conversation’ laugh, usually reserved for nosy church elders and stuffy art critics. Rounding the corner, he noticed it was the former. Mrs. Patterson was a known gossip, even bigger than Mercedes, and she’d somehow trapped herself in a conversation with the well-meaning but meddlesome older woman. 

It took Mercedes a minute to spot him, but when she did, Sam noticed her smile shifted. To surprise. A little guarded. But mostly confused. And he supposed that was fair. They’d managed to avoid each other quite successfully around town. Almost as if the lines had been redrawn to accommodate their limits, in some sort of unspoken stalemate since her return to Castleport. The community center was hers. He never expected for her to wander into The Maggie, and part of him was glad she hadn’t recently. Though if the cursory glance Mercedes gave his busted lip and bruised eye was any indication, she’d already known about the fight between him and Rick. Hell, the whole town did. 

Which Mrs. Patterson was only too happy to point out. “Such a waste of a perfectly fine face,” she told him, once they’d reached where he’d been standing. The old lady followed up the unwanted observation with a searching eye and a lot of tsking and Sam ducked his head, feeling thoroughly chastised…and a little annoyed. Least until she spoke again. “But I hear that Nelson boy looks far worse. A shame, since he wasn’t much to look at to begin with.” That made him snort and Sam caught the older woman’s smile. “Nice to see you too, Mrs. Patterson.” 

She waved them both off, and clutched at her purse. “Uh-huh. You keep out of trouble, Sam. And Mercedes, tell your mother I’ll need my pie plate back. She’s been holding it hostage since New Years.” With that, she shuffled off, leaving Sam with no real buffer. Well, besides their usual awkward silence. “Uh…the display looks nice.” It wasn’t much, but it was genuine, and Sam liked that he could still be sincere in his compliments towards her. Towards her artwork, at least. The rest…well he wasn’t gonna say she looked good. Even though she did (she always did, it was kinda unfair). 

He was feeling like a heel, wondering why he was still there. Maybe he was waiting for her to ask about his eye. He wouldn’t talk about the fight and he was sure they both knew that. And it didn’t make sense, getting annoyed about a question he wasn’t going to answer but wanted her to ask anyway. They were beyond being that petty to each other. “I’m gonna go,” he decided, not really waiting around for another lull in the conversation. “Good luck, with the art classes. Not every day people can say they had a session with a genuine artist.” 

There was something in her gaze that rooted him; a weariness tinged with a sadness that Sam couldn’t decipher and sure, it was years of distance and miles of bad road between them, but it it was difficult, turning off the concern. He’d noticed the way her face had fallen, the mask of pleasantries slipping once Mrs. Patterson was out of sight and Sam was surprised she’d even done it with him around. They weren’t close like that. Not for a long time. But he knew her tells. Frustrating remnants of a relationship long past its expiration. The smart thing would’ve been to leave. Let her sort through whatever it was in private. But then again, he’d never been known for doing the smart thing. 

“If you uh, need me to stick around, I can.” The offer was casual, but kind. And he didn’t blame her for the questioning look that was her initial reaction. He offered a slight shrug in return, before shoving his hands in his jacket pockets. “I care too much about you to just leave you alone like this.” @blkgrlwrites

[neicywrts]

🍻+“ do you regret letting me close ?”

@blkgrlwrites

Shawnie had the bad habit of going out and not securing a ride home until the absolute last minute. A feat from her irrational fear of getting behind a car wheel herself. Her friends picked her up to go out, but when her head began swimming a little too much and they weren’t ready to go just yet, she knew she needed to find another way home.

She didn’t remember dialing Elijah’s number— or how she was even able to do it. She didn’t remember talking to him, slurring “can you come get me?” and telling him where she was. The surprise on her face when he showed up must have been comical. But of course he would come for her. Nowadays, he always did. Perhaps if it was anybody else, her friends wouldn’t have let her go without them. But it was Eli. They knew him, and knew that she was safe with him.

Different types of liquor dictated what type of drunk she was. Vodka made her giggly and childish, wine made her horny and sleepy. But tequila was her vice, and unfortunately it made her talkative and honest. In the car, she slipped her feet out of her stilettos, and crossed her legs, not bothering with how high her dress was rising. Old r&b music played through his radio, and Shawnie was softly and absentmindedly singing along to Alicia Keys with her eyes closed and her head leaned back. When the song changed to Maxwell’s Till the Cops Come Knockin a smile spread over her red covered lips. She slid her unfocused eyes over to him. “You remember this song?” she asked, her words soft. “The first time we made love— or fucked, whatever you wanna call it— was to this song,” Shawn reached over to turn it up a little. The memory was fresher than it should’ve been for her inebriated state, but it flashed through her mind like a movie. She remembered how nervous she was and how careful he’d been. How he kissed on her body until she was warmed up for him. How he made sure she finished first every time. How his hands felt stroking up and down her soft skin. But then she started thinking about their relationship. She wanted to be his wife more than anything in the world. Years of being so enamored with Eli turned into the biggest heartbreak of her life.  

They had to have been thinking of the same thing, because he asked her, “do you regret letting me close?”

She looked over at him. Shawn had been telling herself for months, since he’d come back to town, that she wasn’t in love with anymore. The lie became more and more difficult to believe every time he looked at her. “No,” she answered honestly, “I loved you.” Shawn took a deep breath, fighting the heaviness in her chest. “I regret shaping my future around you. Giving you the power to hurt me the way you did. That I regret.” Though she liked to blame it on him, she knew her heartbreak was her own fault. But even with the memory fresh in her mind, she couldn’t find it inside her to be bitter towards him anymore. Not when he was so patient with her, and apologizing for and acknowledging her pain. It made her love him more. She looked away, unable to keep the tenderness out of her voice. “But I’ve never regretted you.”  

[neicywrts]

blkgrlwrites replied to your post the black lesbian community was really robbed....

GO TO SLEEP

NO

WHAT HAPPENED TO OUR KING

[neicywrts]

“I like my reflection a little more with you all over me.” ( eli x shawnie)

Ship: Lashawn x Elijah  

NSFW-ish

At first, Shawnie thought Eli was crazy for wanting to put a mirror on the tall headboard of her bed, but they’d used it twice so far, and it was…addictingly erotic. Being able to watch his body move on top of hers took her to new heights. How the muscles in his back rippled every time he pushed inside her. How his brown skin glistened when he broke out in a sweat. And when she was bent over in front of him, the faces he made←concentration and pleasure← encouraged her. Made her deepen the arch in her back and throw it back at him. The mirror was her new favorite thing. 

When they were done, or resting in between rounds, they would lay horizontally across her bed and look at each other through the mirror. She liked to watch the way she looked draped across him; how the arches and curves of her body coincided with the hard planes of his. One of his hands traced over her hip absentmindedly, the other was on her shoulder, holding her to him. He always held her tight afterwards, as if she would leave  if he gave her too much room. Well, she did slip out once or twice…or a few times. But that was earlier in…whatever this was (although Shawn knew exactly what is was but refused to put a name to it). Now, they were in this weird in between, where she could look at him and not feel irrationally angry. Where she was believing at least fifty percent of everything he said to her. Where the hate sex wasn’t hate sex as much anymore, but rather them getting reacquainted with each other’s bodies in the passion-filled, toe curling way they do.  

Dancing on the edge of sleep, Shawnie laid her head on his chest, hearing the low beat of his heart made her lips quirk the slightest. Eli whispered things to her every once in a while, and they were going in one ear and out the other, but he said something that stuck. “I like my reflection a little more with you all over me.” She looked up, he was watching her in the mirror. Brown orbs colliding with brown orbs. She sucked her bottom lip into her mouth. Feeling a new spark in her body at his words. Because she did too. She really liked how she looked all over him like that. She wasn’t telling him that though. Instead she playfully rolled her eyes and smiled, “you’re tired and talking nonsense. Go to sleep.”

[neicywrts]

👎 for an irritated text (shawn x eli)

Lashawn x Elijah

[text]: how many times do I have to decline your call before you stop calling me?[text]: you one more call away from being blocked. 

[hunnamsgoldchain]

[text]: My greatest accomplishment today was eating a box of Thai food the size of a toddler.

[lo to my lady is my mercedes is:] wooooow. I don’t know if I should be proud, or  straight up salty ‘cause you didn’t share.[lo to my lady is my mercedes is:] how are you gonna do that to me on this day, my birthday. 

@blkgrlwrites

[hunnamsgoldchain]

[text]: Would you think less of me if I said I was eating a toaster strudel in the bath. (for that other plot)

[finn to jones😡:] dinner for one in the tub, hot action for you on a Saturday night.[finn to jones😡:] you were already right above ‘root canal’ and ‘salt in a papercut’ on the list of shit that gets on my nerves, so nah. don’t worry. still annoying.

@blkgrlwrites

[hunnamsgoldchain]

[Text] I'm pretty sure I left my underwear at your place. ndhq

[sam to mercedes 💦:] you did.[sam to mercedes 💦:] and you know damn well it’s just pieces[sam to mercedes 💦:] if this is your way of saying I owe you new panties…[sam to mercedes 💦:] you’re right.

@blkgrlwrites

[pareidoliajules]

📫 for a letter my muse would write about yours to a third party. (quinncedes bc I hate myself)

CPORT!QUINNCEDES + A LETTER TO A THIRD PARTY

Dear Frannie,

I miss you. When are you coming home?

Father and Mom are still fighting. All the time. I hate it, and I hate that I still have to go to church and school like everything’s fine. Are you sure you don’t have room for me in your dorm room? I’m tiny, I can fit in the closet, or under the bed, and I could take classes on the side and get ahead for when it’s my turn at Yale.

Santana and I are fighting as well, and I’m sure it’s all her fault but I can’t even remember what we’re fighting about at this point. Of course I can’t admit that because she’ll be so smug about it all, but I wish sometimes that my friends could cut each other some slack occasionally. Does being an adult ever get less exhausting?

The only one who’s being remotely normal is Mercedes. I showed you some of her art at Thanksgiving, remember? She’s phenomenal, and I’m putting it in writing now - someday she’s going to be so famous that Castleport will rename a street after her or something.

I’ve been staying over at her house lately, since Mother and Father stopped eating at dinnertime and started yelling instead. Her mother’s so sweet, and so sweet to me. It’s so strange - is that what families are supposed to be like? When I’m there, we just watch movies and laugh and do homework and it just makes me feel so peaceful, Frannie. I didn’t know I was missing that feeling, but I was. It’s a little like being a kid again, when all you had to worry about was filling out your handwriting workbook and getting a gold star next to your name.

Mercedes is dating Sam Evans, if you recall. Sam’s nice and all, when he’s not being an idiotic douchebag, but I don’t think he’s good enough for Mercedes. I don’t really think anyone is, and I don’t think she knows that. I’m so worried she’s going to marry him and they’re going to stay here forever and she’s going to become the art teacher at Castleport High and her joie de virve will be killed. I can’t let that happen to her, especially because I don’t think they’re in love. Or at least Mercedes isn’t, and Sam’s a teenage boy, so you know what he’s in love with right now. Ew.

Anyway, I’m passing all my classes still, still chairing the Young Christians Club and still attending the Future Business Leaders of America club. Can you imagine what would happen if I slipped to a B average? Father would probably break something, or force me to live in the back yard until I learned what I should be paying attention to. I don’t think he likes it that I’m spending so much time with Mercedes and Santana and the others, but he stops complaining about it when I remind him that fortunately for him and my future, the reason I have so much time to hang around with my girlfriends is that I don’t have a boyfriend to distract me. That usually shuts him up. I mention the FBLA because we’re having an event next Wednesday where we present prototypes of merchandise we create; I’m sure I’ll blow the others away, but I haven’t hardly found time to breathe, nevermind think up a unique invention to market to fake businessmen. I think I’m going to enlist Mercedes to draw the sketches for it, whatever ‘it’ ends up being, because she always knows what I mean when I can’t put it into words myself.

I miss you. I miss you so much, Frannie. I know you can’t come home until Spring Break, but maybe I could come visit you? Just for the weekend or something? Just to get out of town for a little while. Please think about it?

If I can’t come visit you, please give me all the details on your drama, because I’m tired of mine.

Love, your sister,

Lucy

meme | @blkgrlwrites

[hunnamsgoldchain]

[ 📱 — sms ] talk to me.

[sam:] rough day?[sam:] stupid question. must be, if you’re hitting me up past midnight. [sam:] I was just thinking about you. right before I got the text, you popped in my head. something about our last conversation at your place.[sam:] you mentioned choking and I said if you want, I’ll just give you a popeyes biscuit with no drink for our next scene together. 😂😂😂[deleted:] that little snorting sound you swear you don’t make when you laugh (but totally do) is really fuckin’ cute–| [sam:] it’s been a minute since you’ve been around. but I know you’ll pop up soon again, with some brand new Mary J. conspiracy and hopefully a wild ass Waffle House story. [sam:] come sit in my lap and tell me all about it. [deleted:] I missed you–|@blkgrlwrites

[hunnamsgoldchain]

“We can do this. Nothing could possibly go wrong.” for ndhq samcedes

NDHQ!SAMCEDES

“We can do this. Nothing could possibly go wrong.” @blkgrlwrites

“I wanna take you out on a real date.” 

Later, when he was alone, and a little less brain-fogged, Sam could blame his impulsiveness on the post-sex buzz. It happened so often with Mercedes it would certainly be believable, caught up in their hookup, usually rendered speechless and incoherent, and liable to say some silly shit. 

Which to be fair, wasn’t entirely a post-sex problem, too. Really, he just liked being silly around her. She made it easy. Their conversations shifted seamlessly from shameless flirty banter to gut-busting nonsense, full of references and inside jokes, and the casual roasting that turned him on more than anything else. 

Really, it was the roasting’s fault tonight. He’d invited her over to dinner, and after a pleasant meal they moved quite easily onto his couch where somehow she ended up in his lap, (that was his doing, now that he thinks about it) and his hands were pushed under her skirt, tugging at the panties he was guaranteed to rip, and she was surely going to cuss him out for (to be fair, it was probably the 10th pair he’d manage to ruin, shit was getting costly), but he was far more focused on the now then the after. 

Gripping her hips as she bounced and squeezed and teased them both over the edge, once, then another time, until she’d collapsed against him, and Sam pulled her into his arms because she was soft, and still shaking, and because they both secretly enjoyed the comedown cuddles though he was the only one to admit it. 

His hand settled at the small of her back, and he dipped his head lower, nosing away her curls to nibble at the curve of her neck, just to coax a few of those cute whimpers out of her before he posed the question that wasn’t exactly a question but an offer he didn’t want her to refuse. 

Because lately, the idea of walking down the street with her little hand in his seemed to get him going more than waking up with her mouth around him (okay so they might have been tied). And maybe, the thought of holding her in his arms, just like this, even without the sex, made his heart race. 

And maybe, just maybe, he wanted one of their gut-busting nonsense conversations to take a different turn. For them to talk…you know, really talk. Because he hid his hurts in humor, and sometimes, he suspected she did too, because she had a way of telling without really telling and even though he was able to glean bits of her here and there, lately he wanted more than just scattered pieces of the puzzle. 

She was a mystery to him still. Despite having her in all kinds of positions (on all sorts of surfaces, if his walls could talk…boyyyy), lately the one that wouldn’t leave his head was them, slow dancing in a small seaside restaurant, with white tea candles in little red holders, on tables surrounded a dance floor, with a live jazz band, and the smell of her perfume lingering as he held her close, making her laugh because he joked about how tiny she was. 

She hadn’t said anything still, and Sam was only slightly worried about that because she almost never stopped talking (she was bossy and chatty as hell during sex, but shit, he really liked that), so he smoothed his hand up her back and gently lifted her chin, because he could tell she was avoiding meeting his gaze slightly. And the smile he offered her held only the tiniest bit of nervousness because he was still inside her and yet this was the most vulnerable he’d felt in a long, long time. 

“We can do this, MJ. Nothing could possibly go wrong.” 

And he kissed her, slow, and sweet. Because she was soft. Because they were both still shaking. And because they secretly wanted more…even though he was the only one to admit it.