#should’ve stayed in the drafts sis

[urmomsfavelesbian]

[tacobellfries]

i forgot that you existed should’ve stayed in the drafts sis

[00ops1e]

soap sits by the door all night, ear pressed to the wood. he listens for anything- making sure that ghost’s not being unsafe or maybe he’ll want to talk? but soap knows that’s wishful thinking at the moment. he knows how his boyfriend is.

“ ‘m right here for ya si…” he whispers through the door, picking the now dried blood off from under his nose. silence. if soap couldn’t hear the soft, sometimes ragged breathing coming from the bathroom, he’d think ghost climbed out the window.

soap stays there. he sleeps there. he doesn’t leave simon’s side- even though there’s a door between them. soap feels terrible. he should’ve given him space, he should’ve listened. thoughts swirl his head as his eyelids grow heavier.

ghost doesn’t sleep, how could he? his mind is stuck in what seems to be an endless loop of flashbacks of his father and hitting soap on repeat. he sees the shadow under the door and knows that it’s soap waiting there. in his mind, ghost begins to draft out his breakup with soap. it’s better this way after all. right?

ghost opens the bathroom door and watches as soap’s sleeping form begins to slide down the door frame. reluctantly, he gently slides his arms under soap’s frame, picking him up and placing him softly on the bed. their bed.

soap stirs, opening his eyes to see simon standing over him,

“h-hey,” he says, pushing himself up on his elbows, “do you wan-“

“i think we should break up,” ghost cuts him off, his voice cold, yet shaky.

soap feels the air leave his chest, a bewildered look on his face. he just stares at his boyfriend, mouth hanging open, no words.

“no.” soap says, matter of factly

“johnny pleas-“ ghost’s voice wavers.

“no! why would you even- no! why would we do that?” soap asks, getting slightly frustrated, “no, you don’t get to break up with me! not after that, no.”

ghost places a tentative hand on his shoulder, “johnny-“

“no, don’t you johnny me! why? why huh?” he says as he pushes ghosts hand off of him, feeling tears well up in his eyes. this just can’t be.

“i-i hurt you. i didn’t even- im just like my father. we shouldn’t be together.” he says, hanging his head.

soaps face drops, that’s what this is about? how couldn’t he have noticed? i mean, he had a feeling that’s what was going through ghosts head in the bathroom but soap never thought that this would be a reason to break up. he feels a single fat tear fall down his cheek.

“simon…” he whispers, reaching out to him.

to soaps surprise, ghost bridges the gap between them, sitting down on the bed next to him. soap gives him a look, as if asking for permission, ghost nods before pulling soap into his lap.

“it was an accident, ’s not your fault si..” soap whispers into the crook of the others neck, tracing circles into the built man’s back.

“doesn’t change anythin” simon sighs back.

soap pulls away slightly, looking into the man’s eyes, “it changes everything. look at me, i’m fine si. ‘m not mad, not upset, i-i just want to help you okay? i should’ve listened when you were upset and given you space. i should’ve- handled it better”

ghost squeezes johnny a little tighter hearing this, “not your fault, could never be johnny.”

soaps shoulders begin to rise and fall, he presses his face harder into ghosts shoulder. he’s, crying? ghost pulls him out of his neck and looks him in the eyes.

“i love you, i don’t want to break up!” he cries, effectively breaking ghosts heart. “y-you didn’t know what you were doing, that look you had, si you didn’t mean to! you’re not bad! i-i just want to be with you, help you!” johnny is on the verge of hysterics, he breathes in hard, steadying himself.

“you’re not scared?” ghost asks,

“how could i be?” soap answers, a loving look on his face.

and with that, ghost pulls them both down to lay on the bed, holding johnny close. the dread and guilt he had felt earlier have been subdued to a dull roar, allowing him to think a bit more clearly.

“i’m sorry,” he says quietly, stroking johnnys scalp lovingly.

“i know, don’t be.” soap says, settling further into his boyfriends grip.

“i-i didnt know it was you,” he says, barely above a whisper. hes embarrassed.

“i know, and we’re gonna work on it. ‘m always gonna be here for you, ya big lug. wether you like it or not.” johnny says softly, “i love you. i always will. no matter what.”

“i love you too,” ghost says, a sense of relief washing over him.

Tw: accidental hitting but I'll still say domestic abuse just to be safe. Ghost would never hit a romantic partner but I had this idea. (Also it's not at all romanticizing it)

Ghoap fanfic idea

Ghost having a panic attack like a really bad one. Soap trying to calm him down but it's not working. He's not listening when Ghost says between gasps of air to go away. Ghost isn't thinking straight. He's not processing that it's soap's hands on his wrists. He feels as if he's a child again. He feels the same terror he did as a kid. Just wishing his father would go away. Just wishing he'd stop hurting him. He just wants him to let go. In his panic to push his father away he hits him but it's not his father. It's Soap. Soap immediately grabs his nose letting out a grunt of pain. Ghost's eyes go wide as he See's blood drip from Soap's nose. "You got me good" Soap laughs, trying to lighten the mood. It doesn't help. Ghost feels a deep sense of terror. Ghost locked himself in the bathroom for that entire night. The terror of believing he is like his father consuming him. He was supposed to break the cycle. God, he wasn't even supposed to fall in love but of course as soon as he does this happens. Maybe he should just break up with soap. It would be safer for soap.

[shespsychedelic]

Lana.....

[prettyboybarzal]

Get You

Pairing: Sammy Blais x Reader

Word Count: 4.9k

Warnings: Smut… Smutty smut smut. Just the works, you know?

A/N: In July, me and @bandgirlsclub​ were talking about my Sammy feels… and we talked about how he seems innocent and inexperienced, but he probably is a lil devil in the sheets. So, I needed to write it (for my own research and now for yours too.) This has like zero plot. It’s just sex. Enjoy and let me know what you think!! Title is based on the song “Get You” by Daniel Caesar and Kali Unchis. I couldn’t come up with another title name and I just love this song so, if you don’t like it... TOUGH.

Translations:

J'ai vraiment envie de toi: I really want you.

Vous êtes si belle: You’re so beautiful

Tu as tellement bo goût: You taste so good.

mon ange: My angel

Masterlist.

Then.

When you told your friends about your crush on Sammy Blais back in 2014, they all laughed in your face. Sammy Blais? They repeated after you admitted to it. How can you even see him as a sexual being? Like, what the fuck kind of question was that? You were insulted by their response, annoyed they so easily pushed him to the side for his other, more promiscuous teammates.

Sammy, as you knew him, was a bit quiet and reserved, but he was also always one of the funniest people in the room. If everyone just listened to him, like you did, they would understand why you found him so endearing. It was a combination of whispered jeers at his teammates and pointed looks shared from across a crowded room when someone did or said something stupid.

But how could they know any of that when he didn’t share it with anyone except you? He wasn’t making those same comments in your friends’ ears or sharing winks and eye rolls across the room with them either. It was only ever to you.

He thought your friends were nice enough, but they were a little too in-your-face for his liking. You, however, caught his attention because much like himself, you faded into the background as well. For the same reasons, you were drawn to each other. It was hard to find one of you without the other at parties like the one where the incident occurred.

As the 2014 NHL Draft approached, you realized it was now or never. Something needed to be done before he slipped away. And he was thinking the same thing.

That night, while the party raged on around you, you sat on the couch with your legs pulled up over his lap. His hand rested between your thighs, right at the top of your knee. His thumb traced circles along your skin as you talked about anything that could possibly get a response out of him, whether it be a giggle or one word or even an unexpected tangent.

You were unsure how long you spent on that couch with him, but your friends took notice and cleared the room to get you some privacy. They may not have understood the appeal of your crush on Sammy, but they sure as hell were going to get you what you wanted.

“Where’d the party go?” you asked, hoping that your nerves hadn’t crept into the sound of your voice. Sammy glanced around at the empty room and then sighed softly.

“Doesn’t matter to me,” he answered quite honestly. You laughed softly as you lifted your gaze to his. “Let’s be honest, we’re always looking for each other at these things.”

“You’re not wrong.”

Silence settled between the two of you for the first time as the reality of the relationship between you was clear. It had always been something a little bit more than friendship.

You were still smiling at each other, conversations shared through fleeting looks. He was unsure of himself, unsure of how you felt about him still after all this time. So, his next move was tentative. He couldn’t just come out and do it. He needed permission first.

“Can I kiss you?”

You nodded, unable to find the words that were stuck in the back of your throat.

Sammy leaned in, hand gripping your knee as he tugged you just a bit closer to him. And then his lips met yours in a slow and purposeful kiss. It was cautious and careful, like he was scared to break you, and you were practically dripping with anticipation for what else could come of it. His hands remained where they’d been, one in between your knees and then other against your cheek.

The kiss slowed and he pulled away looking bashful, but you were itching for more. You scooched in closer and leaned in again. He took the hint and did the same. He tried to add a little more spice to it and leaned in quickly to capture your lips. Instead, you ended up bumping heads and you bit his lip by accident.

“Ow.”

“I’m so sorry,” you blurted. He brought his fingers to his lip and there was a little blood on the pad of his thumb when he removed it. Suddenly, the front door opened and if the bleeding lip and minor concussion wasn’t even to ruin the moment, his teammates would.

“Party’s here!”

You were standing before you could even think and Sammy was left looking defeated as his teammates swept you up in hugs and greeted him. They plopped down right in the spot you’d once been and started opening beers to catch up with the rest of the party. Someone shoved a cold beer in Sammy’s hand, swallowing up the warmth that he’d once felt against your cheek.

He didn’t know if he should’ve gone after you, but he stayed put on the couch anyway. He figured he could at least give you a little space after knocking his forehead against yours. But, ultimately that ended up being a huge mistake.

For the rest of the night, he left a wide berth between the two of you. He could’ve blamed it on his nerves or embarrassment over that shitty first kiss. Ultimately, it was his immaturity that ruined it all. Looking back on it now, he could confidently say so. 

It was nearing the end of the night when he heard you gossiping with the girls. He probably shouldn’t have stayed to eavesdrop, but he couldn’t help it. He felt like he was cemented in place.

“I don’t know what happened,” he heard you whisper. “We kissed, and then when we went to kiss again it was all so awkward. We bumped heads and I bit his lip. He started bleeding, and then the rest of the boys showed up, so I just got up and walked away.”

“See, I told you Sammy doesn’t really know what he’s doing when it comes to girls.”

You murmured, “Everything was going so well!”

“It’s just how he is.”

Sammy rolled his eyes, mentally beating himself up for fucking up what he’d been planning for months. He heard the fridge door open and then the hiss of a beer can opening, and then a long and loud sigh.

“I should’ve just listened to you guys.”

He straightened up, brows drawn together in frustration. Of all the responses he thought you’d give, that wasn’t one of them. Had all those months sitting on the couches at house parties not shown you who he really was? He wasn’t just some bumbling idiot with a little schoolboy crush.

“So, are you over it? The crush?”

Before you could answer, he slipped back down the hallway. He tossed his half-full beer can in a garbage bag and walked right out the front door and all the way home.

Now.

After that night, Sammy’s bruised ego took a long time to heal. He moved to St. Louis and put all his effort towards his hockey career, pushing the soul crushing moments shared with you to the back of his mind. His teammates took him under their wing quickly and he was taught how to scope out the bars for someone to take home. Through trial and error, Sammy learned how to flirt and, most importantly, how to make a woman cum.

There were moments that he thought back to that night and wished he could change it. Of all the crushes he’d had in his life, the one on you never went away. Though he avoided home like the plague, his friends were still friends of yours, so he heard about you from time-to-time. They practically begged him to visit, at least just once a year, to catch up with everyone. He was hesitant. Too bruised and stubborn to see you once again.

Sure enough, they broke him down and when he returned home after the end of the 2019-2020 season, he found himself at the very same party as you.

You were the first person he saw when he walked into his former teammate’s house because of course you would be. You were perched atop the kitchen counter in a dress and heels, champagne glass in hand. Even though the music in the apartment was loud, he heard your laughter loud and clear as he entered.

“Sammy!”

He was surprised by your exclamation and, although his other friends shouted his name as well, he only focused on you as you hopped off the counter and ran over to him. Your arms looped around his waist.

“I didn’t believe the boys when they said you were coming.”

You smelled the same, like lavender and vanilla and something fruity. Your hair felt soft under his touch as he pulled you tighter to his chest.

“I’m happy you’re here.”

He smiled at you and responded, “Me too.”

As soon as your hug was over, he was gone. His friends swept him up beneath their arms and ushered him off to grab drinks.

When you returned to the girls, they watched you with knowing looks.

“Still?” one of them asked. You were avoiding their eyes, that much was certain.

“What do you mean still?”

“You still have a crush on him?”

You took the last swig of your drink and waved them off dismissively, saying, “No, of course not. It’s been six years.”

Apparently, six years was just enough time for that crush to grow.

Everyone at the bar was equally as excited to see Sammy return home, so you felt a bit deflated when he spent the better part of the night catching up with people you knew he couldn’t stand. The Sammy you once knew wasn’t the Sammy before you. This Sammy possessed an air of confidence you’d never seen and carried himself around the bar like he had a million better things to do, even though you knew he’d just be at home on the couch if he didn’t accept the invite.

He’d grown out of the stage in his life where he needed to sneak off to the couch in the corner with you, and that realization stung more than you wanted to admit. So, as you watched him talk to another random girl about two hours into the night, you stepped outside into the cool Summer air. He caught sight of you as you went and, though he wanted to push the thought of joining you out of his mind, he ended up excusing himself from the conversation he was having just to follow you.

He exited the bar and stepped onto the pavement of the sidewalk outside, eyes grazing each smoker’s face to see if you’d blended in with any of them. And then, there you were, at the corner of the bar and an alleyway beside it.

“Hiding?” he asked as soon as he was within earshot. You looked up from your phone and smiled at him, pushing yourself just slightly off the wall to give him your full attention.

“Maybe.”

“Can I hide with you?”

“Of course.”

He leaned his shoulder up against the wall and crossed his arms over his chest. You tried not let your eyes wander, but it was hard to ignore how defined his muscles had gotten since the last time you’d seen him.

“Nothing’s really changed, huh? They’re all just as crazy as they’ve always been.”

You hummed and then spoke what had been on your mind all night, “We’ve changed. Neither one of us have ended up sneaking off to hide from the party.”

“Until now,” he added, motioning between the two of you and the outside air.

“Do you remember when we used to just sit in the corner at parties and talk all night?”

He nodded, responding, “That was the only reason I ever went to those parties.”

“That’s not true.”

“Did you ever see me anywhere other than by your side?”

You laughed at his question and that was answer enough.

“Do you remember when we kissed?” he asked. The question tumbled from his lips shamelessly. Not even a blush came over his cheeks as he asked. Yours, on the other hand, was clear. “I’ve thought about that kiss way more than I’d like to admit.”

When his eyes lifted to yours, you felt a chill run down your spine. His eyes were dark and yearning and they kept flickering to your lips and back to your eyes again. So, you said, “Me too.”

Everything that happened next was a blur. He grabbed your hand and tugged you out of sight into the alley. His hands gripped your hips and pressed you against the brick as his lips captured yours in a feverish and needy fashion.

You felt the kiss from your head to your toes. It was unlike the one you shared years ago. Sammy was more sure in himself, more confident, just like suspected. He had a lot to make up for. He nudged your legs apart with his knee as his tongue slipped past your lips and into your mouth. You moaned as you rubbed your core against his thigh.

“You have no idea how badly I’ve wanted to do this,” he spoke against your lips. You nodded, letting him know that you felt just the same. His lips hovered over your jaw for a moment before he pressed a kiss to it, then to the skin of your neck. Your head lulled to the side, giving him access to more skin. “I was just a kid back then. I had no idea how to handle a woman like you. But everything’s different now.”

“Different how?” you inquired, eager to know just what he meant by those words. He lifted his head from your neck and took your jaw between his fingers. He could tell you, or he could show you.

“Come home with me.”

You couldn’t leave fast enough. You went inside and complained to your girlfriends about stomach pains while he said goodbyes to the boys, letting them know he’d be taking an Uber with you to make sure you got home safely. No one batted an eye. Who would? It was just Sammy Blais.

Your car pulled up not even ten minutes later. He pulled the door open for you, stared at your ass as you entered, and then slid in right next to you, hand falling to your thigh once more. He shed himself of the light jacket he’d been wearing and threw it over your laps for a little privacy because keeping his hands to himself was not in the cards. With a dress that short, you couldn’t expect him to not touch you.

As the driver spoke nonsense into the otherwise quiet car, Sammy fingers trailed closer to your core until they were brushing along the fabric of your thong. A gasp escaped your lips at his touch.

“You alright, baby?” he asked, turning to look at you. The pet name caught you by surprise, but you simply bit your lip and nodded before dropping your head against his shoulder. He smiled contently and returned his attention to the man behind the wheel while his fingers continued their path.

He pushed the fabric aside and slipped a finger past the lips of your pussy. His movements were painfully slow and your heart hammered in your chest as you yearned for more. As if he could read your mind, he added a second finger to massage your folds and then he sunk them into your heat.

It was excruciating, the way he moved his fingers slowly in and out of you. You were desperate for more but each time you tried to get a little added friction, he pulled his fingers away with a warning glare. It was a sick game of cat and mouse that you were playing all the way to his apartment building.

He held your hand as you stepped out of the car on shaky legs and led you into the building. In the elevator, he lifted your chin and pressed a chaste kiss to your lips before turning your back to his chest and enveloping you in his arms. You could feel his erection pressed against your ass and your pussy throbbed in anticipation of what was to come.

The moment his apartment door was closed, he was pressing you against it.

“J'ai vraiment envie de toi,” he whispered against your throat. You whimpered as he pushed your thong to the side again and pushed his fingers back into your cunt, curling them against your g-spot. “You’re so wet.”

The way he’d already worked your pussy in the car made his touch even more intense. He circled your clit with his thumb. His fingers worked your pussy as he sucked a mark into your neck. It wasn’t long before you began to grind against his hand, already so close to your first orgasm of the night. It was right there, so close, and then he pulled his fingers out and stepped back.

“Bedroom.”

While you flitted off to the bedroom, Sammy took his time kicking his shoes off at the door and dropping his jacket over a kitchen chair. So, you took the opportunity to peel the dress from your body, leaving you only in your panties as you crawled up to his headboard. The sound of his belt hitting the floor in the hallway had you spreading your legs and sliding your fingers beneath the waistband.

When Sammy stepped into the room, you could see him swallow as his eyes caught on your fingers in your pussy. His eyes were dark as he walked towards the end of the bed. In one swift movement, he wrapped a hand around your ankle and yanked you down the bed before grabbing your wrists and pinning them above your head.

“You’re impatient,” he grunted. “This pussy’s mine tonight.” He pressed a rough kiss to your lips. His free hand danced up your thigh and returned to your core. He slid two fingers between your folds. “Do you understand?” You nodded. He curled his fingers inside of you. “I want to hear you. Whose pussy is this?”

“Yours,” you breathed out, chest heaving beneath him.

“Vous êtes si belle.”

He leaned down and attached his lips to your nipple, sucking and biting and drawing all the beautiful sounds from you. His free hand was back to work, tugging your panties down to your knees.

“Do you want my fingers or my mouth?” he asked. He sucked on the sweet spot below your ear, making it nearly impossible to speak. “Choose.”

“Your mouth,” you choked out. “I want your mouth.”

He left a trail of kisses from your neck all the way to your chest, tongue licking and sucking at your nipples before continuing down your stomach to your hips. As he began to your thighs, his fingers played with your nipples, setting off every nerve in your body. You opened your eyes to look down at him between your thighs and as soon as your gaze met his, he licked a stripe up your core.

You half-whispered, half-moaned, “Fuck.”

“Louder.”

Shy and reserved were two words that you’d never use to describe Sammy again, not after the way his tongue caressed you. The sounds that fell from your mouth only egged him on. He loved your moans, but he knew he could draw something more out of you. So, when his fingers began to work in tandem with his tongue and you released a scream, he was determined to get you to scream again.

You dropped your hands into his hair as his tongue stroked your core. You tugged and he groaned into your cunt, the vibration causing you to shudder beneath him. You began to grind against him as he tongue fucked you. The sound of your whimpers and heavy breathing only made him work harder and faster, eager to have you cum on his face.

“Tu as tellement bo goût.”

You quivered beneath him, moaning out his name as your first orgasm washed over you. He couldn’t take his eyes off your face as it twisted in pleasure while he continued to lap up the wetness of your pussy. You placed your hands at the top of his head as the stimulation became too much and pushed him away lightly.

He stood, admiring every inch of your naked body as you caught you breath beneath him. You looked fucking perfect and so fucked out already that he was too eager to see what you’d look like after taking his dick.

“Come on, baby,” he spoke softly. “You’re not tapping out are you?”

“Fuck you,” you grunted, blissed out smile betraying your own words.

“Please do,” he said, eyes dark.

After a deep breath, you got onto all fours before crawling to the end of bed to undo his jeans. He watched you hungrily as your fingers moved along the zipper and pushed the pants down. After he kicked them to the side, you trailed your fingers along the waistband of his underwear and watched him shiver. You never wanted to watch someone unravel more than you wanted him to.

You pulled them off and freed his cock, eyes lighting up at the size of it. He smiled down at you, admiring the way you looked on your knees for him.

Your hands curled around his member, gathering the precum from the tip to coat over it. He pulled his bottom lip between his teeth as he studied your every movement. One hand cupped your cheek and slid into the hair at the back of your head as you brought your lips closer. You wrapped your lips around his length, tongue flattening against it as you took him deeper.

He wanted to keep watching, but he could hardly keep his eyes open or his head from lulling to the side. Your mouth felt so good around him. With one hand on his shaft and the other on his balls, he could hardly think straight. Your tongue teased his tip before taking him in again, gasps escaping his mouth. Each time, you took him deeper and faster and he could feel his orgasm building.

“Stop,” he grunted, hand wrapping in your hair to keep you from continuing. You were knelt in front of him with your mouth open, tongue out, so ready to take him back into your mouth. It was hard to resist. “Fuck, I want you to keep going, but I need to cum while I’m inside that pretty little pussy of yours.”

You whimpered at his words.

“Lay down.”

You did as you were told once again and watched as he grabbed a condom from inside his bedside table and rolled it over his cock. You spread your legs as he crawled up the bed. His hands traveled up your thighs again and he ran his fingers along your folds as he captured your lips in his again. Then, he pulled away to wrap his hand around his shaft.

“You gonna take my cock, mon ange?” he asked, his voice soft and sweet contrasting the vulgarity of his question. You nodded, desperate to feel him inside of you after all this time. Your hands fluttered down to grab his length and pull it into you, but he pulled back. The smirk on his lips was teasing, mischievous. “Beg for it.”

“Sammy,” you whined. He shook his head, hand pumping himself as he waited impatiently to get what he wanted. “Please.”

“You can do better than that, pretty girl. Tell me how badly you want it.”

Never would you have thought those words could come from timid Sammy Blais, but he hovered over you, staring darkly at your naked form with demands falling effortlessly from his lips. This was what he’d been hiding this entire time? You wanted more of it.

“C’mon, baby,” you moaned. He watched your lips as you begged and brushed the head of his member along your entrance. “I need your cock. I want you to fill me up and fuck me until I’m screaming. Don’t make me wait any longer, please.”

Finally, he pushed into you. He sucked in a deep breath as you threw your head back, eyes clamping shut. He gave you a moment to adjust, using it for himself to breathe as well. He wanted this to last more than a few minutes. You nodded at him to move once you were ready and he fucked into you slowly, murmuring, “You’re so fucking tight.”

“You feel so good,” you told him, fingers curling through the hair at the nape of his neck. You wrapped your hands around his biceps as his thrusts got faster. When he bottomed out, he stilled to get a good look at the euphoria on your face. You met his eyes and wrapped your legs around his hips. “Harder, Sammy. Please.”

You were still begging and he fucking loved it. He snapped his hips to yours again, then again, and again. He swallowed your moans with his lips. You wrapped your legs around his hips, drawing him in farther. You were so full of him, but you just couldn’t get enough.

He buried his face into your neck as his thrusts became sloppier. He sucked along your neck, no doubt leaving marks that could be discovered tomorrow. Your nails dug into his shoulders leaving marks of your own. The sound of his heavy breathing and the whimpers falling from your lips indicated that you were both rapidly approaching your highs.

Sammy wrapped an arm around your waist and flipped your bodies to have you on top. In this new position, he heled you to his chest and fucked up into you. He was hitting every spot and you were a moaning mess with each thrust.

“Cum, YN,” he spoke through jagged breaths. “Cum all over my cock.”

His hand snaked back to your core as you rode him, massaging the sensitive bud to help get you to your orgasm. You chanted his name as your walls fluttered around him. He fucked you through your climax, French curses falling from his lips and into the skin of your neck.

He continued through your aftershocks, chasing his orgasm desperately as your obscene moans filled the room. He came with a final thrust that you felt in your stomach and he collapsed on top of you breathing heavily. Your fingernails scratched his back soothingly as he softened inside of you.

He rolled over and stared at the ceiling as his breathing evened out. You did the same, though one of your hands reached out to curl your fingers between his. He glanced over at you with pink cheeks and sighed, “Holy shit.”

After a moment, you asked, “Sammy, why haven’t you been fucking me like that since high school?”

He rolled over to hover over you once more and kissed you hard, all with a smile on his face.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I told you that I didn’t know what I was doing back then.”

“Well, you definitely do now.”

“And that means I have six years to make up for,” he said, biting lightly on your bottom lip. “I hope you aren’t planning on sleeping for a while.”

Sammy picked you up and carried you out of the bedroom, smiling while listening to your giggles the entire way. When he dropped you, it was in the bathroom and he turned the shower on before turning to trail his eyes along your body to your eyes.

“How about a shower?”

Bonus

“Where’s YN?” one of your roommates called down the hall to the others in the kitchen. She was standing in your doorway, staring at the empty bed in front of her in confusion. The other girls approached from the kitchen and stopped once they saw what she was looking at.

“I thought Sammy brought her here last night.”

“Me too.”

“I thought one of you checked last night.”

The sound of a key in the lock of the front door had them running to the living room to greet you. You pushed the door open totally not expecting to be bombarded by the girls.

“Where have you been?” “Is that a St. Louis Blues sweatshirt?” “Is that Sammy’s number on the sleeve?” “Is that a hickey?!”

As they asked their questions and made assumptions, albeit correct ones, you walked into the kitchen to grab a water bottle. They followed, still echoing the same questions over and over. Finally, as you sat at the kitchen table, they simmered.

“I was at Sammy’s,” you said. You pinched the shoulder of the hoodie and waved the material. “and this is his sweatshirt,” you continued. You yanked the collar away from your neck. “and these are hickeys.”

“There’s more than one,” someone muttered.

The look on their faces were ones of pure shock. Their brains were struggling to understand what exactly happened last night, though the proof of it was right in front of them.

“You fucked Sammy?!”

You told them how his fingers worked you and the way he made you scream while you came like no other man had before. You told them about the shower you took after, how it was both and sexy and sweet the way that he washed your hair and then fucked you against the shower wall. And they sat there in shock, realizing that clearly they’d not known Sammy all that much after all.

Some things, though, you chose to keep to yourself. Like the sweet nothings he whispered in your ear this morning while he fucked you slowly and passionately in his bed just twenty minutes before dropping you off. And the promise he made to fuck you again, and again, and again.

[filia-sapientiae]

Como El Viento (Like the Wind)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Mexican!Reader

Summary: Four months ago, Tony hired a new computer scientist for a temporary classified assignment. Bucky didn’t plan on falling in love with her. But now the assignment is over and she’s going back home. Will he be enough to make her stay?

Series Warnings: Novela style drama, angst, cursing, crazy Mexican family dynamics, typical cartel business, drugs and alcohol, smut, rich people being assholes, Spanish 

A/N: This is for Mimi’s One Hit Wonder Challenge hosted by @captain-rogers-beard​     (Inspiration in BOLD)

I’ve had this story in my head for a little over a year and it was literally in my drafts titled “She’s Like the Wind”, so when I saw your challenge, I knew I had to participate!!! 

I’m so sorry it’s late!!! I really struggled in deciding whether or not to make it a WOC!Reader fic. And then it turned into an OC fic. And then went back Latina!Reader. And then it turned into a vague Reader fic, but my brain just wouldn’t let me write it that way. 

This quarantine has given me a lot of time to binge Spanish novelas on Netflix. So I finally settled on making a Mexican!Reader fic. You can totally use the QUEEN Selena Quintanilla as the face claim. It’s how my brain pictured the Reader. But you do you!!! I’ve got a little bit of everything planned for this story. It will definitely read like a Spanish novela!!!

____________________________________________________________________

Bucky looked at himself in the mirror. The bags under his eyes were a dead giveaway of the sleep that eluded him for the past two weeks. His hair was dirty and haphazardly thrown into a bun. He sighed as he walked away from his reflection and made his way down to the training room.

Steve eyed Bucky as he made his way to a punching bag.

How could he have been so stupid?

Punch.

He remembered fawning over every dame that crossed his line of sight. But this was different. She was so different.

Punch.

And he had to go and fuck it all up!

Bucky swung at the bag ferociously until it split open and sand spilled onto the floor.

“Buck, that’s the fourth bag this week!”

“I can’t stop thinking about her!” Bucky paced in front of the broken bag. His hands fisting in his hair. “Steve, I told Y/N I was in love with her. I put myself out there and she left!”

“You did what?! Bucky, she was in New York on temporary assignment! You knew this!”

“I didn’t plan on falling in love with her!!!” Bucky snapped at Steve.

“Buck,” Steve pulled his best friend into a hug. “What happened?”

“I freaked out when she said she was leaving and it all came out.”

“What’d she say?”

“What do you think she said? She’s gone back to California to her fiance!”

“So she’s still in love with him?”

“No, I don’t think so.” Bucky whispered under his breath. He felt defeated.

“Huh? Whaddya mean?” Steve asked incredulously.

“You remember the night we all went out for drinks and I brought her home early after she twisted her ankle dancing on the bar counter?” Bucky began to tell the account of that night, “God, I was already in love with her then.”

Y/N was snuggled against Bucky’s chest as he carried her up to her room. Bucky laid her gently on the bed. He looked down at her and his chest tightened.

“Bucky, what’s wrong with me?” She sat up with tears in her eyes.

“Nothing’s wrong with you doll. You just twisted your ankle. You’ll be good as new in a couple of days.” Bucky reassured her.

She started sobbing, “No no no no. What’s wrong with me Bucky? Why can’t I bring myself to marry Mateo?”

“Y/N, you guys are engaged. You’re getting married soon.” He sat on the edge of the bed.

“No. I postponed the wedding again!” Y/N blubbered.

“That’s ok. Why’d you postpone? What’s going on?” Bucky asked. Y/N shook her head.

“He is so good. He’s kind and sweet. He comes from a good family. But God, I am so unhappy!”

“Then why stay with him? Why are you going to marry him if you’re not happy?”

“I have to marry him. I promised them.” Y/N sank back down into the mattress and curled to her side away from Bucky.

“Doll, you don’t have to marry him. Who did you-” Bucky was met with Y/N’s quiet snores. He got up from the bed and covered her with a blanket. Bucky took one last look at the woman in front of him and left quietly.

“Buck, she was drunk.” Steve argued.

“I know, but you should’ve seen her. She’s not in love with him.” Bucky rested his head against the wall and sighed.

_____________________________________________________________

Y/N wrapped herself in a warm blanket and sat on the windowsill watching the wind blow through the trees.

Y/N had isolated herself for the past two weeks. She kept replaying her last night with Bucky over and over in her head. The feel of his lips. The way her body responded to his kiss. The desperate way he told her he loved her. The way he yelled at her.

“Tell me that you love me too!”

“He doesn’t make you happy. I do! I know I do.”

“Am I a fool to believe that I have anything you need?”

Y/N curled the blanket around her tighter and cried. After a few minutes she let out a frustrated yell. She had cried so much for the last two weeks during her self imposed isolation. She was tired of crying. Y/N stood up and paced around her living room. She was going crazy alone with her thoughts in the small apartment. She knew she couldn’t hide from the world forever.

Y/N stopped and entertained the idea of running away and starting fresh with a new life and new identity. She could do it. She knew people. You didn’t become a computer scientist as good as she was without knowing people. Hell, she had been sought out by Tony Stark for her skills. She would be free.

Y/N started pacing again. She couldn’t do that. She had to go back home. She had responsibilities and duty. The perfect Mexican daughter lived at home until marriage. But what if she didn’t want to be that anymore?

Now there was so much more to consider. The conversation she had with Tony had left her unsure of what she wanted.

“Hey Baby Houseman? Friday said you were in the lab.”

Her hair was up in a messy ponytail and her eyeliner was smudged.

“Are you ok? Were you crying?” Tony kneeled down by her side.

Y/N shook her head. “I’m fine. I’m good. What’s up Tony?”

“Are you sure everything is ok?”

“I’m good Tony.” Y/N snapped.

Tony nodded, “I have a business proposition for you.” He sat on the lab desk in front of her.

“I’m listening.”

“Come work for me. I want you to be Stark Industries’ computer network architect. You’d make communication and use of technology easier for the company to use.”

“Tony, you have your AI system, what do you need me for?” Y/N was confused.

“I want to put you in charge of Friday’s operational system.”

“Tony! I can’t take over control of Friday. Friday is your brainchild! Your baby!” Y/N gasped.

“That’s why I need you. I’m not getting any younger Y/N. Pepper and I want a family. I’m ready, but I can’t make the same mistakes as my father. In order to do that, I need to delegate responsibilities. I can’t let the company take priority over my family. That’s why I need you. You’re the only one I trust for the position. What do you say?”

Y/N stayed quiet in disbelief. “Can I think about it? I need to go home and talk to my family about it. My fiance is in California.”

Tony nodded, “Sure, take the time that you need. We’ll talk when you’re ready..”

Y/N sighed. When had her life become such a mess? The weight of her responsibility and duty and honor was steadily crushing the levity of independence and her dreams.

Lost in her thoughts, she hadn’t noticed her phone buzzing.

Shit.

10 missed calls from “Madre Mia”.

Shit.

Another call came in.

“Hello?” She knew she was in trouble the second she answered.

“Y/N L/N! I have been calling you! Porque tienes un pinche telefono si no lo contestas?!”

“I’m sorry Mami. I was busy.”

“Oh too busy for your own mother?”

“No Mami. I’m here. We’re talking now. What’s up?” Y/N sighed pinching the bridge of her nose.

“You need to come home. Now.”

“Mami, I’m still working-”

“Don’t lie to me Y/N! Que crees, que tengo cara de estupida? I know you’ve been done for two weeks!”

Shit. Y/N was really in trouble. How did they find out?

“Mami-”

“You need to get home now! Estoy harta! You’ve pushed your wedding back too many times. You’re getting married in two weeks.” There was no room for negotiation in her voice. Y/N knew her mother had been pushed beyond her limit.

“Mom, I can’t. Tony offered me a job! It’s a really good job and I want to take it!” Her voice went a little high. The same way it always did when Y/N tried to get her mom to understand.

“No me importa. We’re done playing your games! Your father and I let you postpone because you wanted to go off to school. Ok. We indulged you when you postponed because you said you wanted a doctorate. Fine. We even let you go to New York to help The Avengers. You’re done. You have things to take care of here at home.”

“Mami, please! I promise-” Y/N was not done trying to bargain for her freedom.

“No Y/N! You are marrying Mateo in two weeks. Todo ya esta listo.”

Screw this!

Y/N was old enough to make her own decisions. She was accomplished. She could handle her own! “Mom, I am 26 years old! I have a doctorate! You can’t-”

“Y qué? Crees que tu te mandas sola? No. You are a L/N. You will do as I say as long as I run this family.”

Fine. That’s how she wanted to play? Y/N was done being nice. Now she was going to be heard. “I thought it was Papi that ran things.”

“Who do you think orders him around?”

“What if I say no?” Y/N words dripped with rancor.

“Yo misma me encargare que nunca vuelvas a ver a tus hermanas.”

Y/N voice caught in her throat. No! She couldn’t. Her mother wasn’t ruthless.

“Mami, please! You wouldn’t do that!” Y/N choked out. Her mother held all the bargaining chips. Y/N had lost.

“Try me Y/N. I expect you on the next flight out.” The call ended.

FUCK!

Y/N threw her phone against the wall.

FUCK!!!

How could she threaten me like that? Threaten to keep my own sisters away from me?

Y/N wiped away her tears. The severity of her situation made its home in her chest.

It was her freedom or her sisters. She had to choose between her dream job or family duty. She had to choose between herself or Luisa and Blanca.

What was she willing to lose?

The decision wasn’t an arduous one. She knew what she had to choose. Y/N made her way to her room to start packing her bags.

PT. 2 coming soon

[mytearsrricochet]

miss americana should’ve stayed in the drafts sis

[nycttophilic-a]

MUNDAY MEME: I'm really curious so why not reply to all 8)

Let’s do it!!

🍐 - How many ships have you considered but rejected for your muse?

....I think I’ve accepted every ship thrown my way for all of my muses. XDD

🍊 - What are your favourite genres of threads? Fluff? Angst? Etc

I answered this in a previous ask, so to summarize, aLL OF THEM!! -^-

🍎 - If you had to chose a new faceclaim for your muse, who would you pick?

Haha for which one?? Maybe Rukia Kuchiki for Lia as a child... or as a teen lol.

🍋 - Does your muse complain about things to you? If so, what?

Grelle complains about everything. Kira complains about Grelle. Anne complains that she’s in no threads and is bored. Lia complains that everyone’s too loud and won’t fucking stop complaining. =~=

🍌 - What drew you into the fandom in the first place?

Well, the LoZ fandom was my very first and Kira was based off of it, and my uncle brought me into that fandom as a really small child!! I always loved Twilight Princess, and so of course I made an OC based off of it!!

🍉 - If you considered a time travel thread, when would your muse go?

Kira would go back to her childhood to help her younger self be strong. Grelle would go back to her own childhood to see her sisters again. Anne would go back to her childhood (again) to see Leic before he went insane and to stay by his side as his older sister should’ve. Lia would go back in time to see Kira’s, Ciel’s, Sebastian’s, and Grelle’s childhood and past.

🍓 - What’s your sweetest rp experience so far?

ALL OF THEM ARE TOO SWEET JSVSISO I CANT PICK JUST ONE!!

🍇 - Have you even encountered any partners that threw a tantrum at you?

Haha no, and I’m glad. That would instantly get a block. If they have a problem with me, tell me in a calm and mature manner.

🍒 - How many friends do you have on here?

....umm.... More than I have irl XDD I’ve got you, Big Sis, Gold, and so many others..!!! Love you guys. X3

🍍 - How many drafts are you stalling with this meme?

NONE.

...lol I have 5 things in my drafts, but those are all musings stuff. No replies.

🥝 - If you could travel anywhere in the world, where would you go?

LONDON!! Without a doubt. -w-

🍅 - Have you ever had a case of mistaken identity for your muse or another?

....lol have no idea what this means, so probably not.

🍆 - How much sin appears on your dash every day?

I don’t know. I don’t look. XDD If I see cuties post, I avoid it XDD But I HAVE noticed a lot more on Sin—Sunday, of course.

🥒 - Are you thinking about reviving old muses? Who?

Well... I used to play as Link and Midna from Twilight Princess, but seeing all these other awesome roleplayers play as them, I know I would NOT do them justice. -w- However, I’ve been debating whether or not I should answer asks for Post Demons (the AU Lia and Anne are from) Sebastian and Ciel, who is an adult and a demon. Also, may answer questions for Anne’s twin brother—and Lia’s insane husband—Leic Phantomhive. If you wanna ask those boys anything, hit me up!!

🥕 - What do you think about the current theme trends?

I love them all..?? Lol I love all threads. -w-

🌽 - Is there a fandom you’re too intimidated to join?

I was intimidated by the BSD fandom, but I joined it anyway. -w-

🌶 - Do you find your muse attractive?

That depends. Do I acknowledge the fact that they are all gorgeous women? Absolutely. Would I date them? Hell no, they are my children.

🥔 - What’s the dumbest mistake you’ve made in rp?

I think I had Kira dramatically kill a dude that was already dead once lmao. Basically misunderstanding stuff lol

🥜 - What’s the nuttiest thread you’ve ever had?

Idk, Ivan, our thread(s) may be the nuttiest XDD But the one with Kira and Sebastian was pretty fucking insane too XDD

Thanks for the ask!! That was fun!! X3

[fell-in-love-didnt-you]

Royals: SnowBaz Fanfiction;Part One

Loved the royal engagement/wedding/relationship between Prince Harry and Duchess Meghan. It obviously inspired me for this AU.

Simon knew it was going to be difficult with Baz.

Baz Pitch wasn’t exactly the most eloquent when he told Simon about his…situation. Oldest child in the most respected family in pretty much all of western Europe, and he’d just conveniently forgot to mention that within the first two months. They’d been to secluded, expensive restaurants that Simon could’ve only hoped for when he was a kid. The most expensive meal he’d ever had before meeting Baz was an eight dollar basket of chicken tenders he’d had courtesy of his estranged father.

But Baz…Baz had bought him nearly one hundred dollars of just wine…in one night. Simon had gone wide-eyed when he’d seen the bill, feeling his heart race as Baz moved his hand to grab the check. But Baz had smiled when he saw Simon’s crazy-eyes, laughing at him slightly.

“I’ve got it covered,” he mumbled in a tone of voice that Simon was embarrassed to say was sexy. He’d blushed a bit, trying to refuse and knowing full-well he’d never be able to cover his half, but Baz smiled again. He covered Simon’s freckled hand with his own darker one. Simon felt himself smile just a tiny bit. “Really, I’ve got it covered, Snow.”

So two fucking months later, when Simon told Baz that he wanted to put this on lock, Baz looked like he’d been shot. Simon had backed up then, but Baz just smiled and pulled him down on Simon’s shitty couch that had various stains from various takeout places. And then he’d said it. Simon thought it was honestly a joke. Baz? His boyfriend (hopefully) Baz? A royal?

He’d laughed. He’d laughed right in Baz’s face, turning red. It was absurd. Totally. Completely. The royal family’s son wasn’t named Baz. He was named something weird like Tyranny or Tyrannosaurus. The prince lived in seclusion and hadn’t really been out in public since years ago. Simon had remembered the day the prince had been sent to a prestigious boarding school for privileged kids. Simon remembered wanting that so much.

Baz hadn’t laughed back. He just kinda sat there until Simon had calmed down. Then he’d pulled out a tiny photo from his wallet, showing an image of him and the actual fucking queen. And there were even more photos on his phone, showing him with the entire royal family in different settings, different clothes, and different times of day. Some were from other countries. Nearly everyone Simon had idolized since he’d been a child was there.

“So all the fancy dinners…?” Simon began to ask, not really knowing where the question was going. Baz nodded. “And all the private restaurants…?” Baz nodded again.

And that was really just the beginning of it. He’d been dating a royal for two months and not known it. How the hell could he be so oblivious? Baz’s name wasn’t Baz. It was Tyrannus Basilton. The nickname had come from his middle name. The resemblance of older Baz to ten-year-old Baz was undeniable. Simon should’ve seen it earlier. The only reason he didn’t was because Baz had actively stayed out of the press so much.

This had brought so many speedbumps into the relationship. Simon was a commoner. He came from literally nothing. He was born out of wedlock, given up immediately after birth, adopted back by his father, and then basically dumped out with nothing once again. He wasn’t royalty. He didn’t have a dollar to his name. And Baz…Baz went to prestigious boarding schools, could have everything he wanted at the snap of a finger, and could have literally anyone he wanted. And he chose Simon. 

...

Simon tightened his grip on Baz’s warm hands, the morning light filtering through the flat they share. The bed sheets are wrapped around their legs, a little cold but still offering enough warmth for comfort. The morning haze in his mind cleared in a few moments, and he felt that Baz was breathing normally, and even a little quickly, against the nape of his neck. Simon smiled, gripping Baz’s fingers and slowly turning over, curling up against the toned chest he had grown so accustomed to.  

“Good morning,” Baz drawled in a low, gravelly voice.

“Morning,” Simon hummed back, lazily pressing his lips against Baz’s. He felt Baz cringe a little, and Simon laughed. “Is it the morning breath or the scruff this time?”

Baz took a moment to reply, mocking a thinking face and eventually saying, “Both, I think.” He laughed as Simon pressed his cold hands against his face, turning away from the bed and walking towards the bathroom. The cold draft of the flat hit Simon as he closed the bathroom door. The tile stuck to his warm feet, and he turned the nozzle of the shower, feeling the warm spray under his hand before he got in.

The bathroom was quite nice; Baz had asked Simon to move into a place together, and they’d decided (against Simon’s better judgement) on a more expensive two-story flat closer to Buckingham than either of their previous places. It was so much more high-end than anything Simon had ever stepped in. He was still enamored by the multiple showerheads in the shower and changing lights that Baz had installed, all based on an app on their phones.

Seriously, how had Simon come into this?

The bathtub was more akin to a Jacuzzi, the lighting was that of a Kim Kardashian photoshoot, and that was only the bathroom! As Simon scrubbed his hair with his favorite soap that one-fourth of the price of Baz’s, had stared at the photo of them on the bathroom counter. Photos of him and Baz were littered around the flat. Baz was the one that usually printed them; Simon wasn’t really sure why Baz loved printing photos and framing them and putting them everywhere, but he loved it. He loved being reminded that Baz loved him enough to put photos of them everywhere. Perhaps it was a little vain, but Simon didn’t care.

Simon stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around his waist. He had to get to work soon. Penelope would chastise him for being late to her flower shop again, but running a shop with your best friend had setbacks and privileges. Being able to show up a few minutes late was definitely a privilege.

He walked out into the room and saw Baz still lounging in the bed, glasses a bit askew on his face and sheets wrapped up to his waist. If Simon didn’t have to go back to work, he’d climb back in bed and stay the night with Baz, but that’s just not how Simon wanted to be. He always needed to have something to do: work, school, or recreational. He logically knew that Baz’s money could keep both of them out of work for years to come, but Simon didn’t want that. He wanted to be as normal as possible.

“I had an idea the other day,” Baz said, yawning in the middle and stretching his arms above his head. Simon’s throat ran dry, and he turned back to the massive closet. Most of the clothing in here was Baz’s; he had many more social clothes than Simon did. Being a prince came with many duties, and Simon understood that.

“What kind of idea?” Simon asked, beginning to pat his hair dry as he flipped through a few options for work. “The kind of idea that’s good, or the kind that will end up with you in the news for a scandal?” Simon turned for dramatic effect and fanned his face in faux shock.

Baz laughed and tried to throw a square decorative pillow at him, but Simon caught it and returned a much better hit aimed right at Baz’s face. Baz’ laughter died down, and Simon leaned against the frame of the closet door.

“The kind that could go either way,” Baz finally answered, twisting the sheets in between his fingertips. Simon nodded, a small but nervous smile still on his lips. He waited for Baz to say whatever it was he was thinking about. “I was wondering if you’d join the Church of England?”

Simon’s mouth involuntarily opened slightly, and he cast his eyes down to the floor. The Church of England? He bit at his lips before responding. “I-um-I thought that was only for people like you.”

Baz rolled his eyes and said, “You are people like me. Why else would I ask?” Simon shrugged and turned back to the closet, pulling out his worn baseball tee and a pair of light wash jeans. He put everything on and jumped a little when he felt Baz’s arms wrap around his middle.

“Give it a few days,” Baz whispered into his ear, his open lips warming the shell of his ear. “If it’s a no, then it’s a no. You don’t have to say yes.”

Simon sighed and turned into Baz’s embrace, hugging his bare back and breathing into the nape of Baz’s neck. He closed his eyes and breathed in Baz’s morning scent: bergamot, sleep, and a bit of his own musk. It was comforting. It was home to Simon. He fell asleep and woke up to this. It was uniquely Baz.

“It’s definitely not a no,” Simon replied, pulling back from the hug and moving to sit at the small desk by the high windows of the room. The plain white curtains that hung to the floor covered the bedroom from the outside world. Here, it was just Simon and Baz. As he tugged on his old Chuck Taylor’s that had been so worn that some parts were completely falling apart (like the sole), he looked up at where Baz was now searching through the closet for days clothes. “I just thought that people princes dated didn’t really join the Church of England until…you know.”

Baz stopped his rummaging and clung onto a dark blue shirt, sighing. “Si,” he breathed out, looking over at the desk, “I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t in this for the long run.” Simon blushed at that, immediately ducking his head so Baz didn’t see. The long run. Simon had known since practically the first date that he wanted this to last as long as it could. He himself was definitely in it for the long run, so hearing Baz say it…his heart did a little spin, jump, and crash in his chest.

“I’m in it for the long run, too,” he mumbled, as he took his car keys from the desk and walked to where Baz stood, smiling up at his boyfriend. He pressed a long but light kiss to Baz’s lips and stepped back. “We’ll talk about the messy details when I get home,” he added, stepping to where the door to the bedroom was. “We’ll figure it out.”

Baz sighed with a dopey grin and said, “You know my mum and dad have to approve you and this, right?” Simon swallowed thickly and nodded, turning the knob on the door. “Okay,” Baz added. “Have a great day at work. Tell Bunce I said hi.”

“I will,” Simon said, smiling as he walked out of the bedroom. He stepped down the modern white stairs of the flat to the base floor and walked past the kitchen, grabbing a granola bar and opening the front door.

…

“You’re fucking kidding me!” Penny yelled, slapping Simon’s shoulder with a shocked expression on her face. Simon nodded, a bright smile still on his face. “The fucking Church of England! You know what that means, right?”

The shop was empty because the morning rush was over and they were waiting for the middle of the day. That was the second busiest time of the day; the evening was worse. After a week, they usually ran out of roses, daisies, and tulips. That’s how successful Penny’s marketing was. She was fucking brilliant, and Simon knew it. In retrospect, Simon knew she was smarter and wiser now than he’d ever be, but it didn’t other him. He loved Penny so much. She’d gotten him out of so many stupid situations before.

Baz also loved her, too. Sometimes Simon would just sit back and watch the friendly debates they got in. It was nice to see that Penny and Baz got along well with each other. Simon doesn’t know what he would have done if they hated each other. He didn’t want to give either of them up, and living in that type of animosity would kill him.

“I honestly think he just wants me to meet his parents,” Simon mumbled, cutting the ends of some chrysanthemums and placing them in the vase on the counter. “He’s talked about it more often now, and we have been together for a few years.”

Penny sighed and said, “I met Micah’s parents after a few months. How have you survived this long with the fucking prince?”

“If you say fuck one more time, you won’t meet them either,” Simon laughed. He leaned back against the counter and looked at Penny, who was busying herself with a wreath adorned with multicolored flowers of all shapes and sizes. She turned, a tired but loving expression on her face.

“So you don’t want to meet his parents?” Penny asked sincerely, walking over across Simon and leaning against the wall.

Simon shook his head, swept a shaking hand through his hair, and replied, “It’s not that. I just…I’m a commoner. I come from nothing. Like, quite literally nothing. The second Baz and I go public, the media is going to be a battlefield for who can dig up the most tarnished part of my past. Even I don’t know what it is.”

Penny nodded and remained silent for a minute, picking at her chipped nails. She then said, “What if Baz proposes?” The question hung heavy in the air, and after a few beats, Penny stammered, “You wouldn’t say yes?”

Simon huffed out and said, “Of course I’d say yes, Penn. There’s just so much that comes with being together. I’d never have a private life after that. I’d never be able to just walk out of the flat and come to work with you. On the brighter side, we’d have even more business.”

“Unless you fucked up,” Penny cut in, an evil smirk on her face. Simon laughed and nodded.

“Yeah, unless I fucked up,” he conceded. “Then we’d probably have to close shop altogether.”

Penny sighed, a small laugh still coming out between her lips. “You’re way in over your head, Salisbury,” she mumbled, beginning to walk to the front where a customer had just entered. Salisbury, Simon thought to himself. Just another part of himself he’d given up for Baz. Another part he’d have to give up.

…

The dinner the night of Simon’s official acceptance into the Church of England was too fancy for him.

There were too many spoons and forks to count. Every time Simon picked up the wrong one, Baz would politely point out the right one, which was always one over. Simon felt like he was at a fucking cotillion class. It wasn’t that he was frustrated or mad at Baz; he just needed to get this down now before he met Baz’s parents.

Baz’s parents…Jesus Christ of Nazareth, Simon thought.

The low lighting and candles settled around their private booth made Simon calmer. He wasn’t embarrassed to do something stupid in front of Baz; this was their norm. Simon was the one that didn’t know left foot from right foot, but Baz could point them out in the dark, blind, and deaf. The dynamic was comforting.

They held hands across the table. Simon’s right in Baz’s left. Close, but not suffocated. The dinner was gone. There was just fancy glasses of too-expensive champagne and a finished plate of chocolate cake they’d shared. Simon was stuffed to the brim. He would explode if someone even touched his stomach. The silence was comforting. Baz was sitting there, gazing at Simon with a smile. Simon loved that smile. It was reserved for him and only him. That was the smile Baz had shared on with him on their first date.

“Simon,” Baz drawled, his voice only a whisper. Simon hummed in response, running his thumb over Baz’s hand., but Baz just chuckled to himself. It made Simon laugh, too. He was wearing a dopey grin afterwards. These were the nights he cherished the most. There was no pressure to be perfect. No one was staring at them and making snide comments under their breath. This was just them.

Simon lifted his head to the ceiling and closed his eyes, letting out a breath from his mouth and relaxing his shoulders. Baz’s hand left his, and Simon nearly clenched on open air. The feelings of Baz’s fingers were still on his, and Simon opened his eyes and looked back down to see where Baz had gone.

His breathing stopped when he looked to the end of the table where Baz was knelt, a tiny blue velvet box in his hand. His suit jacket was a little uneven on his shoulders, and Simon felt himself involuntarily move his hand to even it out. It stopped midair, where Baz slowly encompassed it in his own.

“I forgot what I was going to say,” Baz whispered, his voice stuck a little in his throat. Simon choked out a laugh. “But the gist was,” Baz continued, “that I love you, and I’ll do anything for you.” He opened the tiny box, and Simon nearly had a heart attack.

It looked older, the gold on the edges more bronze than polished. A single diamond lay at the top, little lines curved near it. It was so fucking simple, but it was like Baz just knew. He always just knew. Simon drew his eyebrows together in a halfhearted way to try and stop the tears he felt were coming.

“So, um…” Simon could tell the words were caught again, and he quickly took Baz’s cheeks in his hand, moving down and placing a hard kiss on his lips.

“Yes,” Simon whispered, face only centimeters apart from Baz’s. He could see that Baz had cried, too. “A thousand times yes.”  

...

this is the ring 

[ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes]

Be My Baby Part 15 *Epilogue

Summary: Charlotte goes by Charlie in the summer of 1963. Sebastian works at the resort her family is staying at. He teaches her how to dance.

Chapter Summary: Summer. 1969. 

Warnings: None 

Epilogue: At Last Save the Last Dance for Me

My lonely days are over and life is like a song

At last the skies above are blue

So darlin’ save the last dance for me.

           Summer 1969

           I wasn’t sure when I’d return to the Downey Resort, if ever. It certainly seemed to be an opportune time. I’d been in Nepal for a little over two years on my trip for the Peace Corps. Then I left again for Brazil, spending another two years. Now I was back in the states, ready to start a new chapter of my life.

           Problem was I wasn’t sure what that chapter would involve. I was fast approaching my twenty-fifth birthday and my mom was horrified that I was married and pregnant with my third child. I assured her there were more important things in life than settling down but that didn’t calm her.

           I hadn’t found anyone who made me feel the same way he did. For a year or two, I chalked it up the relationship to puppy love. That’s what my parents said. But over time I realized it was more. I had perhaps met my soulmate.

           We had kept in touch right up until I left for Nepal. I often missed him and kept a few Polaroid pictures of him with me as I traveled. But I was so busy there wasn’t a lot of time to brood on the relationship.

           Now it was August and I was back in the Catskills. I drove up with my parents who I was living with until I found my own apartment. We were meeting our sister who was already there vacationing with her husband, Chris, and two children.

           They didn’t waste time. Right before I left for Nepal, Chris asked Laurie to marry him and they had a whirlwind of a wedding. Laurie refused to wait because she wanted me there as her maid of honor and did not want to wait two years for me to get back.

           They had a honeymoon baby, John Christopher Evans or Jack, and then Sandra Mae Evans came along. Now Laurie was pregnant again, this time with twins and I was at least happy to be able to be there for the birth this time.

           Even with kid three and four on the way, Laurie and Chris were still just as in love with each other as the day they met. And I was so happy for her. But I wondered if that could’ve been Sebastian and me.

           “Grammy!” Two little toddlers rushed up to us. My mom gasped and knelt down to scoop up her grandchildren.

           “Hi, my little ones.” She kissed their cheeks. Laurie and Chris had moved to Boston about a year after they married. Chris landed a well-paying job and Laurie was the housewife she always wanted to be. Fortunately, she listened to my rants about women’s rights and agreed whole-heartedly. But she was happiest at home with her children, which was fine by me.

           I smiled at my niece and nephew. I wasn’t the best with kids. I’d done a lot of work with children in orphanages during my time away. But I wasn’t confident with my ability as a nurturer. Chris and Laurie made it look so easy but I was sure if I babysat Jack and Sandra I’d make a mistake.

           But I was warming up to them, especially since the two toddlers refused to leave me alone.

           Laurie squealed and ran to hug me tightly. “I’m so glad you decided to come!”

           “Well, I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to walk down memory lane.” I forced a smile. In reality, the drive up the mountains had been tough. My mind couldn’t help but wander to the wild idea that Sebastian would be there. He wouldn’t be.

           Chris walked over and smiled. “It’s nice to see you, Charlie.”

           “You too. Excited for a fuller house?” I teased.

           “We’re ready. We just have to double everything and we should be all set.” Chris chuckled and wrapped an arm around Laurie.

           “Well, I’m happy for you both. I couldn’t imagine a more perfect family.”

           “You might be closer than you think, sis.” My sister replied cryptically.

           “What?”

           “Never mind.”

           I walked into the already crowded ballroom. Nothing had changed. I heard soft piano music and perked up. But when I looked over he wasn’t sitting at the bench. I sighed quietly and felt regret sinking in. I should’ve realized that I would be able to forget how much I missed Sebastian. There were reminders everywhere I turned.

           I bit my lip and turned to leave. I had lost my appetite and my nerve. I wanted to go back to 1963 when I knew where Sebastian was and where I could find him. He could’ve been anywhere in the world at that point. Just like every able-bodied American man, I was afraid he’d been drafted. But I didn’t even want to think about that possibility. The possibility that he could’ve died before I saw him again. My stomach churned and I desperately needed air.

           I walked back out into the night and stood near the croquet lawn, where we first formally met. The world had changed so much. John and Bobby had been assassinated, Dr. King was assassinated, Nixon was president, I wasn't sure when the Vietnam War would end, and man had landed on the moon. But you wouldn't know it standing on the quiet mountain. It was as if the resort was immune to the test of time. I desperately wanted to go back to 1963. Back then I knew where Sebastian was. I wanted to hear his voice again.

           “Still bad at croquet?”

           My heart jumped and I turned quickly. “Sebs…” I whispered.

           He smiled and opened his arms. I wasted no time running right into his arms. I hugged him tightly and closed my eyes.

           “Oh my God, I didn’t know you’d be here,” I said breathlessly.

           “I didn’t know you would either.” He chuckled and held me closer. “Fuck, I missed you.”

           “You have no idea how much I’ve missed you.”

           He pulled back to look at me. He pushed a curl behind my ear and touched my cheek. “I forgot how beautiful you were.” He murmured.

            My chest tightened and I was in such disbelief. “How…why...what are you doing?” I rambled.

           “Chris asked me to come back for tonight. I wasn’t sure why but I guess he and Laurie…”

           “Were scheming, yeah that sounds like them.” I sighed.

           “I didn’t know you were back. I heard you left again. I was looking forward to getting back in touch with you but Chris said you were already on a plane.”

           I bit my lip. “I’m sorry, I was worried you didn’t want to hear from me.”

           “Charlotte, I never got over you.” He admitted. “There wasn’t a day I went without thinking about you.”

           I felt tears in my eyes. “Me too…I just thought it was too naïve to think we could ever end up together.”

           “Well…I did my best. I’m playing professionally now. Mackie’s managing everything for me. He’s really the reason I’m staying afloat.” He revealed.

           My eyes widened. “Really? Sebastian, that’s incredible.”

           He smiled shyly. “It wasn’t easy but I’m finally living the life I wanted to give you.”

           “Me?” I looked confused.

           “All my life, I wanted to have money but I figured I would still be okay if I never ended up rich. As long as I was happy it would be fine. Then I met you and I wanted to give you everything you possibly could want. You deserve so much, Charlotte.”

           “Sebastian…I don’t know what to say.”  I was completely at a loss for words. Everything inside of me was leaping for joy. It was all so overwhelming to process at once.

           He smiled and leaned in to kiss me. I eagerly reciprocated and wrapped my arms around him. I couldn’t believe I had forgotten how perfect it was to kiss him. It was like looking up to the sun during a nice spring day. It was soft, warm, and brought me so much happiness. I couldn’t hold him close enough.  

           “Say you’ll marry me.” He whispered when we drew apart.

           My thoughts screeched to a halt. “What?”

           “I don’t have a ring…and I haven’t really asked for your parents’ blessing but I couldn’t wait to ask.”

           “I uh…I don’t know if I’d be a good wife.” I laughed weakly.

           “It’s just a term, I don’t want to limit you. I just want to know that I’ll see your smile every day and tell you I love you every night. And if you still want that too then I want to marry you.”

           I couldn’t believe he had remembered what I said all those years ago before we parted ways. “That’s all I ever wanted.” I felt tears sting my eyes. “Yes, yes I’ll marry you.” I hugged him tightly and he lifted me off my feet. “Oh my God, my mom and Laurie are going to be so happy.”

           He chuckled but it faded. “What about your dad?” He set me back on my feet.

           “I think he’s too tired to care anymore,” I admitted and bit my lip. “My cousin was killed in Khe Sanh last year. It broke my aunt and uncle and I guess my dad realized if he had a son the same thing could’ve happened to him.” I explained. When I returned home, he told me the news in the airport. He held me close and wouldn’t let me go. I had never seen my father cry before. He apologized for pulling me away from Sebastian.

           “I’m so sorry…”

           I nodded and took his hands in mine. “I guess I should be glad you didn’t get drafted. Chris too.”

           “They almost did. But I told them I was an immigrant. Finally a legal citizen now.” He smiled slightly. "So I guess that's something else we can be happy about."

           I smiled and hugged him again. “I love you,” I whispered.

           “I love you too.” He kissed the top of my head. “So…big wedding? Small wedding?”

           “Small.”

           “Honeymoon?”

           “Wherever is fine.”

           “Kids? No kids? Some kids? Lotsa kids?”

           “Maybe one or two. I don’t think I could handle the number of kids Laurie and Chris are planning for.”

           “They’re not stopping after the twins?” Sebastian asked with slight horror in his voice.

           “I doubt it. Laurie wants a litter and a half.”

           He chuckled and sighed. “I’d be content with one or two.”

           “Mhm…” I rested my head on his chest and listened to his heartbeat. It was like I was restarting our time together. “I don’t want to leave you again.”

           “Then don’t.”

           “I won’t. I couldn’t bear it.” I smiled up at him. “Think we could still do that lift?”

           “Uh…maybe? I’m not sure.”

           I reached down to take off my heels. “Let’s do it.”

           “It would be easier to start in the lake again.” He reminded me but proceeded to take off his sport coat.

           “Ready?” I asked and hiked up the skirt of my dress a little to get a good running start.

           “Go for it.”

           I hoped for the best and jumped into his arms. He held me over his head for about a second before I lurched backward and screeched. Sebastian did his best to catch me as we tumbled into the grass. It wasn’t a bad fall so we both erupted into laughter.

           “Okay, so that’s a no.”

           “I guess we’re just too old now. Unless we practiced some more.”

           “Oh well.” I grabbed his hand as he helped me stand up. "I still think we can dance together though." I reminded him.

          "You have no idea how long I've waited to dance with you."

          "Well, I haven't danced with anyone else," I said as he pulled me close. We swayed softly to the faint music from inside the ballroom. I couldn't have been happier than I was in that moment.

           “Tell me about your trip,” Sebastian spoke up. “I want to hear all about it.”

           “Well, I started in Nepal and then Brazil. It was amazing…I learned so much. You should’ve met one of the translators he was so funny. He didn’t get a lot of my jokes or sayings. There was this girl from California there too she told the best stories about the actors she had run into…”

I could've talked to him for hours under those stars. We had all the time left in the world to talk though. We could talk at our wedding, we could talk on our honeymoon, we could talk through my pregnancy, we could talk to our son, we could talk during our anniversaries. But talk was cheap. I just wanted to dance with him. That's all I ever wanted.

//Thank you to everyone who read! Check out my other RPFs and one-shots on my page!

Masterpost

[flower-sweets]

this is a terrible take. should’ve stayed in the drafts, sis.

...

So… Fans are now saying that Leon is officially TRANS because he was as child smaller than Sonia..?!

What the hell is wrong with these guys..?

You ever considered that Sonia could be older than Leon?

That their childhood friendship was like big sister, little brother like and Leon was smaller, because he was younger?

I am not against trans or stuff, but it’s getting out of hand to see literally EVERYTHING in anime/cartoons/literally-anything in that matter.

Jeez, really..

No hate, just common sense..

Edit: The fact that I loose so many follower after this statement just shows the mentality of these kind of people.. Dudes, I didn’t even attacked the LGBT-scene, I just stated my opinion of making fictional characters something they aren’t ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Edit v2:

I totally agree with you. Putting the idea into a fictional child is just too much to be good. That has nothing to do with “not accepting them”, just.. they can be happy with being whatever they want, but please stop to put fictional characters in there too. Its a children’s series for god’s sake and no political, ethnic or religious debate..

To add one final thing:

They didn’t stated that they HEADCANON Leon as trans.

That would be fine, if they just make their headcannons about that episode.

BUT that idiots stated as if it was true and confirmed and that is just a false information they spread on twitter.

And that is all.

I could just say that he is racist because of some stupid excuse explanation and everyone would went crazy.

False statement is false statement. And not a headcanon. Every trans who is offended by this.. please calm down and don’t take this against you.

I am out now.

[urmomsfavelesbian]

bosco: where’d my cum go

my unruly ass:

[ipoddymouth]

Miracle On Whatever Street My Mom Lives On (An ‘Et Al.’ Holiday Drabble)

“Is Santa real?”

That was it. That was the question that fucked me over. There were so many things Moose asked me that I answered without even batting an eye (what’s sex? Handled. How much is crack? I gotchu, sis!), but that was the one question that I legitimately didn’t know how to answer.

It wasn’t like I could call up Flimsy and ask her if she’d had this conversation with her kid yet. Homegirl was literally dead. Her sticker-covered urn was in my living room, and I didn’t own an Ouija board. Her only offspring/living relative I knew about, Moose, was smart and I often couldn’t tell if she was just testing me or not. It’s degrading when a five year old makes you feel like an idiot and I often tried to avoid it. But this time she was looking at me so innocently that I genuinely did not know if this was a trap.

What was I supposed to say?

My mom swore - even to this day - that Santa was real. My mom also smoked anything that could burn for a large part of my childhood and I was a bit more of a realist than she was, so I’d never fully been convinced. I think that she’d wanted for there to be some sort of stability in my nomadic upbringing and there’s nothing more constant than an old, fat, white man always knowing where you are.

Santa was supposed to be fun though, right? And Moose had had a shitty year. Like, she’d lost her mom and was now living with someone not even related to her. She deserved to have a good time; there was no reason for me to swoop in and crush her childlike wonder.

“Yes, Moose, there is a Santa Claus.”

Once the words left my mouth, I knew that I was fucked. I was now officially #n2deep and there was no backing out.

Moose immediately jumped in for the contradiction. I should have kept my big-ass mouth shut. “I know that Mall Santa isn’t real because there’s Santas at every mall ‘n I’m smart enough to know that you can’t be in multiple places at once.”

Honestly, wouldn’t it really have killed Flimsy if she’d given birth to a dumb child?

And did I really need to have phrased it like that?

“Those are fake Santas, you’re correct. The real one’s at the North Pole getting stuff ready for Christmas.” The lie wasn’t effortless, but there wasn’t much hesitation. It should’ve been enough to hold her over until something else captured her attention. Really, the only thing that prevented me from routinely fucking up everything I said was how Moose would move on before the words would even leave my mouth.

But, for some reason, she wasn’t willing to drop the Santa thing. I swear, the kid had never given a flying fuck about Santa her entire life, and now she was apparently gearing up to write a fucking tell-all.

“Can I meet him?”

Moose had essentially just asked me to square the fuck up.

“Yeah. But not right now. He’s super busy this time of year,” I replied quickly. Game, set, match, little twerp!

“When will he not be busy?” Damn, bitch was straight-up about to interrogate me.

“Um… the summer, probably. Less busy then. Better hours,” I nodded at her. It’s fun knowing you’re going to go to hell solely because of the lies you’ve told a semi-innocent demon-child.

Moose’s mouth fell into the perfect frown. Like, a literal upside-down U. Her eyes got super wide, like a bush baby on speed. And they got all watery too. Moose didn’t cry… ever, so I wasn’t sure why the Santa thing was fucking with her so bad. Of course, there was the chance she was doing this on purpose and was totally fucking with me. The kid was crafty: she’d been in the principal’s office multiple times for all of the fast ones she’d pulled on the lil dummies she went to school with.

“It’s not that deep, dude. He keeps a low profile. Do you wanna get donuts?” I tried to steer the conversation back towards safer grounds.

Her frown immediately switched back into a smile. “Yes!”

Victory!

“But all I want for Christmas is to meet the reaaaalll Santa,” she drawled out, staring me dead in the eye. Terrified shivers slithered down my spine. “That’s alllll I want.”

Well, fuck.

X

I called an emergency meeting at Harry’s house. The emergency meeting could’ve been held at my house, but Harry’s house has more food and better central heating. So even though it was pretty out of the way for all of the people at said emergency meeting to meet there instead of my place, at least the payoff in their end was much better.

“Why are you always here?” Harry asked me as I shoved a holiday cookie in my mouth.

“Your mom sent you cookies,” I told him through the cookie that I was demolishing.

“Why are you opening my mail?”

“Um, we’re related, so that’s technically okay now.” I mean, it was. “Do you think that she’d send me some if you asked her? Like, I’m not her daughter, but I’m still kind of like her daughter.”

Harry couldn’t complain anymore because that was the moment that the rest of the guys and Ella showed up. Ella was the only one of them that Harry was happy to see, which was a bit rude, but I also couldn’t complain anymore because I was about to draft all of them to help me out with my problem.

“Am I missing something?” Harry looked at me. Okay, so maybe he was going to complain some more. Whatever; I’m fine with that.

“It’s about Moose,” I said, waving the guys over so that they too could enjoy the cookies that Harry’s mom had made. Sharing (other people’s food) is caring.

The mention of Moose’s name made everyone stop and pay attention to me. I mean, no one gave a fuck about me or my issues, but they all cared greatly for Moose. I understood that; even though the little grub was generally annoying as hell, she’d remained relatively untainted by the horrors of aging.

Once I finished basking in how I was the sole center of attention, I finally told them why we’d all gathered together. “She’s never had a Christmas without her mom. Or, at least, I’m assuming that she’s never had one without Flimsy. And now Flimsy is dead, so she’s definitely not having another Christmas with her. So we need to go balls to the fucking wall to make sure that this is the best damn Christmas that Moose has ever had.”

“What did you do?” Harry glared. It was kind of rude for him to automatically assume I’d fucked something up, but if I were Harry then I’d totally automatically assume I’d fucked something up. Because, like, I had fucked something up. I had to pull a real-life Santa Claus out of my own ass.

“I just want to give Moose the best Christmas possible,” I blinked innocently.

No one bought it.

Like, at all.

Like, they were literally folding their arms over their chests and staring me down.

Which, like, yes, I was being fake as hell. But my doe-eyed approach typically had a high success rate. I wasn’t sure why it wasn’t working on the people who knew me best. It wasn’t like I ever used that face on them.

“And there’s one more thing,” I added on quickly. Now that my jig was essentially up, I went back to my normal face before I broke the bad news. “I told Moose that Santa’s real and that means we need to prove to her that Santa is real.”

Everyone went quiet.

“She’s… she’s too smart to believe a fake Santa costume,” Niall said slowly.

“Moose is the girl who would tell the other kids on the playground why Santa is illogical,” Ella chimed in. Like, thanks, girl, for showing me how hard this was going to be. “In fact, I’m pretty sure that Moose told one of my brothers that Santa wasn’t real.”

“Why do you have so many brothers?” Niall asked.

“How many brothers do you have?” That was Louis.

“Too many. Back to the Santa issue!” I clapped my hands together before Harry could ask Ella if he could meet her hoard of siblings. I wasn’t sure where their relationship stood at that point, and even though I wanted to somehow know both everything and nothing at the same time, it wasn’t the time. “What are we going to do?”

“Tell her the truth?” Harry Styles, Santa Slayer deadpanned.

“Damn, you’re really no fun, are you?”

“I’m sorry, did no one ever introduce reality to you?” Harry sneered.

“How many lumps of coal did you have to get before you could turn it into that charcoal toothpaste you have in your bathroom?” I shot back. For the second time that day, game, set, and fucking match.

“Verity’s mom convinced me that Santa’s real,” Niall interrupted with complete and utter seriousness.

My mom loved telling people Santa was real, and it was one of the most embarrassing things about her. Like, more embarrassing than how she had me before she was legally able to drive, and also more embarrassing than how she chose to procreate with the unsalted baked potato that was Des. I never talked about the Santa thing with anyone because there was no cool, kitschy way to make it not seem totally fucking weird. It was supposed to follow my family to the grave, where it could then potentially be murdered for a second time, just to ensure it’d never have to be brought up in the future.

Damn it, Veronica. Couldn’t you just stay in your place, wherever that was?

I immediately jumped in to do damage control, but there’s only so much you can do when you know your mom’s already given the full spiel to your incredibly naive best friend. “When did the two of you ever talk about Santa in the first place?” When was Niall hanging around my mom when I wasn’t there? I mean, I knew that it’d happened before, but what  the fuck? Normally he told me every single detail because he enjoyed comparing me to my mother, which was another annoyance of mine.

“Veronica and I go way back, Verity,” Niall replied like that meant anything to me.

“We go way back too! She’s my mom!”

“I argue with Verity enough on my own; I don’t need to hear the two of you fight either,” Harry interrupted us, probably because he was feeling left out and he can only survive for mere minutes when all of the attention isn’t on him. “Can you get back to the purpose of this meeting? I have things to do.”

Harry didn’t have anything to do, and if he did then it was something lame that he was better off missing than attending. The dude is really not interesting.

“Help me show Moose that Santa’s real,” I insisted. “Please. All of you. That’s all I ask.”

“You want us to trick the trickster?” Louis asked. “Sounds pretty fucking impossible.”

“A Christmas miracle,” I leveraged.

“Miracles and Santa,” Harry snorted. Seriously, who hurt him? Was he really naturally that awful? “Must be nice having your head so far up in the clouds.”

“Chill out, Krampus,” I rolled my eyes at him. “So, are we in or are we in? I’m only acting like I’m giving you options here; I’ve built an entire lifestyle out of forcing people into doing what I want them to, so there’s really no out as long as I know where you all live.”

“Make your existence sound less illegal,” Ella scolded me. Hm, maybe her and Harry had more in common than I thought.

“I will help you,” Niall, the man of the hour/someone who contractually had to agree to all of my plans (it’s what happens when both of you are reckless; you always have to go along with the other person), insisted. “But do you have a plan?”

Psh.

Hell no, I didn’t have a plan.

“I’m working on it,” I told the room. “And it’s definitely going to work.���

X

Liam hadn’t been at the emergency meeting because he had to work or whatever. I couldn’t penalize him for having an actual, non-boring job, but it sucked having to recap the entire afternoon to him. I mean, yeah, it only took a few seconds, but those seconds could’ve been spent doing other things, like wallowing in self-pity.

Moose had been propped in front of the television with a giant stash of dinosaur nuggets and a vault of apple juice, watching some annoying animated shit that I would never agree to watch with her. She was in her ~zone~, so I knew she wouldn’t do anything too terrible for a couple hours. I was counting on her to be chill long enough for me to formulate an actual plan, since no one from that afternoon had contributed anything even remotely useful. Honestly, what’s the point of having friends if they can’t solve all of your problems for you?

While Moose was having the time of her kindergarten life, Liam and I were holed up in my room like we were in one of those emergency bunkers that doomsday preppers build. We weren’t coming up for air until I had Santa on lock.

“Why are we hiding from Moose?” Unfortunately, the guy I was banging wasn’t entirely caught up with the crisis mode lifestyle adjustments.

Liam knew I wasn’t about to fuck him because of my strict no-penetration-while-the-child-was-in-the-apartment rule, but I typically didn’t sequester her alone in a room.

“Did you not read the messages?” I asked him. Like, there was literally a fucking group chat made specifically for this event.

“There were 47 of them and the last eight of them are between Ella and Niall talking about the best kinds of frosting to use on Christmas Tree cookies. I figured it wasn’t important,” he shrugged. “Why? Is something wrong with Moose? Does she have the chicken pox or something?”

“Worse,” I shook my head sadly.

Liam looked at me blankly. “You aren’t about to make me guess, are you?”

“No,” I told him and he let out a sigh of relief. “But it really is awful. The only thing Moose wants for Christmas is to meet Santa. The real Santa. None of that mall shit.”

It took Liam a few moments to realize I was being serious. I mean, I was also being dramatic, and he knew that, but there were overall serious tones in the room. Once he figured it out, he spent a few more seconds trying to figure out what he wanted to say.

“This… this doesn’t have to be hard, Ver. There are probably hundreds of Santas you can rent out this time of year. Just hire one of those,” Liam came through quick with the rational response I could’ve used hours ago. “Feed them some facts about her ahead of time so she seems surprised. Parents do this all the time.”

“But it’s Moose,” I stressed, gliding over the fact that I was technically a ‘parent’ in this situation. Like, where had the fucking time gone? “She’ll tear all of those imposters apart. I need the most genuine Santa I can find.”

Liam sighed, falling back on my bed. I’m glad he was calm enough to sleep at a time like this. “Can’t you just ask your mom? This seems like something she’d know how to solve.”

“I’m trying to not ask her for things. You don’t understand how weird she gets about Santa; I’d rather not have to fight with her about this again.” I may have shuddered at the thought, but deep down I knew I would have to consult The Expert sooner rather than later.

Liam pulled me down so that I was resting on top of him. If I wasn’t about to have the stress-induced anxiety attack of a lifetime, I totally would’ve made out with him. But my libido had been shot. “I know you don’t want to talk to her, Ver, but seriously? Who else is better equipped to handle this shit than her?”

“A psychiatrist? Google?” I tried.

“Stop being so difficult, dude, and just ask her.”

It was my turn to let out a deep sigh. “Ugh. I wish she had chicken pox instead of this shit.”

X

Veronica Clare was my mother, not my sworn enemy. Her and I were super close; probably a lot closer than we should be. But that didn’t mean that I wanted her help with this. I wanted to do everything on my own.

Unfortunately, I knew how much this meant to Moose, and I also knew how often I messed things up.

I had to concede.

Finding my mom was easy because a) she’s my mom and b) she typically had a phone on her ever since she married Clive the Guacamole Guy (he made good guac; his actual job title had nothing to do with food) and became a regular member of society. Clive made enough money for Veronica to keep with her normal busker lifestyle, so while he was doing his shit as an art dealer, my mom… made art?

Anyway, I kicked into her studio like the hellforce that I was, ready sign my soul away in order to help a potentially troubled youth. Like, let’s not pretend like Moose wasn’t going to go through some #phases. I mean, with me as her legal guardian? I went through a phase an hour and both of my parents were still living.

“I need your help,” I announced. No need to beat around the bush!

My mom wiped her paint-colored hands off with a towel as she practically floated her way over to me. Bitch was ethereal, I’d give here that. “With what, petal?”

“I need for Santa to meet Moose.” Wow, it just finds a way to sound even dumber each time I said it out loud.

My mother, to her credit, didn’t flinch. Like, at all. She was almost too calm, if you know what I mean. In fairness, she’d probably been waiting for this day since I was a child. The only man I’d ever even kind of wanted to meet was my biological father (imagine my disappointment when I found it was just Des’ old baldin’ ass), so Santa never held any appeal to me. He, much like my father for all those years, was just another mythological being. Like, at least my dad paid taxes.

“I’ve been waiting for this day!” my mom cried out with outstretched arms. See? I told you. The bitch loved Santa.

“Please sound a little less excited,” I replied with a slight frown. I knew what was coming next. Things were going to take a turn for the worse.

“Well, I happen to know Santa!” she exclaimed in a concerningly non-joking manner.

Ah, yes, the worse was here.

“You’re kidding me, right?” I narrowed my eyes at her.

“Oh, petal, quit being such a non-believer! Who do you think gave you all those Christmas presents when you were young? We were poor; you know I couldn’t get you all of them.”

“They came from homeless shelters and charities. I was one of those kids who’s name was on a little tag on a tree. People would pick it off and buy me presents and then drop them off and there we go.” Just because I wasn’t the smartest person on the planet, it didn’t mean I didn’t know how being both poor and a child worked.

Veronica gave me soft smile, reaching out and playing with the ends of my hair. “Oh, petal, no. That never happened.”

“It did, though.”

“Okay, it happened, but that’s not where all of the gifts came from. Some came from Santa, I swear.”

I could’ve argued to have my mother institutionalized, but I didn’t know if that would actually help anything. Like, was there any point in me trying to convince her otherwise? Clive probably knew about her weird Santa thing and he married her anyway, so I guess this wasn’t a controversial issue for everyone. To me, it was plain-fucking weird, but maybe this was the universe’s way of presenting me with a solution to my problem.

“Well, can you get Santa to meet Moose? It’s urgent.”

Not a second passed.

“Sure, Petal. I can see if he can swing by my holiday party this weekend. You and your friends are coming, right? Santa will only be able to stay for a couple minutes and he probably won’t be able to bring any of the elaborate gifts because it’s so close to Christmas and all, but he’ll probably have activity books. Moose still likes those, right?” She said in one breath as she fluttered around her studio.

I stared at her, my mouth slightly open. Like, I didn’t think she was going to commit this hard. The things Clare women will do for a bit, I guess.

“I, uh, yeah, sure. We’ll all be there.” Was I supposed to thank her? I think I was supposed to thank her. I mean, in the odd chance she actually had a convincing Santa come through and not ruin Christmas for an innocent child.

X

A weird thing had happened where even though I knew Moose wasn’t my child and I had no reason to, like, care all that much about how she acted-slash-looked, ever since she’d been shacking up in my apartment, I felt like I had to make sure she was on her best behavior and looked at least kind of okay. Not, like, great or anything, since I’m literally a blood relative of Harry Styles: World’s Worst Dresser, but good enough for someone to not call CPS every time the kid walked into a room.

I didn’t want to enforce gender roles on her and shove her in a dress, but the only decent thing she had was a dress, so I wrestled her into one before brushing her hair and making sure there wasn’t dirt in her teeth or whatever gross things kids acquire.

I looked… okay…, which was good enough for me.

“Is Santa going to be here?” Moose asked. Yet again, I couldn’t tell if she was testing me or not.

“If everything goes the way it should, then yes, you should be meeting Santa soon.” Was I not playing it cool enough? Veronica was reliable enough (she managed to keep me alive and out of jail), but, like, this was fucking Santa we were talking about. Could she work that one?

Moose looked up at Liam, who was riding over to my mom’s with us. “Will Santa be there?” Um, what the hell, bitch, wasn’t I all the validation you needed?

“Of course!” Liam smiled without hesitation. He was able to do that because he didn’t have to live with Moose, so he wouldn’t have to hear the inevitable fallout when she found out Santa wasn’t real.

The kid rode that high all the way to Veronica(and Clive and Raf)’s house. Meanwhile, I wondered if this was going to be the panic attack that finally took me out. I knew the situation wasn’t, like, dire whatsoever, but this somehow felt more daunting than signing the guardianship papers that allowed me to have legal responsibility of Moose. I started stress-squeezing Liam’s hand with such ferocity that he started pretending he needed both of his hands to fake-text people on his phone. Well played.

Moose immediately went on alert mode the second we stepped into Veronica’s place. She was keeping her eyes peeled for Santa. She looked like a damn meerkat. Moose was so ready to throw down that she literally stopped talking to Liam mid-sentence so that she could begin her hunt. What had I created?

“Wait!” I grabbed Moose’s arm before she could go and do whatever the hell it was kids do at someone else’s house. I pulled her close to me so that I could hiss threatening messages into her ear. “Keep your Santa propaganda to yourself,” I whispered to her. I didn’t want for her to hype up all of the other kids just to have them all get their lives ruined. Like, that would suck for literally everyone.

The gremlin shot me an annoyed look but nodded. I’d trained her well.

“Now, be free,” I commanded, letting go of her arm.

Moose tore off like a rocket so that she could wreak havoc upon people who didn’t have to speak to her on a regular basis.

“Relax, Ver, it’ll be fine,” Liam assured me before my step-sister swooped in so that she could tell Liam something wildly uninteresting. It wasn’t her fault it was boring; there’s just nothing interesting about being fifteen.

For the next twenty minutes, I forgot about the Moose-and-Santa thing. I was at my mom’s house with some of my best friends, so I logically wasn’t going to spend all of my time worrying about a malleable five year old. Like, I was a full nogg-and-a-half in before I realized I’d been stressed out all week about this party, and now Moose was nowhere to be found. I didn’t care about all the work I’d put into this (stop: I did some work). Santa whom? I wasn’t even worried about where she was. She could’ve been playing in traffic and I was so at ease that I would’ve just told her to not get her dress yet. And, knowing her, she probably really was playing in traffic. I was never going to see here again.

That is, until she barrelled directly into my legs.

I literally doubled over because Moose had almost taken out both of my kneecaps in one foul swoop.

“He knew my name!” she whispered excitedly. “Santa knows my name!”

“Moose?” Like, that was all we’d been calling her since… forever? I didn’t even know Moose’s real name until she showed up at my house. Even at that party, she was getting introduced as Moose.

“Maisie!” she shrieked. “He knew my name was Maisie! I never tell anyone that!”

I didn’t have the heart to tell her that both my mother and the entire New York Public Schools System had direct access to her real name. I was just happy she was going with this whole Santa thing.

“That’s… that’s great, dude!” I smiled at her. Huh, I guess my mom really had pulled this off. The bitch was good at what she did.

“He also said that he would bring you gifts every year, ‘n that sometimes you wouldn’t really believe it ‘cause you’d get presents from nice people -- charity… oh, that rhymes with Verity! -- oh, um, he said that you’d get presents from charity, but even when the charities couldn’t find you tha- that he’d still bring you gifts.”

I blinked. “Excuse me?”

Moose kept ramblin’ on, havin’ a good-ass time. “Yeahhhh, because one time you moved right before Christmas ‘n there wasn’t enough time for you to get on a present list but Santa still came and brought you presents anyway because he didn’t want for you to not get anything ‘cause he knew your mommy couldn’t buy stuff!”

I stared at her.

“Man, I love Christmas, Variety!” she said with a happy sigh, slapping me on the arm and skipping off to go become an evangelical Santa fan.

I was so in shock by her a) knowing about my time as an impoverished youth and b) her somehow gaining this information by a man named as Santa that I didn’t even have the chance to make a scene and scold her for calling me ‘Variety.’ Like, I didn’t call her ‘Maisie’; she could extend the same courtesy towards me.

“Why do you look like you’ve just found out we’re related for the first time?” I think Harry was making a joke, but since he’d never intentionally said anything funny in his entire life, I couldn’t be too sure.

He did, however, seem a little too smug. I mean, yeah, that was just how his face looked a lot of the time, but in this situation, it meant a lot more. I yanked his arm and dragged him to the corner of the room, away from all the festivities taking place around us. It was about to be a damn interrogation up in this bitch.

“Was that you in the Santa costume?” I hadn’t noticed him in the room (I hadn’t even noticed him at the party, tee bee aych. The guy can best be described as the word ‘beige’ come to life.), but that would’ve given him ample opportunity to slide off and do this little stint. Niall was nowhere smooth enough to pull this off, Louis couldn’t hide his accent to save his life, Zayn hated me/wasn’t even invited, and Liam was too hot to ever dress up as Santa, and it was clearly someone I knew.

Harry played dumb. I hate calling him smart, but he was smart enough to know when to play dumb. Rather unconvincingly, if I might add. Acting was definitely not this kid’s forte. “Why would I have been in a Santa costume?”

“Well someone had to be inside of it!”

“Yeah, and that someone doesn’t have to have been me,” he scoffed. “It’s not me!” he insisted as I continued glaring. “Verity, I swear, that wasn’t me.”

“I don’t believe you!”

“You don’t have to believe me! But it doesn’t change how it still wasn’t me!” He was getting annoyed now. “I don’t even believe in Santa; why would I want for Moose to believe in something just as fake?” he grumbled.

“Damn, Scrooge McDuck, what’s so bad about having a little fun?” I smirked at him. “Come on, just admit that your alter ego wanted to help me out some and then we can move on.”

My brother didn’t see the fun in this. “Would you stop? I already said it wasn’t me! I never even saw someone dressed like Santa even walk in here! God, you and your mom just never know when to quit!” he threw his hands up in exasperation before stomping off, probably grumbling insults about me to himself.

“Wait! If it wasn’t you, then who was it?” I called after him

Harry glared at me over his shoulder, still walking away. Homie didn’t even have the decency to stop in his tracks. “I guess Santa’s fucking real after all!”

[youngerdrgrey]

if you don’t, it’s cool (untitled 04) // a queen sugar moment

.

written for day 15 of the 30 x 31 writing challenge; prompt: line from a song as the title ("untitled 04" by Kendrick Lamar)

+ on ao3

/

When Remy's frustrated, he licks his lips. He'd done it back in the storm, when she'd pushed for the workers to stay and he hadn't been able to convince her otherwise. He'd licked his lips like he was gearing to say something, then just stood there beside her. He does it whenever he holds himself back. So, when they're in his office after a long day of going over plans for the mill, she keeps an eye out for the tick. Just to keep track of his limits.

She checks off another farmer's name from her list. The goal for today is to finish drafting up paperwork for all of the farmers about to take a chance on her. She will hand deliver the paperwork to each of the farmers on Friday, along with a signed notice explaining the suggested next few steps in getting out of their contracts with the Landrys. The first one to get paperwork will be Ralph Angel, more as a courtesy than anything else. And even then, Charley rolls her eyes once she comes to his name on the list.

"I don't understand why he keeps fighting me on this."

She says it like they're mid-conversation, but Remy doesn't miss a beat. He tends to respond to her as if he's an extension of herself at this point. It should be unnerving, to have someone come into her life and so quickly integrate himself into her. And yet, at this point, it's mostly just comforting to have someone who hears not just what she's saying but what she can't quite put into words.

He shakes his head from his place at his desk. "Ralph Angel just wants to be consulted. He might be on pay roll, but he runs the farm."

"I thought the money ran the farm." She saves her template document under his name and starts filling in the blanks. "And it's not like I don't listen to him."

Remy snorts. She glares at him, and he does glance over then. He says, "When's the last time you heard that boy? And I mean, actually heard him. Not just let what he said go in one ear and out the other."

"Just about the farm or anything?" Because if it's anything, then she heard him just yesterday. He'd wanted to order in from the good barbecue place rather than cooking since Vi was taking some personal time. And even though Charley wanted spaghetti more than anything, she'd compromised. And announced that spaghetti would be dinner tonight. Which reminds her -- "We'll have to be going soon."

Remy turns in his chair. "Don't try to get out of answering me." Honestly, it shouldn't be fair for him to sound so sexy when he tells her no. His voice gets gruff around the edges. She pushes her laptop half closed to get a better look at him.

The office has one desk, then a long table that she's taken over for the night. The chair all the students sit in for office hours has been repurposed as her own. She's even got a box of old files acting as a foot rest. But she has to bring her feet back to level so he can know she's serious.

"I'm not trying anything. It's getting late. We haven't eaten--"

"And you haven't listened to your brother in weeks. Not since before we got the cane in the ground."

Even then, she mostly listened to him when delegating suited her interests. Why bother hearing anything when she was still dealing with Davis? But now, she can give her full attention to what's happening, and Ralph Angel has a tendency to hear what he wants. Which, Remy seems to be telling her, is a family trait.

"Fine." She puts her hands up in mock defense. "I don't listen."

"You don't. And I swear, if you didn't look so good, you wouldn't get away with half of what you do."

And there's the Remy she's coming to know. The one who finds a way to slide a compliment into everything he says. She finds herself smirking before she can help it. Notes the way her chest rises and her eyes latch onto his. "I thought we were talking about Ralph Angel."

He shrugs, wheels his seat over to the table so they're across from each other. "We were. But I think we could talk about the bigger problem."

"Which is?"

He closes her laptop the rest of the way. His voice comes out light, like it's a fact rather than an attack. "You don't know how to trust people."

Her husband cheated on her for years. "I'd think it's pretty understandable."

"But there are people who've proven themselves worthy of your trust. At least, I would think so. People who haven't steered you wrong, or taken more from you than you could give."

The people in this category are pretty limited. Vi can be there, Micah, Remy, of course, but Ralph Angel did a lot of asking without backing himself up. And Nova stole money, for which she still hasn't apologized. Though, in his defense, Ralph Angel shouldn't have to explain everything he does. But he has to because he makes such dumb mistakes. He'd pulled a gun on the men who tried to take the tractor. He'd brought Darla to Vi's house after everyone in the world knew how much Vi hated Darla. He'd -- well, he'd gone to prison.

That's what it came down to. All his life, Charley trusted him to make the right choice. He had the whole of the family looking out for him, not to mention how much their dad worshipped the ground Ralph Angel so much as glanced at. And he'd managed to do everything wrong. Got Darla pregnant, got into drugs, got locked up, and Charley had to find out through half a voicemail and a reporter from TMZ who wanted to watch her crumble in person.

She'd been picking up Micah from school when a reporter had rushed up to her and asked how she felt about her baby brother getting locked up. If she and Davis would be going to get him out. If she thought this bad behavior would affect Micah. And she'd laughed off the reporter saying that her family would never. Her brother would never. Then she'd listened to Nova's voicemail in the car. 

"Hey. Sis, listen, Rah's in some trouble, and we're trying to figure it out now. We'll call tonight, okay? Keep your phone up."

Hadn't told her a damn thing. Left her looking stupid and feeling even more lost in the world.

She doesn't want to think about this. She wants to flirty with Remy, finish her paperwork, and eat some spaghetti at Vi's house. Or maybe just the first one and the last one.

She slips her laptop off the table and places it in her bag. Grabs her notepad and papers too.

"Hey, where you going?"

She zips the bag up. "I'm starving, Remy, and--"

"And you're running away. See that's -- that's something right there."

Does she detect some judgment in his voice? "We can keep talking."

"On your terms," he adds. He leans back in his seat, and he turns his head to the side before licking his lips. Her eyes widen, and he comes back to face her. "What?"

Nothing. She swallows that word down. "You can finish your sentence."

He shakes his head. "I just want you to know that you can loosen the reigns a bit. Give him a longer leash. Give us all some room to make mistakes."

Oh she can? Every time she gives people some rope, they trip her with it and leave her with her ass in the air and her face to the pavement. But he's already frustrated, so snapping at him won't help. He's already wanting for something that she's apparently not giving him freely enough.

But she really does want to know what he thinks she'll get out of giving people space. Sure, they might surprise her, but they might also ruin her plans with that. Like, if Ralph Angel had made his plan and gone through with it, her mill wouldn't have the farm's support. Her mill wouldn't have her own family behind it. It wouldn't work. But, his plan did work with what they had for the most cost effective solution. Well researched and actually, honestly doable, which is more than what could've been said for the Ralph Angel of the past.

But Nova's still a mess. She never apologized for the money. But she had been right to say that Charley would've done anything for Micah. And Nova cared for Too Sweet so much in such a short period of time. Every instinct in Nova's body to protect and love and nurture came through ten fold and Too Sweet's all the better for it. Even Micah's a little better for it, since he saw it and got to meet Too Sweet, got to know that his aunt is more than just words and thoughts. Nova's a woman of action. Their whole family acts before thinking most of the time. It's stressful, but it gets results.

So long as no one gets locked up again, and no one steals ten thousand dollars, "I'll work on it. Now, can we go eat?"

Remy nods and slides back over to pack his own stuff up. "You know, when I first invited you to my office, I got this image. Of you, on the desk." He whistles low while rolling up some of his sketches and plans.

She could give in, but she really does need to eat, and if he'd wanted that particular image, he probably should've left the conversation alone.

"Maybe next time."

He glances her way, licks his lips with a different sort of meaning behind it. "I'll hold you to that."

.

.

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