#plus I associated it with assholes at my school

[sagenemesis]

I usually say 'eclectic'.

What your answer to "what music do you listen to?" means to me:

"Anything but country" >> solely music released in the last 20-30 years at most

"Anything but rap" >> I'm side-eyeing you. Are you Ben Shapiro?

"A little of everything" >> indie folk, some basic hip hop, and one or two artists from the 70s-80s

"How much time do you have?" >> someone who is really passionate about at least one band/genre, maybe more

"Lately I've been getting really into—" >> about to tell me the most obscure genre in the world

[justmeinadaze]

Don't Be So Hard (Steddie X Plus Size You)

"Don't be so hard on yourself The name of the game is humiliation, And thanks for your admiration. I never thought I'd say this: The way that we play has its confrontation, And guilt by association."

A/N: New version of these beings for me to try out. Thank you @bimbobaggins69 for the idea by just being amazing <3.

This take place 10 years after events in season 4 so about 1996.

Warnings: Older Dom (30s) Coach Steve Harrington/Older Dom (30s) Professor Eddie Munson & Young (20s) Fem Plus size Sub Student Y/N (whew! That's a mouth full lol), SMUT, spanking, choking, degrading, voyeurism, use of sir, FLUFF, Eddie and Steve have an established relationship. ANGST (because I'm me), reader is plus size and gets name called by the jocks (they call her names like piggy), one of them does assault her (pushes her and yells at her; brief), Steddie saves the day, mentions of reader staring in a play that makes her anxious due to her body.

This whole dynamic is technically angsty (which is why I love it muahaha).

Word Count: 8679

“I fucking hate schools.”, you grumble under your breath as you hit snooze on your alarm for the fifth time that morning. The beginning of your junior year spring semester at Hawkins University started today but the idea of getting out of bed sounded exhausting. In Hawkins, everyone was in everyone else’s business and being the bigger girl some of the jocks felt the need to butt in more than anyone else. 

“Hey Y/N. Did you put on more weight this summer? Those jeans look like they��re about to pop!”

“Should you be eating that, piggy? Maybe try a salad every now and then.”

You thought when you left high school, you wouldn’t have to deal with this crap anymore but unfortunately some of it followed you to college. 

When you finally made it to your first class it was right before it began so you could avoid any unwanted conversation. You weren’t so lucky.

“Heeeeeeey, Y/N.”, football star Martin Click cooed obnoxiously as he leaned towards you from his seat above yours. “I was hoping we’d have some classes together, piggy. I missed you over the summer. You couldn’t bother to dress up for me?”

“Oh, sorry Martin, if I had known we would be sharing a class I would have made myself uglier but unfortunately for me that’s impossible since I’m so fucking sexy. Maybe you can tutor me on how to be a sloppy asshole.”

The breathy laugh that echoed to your ears caught you off guard as you glanced up towards the front of the classroom and met the chocolate eyes of your new Literature & Writing professor. 

“I’m sorry.”, you whisper as red paints your face.

“No, no. No reason to be sorry. I thought it was a good comeback.”, he grinned making you blush even more. “Mr. Click, should I tell Coach Harrington that you’re more focused on ladies attire than my class or are we going to behave this semester?”

Rolling his eyes, Martin leaned back in his chair making the professor smugly smirk as he winked in your direction. 

“As I’m sure ya’ll are aware, I’m professor Munson and if you’re here because of my reputation then I will kindly ask you to leave. I’m not here to talk about my past or my family history.”

You had heard rumors about Eddie Munson and of course knew all about him being on the run back when you were little. You parents never let you leave the house or play outside for fear that the “satanic Hawkins killer” would snatch you up and make you his next victim. As you grew up and read more about what happened, it seemed less to you like he did anything at all and obviously the chief agreed because Mr. Munson was never tried or did any prison time. 

No, you weren’t interested in his past. You were interested in the things he could teach you. After overhearing one of his lectures, you were fascinated with the way he told a story and explained the material. He got so animated to an adorable degree and as a theater major you thought it would be fun to see how he interpreted literature while getting the final English credit you needed. 

When no one moved he smiled and began talking about usual first day things such as the syllabus and what to expect over the semester. After the class had ended and everyone left, you stayed behind and quietly made your way to his desk. 

“Hey, um, I’m sorry if I was rude or—”

“I didn’t think you were rude. If anything, he was and definitely needed to be put in his place.”, he interrupted without looking your way as he sorted through papers in front of him. “You’re Y/N, right?”

“Yes, sir. Y/N Y/L/N.”

“Yeah, I’ve seen some of the plays you were in on campus here. I dragged my friend to see A Midsummer Night’s Dream and you actually got him to pay attention.”, Mr. Munson smiled as he finally lifted his head to look your way. “You were very good.”

“Oh, um, thank you very much. That means a lot coming from you.” He tilts his head at your comment as blush fills your cheeks again. “I just meant I’ve seen some of your lectures before and you’re an amazing storyteller. You excite me, I mean you make me want to pay attention to, I mean… ok, let’s pretend I just left right after class and didn’t just embarrass myself.”

Hugging your books to your chest, you power walk out the door as his chuckle fills your ears. 

***

With a break between periods, you hastily headed for the gym after lunch to change and get out on to the track by the field. Contrary to popular belief, you were fairly athletic despite your size and enjoyed letting off steam as you pumped your legs as fast as they could take you.

As your music blared loudly in your ears, the feeling of eyes watching you grabbed your attention towards the bleachers where Coach Harrington was standing with his arms crossed and leaning to the side as Professor Munson balanced his arm on his shoulder, murmuring something to him as their eyes followed you. 

Trying to block them out, you continued to focus on the path in front of you but was blindsided when a football whizzed past your nose almost hitting you.

“Whoa! Sorry, piggy. Have to keep your eyes open around here.”, Martin laughs as you roll your eyes. 

Glancing their way, you noticed both men were standing straighter as if prepared to defend you if needed. You weren’t a weak little girl and for whatever reason you strongly felt like you needed to show them that. As you pick up the football one of the players lifts his hands running towards you as if expecting you to not be able to throw it but at the last minute you throw a perfect spiral to their coach who doesn’t even hesitate as he lifts his hands and catches it seamlessly from the air. 

“Well, shit, gentlemen. Looks like I have a new passer.”

“Oh, no thank you, Coach Harrington. If I ever played a sport it would be with a team that doesn’t suck.”

Again, Mr. Munson snicked through his teeth as the man he was leaning on flashed you a big grin. 

#############

That night you decided to run after hours, thinking you would be alone but were surprised when you saw Coach Harrington on the track. 

“Shit! Sorry, you scared the hell out of me.”, he nervously chuckled. 

“I’M sorry. I thought no one would be out here.”

“Yeah, normally there aren’t.”, he teased raising an eyebrow at you. “Well, don’t let me stop you.”

As he took off continuing to jog, you pushed your headphones on your head and started your run. After a couple of laps with you in your zone, your feet abruptly slipped out from under you as you tumbled forward onto the gravel.

“Whoa!”, Coach Harrington shouted in concern as he ran to your side and kneeled down. “Are you alright?”

“Ow. Yeah, I just…tripped. Fuck that hurt.”

“Let me see.” Without any hesitation, his hand gripped your leg and looked it over. “Oof, you may have a pretty good bruise there but you should be alright.” Rising to his feet, he extended his hand to you to help you up which you eagerly accepted while he gripped you tightly and led you towards the bleachers. “You must have been deep in thought because you passed me a couple of times and didn’t even turn your head.”

“I did? Yeah, I’m sorry. I just have some things on my mind.”

“No, I know what you mean. Eddie—Professor Munson told me what happened in his class. If any of those guys bother you again, please let me know. I’ll make them run laps or even sit them out of a game if I have to. Nothing scares these kids more than not being able to play.”

You knew of Steve Harrington mostly because of his parents. The Harrington’s were prominent members of the community and very well respected. In your high school there had been pictures of him from his days on the basketball and swim team when he was a student. 

After he graduated, other rumors began to circulate about him spending time with the “freaks of Hawkins” but who cares. Not you especially since you had been labeled a freak since elementary. 

“I, um, I hope you didn’t take offense to what I said. Your team doesn’t suck just…some of your players. I mean, not their playing ability just their personalities. FUCK, why can’t I talk today?”

His smile widens as he laughs from his gut making you don your own smile. 

Coach Harrington’s eyes meet yours for a moment before a controlled laugh escapes his lips.

“What, um, what were you listening to so loud that you didn’t hear me yelling for you to slow down?”

Giggling, you gesture towards your Walkman. 

“Just some CD I burned to get me pumped. Right now, it’s playing ‘Master of Puppets’ by Metallica. Have you heard that song?”  

Something dark flashes over his face before he awkwardly nods and gets up leaving you alone on the bleachers as you stare after him. 

***

“Are you fucking kidding me?”, you growl as you push on the girl’s locker room door to find it locked. “What is going on with me this semester?”

Glancing around and seeing no one, you brave the boy’s locker room, finding it open, assuming that in his weird state, maybe, Mr. Harrington forgot to lock up. As quickly as you could you showered and began to change into some comfy clothes. 

The sound of something hitting the wall nearby froze you in fear as you gaze scanned the area. 

No one nearby. It could be the janitor cleaning the coach’s office.

Quietly, you threw your things over your shoulder and tiptoed that way with the intention of ducking under the window of the area so you weren’t seen but the muffled sound of moaning had you pausing again. 

“Mmm…Steve…Steven. Wh-What’s wrong, baby? Talk to me.”

“Your student that you talk about…Y/N…she was listening to that song you played in the upside down. I just…it made me think of us…us finding you.”

“Hey. Hey, hey, sweetheart. It’s ok. I’m ok. I’m right here, Steve. You saved me.”

Peeking through the window, you saw their forehead’s pressed together as Eddie gently caressed his cheek with his thumbs. A small sigh left your lips when they began to kiss each other again. With a bit of needy force, Steve turned him around and pulled his back flush to his chest. Gently nibbling on his neck, he reached around and unbuckled Eddie’s pants, pushing them down to free his cock that he promptly began stroking. 

Fuck me he’s big. 

You practically drooled at the sight, licking your lips as your palm absently glided under your shirt to rub your tummy.

With his free hand, Steve sloppily yanked down his sweats making you moan as you watched him spit in his palm and rub it between Eddie’s cheeks before gradually guiding himself into his entrance. 

“Fuck, Steve. That’s it, baby.”

Clinging to each other tightly, Steve thrust his hips at a steady rhythm and you marveled at the sight as your fingers drifted into your own sweatpants and you began circling your clit.

“H-Harder, Steve, please.”

“Please.”, you whisper as you try to keep your eyes open and on them. 

“Like this, honey? Fuck you feel so good, Eddie. I love you.”

Arching his back, your professor craned his neck to kiss the man’s lips as he pumped into him as hard as he could without hurting him. 

“I love you to, baby. Shit, I’m going to cum. Cum with me, Steve.”

Nodding aggressively, he chased their highs until both men grunted and came. While they softly kissed each other your body trembled as you covered your mouth, trying to stifle your moans as the coil snapped. It wasn’t enough as both their heads turned meeting your eyes as you were coming down from cloud 9. 

No one moved as the three of you stared each other. 

Holding up his hands in surrender, Steve pulled out as Eddie straightened up, worry painting both their faces. 

“Y/N…”

Before they could do anything else, you turned and quickly ran out of the locker room.

##############

What the fuck was I thinking?! I shouldn’t have watched them. Two teachers in the MALE locker room while I was touching myself. Shit. I’m going to be expelled for sure. 

Sitting on the stage of your theater class, you focused on the script in front of you as you prepared for an audition your professor recommended. Mrs. Lilah always felt constrained by Hawkins when it came to material but this year she quiet literally said fuck them and decided to do Rocky Horror Picture Show. 

As you read through your lines for Magenta, a clearing throat caught your attention. 

“Hey Eddie!”, your theater teacher beamed as she waved at him and he smiled back before jumping onto the stage to sit beside you. He smelled strongly like cigarettes and a dash of cologne that had your head spinning as you continued to keep your eyes on the paper in front of you. 

“Hey Lilah. I hope I’m not disturbing anything. I just need to talk to Y/N here about an assignment real quick.”

“No problem. She does have her audition for Janet in a few minutes and I’m dying to see her interpretation.”

That caught your attention as your head swiveled her way. 

“I’m doing what now?”

“For Janet, honey. I think you’d be perfect. She’s a bit timid at first but comes out of her shell.”

“But…but…she’s in a bra for a good chunk of the play.”

“Yeah…does that make you uncomfortable?”

“Hm, yeah, Y/N, does people seeing your body in the shadows in an intimate way make you uncomfortable?”, Eddie murmured low enough so only you could hear. 

“Let’s just do the audition and if you prove me right, we can talk about the wardrobe, ok?”

Flashing her a timid smile, you turn to give your attention to your professor. 

“I’m sorry.”

“For what? Skipping my class this morning? Oh, you mean when you watched me and my boyfriend have sex in the boy’s locker room?”

“The girl’s one was locked and I needed to shower—”

“That explains why you were in the locker room but not why you were there watching. Are you going to run and tell all your little friends about how you saw the murderous freak fucking the pretty, rich football coach?”

“What? No. I would never—”

“Mhmm. Look how much will it take to keep your mouth shut?”

“Nothing. I don’t—”

“Please, Y/N! Everyone has a price and Steve doesn’t deserve to lose all he’s worked hard for. So, tell me—”

“Will you let me talk!?” Glancing around to make sure no one heard your outburst; you lower your voice as you continue. “I don’t want anything or any money. I won’t tell anyone. I genuinely don’t care about your private lives. I’m really sorry I watched. I shouldn’t have…I just…”

Your professor’s eyes focused intently on you as he waited for you to continue. 

“I was attracted. The way you two kiss and the way he holds you…no one’s ever been that way with me…” When your eyes dared to finally meet his, you expected anger but those gorgeous chocolate irises displayed a softness you appreciated. “I swear, Mr. Munson, I won’t tell anyone. Your secret is safe with me.”

Nodding, he jumped down from the stage before turning to face you again. 

“I think under the circumstances you can call me Eddie. Not in class but… I also think you should play Janet. You’re a very beautiful young lady. Don’t let any of these superficial idiots take away that lead role from you just because of how you look.”

#############

A couple of weeks had passed and nothing of note happened with school or your classes. You were cast as Janet, allowing Eddie’s advice to drive you as you maneuvered the role. Your professor and Coach Harrington had minimal contact with you but you always felt their eyes following you around. 

Tonight, you were studying in the Hawkins diner off campus. You preferred it here then the library after hours because not only could you munch on some delicious food but no one was usually there that you knew. 

As the bell above the door dinged, you glanced up from the novel Eddie had you guys reading to see said professor and his boyfriend entering the establishment and taking a seat. You couldn’t help but wonder how hard being out like this must be for them. They couldn’t share a booth or be flirty. They couldn’t hold hands or kiss, at least not visibly where people could see. You hated that for them since both seemed like good men. You wondered why they stayed behind here in this terrible little conservative town instead of moving anywhere else. 

Hoping to slip out unnoticed and allow them privacy this time, you gathered your things and placed some money on the table. 

“Is that my favorite piggy?”

You roll your eyes at the sound of Martin’s voice as you try to ignore him and head out the door. A hand abruptly grabs you but you slap it away. 

“Don’t touch me.”, you hiss. 

“Oh, come on, Y/N. It’s Saturday and we just left an awesome party. Can’t you and I get along for once?!” His friends around the table behind him snickered as a big devilish smile stretched across his face. 

“If you weren’t such a fucking dick maybe. Now leave me alone.”

As you storm out the front door to your car, something tugs your backpack, ripping it open as all your books and papers tumble to floor. Martin’s hand wraps around your throat and pushes you against the trunk of your car. 

“You will show some fucking respect especially in front of my friends.”

“Aw, did little Martin get his feelings hurt?”, you sass. “Didn’t realize you had any.” 

Your knee rises as you hit him in his stomach but he’s still faster as his palm reaches out to grab your shirt tugging you down hard onto the pavement.

Abruptly, someone grabs his own jacket collar and tosses him roughly away from you as Eddie quickly maneuvers around them both, kneeling to your level. 

“Are you ok, sweetheart? Can you stand?” Silently nodding, you take the hand he offers to you and rise to your feet. He notices immediately that your blouse is torn and without hesitation shimmies out of his leather jacket and places it around your shoulders. 

“Mr. Click, on Monday, you will see me in my office.”, Coach Harrington growled as he glared at the boy. 

“Oh, fuck you! That fat little whore pushed me into it!”

“HEY!”, he bellowed making you jump as your teacher rubbed your shoulders comfortingly. “I would advise you to stop speaking. You’re already in a lot of trouble.”

“Pfft, you think I’m scared of you, Steve Harrington?! Yeah, my parents told me all about you and the disappointment you became to Hawkins. You’re fucking pathetic! I’m surprised they even hired you to coach us let alone your friend the freak! I guess those satanic rituals DO fucking work.”

The man’s body language stiffened before he did that controlled chuckle you had heard before. 

“Alright, Martin, we can do this right now then. I was only going to suspend you but you know, since I’m so fucking pathetic I think I’ll just go all in. You’re off my team.”

“WHAT?!”

Turning around, he ignored the boy’s continued expletives as he faced you both. 

“Eddie, get her books and all her things. We’ll take her back to our house, if that’s ok with you.”, he asked pointedly in your direction. All you could do was nod and try to bend down to get your thing but the metalhead stopped you before descending to the concrete to collect your things. 

“YOU CAN’T DO THIS TO ME! YOU’LL REGRET THIS!”

“Take it up with the dean. Until then on Monday, I want your shit out of my locker room or else I will throw it in the garbage. Come on, guys.”

Coach Harrington opened the back seat door for you, startling you when he closed the door a bit too hard. 

***

When they parked outside of a home, neither moved as Eddie’s eyes scanned over his partner’s face.

“You ok, babe?”

His ringed fingers reached out to caress through his hair and in the rearview mirror you could see Steve close his eyes as he exhaled. 

“Yeah, I’m fine. Let’s get inside.”, he answered curtly as he came around and opened your door and you followed both men inside. You stood in their living room silently as they threw their keys down and Eddie disappeared down a hallway. 

When he came back, he handed you a t-shirt that read “Def Leopard: Tour of 88!”

“Go put this on and we can see about fixing your own.”

His eyes followed you as you entered their bedroom where the bathroom was located and shut the door. Removing your blouse, you could see a slight bruise forming where the strap of your backpack had been on your shoulder and some redness around your neck where Martin had grabbed you. Swallowing your pain at the sight, you put on the shirt they provided and folded his jacket, placing it nicely on the countertop.

Your eyes took in their fairly average bathroom, smirking slightly at the hair gel you imagined was Steve’s as Eddie’s hair was always wild even during class when he pulled it back. Both their colognes and bathroom products were side by side like any couples but the few things you knew about them had each personality standing out. Cigarettes were by the window near the bathtub where you imagined Eddie smoked as they took a bath together. On the floor by the shower, were some handheld barbells you imagined Steve used while Eddie took a shower or got ready so they could talk to each other about their days. 

Walking back out to their bedroom, you noticed a guitar against the wall and grinned at its slightly cheesy 80s aesthetic. You remembered once hearing that Eddie Munson used to be in a band but for the life of you couldn’t remember the name. You wondered if he still played. 

“Your student that you talk about…Y/N…she was listening to that song you played in the upside down. I just…it made me think of us…us finding you.”

What could he have meant by that…

Your gaze shifted to their dresser that had a vanity mirror attached with pictures taped to it. There were so many images of them together that made your smile widen but there were also photos of Steve with a young lady you remember seeing around Hawkins. She used to work at Family Video until a few years ago but you weren’t sure where she moved on to from there. Did you remember Steve there? No… you were pretty young though and focused on your own carefree life. 

There were pictures of Eddie with the Hellfire club. They were still active when you went to Hawkins High filled with a cool group of kids you hung out with from time to time. There were whispers of the man that created it but everyone in the club always said good things about the former Dungeon Master. 

They must have been in two different worlds in high school. 

What must have happened to bring them together?

“Steven, you need to calm down.”

The sound of Eddie’s voice caught your attention after something loud slammed in the kitchen. You tiptoed down their hallway and paused on the other side of the wall. 

“Fucking asshole kid, I swear to God.”

“Baby, it’s not the first time someone has said those things to us and it won’t be the last especially since we chose to stay here.”

“We didn’t exactly choose and that’s not why I’m upset.”

“Why then?”

“She…she seems like a nice girl.”

“She IS a nice girl.” Eddie sighs as he lowers his voice. “Steven, she’s a student and a lot younger than us.”

“Not a lot. Jesus, you make us sound ancient. She’s, what, how old you were when you graduated high school.”

“Hey, ok first off, rude.” They both giggle making you grin. “Second, again, she’s a student. She’s MY student. I could get in way more trouble than you.”

“Like that’s ever stopped you.”

“I swear, sweetheart, don’t we have enough chaos fucking hiding our relationship?”

“Oh, come on, Ed, you don’t like her?”

“I didn’t say that. I just… yeah, she’s beautiful and adorable and… fuck. We shouldn’t talk about this with her here.”

Collecting your bearings, you walk around the wall and knock on it lightly.

“Hey, there she is. I, uh, I fixed your backpack. Let me, um, see if I can salvage this top for you here.”, Eddie smiles as he takes it from your hands and heads for their couch. 

“I didn’t know you could sew.”

“Mhmm. I can’t like whip up a brand new outfit or anything but I can patch things together.”

“Are you alright? Do you need any Band-Aids or an ice pack?”, Steve asks from his place by the counter. 

“No, I’m ok. My throat is a bit sore but…” You don’t even finish your sentence before he’s turning around and grabbing an ice pack from the freezer, wrapping it in a rag, and sitting in front of you on their coffee table to place it on your neck. “Thank you. I like being choked but not like that or by that asshole.”

They both glance at each other as you blush. 

“Yeah, probably not a joke to make right now. Sorry.”

“You apologize a lot.”, Eddie says from behind you. 

“Sorry.” They laugh making you grin to yourself as you look down at your feet. “I hope I didn’t get you in trouble. I’m not…actively…trying to do that.”

“Oh, no worries, honey. Trust me. What is he going to say? ‘Coach Harrington kicked me off the team after I drunkenly assaulted a girl?’ I’m pretty sure the dean will side with me on that one.”

Your silence makes them nervous and they exchange another look. 

“What are you thinking about, Y/N?”

“I’m thinking about how I never expected Martin to do what he did. He’s been mean to me since freshman year but never aggressive like that.”

“You know that wasn’t your fault, right, princess?”

“Yeah, I know. I…I…” Unable to control them, the tears began to flow and a ring laced hand delicately reached for your shoulder, moving the things in his lap aside so he could hold you to his chest. Steve placed his own palm on your jeaned thigh and comfortingly rubbed against the material. 

Once again you were engulfed in the scent of Eddie’s cigarettes and cologne as his cheek rested on the top of your head. You couldn’t explain why but you felt safe here with their hands on you encased between them. 

It had been a few months since your last relationship and you could feel yourself dropping into that particular headspace the longer they comforted you. 

“I’m…I’m also thinking…about what I saw that night…in the locker room. How you two took care of each other…”

All movement on your body ceased as they even held their breathes. 

“H-How about we get you home, Y/N? I can give you this shirt after our next class.”

Eddie lightly pushed you to the side as he tried to stand but you hastily grabbed his arm stopping him. 

“I heard you. You said I was beautiful and sweet.”

As your little voice flowed through his ears, his eyes squeezed shut trying to keep control. 

“Y/N, maybe, he’s right. Maybe, we should get you home before—”

“Before what, Steve?” This was the first time you were using his name out loud and the notion sent tingles all through your body feeling like a little girl who misbehaved.

“Hey. You show him respect, little girl. That’s Mr. Harrington or sir.”, Eddie scolded in gruff tone.

“Edward…”

“No, Steven. Little girl wants to play with the grownups, then that’s how we will treat her. Now, we said, you’re going home. Grab your things and head towards the front door.”

“Why did you bring me back here, Mr. Munson? You could have taken me back to my dorm but you didn’t. Why?”

“Because people shouldn’t be seeing a professor drop off a student on campus.”

“But Steve said he was taking me to your house out loud to Martin.”

The man’s hand firmly came down on the side of your thigh making you yelp as you bit your bottom lip. 

“He said show me respect.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Harrington.” Placing your hand on top of his, your thumb tenderly ran along his skin as you leaned against Eddie’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, Mr. Munson. Like I said…no one has ever taken care of me or looked out for me the way you two do with each other.”

You were slightly surprised when his fingers gently came around and brushed your hair away from your face. 

“We brought you back here because we thought you were safer with us here. After what he did, we thought that’s what you needed.”

“Am I not safe here?”, you whisper as you can’t help but rub your thighs together. 

“Y/N… Eddie and I have been through a lot. What you saw in my office isn’t always how we are when we’re intimate. We’re not always…soft.”

“But I promise you, princess, we are nothing like Martin. If you wanted to leave…right now…that’s ok. We can take you home or call you a cab if that makes you more comfortable.”

He was giving you an out; they both were. You could leave right now and the three of you could pretend this never happened. You could pretend that Steve’s large hand on your upper thigh wasn’t turning you on as you thought about how those long fingers would feel inside of you. You could pretend that Eddie’s touch wasn’t getting progressively slower as the pads of his own fingers traced your cheek making your pussy clench around nothing. You could pretend the notion of doing something you shouldn’t and being at the mercy of these two men’s wills didn’t drive you crazy. You could do that… 

Or…

“I don’t mind it not being soft, Mr. Harrington. I trust you and Mr. Munson.” Both men exchanged on final look of caution before your last sentence pushed caution to the wind. “Please, I need you.”

“I think since you saw us in vulnerable position we should get the same courtesy.”, Steve replied in a much huskier tone than before. Taking your hands in his, he pulled you to your feet and pushed the coffee table out of the way before taking the seat you had just been in. On impulse, Eddie leaned closer to him as the other boy wrapped his arm around his shoulder. 

“Go ahead, Y/N.”

As your eyes shifted between their heavy gazes, you lifted off the shirt he gave you, unbuttoned your pants, and shimmied them a bit clumsily down your legs.

You stood there waiting for more instruction as they continued to stare at your body. 

“Did you see our cocks?”

“Yes.”

Steve smirked as his boyfriend began to kiss his neck while his palm traveled along his chest down his stomach.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Remember that, Y/N. I don’t like repeating myself and Eddie is a lot nicer than I am in here.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Harrington.”

Steve’s eyes fluttered when the metalhead’s palm grazed the bulge in his jeans. 

“Now, if you saw or cocks, then why are you stopping?”

“You said…I should be vulnerable, sir.”

Your small voice had them groaning as Eddie fumbled with the pretty boy’s belt almost desperately. 

“Fuck. Don’t move.” He commanded towards you as his head turned to capture his boyfriend’s lips. Lifting his hips, he helped Eddie blindly pull his jeans down just enough to free his length. As he started to lean over his lap, Steve hastily stopped him with a smile. “You don’t want to see her, honey?”

He chuckled as he focused his attention back on you. 

“Do you feel vulnerable, Y/N?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Hm. Not enough to not finger yourself out in the open though, huh? I mean at least you had pants on.”

“I-I-I wasn’t…I wasn’t thinking—”

“No, you weren’t. Take off the rest so we can see you.”

While doing what he said, you watched as Steve pushed down Eddie’s pants as well and both men kissed passionately in front of you as they stroked each other’s cocks. 

“Y/N, is there anything we should know? Anything we should avoid?”

“No, Mr. Munson.”, you answered, appreciating his soft tone as he asked his series of questions. 

“You said you liked being choked but is there anything physical we shouldn’t do?”, Eddie groaned out as Steve lifted off his shirt.

You heard his question but couldn’t form an answer as your eyes starred at the scars that littered his chest. They looked like whatever wound created them was deep, possibly life threatening. What could have happened to him?

“HEY!”, he barked making you jump. “He said he’s not as nice as me but that doesn’t mean I’m easy going! Now, answer the fucking question, little girl.”

“I’m sorry, sir. N-No, I don’t mind being hit or p-punished. Mr. Munson, what happened?”

As you started to step forward, both sets of brown eyes glared your way freezing you in place.

“Do you know the stop light system?”, Steve growled in a much rougher tone than you were prepared for. Nodding curtly after reciting it to them, he got up and grabbed your arm, sitting you between them. “Now, we do have some rules, Y/N. The first rule is the most important. DON’T ask about our scars.”

“Our?”

Steve slowly lifted off his own shirt and tossed it to the side. He didn’t have as many scars as Eddie but they were just as deep and looked similar. Whatever happened must have happened to both of them. 

“I’m so sorry you both went through…whatever hurt you.”, you coo as you reach out to graze your fingers down Eddie’s chest. 

The darkness in their eyes faltered slightly at your sincerity and the metalhead took your hand in his, tenderly kissing the back of it. 

“Second rule. You have to be vocal, Y/N. If at any point you feel uncomfortable, we need you to say red ok?”

“Yes, sir, Mr. Munson. “

“Good. Good girl.”

His praise made you giddy as you blush making him smile.

“Can I kiss you?”

“I have one more question, princess. Have you ever done anything like this before?”

“Yes and no.”

“Yeah, we’re going to need you to clarify that.”, Steve laughs. 

“I’ve done rough stuff with dominate partners before. I’ve never been with two men before.”

The way you said the word men had Eddie’s eyebrow quirking upward. 

“Are you trying to tell us you’ve only been with boys your age?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Why did you feel the need to tell us that?”

“Do we make you nervous?”, Steve asks as his fingers dance up your arm. 

“Yes b-but not because of you two, Mr. Harrington. I just wanted you to know j-just in case I’m not as ‘experienced’ as you both.”

Eddie’s palms cupped your cheeks as he brought your lips to his. You weren’t surprised by the nicotine that lingered there but you were by the tingle that ran through your body as his tongue caressed your own. When he pulled away you tried to lean forward for more but his grip held firm. 

“We weren’t expecting you to be, pretty girl. You’ve only ever been with these little boys but you’re about to be fucked by real men, sweetheart. Trust us, we know how to take care of you.”

You moaned at his promise, turning towards Steve to crash your lips with his. He was a much more determined kisser, his mouth and tongue sending that same shock wave through to your core. 

“Have you ever sucked a cock as big as mine?”, he panted against your lips.

As you shake your head, his fingers grab your throat just below your jaw as if purposely avoiding where Martin had hurt you. 

“What did I say? How do you answer us?”

“I’m sorry. No, sir, I’ve never sucked a dick as big as either of you.”

Sitting back, his palm moved to the back of your neck, guiding you down over his leaking tip as Eddie adjusted your body till you were on all fours for them. 

“Fuck me, Steve. She is so fucking wet. Her pussy is just tripping down her thighs.”

“Aw, you like being a bad girl, don’t you, honey?”

“Y-yes, Mr. Harrington. I like being a bad girl.”

“Open your mouth.” Doing as he directed, you quickly kissed his slit making him mewl before fully taking him between your awaiting lips. “Yes, oh my god. T-That’s a good girl.”

Eddie’s fingers glided through your folds causing your eyes to roll as you bobbed your head.

“Steve, baby, Jesus, she’s so fucking tight.”, the metalhead groaned as his palm came down hard on your ass. 

“Yeah, Y/N? Did that feel good? You like when your professor spanks you?”

Yanking your hair roughly he tugs you off of him as you continue to stroke him with your hand. 

“I didn’t hear that, little girl. What did you say?”

“Y-Yes, sir, I like when Mr. Munson spanks me.” 

At your response he spanks you again right as he guides two of his digits into your core. Gripping you tighter, Steve forces your mouth on him again and holds you still as he thrusts his hips allowing his cock to hit the back of your throat. 

“Good girl. That’s it, Y/N. Keep your throat open for me.”

Abruptly, Eddie swats his boyfriend’s hand and tugs on your shoulder, guiding you down the hallway to their bedroom and tossing you onto their bed. After completely removing the rest of his clothes, he climbs between your legs and runs his wide, flat tongue through your pussy up to your clit. 

“Oh shit.”, you moan as your back arches into the feeling before yelping when his palm smacks your cunt. 

“Watch your mouth, little girl.”

“I’m sorry, sir. I’m sorry.”

Steve chuckles as he climbs in beside you both placing his knees by your head as his fingers grip your hair again. 

“Can’t really blame her. I know how amazing your tongue feels. Then again, you may have some competition, babe, because her fucking mouth feels so good.”

Pride washes over you at his praise as you grip his cock and take him as far back as you can trying to continue to please him. 

“I-It’s ok, honey. We can train this little throat. As—fuck—as you know, Eddie’s a wonderful teacher.” His boyfriend tosses him a smirk as his tongue flicks faster against your bud. “Are you going to cum? Cum, Y/N. Cum all over his face.”

Your hips grinded against him as the man’s mouth wrapped around your bundle of nerves and he pushed two of his fingers rapidly inside of you as the sound of your arousal to fill the room. 

Steve backed away from you, allowing you to focus and breathe as your orgasm washed over you. As you came down from your high, Eddie lightly slapped between your legs making you jump and groan. 

“Sensitive. I like that.”

Tilting towards their bedside table, he paused as their eyes met. 

“Shit. I don’t have any condoms.”

“What?”, Steve almost wined as you tried to contain your smile at their desperate need for you.

“Steve, we’ve been together for almost 10 years. When was the last time we used a fucking condom?”, Eddie growled. 

“We’ve been talking about adding someone to our dynamic for a while now.”

“Yeah but I wasn’t prepared for it to be tonight with a fucking student!”

“Excuse me.”, you finally pipe up. “I’m on the pill. I can understand if you still don’t want to but…I’m safe. And like I said, I trust you.”

Both men exchange a glance and you can’t help but giggle up at them. 

“So how long were you going to wait before you said anything, huh?”

“Mr. Munson, you didn’t ask. I wanted to be a good girl and only speak when spoken to.”

They narrow their eyes playfully at you for a moment before Eddie grabs your jaw and tilts you till your face is level with his. 

“You’re not cute, little girl. That little snarky attitude may have worked on those pathetic boys you were with but you’re in the bed of real men now. Don’t hide things from us you think we should know. Do I make myself clear?”

“Y-Yes, sir. I’m—”

Steve’s hand cuts you off as he pushes you back against the mattress. 

“We know. You’re sorry.”

Taking hold of his shaft, Eddie taps himself against your pussy making you squirm as you open your legs wider for him. Grabbing your hips, he slides you closer and gradually guides himself into your dripping entrance.

“Fuuuuuck.”, he moaned as he slowly pumped his hips. “We are going to fucking ruin you for anyone else, little girl. Goddamn.”

“How does she feel, baby?”, Steve asks as he leaned towards him to lightly kiss his neck.

“S-So fucking tight, sweetheart, you have no idea. I want…”

“What do you want, Ed?”

“I wanna…fuck her into the fucking mattress.”

Your pussy fluttered around him at his words and his eyes that been closed shot open as he placed his palms on either side of you and started thrusting into you aggressively.

“You want that, you little whore. I can give that to you.”

Much softer than his partner, Steve turned your head and slide his cock back into your mouth that you eagerly sucked on relishing the taste of him. As he pounded into you, Eddie’s lips kissed along his boyfriend’s chest making the man groan louder as he ran his fingers through his hair. 

Bringing his lips to his own they passionately exchanged a kiss that had you mewling as the long-haired man rolled his hips hard hitting that soft spot inside you repeatedly. 

Eddie’s head tilted back as his jaw went slack and you couldn’t help but reach your hands up to run your nails down your chest. 

“I’m…I’m…please…”

Steve moved back as the metalhead grabbed your wrists and held them against the bed as his face fell beside your own. 

“You fucking ask me, Y/N. You beg us to let you cum. Shit. We have control in here.”, he whispers in your ear making your shudder underneath him. 

“P-Please, Mr. Munson. Can I cum? I want to cum on your cock, please.”

His hair tickles your face as he nods and the action of him tenderly kissing your cheek pushes you over the edge as the coil snaps. 

“Fuck, that’s it, pretty girl. Came so fucking hard on my dick. I’m going to fill you up, princess, ok?”

“Please…”, you whimper as he slams into you, chasing his high.

Your professor’s grunts filled your ear and you turned your head into the sound as he warmed your insides. As soon as he rolled off you, a hand took hold of your ankle and yanked you to the edge the bed. 

“Hey, hey, honey. No, no.”, Steve cooed with a hint of sarcasm as he lightly slapped your cheek. “Open your eyes, baby. What color are you at, Y/N?”

“Green.”

His massive palm slapped you a bit harder causing your eyes to fully open as you leaned up on your elbows. 

“Green, what?”

“Green, SIR!”

You’re suddenly turned on to your stomach as rough hands lift your ass in the air while another set takes hold of your wrists and pulls your top half down and forward. 

“Get rid of the attitude, Y/N. You think just because you came you’re allowed to be disrespectful?”, Eddie growls as Steve spanks your behind. “Now, answer him clearly without the tone.”

“Green, Mr. Harrington.”

As he ran his tip through your folds, you knew even after taking his partner, he was going to split you in half. 

“Fuck me.”, Steve moaned as he began pushing himself into you. 

Eddie’s head tilted to the side as he watched your face scrunch together. 

“You’re alright, sweetheart. Trust me, I know how hard he can be to take at first but it will feel good soon. I promise, baby.”, he soothed and kissed your lips. 

“F-Feels…feels good…now. Fuck.”

The man behind you smacks your ass at the curse, pressing further into your cunt till his hips finally connected with yours. 

“Still green, babe?”

“Yeeeees, sir.”

“Good.” Clinging to your waist, Steve pulled back till he was almost all the way out of pussy before roughly slamming back into you practically punching the air from your lungs.

“Oh my god!”

With a slanted smile, he pounded into you as Eddie watched from the side, sitting up on his knees to occasionally run his fingers down the man’s chest. 

“She feels really fucking good, right? Our young, new little toy.”

“Goddamn, I’m gonna fucking bust like a teenager.”

“Wait, pretty boy. You need to feel her cum. Her pussy fucking chokes your dick, I swear.”

“Fuck, Y/N, are you close, little girl?” When you didn’t answer, his hand reached around to grab you throat and lift your back to his chest. “Still coherent, you little slut? I asked you a question.”

“H-Harder, Mr. Harrington, please.”

As his forehead landed on your shoulder, he did what you asked till the bed began to jostle underneath you. A jolt of electricity shot through your body and you mewled as Eddie rubbed circles into your clit. 

You took their conversation as approval and your arm circle around Steve’s neck as you came. 

“Jesus fucking Christ!”, he grunted as he took hold of your chin and turned you so his lips could mingle with yours as he pumped into you a few more times before releasing his seed inside you. 

You were completely drained and slightly sore as he tried to delicately pullout of you while you waited for what to do next. Usually, the boys you were with did the minimal amount of aftercare, choosing to just cuddle with you which was fine. You were surprised, however, when Eddie informed you the bath was ready when you were. 

“For me?”

“Yeah, princess, come on. It will soothe your muscles.”, he murmured softly as he took your forearm and slowly walked you to the bathtub and guided you in. Your head remained lowered as you listened to him maneuver around the bathroom, sliding on some boxers before lighting a cigarette and placing himself on his knees beside you. 

Utilizing the washcloth, he cleaned you pausing when your hand suddenly grabbed his wrist as he attempted to clean between your legs. 

“I’m sorry. Just sore.”, you whispered as you let him go. 

Eddie’s eyes scanned you over and you heard him blow out some smoke from his lips as he put the cigarette down in a nearby ashtray. His fingers moved some of your hair back and he pressed his nose into your cheek while he continued to clean you. 

“It’s ok, sweetheart. You’re still doing really good for me. I know your little pussy hurts from how we stretched her open but we got you, pretty girl. You took us both so well.”

As his deep, comforting tone continued to whisper praises, you keened into the sound as you winced, trying not to grab him again.

“I know, I know. I’m almost done.”

Tilting your head, your lips found his, both of you getting lost in the feeling as he dropped the rag from his hand so he could cup your face and hold you closer. A throat clearing distracted you two as Steve entered the bathroom. 

“I, uh, I have some clothes for you here, Y/N, whenever you’re ready.”

Nodding, you allow Eddie to help you out and lead you in front of his partner who took a seat on the edge of the bed. His honey irises ran along your body, checking for extra care you may need that they inflicted but unlike your assault earlier the only mark they left was the slight reddening of their handprints on your behind. 

“How’s your throat? I tried not to grab you where—”

Your kisses startled him at first but after a few seconds his hand slithered tenderly behind your neck as he kissed you back. 

“I’m ok. Just sore…and tired.”, you reiterate as your heavy eye lids dropped. 

“Ok, honey.” Steve’s hands held you steady while Eddie dressed you in what smelled like their clothes as you swayed in his grasp. “You did so good for us. You deserve some sleep. Would you like me to carry you to the guest bedro—”

Both men watched with amusement as your shook your head before climbing over him and crawling under their covers. 

“I guess we can sleep in the—”

“Please don’t leave.”, you begged in a little girl voice that pierced their hearts. 

“Why does she keep interrupting me?”, Steve chuckles as he gets to his feet and yanks Eddie into his arms to kiss his lips. “She doesn’t do that with you. Or does she in class?”

At the word the metalhead became silent as he kissed his partner’s shoulder and crawled into the bed in front of you. His palm softly caressed your face and through your hair as Steve got in bed behind you.

“You’re worried.”

“Of course, I am and not just because she’s a student. That’s just the frosting on top of the cake that is our problem.”

“That sounds delicious.”

“Steven.”, Eddie scolds as they both smile. “She’s so much younger than we are.”

“10 years. Not much.”

“Not to mention the fact, that we are already hiding OUR relationship let alone another with a young, student. She deserves to be taken on dates and to live her life. She deserves to be seen not hidden.”

“So do you, honey.”

“Steve… we decided a long time ago to stay in Hawkins for a reason. We can’t be run out of town by these homophobic small, minded idiots. They’ve just barely started calming down when it comes to me and what happened in 86. And that’s another thing. What if…what if something happens? What if Vecna comes back or any other fucking monster? We can’t drag her into that.”

“Eddie, you’re over thinking again, but I see where you are coming from. Let’s…let’s take it one day at a time, ok? Who knows. She may wake up and decide this is all too much herself. She may not want to be with some…old, broken-down college professors slash coach.”

“Oh my god, baby.”, the long-haired boy chuckles as he throws his arm over his eyes. “You’re not broke down. We just have some wear and tear.”

Your palm reaching out and pulling Eddie closer as you fully folded into Steve silenced them. They relaxed into you as your professor kissed your forehead and your school’s coached nuzzled into your shoulder as they drifted off to sleep with you. 

##############

@corkadymu @lilaclazer @aol19 @nailbatanddungeon

[ar-cadez]

Negaverse Megavolt concept!

Design notes and personality rant stuff under the cut. Warning. It's long and unreadable.

The purse thing is a generator (Ill probably design it as a prop at some point considering It does NOT look like one but portable generators are hard for me to draw for some reason)

I swapped which eye has the white in it (even though I usually draw it on the wrong side anyway bc idk my lefts from rights..)

I wanted to make the darks very prominent bc the yellows are very prominent in the original

I went with blues bc it's the only other colour usually associated with lightning and electricity.

The teal parts of his outfit are lights! They glow when he's fully charged and fade out when he's out of power.

You can't see it in this pose but his hands have outlets on the back that work the same as megavolt's chest outlet. He can power weapons with them and charge himself without the pain of straight up shocking himself

I wanted to make his hair look like it's thinning out bc of age and repeated electrical damage but I wasn't sure how to do that so it's not really present. Did give him some white hair though.

His glasses are prescription! Can't see nothin without em..

Okay now some personality stuff!

Megavolt is the hardest villain to swap bc his personality is "insane guy with memory issues but is smart" and it's kinda hard to flip that around without just making him boring? Removing his intelligence when it comes to electricity would also negate his whole gimmick which makes things worse. but I do have a few ideas. It's ironic I struggle with him so much considering he's literally my favourite character...

He was popular in high school. He was friends with negaduck and they were both pretty well liked jock types before negaduck started doing major crimes (though I imagine he was always a delinquent of sorts. Just didn't start destroying the city till he graduated) clash reunion is a whole beast on it's own bc megavolt has the most in depth backstory which means a lot of reworking for a personality swap au.

His interests, like dw's megavolt, lie in magnesium, electronics, and engineering. The difference is, despite being Intruiged by these subjects, he didn't go out of his way to learn about the. He was more focused on his peers approval back then. Not to mention the fact that negaduck was an extremely toxic friend and would absolutely make fun of him constantly for it. (He doesn't even actually care, he's just an asshole.)

Eventually after gaining his abilities he began to study electricity and start inventing things. Only.. He's pretty bad at it. Things tend to backfire on him. Quackerjack has a lot more experience than him when it comes to engineering and he tries to help him out but the guy's kinda cursed. I haven't really decided if it's more dt17 gyro where everything he makes ends up turning against him or guy am I from the Netflix green eggs and ham show where everything he makes just kinda explodes. Maybe a bit of both. Either way it's very over the top and is more trouble than it's worth, but that doesn't stop him! (Oh God someone stop him)

I didn't wanna just take away his mental issues completely because the opposite of that is literally nothing. It adds.. Nothing. It just gives him less to work with. And it's already hard enough to do this guy. (Plus it kinda implies mentally ill people can't be heroes and that's.. Mm....) So instead I decided to change how he reacts to it.

He still has memory issues along with other physical and mental symptoms of electrical injury, he just really likes to pretend he doesn't. He completely ignores his deteriorating mental, physical, and emotional health <33

I wanna flesh him out more but I'd only be able to do that if I write with him and I'm fantastic at procrastinating my writing projects <33

[grison-in-space]

While my last post on Eric Flint's 1632 has been making the rounds, I have been reading the sequels: first the short story anthology Ring of Fire, and then the more direct sequel 1633.

When we left our friends in the first book, our primary surviving antagonists were a) John Simpson, ex-CEO and anti-German conservative asshole, and b) General Albrecht von Wallenstein, last seen with his jaw shattered after the attack on a school full of children.

In classic Flint fashion, Ring of Fire immediately sets about humanizing both of them and coming up with reasons to make both of them work with Grantville allies we have good reasons to be fond of: Simpson working closely with Jeff's friend Eddie Cantrell, and setting Wallenstein up to work closely with Morris Roth in Roth's attempt to avert the pogroms of the Khmelnytsky Uprising.

(I really need to go dig into the sequel somewhere that is supposed to get more into the Roths' adventures in Prague, because the short story about Morris Roth's arrival in the city and uneasy interactions with the Orthodox rabbis there -- along with a Reform kid who got thrown through the ring of fire while he was trying to decide whether to become a rabbi or a software engineer -- is really interesting, especially because Flint is very careful not to make a straw man of the Prague rabbinate. Instead you have Morris pacing back and forth hissing about, as much as anything, his bad associations with Orthodox Jews from uptime... while his wife Judith and this kid Justin cheerfully listen to what is actually in front of them and make connections with good people.)

Anyway, there's short stories for both of them in Ring of Fire, and then a huge chunk of 1633 is devoted to going "well, fuck, how DO we make use of the things that John Simpson is legitimately good at when those are actually things we need?" Lots of people who have very good reasons to hate each other or at least be very uneasy with one another, and working together anyway.

Plus I get to see Gretchen organizing all of Germany's labor rights movement from her position in Grantville's old McDonald's... which means that her radical leftist "Freedom Arches" start getting replicated all over the place. Love Gretchen. Love Gretchen SO much.

[biological-catastrophe]

random curiosity question wtf is college like

So I go on a tangent so imma put this under a cut sorry JDHSSBB

So I’m not the best to ask since I go to a community college but I’ll tell my experience here and what I think actual college is like!

So my two year college is not that much different then high school. Uh if you go to hs, it’s similar to the transition from MS to HS if that makes sense. Different but not THAT different.

My school is small in terms of colleges but large in terms of community colleges. We actually have dorms, I’ve lived in them and they’re nice. I only had a roommate my first semester and it was AWEFUL she sucked. But I’ve heard good stories of other peoples roommates.

The price here is significantly cheaper than the big school I want to attend next fall. Here, the price is around 6k a semester and most of that is dorms. The school I want to go to in fall is like.. 15k a semester minimum.

But I’m assuming this is mostly about the classes and actual life of college.

My college classes are similar to highschool, but more like. Similar to advanced courses. If you’ve taken AP/IB/duel credit/anything of that sort it’s similar in vibe. My classes are very small, my biggest class was speech and it was a little over 30 people, but since most people aren’t getting an associates in pre-engineering they don’t need to take stuff like physics and calculus so those classes are even smaller (15-20 people).

My cousin is the same age as me and goes to a Big School. His classes for basics have 300 people. I chose to go to a community college because I like smaller classes, plus cheaper. I wanted a smaller school, at the sacrifice there is less options for classes (ex my University Physics has only one class option while I’m sure at a bigger school there are several, so I’m stuck with 8 ams)

I’m not big into the social life of college, I’m not a social person. But I’ll admit it’s nice. I’m apart of the band so I do go to some of the things. Our volleyball team is cool, we have lots of little events around campus, we have a few little traditions. But I can choose to be solitary if I want and that makes me happy. There’s no obligation to go be social. My days consist of waking up, going to class, getting food and hanging in my dorm. There’s no requirement for me to go do stuff.

There’s nowhere near as much like. Drama as in HS. I mean there’s always a little but it’s very easy to avoid it since there’s so many people.

And I think the best part is that it kinda feels like everyone around you is in the same boat, especially those in the dorms. Everyone has moved out, everyone is taking classes that are not interesting/hard/tiring, everyone is still kinda figuring it out. It feels strange to admit it, but yeah. I see people walking with their laundry or sitting at a bench studying or new couples walking to a dorm to hang out or stuff and. Yeah we’re all kinda stuck together.

I will admit the hardest part is socializing. Thankfully I’m in band so I have people already but idk what I’d do if I wasn’t in that. My friends consist of two people from high school and a guy that was in band and also on my degree plan so we had the same classes. That’s.. it. To be fair, I don’t like having many friends, but making friends is hard. But thankfully most people are not assholes since.. you don’t have to go to college if you don’t want. People who are there are PAYING to be there, you won’t get the assholes like you do in hs.

Lastly the final thing I’ll say is it’s. Def memory making. I don’t go to parties or anything like that yet I still somehow make (good and bad) memories. Once someone came over to my dorm asking for a hairdryer to blow up one of those pool tube floats because there was an ice storm coming and they wanted to use it to slide on the ice. The dude kept calling me the wrong name. But he’s my homie and I’d die for him.

Sorry that’s a lot but if you want more I’m happy to keep talking !!

[alwayshinny]

NEVILLE for Albus' middle name! Luna gets honored but not Neville?? They knew Neville before Luna, he literally helped them multiple times. I love Luna but it's so dumb that none of the Golden Trio honor Neville as well! Plus, I'm sorry, but helping save the world doesn't negate how uniquely AWFUL Snape was to Harry AND Ginny AND all of their friends! You can honor someone's sacrifice without naming your CHILD after them!

I'm going to have to partially disagree with you, anon. I felt like Luna played a bigger part in Harry and Ginny's lives than Neville did. Yes, they were roommates for 6 years, but Harry didn't really care to associate much with his roommates besides Ron. We don't know much about Ginny's friendships, but since Luna lived so close, I do think they were close. I have this headcanon that Luna helped Ginny get over the whole diary possession and was really there for her, and Ginny never forgot that. I personally think Luna was more of an emotional support for Harry than Neville ever was. I do think Harry considered Neville a good friend after the war, but not close enough that he would name his son after him. I got the impression Neville was closer to Ginny and Luna than the Golden Trio. I think once they got older and got into their careers, a lot of them drifted apart. They kept in touch but weren't as close, and that's okay. It happens to high school and university friends all the time. I could see Hinny naming their son after Ron or any of the Weasleys before they even considered the name Neville.

I agree with you about the Severus part. Snape was an asshole to them, and I don't know what they were thinking when they gave Albus the middle name Severus (I think they were both tired af and said it as a joke and the healer took it seriously). TBH, I'm not a fan of the name Albus either lol (it's an okay middle name, but I'm not a fan of it being a first name). Don't get me wrong, I like Dumbledore, just not his name. I know a lot of people will disagree with me, and thats okay, this is just my take✌🏼.

[heatwavering]

when-harry-met-sally-ification of hangster is genius!!!! i would love to hear more about that if you don't mind sharing!

also - what's on your bradley bradshaw playlist? what's genre do you associate w/ him the most?

oh god. oh you don’t even know man. hangster being harry met sally (1989) is one of those things that only makes sense in my head or with a lot of background context, because if i were to just come out and say “rooster is like sally because he’s a chronic perfectionist and an emotional powder keg that lets everything pile up until the last moment (plus his mom is meg ryan), and hangman’s like harry because he’s an cynical asshole who’s actually gooey on the inside and doesn’t speak before he thinks and chooses to push peoples buttons and yearns more than he lets on” to someone who’s only seen both movies in passing, i’m going to get a lot of blank stares and nervous laughter. "isn't that every romcom couple ever?" yes. but i mean--

BAR. FOR BAR. I have wayyy more examples and comparisons but my computer explodes every time I try to add a picture or god forbid a gif. mostly, the "we've met before and it went terrible both times, but the third time we met it stuck and we managed to finally find equal footing and fall in love," is sooooo special to me. and since when harry met sally is an 80s movie (derogatory) and people bog down on the "men and women can't be friends" thing it gets a lot of flack, but by the end of the movie the whole dynamic shifts and becomes more like "why are we putting such big expectations on a relationship when I just love you. plain and simple. no wishy-washy philosophy applies because we've outgrown it and now know each other as equals." (plus that whole first "idea" is brought up by a cynical twenty-something who changes his entire worldview by the end of the movie bc he's fallen in love. why stick to your guns about an idea that's outdated when (a) people are too complicated to fall into your boxes and (b) uhhh who cares. you're in love. I always thought the change in harry's character is supposed to reverse his previous claim in the beginning of the movie and make fun of it for being kind of elementary. but maybe I'm thinking too hard about it.) I'm definitely glossing over some plot points and nuance and whatever but again, this dynamic is something that came directly out of my mind and basically only applies to how I've sandcastled hangster into what I want to see. plus I watched WHMS at like nine years old and it might've had some debilitating side effects. enjoy with an entire pile of salt.

about music now. I'm one of those people that is the ugly kind of pretentious about character playlists (his ass would NOT listen to hayloft by mother mother, shit like that) but also spends net zero time actually building a playlist that follows a timeline or theme. so I just sort everything into two separate playlists/categories: songs that [insert character] would listen to "canonically" and songs [insert character] is aligned with in my own opinion. sometimes there's overlap!!! and sometimes I'm forcing myself to decide if Bradley listens to third eye blind or is the kind of guy who makes fun of people who listen to third eye blind. I still can't decide. I wasn't alive when he was in high school. and you know you're up a creek without a paddle when American Pie (1999) becomes reliable historical material. anyway here's the best way I can describe the difference in the two:

Bradley's own playlist: teenage boy from SoCal in the late 90s early 2000s. in my mind he was always kinda quiet in school and did partake in band so he could play the piano (yes, in jazz band. if I hear a Whiplash joke I'm airing the room out) and spent a lot of time listening to anything and everything that wasn't uhhh Britney Spears adjacent. but lots of blink-182, foo fighters, Pearl Jam, nirvana. probably some early Coldplay. maybe some of The Killers when he got to college, and Radiohead but in secret and when Maverick wouldn't bully him for listening to so much "sad ass (unspoken: gay) music." and of course he's Goose's son, soooo: Tom Petty & the Heartbreakers, Jim Croce, Billy Joel, Allman Brother's Band, Hall & Oates, CCR, Eagles, etc. From Maverick (and Ice): U2, Pearl Jam, The Cars, more dad yacht rock, maybe Metallica (??) depends on if you think Maverick would ever mess around with something hair metal adjacent. of course he prays at the alter of Bruce Springsteen like his fathers before him. and his mom filled in everything else: Fleetwood Mac, Elton John, Paul Simon, Wham! (George Michael being outed....hoo boy. #1 topic NOT discussed at the Bradshaw-Mitchell-Kazansky dinner table.), George Strait, Hootie & The Blowfish, miscellaneous female country music from the 90s like Faith Hill and Shania Twain. Alison Krauss & Union Station! Alanis Morissette! The Goo Goo Dolls? now I'm just listing things but you get the picture.

my playlist about Bradley: anything about hating your dad or your hometown with lyrics that apply. see photo below and you'll get the vibe.

[also, that ONE specific photo of miles teller in project x is the photo that sailed a thousand fics. i love that photo. i wrote this entire fucking fic around that photo. it’s so bradley nicolas bradshaw to me.]

but overall my biggest examples of songs that apply to him (for me) are Little Giant by Roo Panes, Release by Pearl Jam, and The Long Way Around by the Chicks. Seventeen by Sharon Van Etten bc of how it makes me feel about Maverick and him (sick in the head.) souvenir by boygenius. faith by bon iver. Hot & Heavy by Lucy Dacus and The Steps by HAIM for hangster vibes. too much Taylor Swift and Maggie Rogers that I don't know how to explain without having a published fic. I have a ton more and I want to pick like 10 songs from each section and go into heavier detail, but I should probably put something out before I dig myself a hole pffft.

[erigold13261]

Sorry if I sound nit picky but… if queerness is so common in your NSR universe, why is homophobia and transphobia prevalent?

The same reason why it is in our universe. People are assholes.

The world is not a monolith, just because the one city we and handful of people we see are queer or allies doesn't mean that is true for everywhere. Vinyl City is a more supportive and queer city, so of course queer people would flock to a place they feel safe or know their rights won't be taken away.

We have seen plenty of families/people that are super supportive, like Alyona, Nova's parents, Mama, Neon J, Zuke and West's parents are implied to be supportive and so is Eve's mom. But we also see people who are not supportive, like Matvey, Tila's parents, random assholes and internet trolls. People can also change over time, like Neon's parents who became supportive or West and Joust who were pretty shitty people who then turned out okay(ish).

Queer people attract queer people. Same with neurodivergent people. It is safer in numbers and a lot of queer and neurodivergent people get outcasted and turn to each other for help and support. Like my friend group in high school/middle school started out with a bunch of "cishet" kids and now we are all some flavor of the rainbow in one way or another. Even before any of us came out, we had an internal/subconscious gayday that led us to each other.

The world is really big. There will be communities that are super supportive with tons of allies. Then there will be places that are very hostile and unsupportive, even dangerous to be. We are just seeing the world from the perspective of queer people who have weeded out and curated their friend groups/work environment to be as supportive and accepting as possible.

And when we do see the unsupportive side, it is mostly in the past or happening to people without a choice to choose who they associate with (such as the Sayu Crew's families). Tatiana and Neon didn't choose to live in hateful houses just as much as Catherine and Nova didn't choose to be brought up in loving and safe (home) environments.

It is easier to walk away from a shitty "friend" than it is to get away from family. And even then, if you are in school, it can be hard to get away from asshole friends and jerks. So bigotry would seem more common in the cases of young people or families that you are stuck with. Though, of course there are still times where you can't get away from a bigot because of the situation.

That is probably why bigotry seems "prevalent" in my NSR universe. We are mainly seeing the past and present through the lens of "friends" and family. Like Neon's family being unsupportive, but that can be countered with his friends and navy crew that were supportive of him. Or Tatiana with a dick of a father, yet her mother was supportive along with the Goolings, Kliff, and a bunch of other people. Even the Sayu Crew who have varying levels of intolerance from their families still have each other, NSR, and a whole bunch of friends to support them. So while it does seem like bigotry in NSR is prevalent, there is just as much support and acceptance that is shown.

There will always be shitty people out there. Even in the most queer city there is. Heck, for an example of this, look at Zed. He is a person who HATES loud noises living in probably the center of the music capital of the world (not implying Zed is an allusion to anti-lgbtq mindset). But just because Vinyl City has a ton of queer people doesn't mean there won't be bigots.

Plus, a lot of the "random" bigotry that happens to the megastars is from online people. It is so much easier to be a dick online than in person, so people take this opportunity to spout homophobia, transphobia, all other kinds of phobias and hate-speech. It is easy to see the extremes of people (on both sides) online since they can come from anywhere with super easy access.

So I can see why you might think that because the NSR crew we see being made almost entirely (if not actually entirely) queer people, then "there shouldn't be bigotry" but that is not the case unfortunately. Just like there are pretty queer friendly cities in our world, there are also cities you can't even APPEAR queer without getting targeted for a hate crime or even worse. This is the same with the NSR universe.

There are towns and cities, little villages and counties, even just neighborhoods, that all have different beliefs. People will go to places they feel safe (whether that is a queer person wanting acceptance or a bigot wanting "freedom from gays"). Though this kind of separation does happen in cities (like the districts we see being completely different from one another) there are still a lot of melting of communities and beliefs that happen. Which is why there will always be bigotry, as there is no way that everyone will always be accepting of everyone else.

You can even see this in the queer community. Where exclusionists will tell Bi people to choose a side, that Ace and Aro people are basically straight, or that Nonbinary is not a "real" gender. So just because there are a lot more queer people in NSR, doesn't mean it is free of problems and bigotry.

Sorry if this is WAY more than what you were asking. I just had a lot of fun writing this. And don't worry about thinking you are being "nit picky" because I LOVE explaining my reasoning for everything I do as I usually have a lot of ideas behind my decisions. Though that isn't always the case, I do still love trying to come up with justifications for my world building. Otherwise, I could have just said there's bigotry to give the plot something to do without any real justification.

[hrokkall]

-🥊

Hi 🥊 Anon. Long time no see (I don’t actually think it’s been that long, but hey.)

Favorite thing about them: I wouldn’t say this is my favorite thing about it, but genuinely one of the funniest scenes in the Hex is when it’s inexplicably in video game jail. The answer to that is “Irving is an asshole” obviously, but the juxtaposition of Training Dummy next to an alligator, a giant dragon, a giant radioactive snake-worm, and Sado was a punch to the face. Free training dummy it did nothing wrong.

Least favorite thing about them: There’s nothing to dislike here. If you’re not a Training Dummy fan I don’t want you on this blog (I’m joking, but Training Dummy is… weirdly relevant here.)

Favorite line:

“…”

brOTP: Okay it started as a joke at first but the wizard pupils being inexplicably attached to the training dummy they’ve been using to practice spells on is hilarious to me. “Sorry I cast fireball on you yesterday. I was really excited to see that it worked but then when I thought about it I felt kind of bad… can I… um… sew that back together?” it’s like the wizard school equivalent of a stuffed animal that sits on top of the whiteboard that the entire classroom full of 19-26 year olds immediately deems the class mascot.

OTP: ???????

nOTP: See above.

Random headcanon: I know for a fact this is stolen from you but the concept of every game made using the Gameworks Engine having the Training Dummy somewhere in-game is hilarious to me. It’s like the video game equivalent of the Wilhelm scream. Every game designer HATES seeing it in the final game because it RUINS immersion most of the time but that just makes programmers even more tempted to sneak it in somewhere as a sort of game development inside joke. Having said that, from an in-character point of view this either means multiple training dummies or multiple reassignments so good luck to this guy either way.

Unpopular opinion: I was going to jokingly say Training Dummy should have been a talking card but I quickly realized that probably wouldn’t work. I don’t even know if the Training Dummy would have the required level of sentience to be inscrybed as anything other than a terrain card. As funny as it would be if it was secretly a person I’m pretty sure it’s Literally Just A Mannequin (maybe not? It does have custom inner dialogue when you challenge it with an invalid deck but it’s really unclear whether that’s meant to imply the Training Dummy is a person or if it was just for the bit). Sorry buddy </3

Song I associate with them: I was going to delete this section but you know what, I’ll add one for the bit. We’ll go with Tubthumping by Chumbawamba. I get knocked down but I get up again. You know the one.

Favorite picture of them: I like its Inscryption sprite best personally; the Hex gives it more detail but the Inscryption sprite just has a certain charm to it (plus, it gets a sword. Hell yeah)

[15fishes]

i hate like not knowing if someone hates me bc they think im cringe or if its bc I actually did something wrong bc like i knew this girl when i first came to the school in like 8th grade and i forget how but she knows i was involved in whatever cringe fandom and i remember her being like “eww cringe” which like whatever im a literal furry idc if she thinks im cringe but like now we dont talk which also fine but she also like?? stares at me??? like i sit behind her in a class and she kept turning around to side eye me?? and like im not getting a “ew there are rumors your a furry(i am) and you were involved in a fandom (i was) and you were reading manga in 4th period (yep!)” vibe im getting more of a “you killed my parents and stomped on their graves” vibe which?? is pretty random??? like even when she talks to me its kinda passive aggressive but shes not really involved with that passive aggressive “cringe!1!1!” circle but then again shes always a little passive aggressive with all of us?? and like she always seems to think shes like above us like its constant patronization and like i cant tell if she has a personality besides being condescending BUTRHATSBESIDESTHEPOINT like i actually dont know if its an “ew furry” side eye or an “theres a rumor that you hate homless people” side eye cuz like why would she be literally trying to look at me so hard in first period but like we talked once during a fire drill cuz shes in my hr (actually i thought she like bordered on being a cancels everyone on twitter person but now im thinkikng its the cringe thing bc like she did call our hr teacher fat 17x times) and she wasnt THAT patronizing like maybe shes less patronizing now but anyways i think what really gets me about her is i never let go of the sentiment that she might be kinda cool plus she hangs out with cool ppl so cool by association so it kinda makes me hate that she seems like she doesnt like me and makes me think i mightve done something wrong buti guess i should let that go bc as i think a bit harder abt it they might just thing im cringe which is significantly better than them thinking that im a complete asshole (still not totally convinced tho i do think i can come off as pretentious which i am but i dont want to be but i totally am and one of her friends is in my english (im in my pretentious prime there) so she might think im pretentious that way HHHHHHH) highschool is complicated except its not except it is except its not actually highschool is a completely fucked homogeneous mixture made in a styrofoam cup at a restaurant actually the exact mixture that one kidDUMPED over my HEAD at a restaurant . thats higjschool actually i take it back highschool analogies are cringe i definitely should NOT post it but lord knows im going to . hi everyone

[filiasyth]

Hello! I hope you are having a good day. I am hard of hearing and have started taking ASL classes at my high school. So far, I have gotten along fine, but, the issue is I am disabled and predominantly one handed. Is this going to eventually stop me from learning the language? Like, is only being able to sign with one hand going to make it so other people can’t understand me? Thank you!

Hey there, to you as well!

Glad your class is going well so far. To answer your question, no, you absolutely shouldn’t worry that one-handed signing, and/or mostly one-handed signing, would prevent you from continuing to learn ASL!  :)  It’s very commonplace practice to re-phrase a sentence with different wording (=signs) if your initial expression wasn’t fully understood. Additionally, regardless of ASL having many two-handed signs, I guarantee that the more of the language you pick up, the broader your vocabulary base, the more confident you’ll feel in finding multiple ways to sign what you’re trying to say.

Now I can get ramble-y sometimes, but if you’ll bear with me giving a concrete example here:  I used to work at a fully-signing Deaf school, and in my specific classroom I worked with deaf-plus (deaf+) students; meaning, deaf students with a range of additional disabilities. (I miss them so much!  ;__;)  Relating to this type of situation, a few of them also had physical disabilities which affected motor control. The only reason I bring this up is that, working with our team & our students, we would use many different auxiliary aids and have our students practice individually-tailored habits when forming handshapes, fingerspelling, etc.-- whatever they were having trouble with. We also worked with the school’s physical therapists daily to help them learn finger/handshapes and body movements (think how HOSPITAL is signed on your opposite shoulder), and so forth. To be clear, I obviously don’t mean like forcing their hands into a handshape if they weren’t “getting it”; I mean, like, gently having them practice a few times every day, using a silicon mold to fit their hand around, or holding an orange to associate conventional handshape patterns with signing ORANGE, etc. etc.-- and all of this with plenty of breaks for stretching, switching activities to something fun, and so forth. But no matter what, using all these different strategies, our students were capable of communicating their meaning regardless of their physical signing abilities.

So, TL:DR-- don’t worry, keep going, and most importantly be patient with yourself.

Give yourself plenty of breaks from homework/practicing when you need them. Definitely don’t strain yourself to try to express in a two-handed modality what you could express (with different phrasing) in a one-handed modality. You might also consider communicating this to your teacher, if you haven’t already, and have them work with you on the curriculum in a way that accommodates your specific needs.

Just do what’s comfortable for you. And, if anyone pressures you about this, don’t forget that the sign for ASSHOLE only requires one hand ;)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

P.S. -- if you’d like me to provide an ASL-signed video version of this post, hit me up again in asks and I’ll record & share the file with you, over Google Drive or some such. I’m also happy to record sample ASL sentences that would demonstrate rephrasing with a one-handed modality, if that would help. Don’t hesitate to ask!

[zyasmedia]

i don't normally read ocs fics but for em, I'll do anything 🛐⬇️

“tell me you don’t want to go with andrew without telling me you don’t want to go with andrew. suprised he didn’t pop up as soon as you ask me. i expect him to tag you or something. at least have a wire.” he joked tapping my shoulder and leaning closer to it, pretending he was talking in a microphone. “hey andy. how you doing today?”

so happy to see u took the name andrew from me; i had an experience in college with an asshole named andrew and i've associated that name with assholery ever since

then I heard the music playing. they’re here. the banging on the lockers soon followed. they’re really here.

i love this scene so much, it's so imaginative, i can visually see everything with this "beats" AND i think about it semi-weekly :D

four figures came into the classroom. all wearing black hoodies and black pants with masks. jj maybank, rafe cameron, pope heyward, and the one who is the reason i refuse to be anything but friendly to andrew. his older, taller, hotter, and a whole lot more intimidating brother john b routledge. the four horseman.

so HOT i love them sm

that made him walk straighter to the one with the black mask - rafe cameron - and a smile to appear on his face as he walked out with rafe’s hand on his neck.

mY FUCKING MANNN

the white mask - pope heyward - brought him out.

my other MANNN LOLL

looking up, my eyes meeting his and my breath hitched. i was facing the one with the red mask.

i'm highlighting this bc i am already forgetting whos mask is who

but no. his focus was completely on me. it was like the whole classroom was gone and it was just the two of us.

sigh... if only...

“man, i do miss high school girls. they don’t give any lip back when you tell them something.” rafe mumbled and i heard jj chuckle.

ykw this is so in canon for u rafe bc why r ur best friends high schoolers 😭

“somewhere where they can’t hear you scream.” that was pope’s warm deep voice.

i literally am imagining kook!pope and cannot get him out of my head

“don’t scare them. that’s what the party is for.” rafe teased and the three of them laughed.

giggling fr

jj ignored his question. “she’s growing up fast and nice huh?”

hehehee

“yeah. it’s getting harder to pretend not to notice her anymore.” john b replied and I felt something tugging on my heart.

SHUT UPPPPP 🦅

final thoughts — i fucking love ur writing!! i know ur basing it off ur au, but i think it's so cut-straight and centered on the plot without the meandering descriptions pd does with devil night. and plus, my favorite boys? AS KOOKS? THE FOUR HOUSEMEN?? yeah. yeah. yeah. i'm eating this shit UP.

devil night - john b and angel

three years ago

angel

“please. you’re really going to let me go with some guy that i don’t know?” i asked my friend, tugging on his school blazer so he can look at me. sighing, nico turned over to me and shook his head.

“you can go with anyone else. you’re drop dead gorgeous and that’s the whole point of the dance. to ask out who you want to.”

“and i want to ask you. so how about it? with me you know exactly what you’re getting into and there’s no playing games.”

“tell me you don’t want to go with andrew without telling me you don’t want to go with andrew. suprised he didn’t pop up as soon as you ask me. i expect him to tag you or something. at least have a wire.” he joked tapping my shoulder and leaning closer to it, pretending he was talking in a microphone. “hey andy. how you doing today?”

pushing him off as he started laughing hysterically my voice turned pleading. “come on. we always have a good time when we’re together.” and i don’t want to be hounded all night by andrew and create false expectations on what we are.

i don’t say that part out loud though.

nico might be joking about the microphone but i don’t put it past him. andy always seems to find me even when i’m not telling him where i’m going.

“fine. i’ll go with you.” he gives in and i give a quick squeeze. “thank you. it won’t be disappointing i swear.” i said before heading to my class of the day.

now it’s gonna be easier to talk about the upcoming dance at dinner tonight when mrs routledge brings it up. i could tell the truth instead of changing the subject and feel the need to hide because of andy’s eyes on me.

making sure my hair covered my entire neck, i slipped into my seat next to my friend laura. she flashed me a smile as we got paper out. pop quiz friday. we know the routine.

as the class starts to settle in a senior comes in beaming. “they’re here!” she squeals as she makes her way to her friends and they start giggling as they talk?

who’s here?

“alright class. you know the drill. solve these five problems.” mr gary said turning on the projection and the sound of pencils soon fill the room as we solved the problems.

slope formula is y = mx + b and if x equals zero that means b and m is equal.

i watch as a freshman came into the classroom and gave a note to the mr gary. he read the note and sighed and pulled out a book, pretending to read it.

what?

then I heard the music playing.

they’re here.

the banging on the lockers soon followed.

they’re really here.

four figures came into the classroom. all wearing black hoodies and black pants with masks. jj maybank, rafe cameron, pope heyward, and the one who is the reason i refuse to be anything but friendly to andrew. his older, taller, hotter, and a whole lot more intimidating brother john b routledge.

the four horseman.

they were back.

probably because the basketball team sucked without them. i used to go to every game now i go once in a while and i didn’t pay attention to any of the new players. the new players weren’t them.

whatever magic the team had, it seemed they took it with them. no wonder the coaches or the sponsors called them down from college to pump up the team spirits.

do the tradition no one else seen be able to do. outer banks’ favorite holiday.

devil’s night.

a night of pure chaos where all adults looked away for the night. only the police trying to keep a leash on us.

“ryder johnson.” a boy from the back of the classroom got up. his eyes get flickering around, nervous as we all watched him. “yeah get some ryder.” that made him walk straighter to the one with the black mask - rafe cameron - and a smile to appear on his face as he walked out with rafe’s hand on his neck.

“walter james.” they called again and he didn’t hesitate as the one with the white mask - pope heyward - brought him out.

I can hear a couple of the girls giggling and i put my head back down. finish my work and prepare for what my friends were going to drag me on later.

i heard one of their boots start to walk. probably to see if they miss any other player.

they stopped at my desk.

i can feel my face heat up as i felt their stare on me. no one was whispering now.

looking up, my eyes meeting his and my breath hitched. i was facing the one with the red mask. the one that i was looking for every room i went in. the one whose presence i couldn’t shake even after he left for college.

john b.

our eyes held.

what does he want? he got all the people he wanted for now. girls who was old enough would follow and he would and could have anybody he wants.

but no. his focus was completely on me. it was like the whole classroom was gone and it was just the two of us.

he leaned closer and I sat up more, not wanting to be the one to ruin this. no matter what my thoughts yelled at me.

“she can’t go. she’s only seventeen.” mr gary said but he stayed in his seat. john b didn’t look away from me.

he knew what age i was. just a month younger then his brother. he didn’t budge.

“see something you like?” jj asked.

john b didn’t respond.

“okay. see something you want to bring?” john b shook his head and sat up more. “not yet anyway.” he whispered before they walked out,

my eyes followed as they walked out the room and stayed on the door as two girls walked out with their books, making terrible excuses not even trying to hide their smiles.

“five more minutes.” mr gary announced and i know he meant the quiz but who gives a shit now.

“can you bring this to my house?” i asked laura and raised my hand, putting the other on my stomach. “what are you do-?”

“yes ms santos?”

“my stomach doesn’t feel so good. can i go to the nurse?” he nodded and wrote me a pass.

i expected as much. who would believe that perfect little angel santos would be doing anything else? the straight a student who does volunteer work and wears her uniform in perfect order would be sneaking off to hang out with boys too old for her?

i grabbed the pass from him with a small smile and made my way out. hoping that they didn’t leave yet.

turning the corner in the parking lot, i saw them. the rest of the parking lot was dead so it was easy but it seemed like that everywhere they go. they had an aura that draws you to them.

pope heyward smiling with his mask on, drinking a beer and handing the rest out to the basketball players and girls there. rafe cameron was watching with his arms crossed, getting checked out by some of the girls.

rafe and pope’s car was filled with people. meanwhile it looked like they were using jj’s to house all the drinks.

perfect.

getting closer i prayed they didn’t notice me as i open john b’s car door and sat on the floor. i kept the door open as they got everybody riled up for their next stop.

“man, i do miss high school girls. they don’t give any lip back when you tell them something.” rafe mumbled and i heard jj chuckle.

“where are we going?” someone asked.

“somewhere where they can’t hear you scream.” that was pope’s warm deep voice.

“don’t scare them. that’s what the party is for.” rafe teased and the three of them laughed.

“are you guys done? let’s go.”

john b.

“what got him so pissy?” pope asked and i heard them get farther.

jj ignored his question. “she’s growing up fast and nice huh?”

“yeah. it’s getting harder to pretend not to notice her anymore.” john b replied and I felt something tugging on my heart.

but it was nothing new. he always had a new girl on his arm. he wasn’t mine to keep and i thought i gotten used to that fact.

“who are you guys talking about?” rafe questioned.

“no one. everyone get in their cars. i’m ready to get this weekend ready already.” he said and slammed his door behind him and I closed mine at the same time and laid back in the car.

the roar of the engine underneath me as i try to keep as still as possible. ready for wherever and whatever i was getting myself into.

[imdoingwhateverisnext]

Things I Don't Love (getting to know me and my weird ass) --still editing--

Warning: There are cuss words in here and many many opinions. If you don't like my opinions, that is okay. I am sure I would not like all of yours either.

Getting crop dusted...by ANYONE

Mucous in any form

The phonetic sound of the spoken words "SMEGMA" and "OILY"

(((shivers)))

Onions

B.O.

B.O. that smells like onions

An unexpected dog lick on my foot

Walking barefoot indoors (it's a floor texture thing)

Uncomfortable socks

The daily wrestling match between my bra and my boobs after I get out of the shower

Buzzers at Basketball games

Toenails that extend past the end of the toe

Chocolate and mint combined. I will admit, I am a supporter of flavor segregation in some cases. Chocolate is good with most things. Mint is not. Both are good as long as they are separate. I have thought about this a lot because some people people think I am a monster for not liking chocolate+mint.

Since I am already a monster to some of you, I hate licorice, eel, crab, crawdad, shrimp, lobster (in fact, all underwater spiders), olives, jelly beans, circus peanuts, green peppers, fennel, and bacon (yes I said it-BACON). I saw bacon with nipples once, and that was it for me. Plus I had a pet pig when I was little. (Just speaking my truth)

More things I don't love....

When someone stops me and says, "Wait, you must be kin to....(insert a family member or surname here). You look just like them". 'Oh you mean I look just like my 96 year old great grandma who passed away in 1994?' It doesn't feel like a compliment, but I still smile and say 'thank you' anyway.

When my pit bull farts on my yoga mat. Especially when she is sitting with her butt hole is pressed against it. I now put my mat away immediately when I am finished. Lesson learned.

People who are mean to people just because they can be.

Itchy tags on my clothes

Mosquitoes, Fleas, Ticks, Wasps, Hornets, stink bugs.

My neighbor's lawn jockey ((GRRR...))

Not being able to reach things without a stool or ladder

Other people's taste in music (sometimes). I get it, most people probably don't love mine either. Opinions are like assholes right?

Loud sudden startling noises that I am not expecting.

The sound of a popping balloon even if I am expecting it.

Mouth sounds I can hear from across the room.

The smell of fake lavender

Bad perfume or cologne (especially if it is strong). I don't have any specific examples, but most of the Men's colognes that are blue, or have the words "blue" or "fresh" somewhere in the name or description.

Any melon (honeydew, canteloupe, watermelon). I dislike the first two so much that I will not eat fruit that has been touching either one of them. Any association with melon ruins the flavor of the rest of the fruit.

Tighty whities. This has been established prior. I dedicated an entire paper to this one topic alone, but it warrants repeating. They are unattractive on everyone! All body shapes, styles and colors. They are equally hideous for all.

Trying to find matching socks. I gave up wearing them all together (unless I am indoors without shoes, they give me some foot sensation protection)

Station wagons

Any vehicle with fake wood on the sides.

Stepping barefoot into warm pee. I don't know why the warmth seems to make it worse.

Most of the indoor house paint color schemes from the 70's...pale lime green, orange, dark yellow and army green. It might be a light form of PTSD from staring at the painted walls of all of the government buildings I attended school in, or military housing. But the private home decor was just as hideous back then.

Panties that bind, roll, or wedge. I have been known to strip off uncomfortable underwear in the bathroom at work or in the store, in the car, pretty much anywhere I decide, "these things have to go! Commando it is!" Uncomfortable drawers can ruin my entire day.

The sensation of squishing on my feet when walking in wet shoes.

People who are selfish in bed. It is just unnecessary. Whatever happened to 'You scratch my back, I'll scratch yours'?

Worn out heavily trafficked shag carpeting

The feel of my armpits when they are naked (no deodorant). They feel angry and irritated, and stick when I get sweaty.

Getting sweaty...unless it is earned through a workout or sex. It is perfectly fine then.

Catching my dog half way through eating her own vomit <<gag>> But I am also thankful that I am not the one having to clean it up. Is that wrong?

How tender the underside of my arm skin is. How do people get tattoos there???

That person who continues to try to have a conversation with me without looking up from his or her phone. I converse much better when your face is pointed toward my face and there is some form of acknowledgment that you hear what I am saying. I am guilty of walking away in the middle of a conversation because the other person began typing on his phone. I don't care who it is. I have done this to my mom before. I will just walk away. I must be really boring to talk to.

Rude drivers. "You know I had the right of way Dick Head!!"

Being the center of attention when everyone in the room is looking at me, like on a stage or at a podium.

Clothes that feel uncomfortable or restrictive.

Friction blisters from ill-fitting shoes

Skinny high heels or extremely high heels of any kind (AKA- Devil Shoes). I have nearly broken my ankle more than once when the shoe flipped sideways twisting my ankle into a very unnatural 90 degree angle. This has happened to both of them on different occasions. I had to give these kind of shoes up to protect myself from further orthopedic damage.

A room/lounge/bar where the cigarette smoke is so thick, my eyes sting and water.

People who try to make me feel bad about myself so that they can feel better about themselves.

Bilateral corneal abrasions

Feeling frozen in the frog squat position after a strange epidural, even though I can see my legs are clearly straight out in front of me.

Making small talk with someone I do not care for or with someone I know dislikes me. I personally do not like wasting my words or my air. It is the RARE person that I feel this way about.

The way my teeth feel when I run my tongue across them after I have eaten a lollipop or sucked on a sugary candy/mint. It just feels gross.

Taking a sip of your soda straw only to realize, for a brief disgusting moment, that it is sweet tea! And it isn't even yours! And you search in panic to figure out who you are now swapping saliva with. Oh damn, a coworker. Well thankfully it is not the grossest one you know. Yeah, it was me. This happened to me. I don't even dislike tea, but that initial taste of wet, flat and sweet, and the underwhelming sensation of lack of carbonation when my mouth was clearly expecting fizz, is one of the worst things. It must be a traumatic memory considering I am still talking about it 10 years later.

Slipping and falling in flip flops on wet grass.

My car breaking down in the middle of the road.

The sounds of patent leather vs patent leather when rubbed together.

Seeing an animal kill or eat another animal. Yes I know, I eat meat which makes me a hypocrite on this topic. In my defense, if I were required to kill my food, I would be a vegan starting right now. I don't want to SEE how the hamburgers are made. I am aware. Call me a snowflake or a wuss, I don't care.

Anything that comes flying toward my face with wings flapping (bird, moth, butterfly, dragonfly). Except bats, I love bats.

Anything that buzzes and flies near my ear.

Cramming my pinky toe into a door jam or heavy coffee table.

Listening to someone who is singing severely off key, or a well timed extended flat note where it doesn't belong.

Rapid fire: Things I don't love....

The heavy smell of straight bleach

Rough feet (including my own)

Paper cuts

Blemishes (on me)

Uncooperative hair (mine)

Banana candy flavor

Being rushed (I also dislike waiting a long time)

Visibly dislocated bones

The way my speaking voice sounds when I hear it recorded

Clutter

Organizing clutter

Dust

Dusting

Dirty dishes

Hand washing dirty dishes

Dirty bathrooms

Cleaning the bathroom

Pain

Boredom

Corduroy

Stalkers

Air Horns

Crepitus

Wood paneling

Giant dog balls

Curdled milk

Sweating

Ammonia

Pelvic exams

Being yelled at

Public speaking

Spiders

Grasshoppers

Insects that travel long distances in a single bound

Slowly rising toilet water nearing the crest of the bowl edge

How the inside of a sea urchin looks

Clowns

Marionettes

Ventriloquist dolls

Puppets in general (I am currently in puppet therapy)

(((((((((still working on this. Not completed)))))))))))

[silvergeek]

About Tolkien "fans"....

I've spent the last 25+ years studying Tolkien fans. I thought I was indulging in the books and the fantasy lore but, lo and behold, I was mostly interacting with the other fans. And let me tell you something... the bulk of them are assholes.

The first die hard Tolkien fan I met was a boy in my high school freshman English literature class. The year was 1995. We were all assigned to read The Hobbit and, I would have to agree, 14 years of age is the perfect age to get to reading it if you hadn't started it in middle school.

A boy in my class had already read it, plus the LOTR trilogy, as well as The Silmarillion. What ensued for the rest of that semester was this particular boy dominating class discussions and telling everyone else what was going to happen in the book before we'd reached that chapter. This boy wasn't gifted by any means, just a superfan. I found him annoying by the end of the semester. He nearly ruined the book for me.

I loved reading The Hobbit and that assignment inspired me to read the rest of the LOTR books, but I'll never not associate my introduction to Tolkien with the blathering and nerdsplaining of that loud mouthed teenage boy.

Then, in my early 20's, I met a man. We were, well, married in the early 2000's. (It didn't last. We divorced just four years later.)

He was one of those Tolkien fans who had a monopoly on the franchise. Nevermind that I'd also read the books and saw the original trilogy in theaters. He was The Expert on Tolkien mythos, and don't you forget that. Also, I came to learn that he was a huge racist. He kept that reined in around me, letting it gradually bleed out over the years until he finally dropped all pretenses and voiced every racist thought that crossed his mind.

Oddly, his love of Tolkien was intimately associated with his love of Nordic and Anglo culture, coupled with his unfiltered disdain for African American people. He also boasted that he loved Wagner, a notorious anti-semite, and said it was my first name (I was named after a famous european fairytale that was adapted into one of Wagner's operas) that originally drew him to me.

He made black jokes, jew jokes, dropped n-bombs, the list goes on. The more racist he became, the more he revealed other ugly aspects of himself and the less I loved him -- and eventually grew to loathe him. I filed for divorce and that was that. But he was a preachy, die hard, you-don't-know-Tolkien-lore-better-than-me, nordic pride racist.

Odd, considering Tolkien’s revulsion for Hitler. Anyway...

Moving forward, I have spent the last few months in and out of Tolkien discord chats, mainly observing the others chatting. The "fans". Oh they know their lore. Yes they do. They have it memorized like the holy bible. They fight over concepts of if whether or not orcs were corrupted elves or corrupted men. They revere Tolkien almost like a deity. Some of them have this misguided concept that Tolkien lived in "old England", like "ye olde" with that extra "e" on there and everything. But the truth is that Tolkien died literally ten years before I was born and while The Hobbit was being published, the Three Stooges was playing at the cinema.

Point is, their memories of the lore are photographic, pretentiously spelling Sauron's name like "Þauron" and everything, but their memories and concepts of the author are distorted. It almost reminds me of how American nationalists deify the "founding fathers". (Typically to push some outmoded, traditionalist agenda onto the masses by law.)

When I look back on how much of Tolkien’s work that I've read and enjoyed, from The Silmarillion to The Return of the King, and I look at how many of the adaptations I've watched on screen (the cartoons, the live action trilogy, suffered through the Hobbit films, and now I quite enjoy the Rings of Power), I know deep down that I am a fan because I thoroughly enjoy the content that this world of middle earth has inspired. Whether it inspired J.R.R. Tolkien, Peter Jackson, or the creators of the cartoons as well as the live action Amazon prime series, this world is rife with storytelling possibilities.

Isn't that what stories become? There are so many variations on folk fairy tales in of themselves. Hell, as I mentioned, I was named after one and then centuries later an anti-semite composed an opera about it! No one begrudged him for that.

Greek myths became cartoons, European fantasy folk tales became mass marketed table top games, and an overwhelming number of Japanese lore has been adapted into manga comics, video games, and anime cartoons.

And this trend of human storytelling and adaptation will continue until the sun swallows us up. Yes it will.

And yet... the "hardcore" Tolkien fanbase... it hasn't changed in my lifetime.

At the end of the day, they are still that 14 year old little boy yelling over the class discussion.

[glitterdustcyclops]

fuck it i'm bored at work again, here's what i've got so far

Okay. So. I officially had a problem. Well, honestly, I had a bunch, but this one was a very particular problem, and I had no fucking clue what to do about it. It wasn't exactly something you could just google. At least not without ending up on some kind of FBI watchlist, anyway. Because the thing was, somehow, somewhere along the way, the whole “dressing up in a corset and lace panties to let Ethan spank me” thing had kind of turned into scrolling through accounts that posted about lolita fashion and quietly liking what I found.

I think, when I tried to figure out where it all went wrong, that it was probably, definitely, June's fault.

All those OOTD selfies she was always posting, that I dutifully liked because obviously I did, I was a supportive…err, boyfriend, I guess. And then The Algorithm had gotten its hooks in me, and my suggested posts had slowly morphed into a tidal wave of pink and frills. And you know what was the worst part about it? I didn't even think it was a sex thing this time. Late at night, when I was sleepy and therefore vulnerable, I had to admit to myself that actually, I kind of just liked the way the clothes themselves looked. And that maybe, I would want to wear them too.

In public.

Eep.

See, the idea of wearing a full-on lacy maid fantasy for Ethan to fuck me in felt, if not exactly normal, then at least understandable. All that delicious dirtyhotshame of making myself all girly and cute to let my hot beefy dom ruin it—that was practically elementary school kink. But this. This secret, shameful yearning to be…pretty just because I wanted to. I mean, that was basically asking to be hate crimed, wasn't it?

And as much as I was working on that whole “speaking honestly about my desires so my partners can have hot nasty kinky sex with me about them” thing, this still felt like a bridge too far. I mean, how did you even go about having a conversation like that?

Hey June, will you dress me up like a pretty little dolly for non-sexual reasons this time? And, I don't know, maybe also take pictures?

Gah. No. That sounded even more perverted. The whole thing was just fucking impossible. Which meant, of course, that I chose to repress it entirely instead. Because that had worked out so well for me before.

And maybe it would have, until that fateful day, when I so happened to have the entire weekend off and June had texted me to come over to Izzy's place because both her and Ethan were out of town for the weekend, and June was “bored as fuck.” It took me about two seconds, once she answered the door herself and let me in, leading me up to her office, to realize that I had been bamboozled. Tricked. Deceived by this wicked woman and her shenanigans.

“Uh, June,” I said, taking in the lace-covered carnage of her office. It looked like a bomb had gone off at a baby doll factory.

June at least had the decency to look briefly guilty. “Right. So, I may have forgotten to tell you that I totally have a lolita meetup going on today. And I'm having trouble deciding what to wear. Haha, whoops!”

I felt my eyes narrow at her. Didn't buy that one for a second.

“So you invited me over to watch you get dressed up to go hang out with other people?” And I extremely did not like the note of bitter jealousy in my voice then, but I figured she probably deserved it.

She deflated. “Right, I'm sorry, I'm a huge asshole. I can skip the meetup and we'll spend the day together like I promised.”

And then June got that look in her eye suddenly, the one I'd learn to associate with further shenanigans, and I tensed.

“Or. Well…”

“Well?”

“I mean, you could come with me?”

Yup. There it was.

“C-come with you?” I tried for nonchalance even as I felt my heart speeding up. “Uh. Why?”

“Well, just. I don't know. It might be fun? You're very cute and I wanna show you off to all my friends. Plus you could maybe even dress up, you know, if you wanted. Like, everyone would absolutely lose their minds about it if you did.”

“Dress up?” My voice had gone worryingly high at the end of that, but June was gracious enough to pretend she hadn't noticed.

“Yeah! Only if you felt comfortable doing it, of course. I just. I think you would be really fuckin cute dressed up in lolita.”

There was something about the vulnerable note in her voice right then. Her expression was doing its best to project careful neutrality, but the spark of hope in her eyes was unmistakable. And she had always known, hadn't she? From the first time I'd met her, she'd look at me with those deep brown eyes that saw right through me, into the deepest, darkest parts of me. Even if I hadn't even known they were there at the time.

In a weird way, it made me feel safe. Safe enough to finally say what I'd been keeping from her, and Ethan and Izzy, for weeks now.

“I mean, uh. This—it’s silly, but. Uh. Nobody will laugh at me, right?”

“Oh my gosh, no, of course not babe! My lolita group is super LGBTQ positive. You know if they weren't I wouldn't keep hanging out with them. Trust me, the girls will be obsessed with you.”

I wasn't actually sure if that would be better than bigotry, but I felt my resolve weakening. Why not, right? Wasn't that the first lesson she'd taught me? What's the worst that could happen?

Well, the asshole part of my brain piped up instantly, your fucking roommates could find out and then you'd have to kill yourself. Okay, that was pretty extreme. And unlikely. So I took another breath—for courage—and faced all that bright shiny hope in June's gorgeous eyes and I managed a nod.

“Fuck it, yeah. Okay. I w-want to. June, dress me up please.”

“Yay!” she practically squealed, clapping her hands together before pulling me into a ridiculous, lung-popping, bone-crushing, strangely comforting hug.

“Thank you for agreeing, Chris. I'm so glad. You'll totally love it, I promise!”

And with that, June was off like a shot. Before I could say anything else she had her phone out, and to my utter horror, she was calling someone else with it.

“June, wait, what—”

“Shh!” she shushed me. And then, to whoever was on the other end of the line, she said, “Oh my god, heyy Deedee, are you on the way? Good. Okay. No, yeah, I need like, a massive favor from you…”

There was a lot of giggling and breathlessly exchanged plans, and the next thing I knew, approximately five feet and two inches of ruffles and silver-blond hair were tumbling into the parlor of June and Izzy's swank little Art Deco mansion, looking hilariously out of place amongst all the exquisite white marble and elegant, modern furnishings.

“I think I brought some good stuff,” the pile was saying, and it turned out to be another woman. At least, I assumed it was a woman, but whoever this person was, they were presenting rather androgynously, with a tomboy body and a ratty band tee. Their hair was shaved down shorter than mine on the sides and several tattoos and piercings were visible all over their face and arms.

“You must be Chris, huh? I'm Dylan.”

Well. That wasn't much of a clue either, was it? I was still completely useless when it came to navigating the whole pronouns thing, but I figured I'd go with she until someone corrected me.

“Nice, uh, nice to meet you.”

“June said to bring blue, I can see why. It'll compliment your eyes. They're very pretty, by the way,” Dylan continued, with a wicked, calculating glint in her eyes that for a moment reminded me of Izzy. Honestly, the two of them could have almost been related, which was an…uncomfortable thing to think.

“Oh. Uh. Thank you,” I mumbled, already feeling like an idiot. Again.

Dylan cast a scrutinizing glance over me from head-to-toe while I just stood there in front of her, shuffling awkwardly like a nervous kid on stage. I couldn't help but wonder if what she found met her standards.

“Hmm,” was all she said, taking the pile of lace and ruffles and heading up the stairs back to June's disaster of an office without needing to be given directions. I stumbled off after her.

“Hey girly!” June called to her brightly once Dylan opened the door. The both of them were utterly unbothered, apparently, that June had already stripped out of her pjs, with one of her infinite number of pink silk robes thrown casually over her bare shoulders, and little else besides.

“Thank you so much for doing this, by the way. I knew you'd be just about the right size for him.”

“No problem. You like hella owe me though.” Dylan laughed, setting her pile down on the sofa, to join its pink-hued brethren strewn about the room.

“Naturally,” June winked at her. “Now Chris, let's get down to business!”

“Well, first things first, you gotta take all that off,” Dylan replied, without looking up from where she was starting to sort through Ruffle Mountain 2: Electric Boogaloo.

“I—”

“Oh, you don’t have to get completely naked, honesty,” June smirked at me. Evil. “Just don’t to your boxers, I think. Oh and ehre, you should borrow an undershirt too.”

She handed me a white tanktop, which I thought might have been one of Izzy’s, but it looked to be roughly the right size. Holding it made me blush, again, like the fucking idiot I was.

“Bathroom’s that way.”

“Thanks.”

So, still not quite sure exactly how I’d ended up in this situation, I took the shirt and stumbled into the adjoining bathroom to change. I was actually grateful for the privacy for a second. I could hear June and Dylan thorugh the door, giggling again, obviously gossipping about something Me, I assumed. And for a minute I just stood there, staring at myself in the mirror and trying to calm down. It was ridiculous to be freaking out right now. It was just clothes. My eye caught on the tanktop bunched in my hands on the counter, and I imagined Izzy. With her safe, looming presence that one time she had me try on a corset. The way she had looked at me, like I was something fascinating. An objectifying an experience, but in a weirdly comforting way. It had helped.

Before we faced the eventual heat death of the universe I forced myself out of the bathroom, with my arms crossed defensively over my clingy tanktop-clad chest, shivering a bit. I felt incredibly exposed all of a sudden. And not even in a sexy way. But June gave me a reassuring smile, before she made a show of comically leering at me, and that weirdly helped too. Dylan barely paid attention to me at all, too busy pulling out random pieces and scrutinizing them with a museum curator’s intensity, before shaking her head and flinging them back down again.

“Okay, so,” June began, her voice taking on a College Professor Lecturing tone. “Lolita One Oh One babes: layers are a must, of course. Normally you’d wear bloomers or shorts or something underneath your skirts, but since you’ve got your boxers I think that’ll work fine. We’ll pick out tights or socks once we’ve decided on your dress. For you first time I recommend a JSK, that’s the easiest to coordinate with, and you’ll want a blouse underneath it…”

I felt my eyes starting to glaze over, and the woman kept going on and on and on, while Dylan piped up to add unhelpful commentary and occassionally hold up some piece or other to me, before shaker her head and starting again. Who knew dressing up like a Victorian dolly on crack would be so fucking complicated?

“Wait!” June interrupted herself, flinging out a hand towards Dylan. “Stop. That. That one.”

Dylan was holding an interchangably ruffly garment, in a shade of pale powder blue, with a print on it that looked like something pulled from childhood storybook illustrations that the easter bunny puked all over. Ridiculous and excessive and hyper feminine and I felt such a powerful sensation of yearning for it that I paradoxically wanted to say no immediately. Like. I couldn’t just let myself have something like that, right?

But you know what, actually—fuck that. Neither June or Dylan seemed to think there was anything weird or wrong or shameful with me wearing a pretty lolita dress. In fact, they were both giving me encouraging, hopeful smiles. Like they were…excited for me or something.

“Hm, yeah. You’re right. What d’ya think Chris?” Dylan asked me.

“I-I don’t know…”

“Well why don’t you try it on, and then we can decide, yeah?”

Instead of having me shuffled back off to the bathroom so I could get dressed and panic in private, June guided me to stand in front of the floor-length mirror. Which you know, was probably the smarter descision, because I had no fucking clue what I was doing. Thus began the complicated ordeal of enscoscing me in a frankly ridiculous number of layers of ruffles and lace. There were petticoats involved. Plural. And when it was all said and done, there I stood, in blouse and jumperskirt (which was really just a dress without sleeves) and tights, feeling—well. Silly, and embarrassed, but. Something else too. I couldn’t help but remember the last time I’d been in a position like this, standing in front of a mirror while June played dress up with me, and heat settled on my cheeks. Of course, this time it was different. No less mortifying, sure, but it lacked that air of sizzling eroticism, when it was Izzy and June teasing me and touching me while they put a corset on me.

I squirmed uncomfortably under the extremely thorough gazes of June and Dylan.

“Ta-da!” June cried with a triumphant flourish.

“Damn, he looks pretty fuckin’ adorable,” Dylan said, with an approving smile.

The attention made me want to hide my face in my hands, but that would’ve been stupid and obvious.

“Oh, doesn’t he?” June replied, with obvious pride in her voice.

And fuck, that was even worse. Or maybe better. Or something.

Gah. Complicated, it was all complicated. I didn’t know what to do with my hands as I posed for their approval, and my stomach was a goddamn riot of bubbling nerves. And yet, there was a part of me that undeniably enjoyed this. That pride in June, the praise. Being pretty, and that being an okay thing for me to be. I mean, the thought of going out in public like this was a kind of overwhelming I didn’t think I was brave enough to really face, but in the safety of this private room it was…nice. Until my asshole brain started piping up again, that I looked like a fucking idiot and everyone would laugh at me—but before I could properly panic about that, Dylan made a noise, suddenly looking down at her phone.

“Oh shit, June, look at the time. We’re totally gonna be late.”

June just shrugged, utterly unhurried. “Here, you go get ready, I’ll help Chris with the finishing touches.”

“Yeah, okay. But don’t take too long, you know how Mari flips if people aren’t there on time.”

With that cryptic warning, Dylan excavated another dress from the lace carnage and hurried off to the bathroom, while June turned to look back at me. Appraising. I wondered if this is what the statues at a museum felt like.

“So. Babe,” she started, with careful softness in her voice. “Check in. How are we feeling about this?”

Oh right, of course. Even if this wasn’t a Scene™️ she was still gonna make me talk about my feelings. In a way, I did appreciate how careful she was about this. How careful Ethan and Izzy were too, about me and making sure I wasn’t being pressured into things I didn’t really want to do. Even if it was still really fucking difficult to actually talk about it, out loud, with my mouth.

“Umm,” I said, before I lost steam and trailed off. My attention was caught on the mirror again. I still couldn’t decide if I absolutely hated the way I looked right now, or if I really really enjoyed it, and which one would be worse. And other people will see me like this! My brain unhelpfully chimed in. But June and Dylan had gone to so much trouble in getting me dressed up. Wouldn’t I be a total jerk to falke out on them now? When we were already late, apparently.

“We’ve got plenty of time, if you need to change back into your other clothes,” June said. Because she always knew what I was thinking, didn’t she?

“I—” I took a quick breath. “No. I uh, uh. It’s—I like it.”

“Alright,” she told me, easy, and then gifted me with a soft kiss to my cheek. “As long as you feel beautiful, darling.”

Of course my asshole brain replied instantly with boys aren’t supposed to feel beautiful you fucking faggot, but it was getting a little bit easier to tell that voice to go fuck itself. Still, I felt the blush grow brighter, and I could only manage a stilted nod in return.

“Now. How are we feeling accessories-wise, hon?” June was back in lecture mode. “You can wear a wig, but that’s less of a strict requirement these days. And your curls are so gorgeous anyway. I mean, sometimes it’s fun to match the color of your hair to your outfit, but you know, it’s totes up to you.”

Wearing a wig was definitely approaching way too much territory. Plus, it sounded itchy.

“N-uh. Maybe not. Not this time.”

“Okay! Do you wanna wear a hairbow though? I think I have the matching one for that print, or maybe we could do a pink, or a cream, to pull in the accent colors? Hmm, c’mere.”

She beckoned me over towards the vanity on the opposite side of the room, under the window, which was covered in cosmetics and trinkets and a giant glittery pink tacklebox that opened to reveal an entire treasure trove of bows and ribbons and other sparkly kawaii bullshit. I was immediately overwhelmed in that “little kid looking through his mom’s jewelry box” kind of way—an experience that I certainly had no personal experience with, nuh-uh, nope, no way—and I felt the longing back in my eyes as I looked at all the stuff in there.

“Here, dig thorugh that, let me know if anything catches your fancy. I gotta get dressed too, unfortunately Mari frowns on people showing up to her lolita meets half naked.”

With a shameless giggle and a wink June shrugged off her robe and starting getting dressed. I tried very hard not to stare at her like a total creep—getting hard in someone else’s borrowed dress definitely would’ve felt super wrong—so instead I focused my attention on the horde of sparkles. There was. Gosh, a lot of crap. And I didn’t know, really, what to do with any of it, and that made me anxious again. Ridiculous, getting scared about a box of bows. But there was just something infinitely more terrifying about being the one to choose. It was way fucking easier when it was Dylan and June, or even June and Izzy, determining what they’d put me in.

Submissive, the asshole voice sneered at me.

After a few more seconds of pointless waffling I plunged in, and came up with a creamy-white bow on a headband. It was made of silk, with long, long tails and lace trim that had a really intricate heart pattern, and little dangling golden and pearl bits, along with a heart-shaped charm right in the center. Before I could psych myself out about it I turned to get June’s approval, and the smile she rewarded with gently obliterated my insides with heat. Like the full-force of the sun aimed at me.

“Yeah, that’s perfect babe. Let me know if you have any questions, or need any help.”

Eventually Dylan came out of the bathroom, and I was a bit startled for a moment, by her complete transformation. She was dressed in shades of pink and yellow, with a high-waisted skirt in an equally ridiculous print, this time pancake themed. She hadn’t bothered with a wig either, instead proudly showing off that dramatic edgy punk pixie cut of hers, all her tattoos and piercings proudly on display. She looked so different like this—and you wouldn’t have thought the combination of girly, frilly clothing and punk-rock hair would work, but it totally did.

June, of course, chose head-to-toe baby pink. And she did wear a wig, all cotton-candy fluff and bouncy curls, almost as big as her skirt. Seeing her like that, once she was fully dressed—it was less of a dramatic transformation than Dylan’s was, but there was still something just…different about this version of June. Lolita clothing was, ironically, a lot more modest than her normal outfits. All her curves were covered, and yet, there was nothing really demure about her like this either. It was an over-the-top kind of femininity, to the point ot almost seemed weaponized. Exaggerated to the point of absurdity; tooth-rottingly sweet.

In a way there was something almost punk-rock about it, I realized. A frily pink middle finger. Which, I guess it made sense why Dylan seemed to enjoy it as much as June did.

Dylan entertained herself taking pictures of the lace carnage strewn about while June applied her makeup with admirable efficiency. And even better, she didn’t say anything when I turned down her offer to apply some to me as well. Another flash of memory then: June and I in Izzy’s ridiculously luxurious bathroom, her hand craddling my jaw gently-but-securely as she applied bright red lipstick to my lips with intense concentration. So that Ethan could—right. None of that, not now. When she was finished her beautifying process, June stood towering over both me and Dylan in her pastel pink platform heels, festooned in ribbons and bows and sparkly heart earrings and glitter, and I just felt this absurd rush of affection for her. The way she could light up a room even dressed in something rridiculous. How she was so totally and completely, defiantly, herself, no matter what. Sometimes I wished I could take some of that infectious, sparkling confidence of hers and bottle it up for myself. Maybe that way I could be even half as self-assured as she was, instead of the stumbling nervous wreck I really was.

“Come on bitches,” June giggled, “we’re taking a selfie.”

We took a selife.

And then, after a few last-minute adjustments to rings and wigs, we finally piled into June’s car to head out to this Lolita Meetup. Just getting inside the vehicle was already a bigger ordeal than I initially would have imagined—each of us had enough poof to take up two seats on our own. But we managed.

“So, w-where are we going?” I asked, staring out the passenger side window and trying to calm myself down. It was just Dylan and June in the car, but I still felt inexplicably looked at. Explosed. Flayed almost. I focused my attention on breathing, on grounding myself in the feel of the car seat underneath my hands, the comforting pressure of the tanktop, close against my skin. That had been a brilliant idea, it was kind of like the corset. Or maybe a rope harness. A security blanket, of a kind.

Wow. That was definitely the most perverted thing I’d ever thought, and I felt the heat back in my face.

“There’s this totally adorably little B&B Mari’s mom manages,” June was explaining, “and they have a tea parlor too. She lets us have the big room in the back, for banquets and stuff, and after tea we usually go hang out at the park nearby. But we can totes leave before then, if you aren’t feeling it, kay?”

I nodded.

June “hmmed” thoughtfully, and then continued, “If you need to leave at any time, for any reason, you can say so. Just say red. Or…hmm. What’s a less inocuous safeword?”

“Pineapple?” Dylan piped up from the back, with a snarky laugh. I blushed impossibly brighter while June giggled merrily.

“Ha! Sure, that work for you sweetie?”

“P-pineapple. Okay.”

Dylan and June kept up a stream of idle chitchat as we drove on and I counted my breaths. Traffic being what it was on Saturday afternoon I wasn’t even sure if we would ever make it to this place, but it wasn’t before long we were pulling up to a charming Victorian-esque mini mansion, with a lush front garden bursting with blooming roses and a wooden sing that read “Arabella’s Place” in elegant cursive. Inside it was full-on grandma floral as far as the eye could see while tasteful classical music emenated gently from somewhere, and I could see a few scattered couples sitting at tables in the tea parlor, dressed in their Sunday best enjoying their tea.

“Hello, welcome in—oh,” said the hostess by the front entrane to the parlor. She was dressed in a pretty yellow sundress with a crisp white pinafore on top, and her placid Customer Service smile morphed into one of honest recognition as we approached. “The rest of the girls are in the back.”

“Thank you, Rylee,” June told her, sweetly, before gesturing for me and Dylan to follow.

I felt eyes on us as we walked through the parlor, and I forced myself not to wish I could just melt into the floorboards.

Separate from the open space of the parlor there was a second private room closed off by an intricately patterened glass-windowed folding door. The banquet hall or whatever it was, and it turned out to be full of a large table covered in a crisp white cloth and a full tea service, surrounded by an entire spectrum of feminine-shaped folks wearing similar styles of dresses to my little party. We had offically Arrived. And I didn’t spontaneously combut into flames of gay panic and shame, so that was probably a good sign. For a moment I just stood there, taking in the décor, the probably excessive amount of lace doilies covering every available surface, and the people.

Apparently, there were a lot of ways one could be a lolita. Several of them wore outfits in the same pastel shades as June, Dylan, and I, but there were others in darker, more gothic-looking styles, along with red tartans and rich navy blue and dusty floral vintage prints that matches the wallpaper around us. There was even someone not wearing a dress at all, instead they looked like an anime vampire boy-prince all in black and red, with fake fangs poking out of their painted blood-red smile, sitting next to a woman in a matching dress covered in bats, wearing a blood-red bob wig.

And every single one of them was staring at us—at me, lively conversation trailing off into awkard silence as I shuffled in awkwardly behind June.

“Hey guys!” she called, rushing in as brazenly as ever. “So sorry we’re late, but we brought a newbie! Everyone, this is Chris, my partner. Be nice to him because it’s his first time wearing lolita, okay?”

There were a few waves and murmured greetings and I very bravely did not turn around and bolt from the room.

“You look super cute!” someone shouted—one of the people residing in the dusty-florals segment of the lolita spectrum. Her smile seemed genuine, not mocking, but it still made me blush even more. Because of course it did.

“Uh. T-thanks.”

And then another woman, in what I thought looked like the lolita version of a sailor’s uniform, stood up and took charge. “It’s nice to meet you Chris, come in. We should do introductions. I’m Mari, she/her pronouns.”

Ah. The infamous Mari.

so i spent all of yesterday working on a very indulgent scene where one of my ocs, june, gently & lovingly encourages her new partner, chris, a repressed as hell bisexual femboy, to dress up in lolita to go with her to a meetup and it was a fucking fantastic time

[foreverindreamlandd]

In the Embers ~ 3

Pairing: Firefighter!Bucky x F!Plus Size!Adopted Rogers!Reader

WC: 4.8k

Summary: After returning home from a failed career as an artist in LA, you are reunited with the boy next door who has always owned a piece of your heart, and there's no running from each other this time.

Chapter Note: Hello and welcome to the chapter where I relive all my old marching band fantasies lollll. Also we get some fun and totally not awkward family time. <3

Chapter Warnings: Fatphobic assholes, negative self-image

Series Masterlist / Series Playlist

FIFTEEN YEARS OLD

High school sucked. You discovered this fact within the first month.

There seemed to be a million rules associated with status in high school, but it all boiled down to one basic fact: if you weren’t a size 4 or smaller, with perfectly straight blonde hair, perfectly smooth skin and perfect everything, you were deemed unworthy of any respect, of any attention at all.

Part of you wished that that could be the case for you. That you could go on being invisible and go to marching band practice and focus on painting, the one thing that brought you a true sense of comfort. You didn’t need attention from the popular people, didn’t want to focus on how your body was something they used to judge your worth. You had Sarah. You had art. You didn’t need anything else.

Being the younger sister of golden boy and captain of the football team made being invisible totally impossible, unfortunately. Instead of being ignored by popular people, you had a giant spotlight trained on you for having the last name Rogers. The judgmental, jealous stares you got from cheerleaders made you wish you could shrink into oblivion whenever you and Sarah would arrive at the football field in the same car as the two captains, Steve and Sam, the two of you squished in the backseat next to the team’s star quarterback, the blue-eyed dreamboat, Bucky Barnes.

He never seemed to be distraught by the fact that your side was pressed flush against his. He would just give you a small smile while buckling up, and then proceeded to whisper jokes about Steve and Sam in your ear while they weren’t paying attention, eliciting small giggles from you that would make his smile brighten, and it felt like his eyes gave off a soft, warm glow whenever he looked at you. Like it was just you and him, no one else.

But then he would join the others onto the field as the crowd erupted in cheers at the sight of him, and you placed yourself in the uniform lines of the band, and the social status would be put back in place.

That didn’t stop you from having about a hundred fantasies of Bucky throwing off his helmet, looking at you with a hungry look in his eye as he ran into the bleachers, pulled your saxophone away and into the hands of someone next to you, pulling you in until your lips pressed together-

And then your Drum Major would blow their whistle, calling everyone’s attention to play ‘We Will Rock You’ for the fifteenth time.

There were moments when Bucky would jog to the sidelines, pulling off his helmet and shaking his long chestnut locks and grabbing a drink of water, where you caught him looking up in your direction and giving his stupidly charming crooked smile and a quick wink. Those were the moments where you felt the most nervous about passing out and falling underneath the bleachers.

The game would end, your team usually being victorious, and you would march off to the back parking lot where you and Sarah would wait for your brothers to finish showering and take you home. But getting a ride from the stars of the football team to the game meant that before home, you first had to be dragged to the after party.

“Can’t you just drive Sarah and I to the house, Stevie?” you whined from the back seat.

“Come on, Y/n. This is your freshman year! You gotta get out there and meet people. These things are a blast!”

You and Sarah exchanged knowing glances. Of course they were fun for your brothers, because it was a night dedicated to worshiping them while you two claimed a corner of one of the gross basement couches and stayed glued to that spot until it was time to go home.

Still, you took advantage of the extra space in the back seat to fix your hair and apply some makeup. Bucky had gotten a ride with his girlfriend, Dot, and would be meeting you all there. Though you were grateful for the room to work, you missed the warmth of his arm around you, and the mental image of his hand in Dot’s as she drove made your heart ache with jealousy.

Luckily, you and Sarah were able to claim a decently clean portion of the couch for tonight’s party, huddled together for safety amongst the chaos.

“I gotta run to the bathroom,” you muttered to Sarah, gingerly standing up and trying to avoid getting hit by a ping pong ball, snaking through the crowd toward your destination. Your eyes caught sight of Steve leaning against a doorframe chatting with Peggy Carter, a senior transfer student from England. Sam was playing video games in another room, and Bucky was making out with his gorgeous redheaded girlfriend. You quickly averted your gaze from them, face hot as a quick thought about how it might feel to be held by Bucky like that entered your mind.

Get a grip, Y/n. Bucky is like your brother or whatever.

That was the lie you had been telling yourself for years, trying to convince yourself that it was true. It was easier to use that as the excuse than to think about the fact that a guy like Bucky would never look at you the way he looked at someone like Dot.

You allowed yourself a moment to inspect your appearance in the bathroom mirror. Your hands slid from your round face down to cross over your midsection. Arms lowering back to the side, you turned to study your profile, examining how far your stomach jut out in this outfit. You had gone with a flowy top, but it didn’t hide much. Still, it was better than trying to wear anything skin-tight.

Turning back to face the mirror straight on, you stared into your eyes, the one feature you liked about yourself. Then you smiled, forcing yourself to try to find anything in your appearance that someone might find attractive.

Maybe if they stand far away, like a Monet painting or something.

One last sigh, and then you exited the bathroom to make your way back to Sarah.

Normally, you were very good at weaving through the drunk teenagers. That was the irony in being a bigger person, you learned how to do anything you could to make yourself small, make yourself unnoticeable.

Tonight, that mission had failed as a second-string sophomore stumbled into you, spilling his beer on your shirt.

You gasped, the cool, sticky liquid streaming down your chest. Your face was hot from embarrassment and you felt tears brimming in your eyes.

The kid regained his balance as he scoffed at you in disgust. “Watch where you’re going, fattie.” A group of his peers laughed along with him.

Desperate to get away from them and back to your safe corner with Sarah, you ignored the comment, turning to leave only to be met by a familiar solid chest.

You turned your gaze up to find Bucky glaring at the sophomore. Though he wasn’t looking at you, he gently grabbed your arms to move your body to his side.

“The fuck did you just say, Turner?” he seethed out.

Turner’s eyes widened at the beefy junior before him. “I was just...I uh, I mean come on Bucky, look at her. She takes up all this space and so how was I not going to bump into her-”

“Can it, asshole.” Bucky took two slow steps toward the terrified sophomore until he was inches away. Though he was close, his next words were loud enough for the whole room to hear. “If I hear you talk about Y/n or anyone else with such disrespect, I’ll make sure Coach benches you for the rest of the season. Hell, maybe I can convince him to kick you off the team all together. Is that clear?” He stood straight, panning across the now silent space. “That goes for everyone.”

Turner bobbed his head up and down, then looked to you. “Sorry.”

“You don’t get to speak to her ever again, you hear?” Bucky’s voice was venomous.

A small whimper escaped from Turner before he bolted out of the room.

Your hands were back around your stomach and you kept your eyes glued to the floor, not wanting anyone to see the tears falling down your face.

A hand rested on your shoulder and you looked up to find Bucky’s blue eyes boring into you.

“You okay?”

You let out a small chuckle at the sudden softness in Bucky’s tone. Then, you nodded, not wanting to speak in fear of allowing the lump in your throat to escape into a fit of sobs.

He sighed, looking up to scan the room. His arm wrapped around your shoulder protectively. “Come on, I’ll grab Dot and she can take you and Sarah home. I think she has one of my shirts in her car that you can change into.”

It was rare that you were ever in this kind of position with Bucky. Growing up, you two had been somewhat similar heights. Now, he was well over 6 feet of pure muscle, and your head only reached to his chest. His shirt smelled like fresh linen and cedar and a hint of beer (no wait, that last one was you), and you rested your head against his side to hide your face from the onlookers as he guided you through the party to grab Sarah.

“Thanks, Bucky,” you finally said, voice trembling.

A gentle squeeze to your shoulder. “Anytime, Oak.”

NOW

The next few days went by a bit more smoothly at work. You were down to spilling only like five glasses a shift, and the regulars didn’t have to actively fight back their grimaces while drinking whatever concoctions you mixed together to fulfill their orders. Most of the drinks were starting to come back empty instead of still pretty much full.

The shifts were exhausting, but you found yourself enjoying the work. You weren’t stuck in an art studio, feeling your mind whither away into nothing while your manager/boyfriend yelled at you for being lazy and how you were going to be on the streets if you couldn’t get your shit together. No, you were running around, your mind and body kept busy as you ran around the tiny bar, laughing at Coach Dum Dum’s terrible jokes and grinning from ear to ear whenever someone told you their drink was delicious.

Then you’d go home and pass out, completely wiped from the day, your feet aching and your arms sore. It was the best.

Days were spent cleaning the house, reading, going for walks, and actively ignoring the problems you left behind in Los Angeles. You knew you were going to have to address them at some point, but you still weren’t quite ready.

Sundays you had off, a request made by your mom that was accepted by Sarah, because how could anyone say not to Mrs. Rogers? Her wrath was a fearsome thing to behold.

It was a sacred day in your household, because it meant Sunday dinner, a tradition that began right after Bucky’s dad left. Your mom invited Winnie and Bucky over for dinner the first Sunday he was gone and made a massive feast for all of us to enjoy. The next week, Winnie and Bucky surprised you all by hosting an equally massive, equally delicious meal of their own. It became a weekly ordeal birthed from the Rogers and the Barnes families actively making an effort to see each other more, support each other more, work toward creating a family dynamic you all needed desperately. Eventually it became a sacred rule. No matter what was going on throughout the week, you all got together on Sundays to share a meal together.

This was the first Sunday dinner you would be attending since college, the first one since Winnie passed away. The smell of your mom’s pot roast wafting through the house brought a tear to your eye thinking back on those past memories of the woman who acted as your second parent, who treated you like the daughter she always wanted. The person you completely abandoned when you moved to L.A., the one you weren’t there for when she got sick.

Wanting to rid yourself of the ache in your chest, you walked across the kitchen and wrapped your arms around your mother from behind, squeezing her tightly and she laughed.

“Everything okay, honey?”

You nodded against her shoulder. “Just love you. And I’m hoping if I butter you up enough you’ll let me sneak a bite of the roast before dinner.”

This time, Sarah Rogers scoffed. “In your dreams, baby. I’m not facing the wrath of Steve because of your impatience.”

You sighed, fighting back a smile while walking to the cabinet to grab plates. “It was worth a try.”

There was a knock on the door as you rested the plates on the counter and your mom turned her head towards it, hands occupied with chopping vegetables for the salad. “Can you get that?”

Looking at the clock on the microwave as you walked to the front door, your brows furrowed in confusion. “I know I’ve been gone a while, but even when he still lived here when has Stevie been early to Sunday dinners-”

You jumped when you opened the door to find Bucky standing there, pie in hand, eyes wide at your alarmed reaction.

“Woah, take it easy, Oak! Didn’t mean to scare ya.” He smiled with a small shrug. “Although, I did knock on the door so you knew I was here.”

You stood there, frozen with shock before shaking your head and regaining composure. “Sorry, Buck, I just didn’t expect you to be here.”

A pained expression flashed across his face for a millisecond, just long enough for guilt to wash over you. “Sorry. I mean, I assume you knew that I’d be here. It is Sunday dinner after all-”

You shook your head again, stepping to the side to allow him entry, hand gripping the door handle to keep you steady. “No, you’re right! That’s my fault.”

“If you don’t feel comfortable with me being here I can go home-”

“Bucky,” you cut him off again with a smile, “Please come in. It’s Sunday dinner. You belong here just as much as I do.”

At that, his smile turned genuine, and when he stepped forward to give you a hug, you fought back the urge to gasp as his arms wrapped around you. The familiar sensation of his embrace made you instinctively wrap your arms around his middle, squeezing him tightly to you, inhaling his cedar and fresh linen scent. Though this wasn’t the first time you found yourself in Bucky’s arms since returning, you hadn’t actually hugged him since the funeral, and that one had felt more desperate, more like a boy who missed his mom and was clinging to any feeling of comfort. This was softer, both of you taking the time to remember what it felt like to be so close together, as if he felt just as thankful as you did that you got to share this moment.

But then that familiar feeling and Bucky’s smell brought the memory of being 18 and the hug before the funeral. When everything happened, when Bucky held you in his room that last night, before-

Bucky felt your body go rigid, and took that as his cue to pull away. He stared into your eyes, trying to gauge the thoughts going through your mind, as if he might read them better than you could. The softness in his features made you believe that he might.

“Bucky? Is that you?” your mom called, both your heads moving toward the voice in the kitchen.

“Well, I’m on time, so it’s definitely not Stevie,” Bucky called back, looking back at you with a wink that made your breath hitch.

Mom laughed. “Come on in, sweetheart! I hope you brought that delicious apple pie of yours!”

You gaped, staring at the dish in his hands then looked back at his grinning face. “You made the pie?”

Bucky shrugged. “One time I brought a store-bought cake a few years back and our moms wrecked me for it. They wouldn’t stop giving me shit so I decided to try and learn how to make one myself, and apparently I fucking love baking.” His eyes went to the ground and you caught a blush forming in his cheeks. “I know apple pie is your favorite, and it’s your first Sunday dinner back since- well, I wanted to celebrate.”

This guy. It was like he was actively trying to make your heart beat out of your chest.

“I can’t believe you remembered that apple is my favorite.”

This time, he scoffed, feigning offense as his free hand landed on his chest dramatically. “As if I’d forget the way you devoured it whenever it was anywhere in your vicinity. We had to make sure we had two on hand, remember? It was awesome.”

The pit in your stomach from embarrassment said otherwise, and you forced a smile to ignore the tears fighting their way to your eyes. Of course, you knew Bucky wasn’t trying to be malicious with that anecdote. He had never tried to shame you for your body.

“You should have someone who sees how perfect you are, Y/n.”

Still, the shame you felt for yourself was a force that was hard to wrestle with, all of the dread coursing through your body, causing your brain to fill with every negative thought and feeling you’ve ever experienced in your life.

Bucky caught it immediately - he’d always been a pro at reading you - and his light demeanor shifted, eyes filled with regret. He opened his mouth to say something.

“Look who finally showed up on time!” Steve barged through the front door, a couple of bottles of wine tucked into his arm, his classic giant grin on his face. Nat was right behind him, lifting up her bottle of scotch in greeting. You and Bucky actively took a step back from one another, giving space for Steve and Nat to walk up and hug you both. Bucky’s eyes met yours in the middle of the hug fest and you gave him a closed-mouth smile, shaking your head to signify it was okay and to just forget about it.

Once the gang settled in, lining up to receive a hug and a kiss from mom, you finished setting the table and Sunday dinner officially began. It kicked off with a lot of small talk, questions about how the bartending job was going, mom asking about Sarah, Carol, and the boys, Steve checking how mom was doing with work.

“You should really start thinking about retiring, Ma,” he started, taking a bite of potatoes. “You’ve worked so hard your damn life.”

She shrugged. “I have been considering it. Some of my old coworkers have been sending me photos of their condos in Florida and they look pretty darn nice.”

“What about the house?” you asked, suddenly dreading the idea of your mom possibly selling your childhood home, then immediately filled with shame at the hypocrisy since you hadn’t actually stepped foot inside this house for so long up until a few days ago.

“It’s a big house, honey. I mean, I’m so happy you’re back and living here, and that definitely makes it less lonely. But you’ll probably move on again soon, and it will just be me again. This house deserves a family, not some old woman who won’t be able to walk up the stairs in 10 years or so.”

“You know we would be happy to carry you up and down the stairs, Sarah,” Bucky said with a sly grin, and your mom rolled her eyes.

“As lovely as that sentiment is, Bucky, your late hours at the firehouse would not set a good bedtime for me.”

Wanting to change the subject, you kept it directed toward Bucky. “How is it working as a firefighter, Bucky? Better or worse than the army?” He had joined the army right around the time you graduated from high school. Before then, he had been working as a bartender at Wilson’s to help Winnie pay bills, but the money still wasn’t that great. Itching to try something new and to fight for his country, he decided to enlist. The day before he left for basic training was the last time you had seen him.

Then Winnie got sick, and Bucky immediately started the process of getting discharged so he could be with her. Steve had been working at the firehouse for a few years and with Bucky’s army experience he got a part-time job fairly quickly to help with hospital bills while still allowing himself enough free time to help care for his mom.

Bucky took a sip of wine to allow himself a moment to consider the question. “The army taught me a lot, and I made friends with some guys who will always be brothers to me. But I’m glad I came home when I did, and the work at the firehouse is good. There’s still dangerous situations, but it’s way less….intense. The only problem I have is being forced to answer to this guy.” He pointed a thumb in Steve’s direction and your brother scoffed.

“I’m the best boss you’ll ever have in your life, buddy. And don’t you dare start complaining about the long work hours. You’re the one who picks up all the overnight shifts! And I never switched out the Fire Chief’s official portrait with a photo of them as an infant naked in the bathtub!”

Nat looked over at you with a wink. “That happened two years ago. Still a sensitive topic for Steve.”

Steve groaned, Bucky gave his best friend a shit-eating grin, chewing on his roast while you wiped tears from your eyes from laughing so hard.

You had definitely missed this.

Once dinner was over and the dishes were clean, mom retired upstairs to bed, allowing the ‘kids’ free run of the rest of the house. Nat popped open the bottle of scotch that you were all now nursing on the couch. Steve and Nat sat on one end, arms wrapped around each other and you and Bucky sat on the other. There was at least a foot of space between the two of you, but the proximity still felt overwhelming.

“So sis, are you going to be sticking around long enough to attend the Fall Festival next month?” The annual Plainberry Fall Festival was held in the center of town, a bustling occasion with different craft fairs, activities, games, everything you could expect in a small suburban town. You assumed that Steve and Bucky would be working at it, the firehouse always did a big thing for the kids, letting them try on the protective gear, tour the trucks, take home their very own firefighter helmet made of plastic, the works. It was absolutely adorable. Your memories of the festival always brought you back to marching band. The high school ensemble put on a mini concert at the town’s gazebo before you were allowed to roam free and grab yourselves hot apple cider and buy various treats and trinkets.

You shrugged, taking a sip of your drink and wincing as the burn traveled down your throat. “Not sure, Sarah will probably want to go with the kids so I’ll most likely be working.”

“I’m pretty sure Sarah closes down Wilson’s for the day,” Bucky argued. “She doesn’t want people drinking and driving so close to the festival, even though most of the attendees spike their drinks as soon as they arrive.”

Another shrug, and another sip of alcohol, feeling the warm tingle rush through you. Warmth from the alcohol, and the amount of interest Bucky might have been exhibiting at the idea of you going to the festival he would also be at. “We’ll see then.”

“I bet you could sell some of your art pieces, too,” he added. “Make some extra money and stuff. I’m sure people would love whatever you had to offer.”

And just like that, the warmth in your body switched to ice. You cleared your throat, shifting in your spot on the couch so that your body was slightly turned away from Bucky. “Actually, I um- I don’t have any art with me.”

Bucky’s brows furrowed in confusion. “What? I thought you had a bunch of pieces. I saw a lot of them- I looked through your website a little while back. Did they all sell out already?”

Steve volunteered to step in for you, his expression bitter. “That asshole art guy has it. He’s holding it hostage because technically his bullshit contract says that all of her work is his property.”

Bucky’s head whipped from Steve to you, but you kept your eyes glued to the amber liquid in your glass. “Your ex?”

Bile rose in your throat as you nodded. “As I already told Stevie,” you shot a glare at your brother, “It was easier to just leave everything behind.” You finally found the courage to glance at Bucky, only to be met with a stoic expression. Still, you saw the fire behind his eyes.

“What an asshole,” he seethed.

“You don’t know the half of it,” Steve continued, the almost empty glass in his hand apparently loosening his lips more than usual. “First, he cheats on her-”

“He what?”

Gone was the stoic expression. Bucky was pissed. His mouth hung open and his bottom teeth jutted out, his fist curling into balls at his side.

It was too much. You had escaped it, ran away from Brock and the mess he created. The last thing you wanted was for it to haunt you here, in your home.

So you stood up, eyes glaring at Steve with all the anger and ferocity you could muster.

“Enough,” you snapped. “We’re not talking about Brock, okay? I don’t need him and his shit following me around for the rest of my life. I just want to forget and move on.”

Steve’s eyes were wide, the realization of how upset you were sinking in and he lowered his glass. “I’m sorry, Y/n,” he mumbled. “That was out of line. I just…” he sighed, “I would kill to kick that guy’s ass.”

“Get in line,” Bucky muttered and you turned your glare to him, your breathing heavy.

Nat stood up. “Alright, fellas. I think it’s time we head home. You know I love me some drama but if we wake your mom up it’s gonna be our asses that get kicked.” She grabbed Steve’s arms to hoist him up, escorting him to the door. He mumbled another apology with you begrudgingly accepted as you hugged goodbye.

Bucky, however, had moved to the kitchen, putting your glasses in the sink to wash them.

“You don’t have to do that, Buck,” you protested as you walked over to his side.

He shook his head. “It’s the least I can do.” He turned his gaze to meet your eyes as he continued cleaning the dishes. “I’m sorry. Clearly you don’t want to talk about him, and I’ll respect that. I just….I didn’t know. If I did I would have done something.”

“I know you would have.” The alcohol in your system allowed you to be bold as you rested a hand on his arm. Bucky’s eyes widened for a fraction of a second, but didn’t pull away. If anything, his body leaned into your touch ever so slightly.

“I’m sorry that it happened, and if I have anything to say about it, I’ll make sure nothing like that happens to you ever again. If that guy gets within ten feet of you-”

“He won’t, Bucky. He made it abundantly clear that he wants nothing to do with me, and that’s fine by me.” It still stung, though. To have the man you thought you were going to spend your life with dismiss you so completely without even blinking.

Bucky shook his head. “Well he’s a fucking idiot.” He sighed. “That being said, I’m glad you’re here, with us. Away from that mess.”

You nodded, giving his arm a gentle squeeze.

You wanted to be honest, that part of you felt like you were walking from one mess and into another. That he was no longer just the boy next door, the boy who could save you from all your troubles within his protective and loving embrace. That the hurt he brought was worse than anything Brock had ever done.

“It was all a mistake.”

You grabbed the glass from his hand, inspecting it before handing it back. “You missed a spot.”

Bucky scoffed, smiling as he took the sponge and attempted to scrub away the lingering stain.

It would be harder than he thought.

Next Part

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