hand me down styles

On Maggie Sawyer and snapbacks

It always struck me how Maggie says she lived with “an aunt” for three years rather than “my aunt”. Maggie’s aunt took her in because yes, kicking her out was a harsh move on her parents’ part, and yes, no child should have to live on the street, and Maggie’s always been a good girl even if she is…that way. But will she put up with that nonsense in her house? Hell no.

So their relationship is very conditional. Her aunt takes care of her, cooks her favourite meals when she misses home, tends to her grazes when she gets beat up at school. She loves her. But she doesn’t accept her. Every night she prays for her, every other week she asks if Maggie’s met any nice boys at soccer, and when Maggie wears baseball caps at the table, she tugs them off her head and groans, “Ay, mija, te ves como un chico”.

But Maggie’s desperate, and she’s grateful, so she toes the line, studying every night until she falls asleep at the kitchen table. She gets a partial scholarship to college, gets in early at 17, and it’s there that she meets the first openly queer people she’s ever seen in her life. The first time a girl kisses her, in the dark at a movie, she cries because this is wrong, I’m wrong, yet she’s never felt anything come so naturally to her, and her heart flutters without permission, and when Holly’s thumb grazes her cheek, something inside her finally unclenches its fists.

She starts sleeping over in Holly’s dorm and, naturally, starts borrowing her clothes. She’s never had the freedom to experiment with her style, living on cousins’ hand me downs and already walking Blue Springs with a target on her back. At first she only wears Holly’s red flannel to bed - never out - because what if somebody hurts her again, what if this time she doesn’t make it out alive. And while Maggie thinks Holly looks cute as hell with that shirt tied around her waist, a lifetime of racism tells her only pretty blonde white girls can pull off that look anyway, that she could never rock it even if she tried.

But eventually, Maggie gets the courage to wear it to thanksgiving dinner at the campus LGBT centre, clenching Holly’s hand the whole way there. Soon after, Holly catches her toying with an old hat in her room and buys Maggie her first snapback for Christmas, complete with a National City Giants logo in honour of the city she wants to work in someday. It takes a while for Maggie to get used to wearing it, but once she does, slipping it over her head feels as warm and empowering and terrifying as Holly holding her hand.

Years later, Alex comes across an old hiking photo of Maggie and another friend, and laughs “Oh my God.”

Maggie groans, blushes. “Give me a break, it was college.”

“No, it’s adorable. You were such a cute baby gay.”

And Maggie can’t help but smile a little. Because yeah, she’s outgrown the snapbacks and found better fitting flannels, but she’ll never forget those years experimenting with how she presented herself, figuring out who she was. How throwing on a snapback made her feel brave on days she felt she didn’t have the strength to be brave. How she’d notice a girl in similar clothes on campus and give her a knowing smile that said ‘I see you’.

“Yeah,” she chuckles, smiling down on the photo in Alex’s hands, feeling a swell of pride for her younger self as intense as pain. “Yeah, I guess I was.”


@sanvershcs @onefootone  @all-the-gay-feels @queercapwriting @avidreaderffn @maggiesxwyr @blakebat @smolsawyer

- drunk -

[ requested ]

the bartender takes my hand and helps me get down from the wooden bar top after I danced on top with a few random girls. I lean against it as the girls I have been drinking with hand me another shot of tequila. together, we toss it back and chase it with a lime in our mouths. before taking another one, I head over to the bathroom and wait in line. I take out my phone and call Shawn.

he answers on the third ring. “Bianca!”

“yup, that’s me,” I giggle.

“Jesus, where the hell are you?” he asks me.

“I’m in line waiting to use the bathroom.”

“do you have any idea what time it is?” I hear some movement in the background and he groans.

“yeah, that’s why I’ve called. listen, can you come pick me up?” I hiccup into the line.

“where are you?”

“joe’s pub,” I say and then hang up as I realize that it’s my turn to use the bathroom. after doing what I needed to do, I come back out and dance back on the bar top with three other girls as a song with a good beat plays in the back.

“I feel like coyote ugly,” I shout to one of the girls, who laughs and nods.

“that’s my favorite movie!” she replies.

“no way, mine too!” I say.

“look at us, we’re bonding!”

we hold hands and dance to the voice of Elton John singing ‘Benny and the Jets’. we stop dancing and instead start to sing out the words along with the rest of the bar.

“Benny!” I shout as I bend down to whip my hair and then stand up, then repeating the process. I spin around with the girl (I think her name was April?) and grab a beer bottle from the counter, pointing it to her as if it were a microphone. “B-B-B-Benny and the jets!”

my phone vibrates in my bra and I fish it out and answer it. I place it to my ear while I hold a finger to my other ear to hear the caller better.

“yoo-hoo!” I answer into the line.
“get your ass outside, now!” Shawn says over the line.

“come on daddy! five more minutes, please?” I joke.
“Bianca, I swear I will go inside and drag you out.” he replies.
“gee, you’re no fun.”

I hang up the phone as April points the bottle to me. “Benny!” I shout. “Benny!”

I bend down and grab another shot of tequila and chase it down my throat. it no longer stings my mouth. before I stand up, someone grabs my hand and pulls me down. the person carries me bridal style and I look to see Shawn, his jaw clenched.

“ooh, you’re mad,” I point out.

we exit the bar and he takes me outside where his jeep is parked in a no parking zone. “hey, this is a no parking zone,” I tell him.

he sets me down on my feet and I lean back against the car. Shawn removes his jean jacket and puts it around my shoulders before opening the passenger door for me. “get in,” he says.

I clamber on in and he slams the door on me. I put my arms through the sleeves and buckle up as he gets into the drivers seat and then drives off.

“click it or ticket,” I tell him.

“Bianca, shut up,” he barks at me. “it’s four in the fucking morning, I have to catch a flight in a few hours, and you’re wasted as shit!”

“jeez, what crawled up your pants?”

“you’re drunk! something could have happened to you, or someone could have taken advantage of you! damn it, Bianca, I’m pissed off at you right now.”

“you sound like a dad,” I giggle.

“Bianca!” he shouts my name and I stop laughing. his knuckles are white from gripping onto the steering wheel too tight. his arm veins are popping out and his muscles are flexed in anger. his jaw is clenched, and his messy hair is slightly curly. although he’s mad, I can’t help but feel slightly turned on by his appearance.

“I’m sorry,” I say. I unbuckle my seatbelt and lean over and place a drunken kiss on his cheek.

the car slows to a red light and I take advantage of the empty roads to bring my fingers up my thighs and remove my red underwear. I slip it off and toss it on his lap. “Bianca.”

“Shawn,” I say. I unbuckle my belt and stretch my body out. the skirt I wore was slowly climbing up my thigh the more I stretched.

“you know, you look so hot when you’re,” I lean over and kiss at his jawline before whispering in his ear, “tense.”

“Bianca, not now.” he replies.

“and the way your voice changes.” I bite at his earlobe. “how your vein pops out of your neck.”

my hand rests at his thigh and I slowly creep it up against the fabric of his joggers. in a teasing fashion, I bring my hand to his right thigh and gently grasp as his member. he closes his eyes for a brief moment only to turn and face me.

“drunk or sober, you know I would still be doing this to you.” I say.

slowly, I begin to lean in and gently lick at his lower lip. his lips part in the slightest and he expects me to kiss him.

“the light’s green.” I climb back into my seat and bite on my finger to keep from laughing as Shawn drives the car forward.

“do you remember the sex we used to have in here?” I ask. from the corner of my eyes, I see Shawn place a hand over where I touched him. “remember when we used to make the windows fog up? and the car would rock back and forth? and that one time you managed to fuck me so good right where you’re sitting that I honked the horn on accident?”

“Bianca,” Shawn says in a warning tone.
“Shawn,” I reply in the same tone. “remember when you used to touch me while you drove?”

his jaw clenched and he gripped onto the steering wheel tighter while he tried to hide his erection. I smirk and arch my back while shifting in my seat.

“you always know how to work your fingers,” I comment. “you knew how to scratch and tease and please. and remember how I used to moan your name? what happened to you, Shawn? you used to park the car the minute I would come in wearing a dress or a skirt. and you’d take me in the backseat of your car. remember that?”

he turns the wheel of the car with one hand and I kick my heeled boots off before turning in my seat and crawling to the backseat. with my leg, I bring it over and touch his neck with my toe.

“Shawn,” I lowly moan as I bring a hand between my thighs. “oh, god, Shawn. you feel so good.”

I bite on my lower lip and close my eyes while I imagine that Shawn is not driving but touching me. my finger goes in a bit deeper and I arch my back in the slightest as I moan his name out. the car makes a turn before driving a couple more feet and then stopping. I hear the engine shut off and open my eyes upon hearing Shawn close the door to the driver’s side.

the backseat door opens and Shawn stands there, a burning glare of lust evident in his eyes. I close my eyes as I continue to move my hand between my thighs.

his hands go to my smooth legs and he pulls my body down towards him. I open my eyes and Shawn grabs my hand from between my thighs. while making eye contact, he sucks on the fingers that were inside me before taking both of my wrists in his big hand.

“do you remember how I used to take you?” Shawn asks me. he removes my hands and I prop myself up on my elbows and slowly crawl back into my position as Shawn clambers on in the backseat and closes the door.

through the windows, I see that he has brought us to our old place under an abandoned highway. we used to sneak off here, free of paparazzi, and do things to one another in the backseat of his Jeep. he grabs my thighs and bends them towards me and I buck up my hips as I’m eager for what’s to come next.

Shawn places his body on top of mine and I feel the sensation of his lips at my neck and his hand between my thighs. he mumbles against my neck while his thumb rubs at my clit.

“do you remember how you used to writher under my touch?” Shawn says. I gasp as he bites my neck and inserts another finger into me. “how I used to fuck you back here? to the point where you wouldn’t be able to walk?”

I place my hands at his wrist and make his hand go faster inside me. he always went agonizingly slow and it made me weak and want him more. “Shawn,” I moaned. “I want you.”

“tell me what you want.” he replies.
“I want you inside me.” I say. “now.”

Shawn removes his hand and I release my grip from his wrist. he sits up and dips his hand into the band of his joggers and briefs and pulls out his hard erection. he rubs his thumb over his warm pink tip, some pre-cum coming out. he raises a brow while licking his lips. “you want me?”

I throw my leg over the seat, spreading my legs wider and nodding. “I need you, Shawn.”

he rubs his tip against my clit and teases me. his hand rests at my knee while he continues to make me wet and my body aches for the feeling of him inside me. “God, Shawn, I need you.”

as I continue to beg for him in me, Shawn takes me by surprise and slams his whole length into me. his hands go to my neck and he presses his thumb down against my skin. his amber eyes look into my eyes and he pulls out and thrusts back into me.

my moans are raspy under the feeling of Shawn’s thumbs choking me. my hands rest at his wrists and as he begins to form a rough and fast rhythm to his thrusts, I can feel the car beginning to rock back and forth.

“fuck, Bianca,” Shawn grunts under his breath. he removes one hand, but continues to choke me with the other. his thumb goes back to rubbing my clit up and down, side to side in the ways that I like it.

“harder, Shawn,” my words are raspy. he presses his thumb a bit harder against my neck and I flutter my eyes shut. Shawn leans down and kisses at my lips. his wet lips move against my tequila soaked lips and tongue.

his tongue is warm and big compared to my docile one. I focus on the sounds of his little grunts and my heart beating out of my chest. Shawn bites on my bottom lip as he sits back up. his grip goes from my neck to my thighs as he pulls out and slides my body closer to him, making him thrust deeper into me.

“fuck,” I arch my back, only for him to push me back to the cushion.

“you must have forgotten how I used to treat you back here,” Shawn reminds me. “how all you could do was watch,” he says as he grabs my hands in his hand and holds them up against my head against the window while he leans down to me, “and not touch.”

I wrap my legs around him and he roughly thrusts into me. with all of my weak might, I try to flip us, making me on top, but fail.

“not tonight, Bianca.” he tells me. “tonight you’re mine.”

his thrusts are now slow; painfully slow. Shawn rolls his hips into me and I moan out loud. I’m glad that no one really drives out here, especially paparazzi. whenever we park the car, we go at it to the point where it’s crazier and louder than porn. my wrists are still in his hand and held up against the window.

“next time you go out drinking by yourself, let me know so I can fuck you in the stall.” Shawn says as he leans down and kisses at my lips. his teeth slowly sink into my bottom lip as he pulls back. he releases his grip on my wrists and he pulls out to sit down on the leather seat. Shawn grabs at my waist and I stand on my knees.

my hands go to his shoulders and I make direct eye contact with him. his hands grip onto my waist as he slowly slides me down all the way on his length. I feel him deep in me and I toss my head back as I open my mouth to moan, but no sound comes out. I bring my head and rest my forehead on his shoulder.

“Shawn,” I pant as I slowly bounce up on him. “God, Shawn.”

his lips find their way to my neck as he licks his tongue against the skin and then kisses against it with his tongue, only to suck at it. I bite my lip to hold the profanities as he brings a hand to my ass, and another between my thighs. Shawn rubs his thumb against my clit once more and sends me off the edge.

my hands go to his hair. I grip at it, feeling his curls between my fingers. I rock my hips to and fro as he continues to rub at my clit. Shawn blows at the skin of where he left a mark and a wave of chills run up my spine. his thumb goes faster and he bucks his hips up into me.

“Shawn,” I moan his name out. “Shawn!”
“you’re so tight, baby,” he grunts in my ear.

my moans turn into pants and I feel my orgasm coming near. sweat is lining Shawn’s forehead, causing some of the curls at the front of his head to lose their shape. “hey,” he says, “look at me.”

my hands go to his shoulders and his hands go to the sides of my face. we look at each other as I continue to ride him. he looks at my lips before flicking his eyes to mine and leaning in to kiss me again. his kiss numbs my lips and for a moment, I forget that I’m near my orgasm. my orgasm takes me by surprise as Shawn grips at my waist and bounces me up and down on his length.

his grasp weakens as he grunts. Shawn shudders as he cums and I fall weakly against him, slowly sliding off of his length.

“I was planning on fucking you like that the minute you called me daddy over the phone.” Shawn confesses in my ear.

“so then will you fuck me like that again, daddy?” I pick my head up and look at him.

he licks his lips and nods, “gladly.”

i know this isn’t the baseball smut, but some smut is better than no smut.

It doesn’t matter if you wear designer styles or hand me downs, as long as you have confidence in yourself, you’ll always be beautiful.
—  Something someone should have told 11 year old me

anonymous asked:

Hey uuh you still take requests? I have one... Could you draw Superstuck being all cute and cuddling? And kissing? You dont have to if your requests are closed...

I am so very sorry for such the late request but here it is.

Requests are always open until I make a post about it closing. 

I couldn’t make a real cuddle but I did the kissy

Remus got all of James’ hand me down clothes, because styles changed or he grew out of them, and James always knew Remus could use a good shirt. Remus wore them down to the stitching, sleeping on streets and traveling the world between the wars in a motley assortment of James’ old clothes. He still has a decent few which he uses for grunt work or lazing about the house since they’re so hopelessly holey now even he won’t wear them for a normal day out.

So when it comes to cleaning out Grimmauld Place, Lupin wears a threadbare, stained, and hole-ridden Gryffindor Quidditch t-shirt circa 1978. 

He doesn’t think to tell Harry, who he spends the entire afternoon right next to, because it’s been his shirt longer than it ever belonged to James.

Ever since JKR revealed that Harry Potter takes place in the early-mid ‘90’s, I developed a lot of headcannons regarding everyone’s musical tastes:

Harry is really into grunge—its directionless anger and general angst appeal to him, and his unkempt appearance lends itself easily to the style. He wears lots of overlarge flannel (hand-me-downs that had looked sensible on Vernon, but are decidedly alternative on Harry), and he has a pair of red Chuck Taylor high tops that he wears everywhere except the Quidditch field. He pretty much listens to Nirvana on repeat, but other favorites include Melvins, Mudhoney, Babes in Toyland, Dead Kennedys, the Pixies, Sex Pistols, the Clash, Sonic Youth, and L7, while Radiohead and the Smiths get him through some tough times during fifth year. 

Ron doesn’t know much muggle music, but once introduced to them, he becomes a big fan of the Beastie Boys. And he’s pretty sure Eddie Van Halen is actually a wizard.

Hermione is all about The Cranberries, and she sings Zombie in the shower at the top of her lungs when she knows the other girls are out of the bathroom. She loves Tori Amos, Alanis Morissette, The Cure, Sixpence None the Richer, and listens to Enya when she studies, though sixth year was almost exclusively PJ Harvey. She also has a soft spot for singer-songwriters of the ‘70’s, especially Joni Mitchell, Leonard Cohen, and Nick Drake. She giggles over New Kids on the Block with Parvati and Lavender, too, but she’ll never admit it to Harry or Ron because she think they’d make fun of her, which they definitely would—and do, after Lavender lets it slip to Ron.

Ginny starts listening to muggle music mostly because Harry’s always talking about how amazing Kurt Cobain is, and she wants to know more about Harry but she still can’t work up the nerve to talk to him. Because of that, she’s partial toward alternative music. She’s a big fan of Hole—which sparks a bit of an argument about Courtney Love during her 5th year, but she knows Harry’s only pretending to be angry about it, so she keeps provoking him because it’s fun to see him get flustered. She loves Veruca Salt, 7 Year Bitch, and The Breeders (Kim Deal is kind of her idol), and they help make life bearable during those terrible days in 6th year with the Carrows. She likes both Blur and Oasis, and Dean Thomas has to listen to Wonderwall so many times that he can’t stand it after they’ve broken up. She introduces Harry to Weezer when they start dating, and Buddy Holly is kind of unofficially their song (Harry does have a bit of a passing resemblance to Buddy Holly with his dark hair and glasses, and Ginny is basically a magical Mary Tyler Moore).

The only muggle music Luna has heard of is Bjork, but she listens to her constantly, and can do a remarkably good impression.