#i’m so so sorry this got so long and weird

[maidragoste]

hey hun! im sorry for your loss and i saw u post abt needing distracting. so could u write a jace x reader? it could be any plot you want whatsoever and could it be a modern au? as well fluffy! is that okay?

Hi, how are you?

Thank you for your message 💖 I'm sorry it took me so long to upload your request (in the end it cost me more than I thought to recover and then university and trying to find a job overwhelmed me) but I hope you like the result 🥰💖

Disclaimer: English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes.

It hadn't really been Jacaerys' intention to wait for you to come back from your date. He should be doing some college work but instead, he's watching TV without paying attention to it thinking about how the hours are passing and you still haven't come home. Your date should be fun if you don't text Jace anymore. Jace shouldn't be worried about you because he knew Rhaena would never have set you up with an idiot but he still couldn't help being worried.

Jacaerys wanted you to come home and see if you were okay. It would hurt him to hear the details of your date and see you all excited about another boy but he would bear it.

If only Jace wasn’t afraid of ruining things between you two then he would have taken you out himself after hearing you complain about how your love life is dead instead of letting Rhaena set you up with one of her friends. But Jacaerys is sure that you don’t see him as more than a friend and he doesn’t want to risk losing you so he doesn’t make a move. He's content with being able to be in your life, with the chaotic mornings of the two of you getting ready before going to class, with your text messages telling him everything that happens to you during the day, with the nights cooking together and with the breaks where you watch series snuggled together on the couch.

Jacaerys looks away from the TV as he hears the keys clicking into the lock. You walk in and Jace feels a pit in his stomach because you don’t look excited, you look defeated? Your eyes meet his and you give him a tired smile but you quickly break eye contact to take off your coat and sneakers and then run to the couch with him.

“So you wanna talk about it?” Jacaerys doesn’t even finish asking how much you’re already talking.

“It was fine. He’s nice and we talked for hours. Everything was going well until the end because he tried to kiss me.” If you hadn’t been busy fidgeting nervously you would have noticed how your roommate seemed to tense up all of a sudden. “I declined and he wasn’t bothered but it was awkward.” You sighed.

“Why did you reject him? Are you the kind of person who has a rule of not kissing on the first date?”

“Because I don’t like him” you declared, suddenly looking up and for a moment, at the intensity of your gaze, Jace forgot to breathe. “I could be his friend, but I’m not interested in him in any other way.”

“Oh” was the only thing that came out of the surprised man’s mouth.

“Oh,” you repeated, “Why did you wait for me, Jace?”

“Who said I was waiting for you? I was watching TV” he denied instantly.

“Jace”

Seeing your beautiful eyes looking at him pleadingly for a moment, Jace was afraid to give in and confess everything to you, as for more than a year he can’t stop thinking about you and wants to be more than your friend. But again, he’s afraid of making you uncomfortable and losing your friendship, so he asks instead.

“What does that have to do with you not liking your date?”

“While I was with him I realized that I actually wanted to be home with you” you confessed and instantly regretted it when you saw that he remained silent. “Forget it. I'm sorry for making it weird” You got up ready to go to your room so you could have a crisis alone about ruining your friendship with Jace when he took you by the hand and pulled you causing you to end up on top of him.

“Oh no, I don’t plan on forgetting it, not when I’ve been pining for you for over a year,” he stated making you smile.

“You’re a coward,” you mocked without malice. “Over a year and you never made a move. You’re lucky I decided to act.”

“You’re right,” he said smiling unbothered. “Now that we’ve established that I’m a fool and you’re the best, can I kiss you?” he asked and you laughed feeling delighted with him.

“Try not to sound so desperate to kiss me.”

“Can you blame me?” He arched an eyebrow, any embarrassment or fear he felt disappearing the moment he knew his feelings were reciprocated. “I thought a lot about kissing you and I finally have the chance.”

At his confession, you felt heat on your face and your smile grew. “You're such a fool.” You took his face in your hands and felt your heart warm at the softness with which Jace looked at you.

The moment your lips touched his Jacaerys knew he would become addicted to your kisses. He would look for any excuse to kiss you as many times as he wanted. You would probably become the clingy couple that his friends would make fun of. But he didn't care and he didn't think you would either because you were kissing him with the same intensity.

Taglist for all my House of the Dragon works

@chaotic-fangirl-blog @venus-flytrap3 @ajordan2020 @iloveallmyboys @sweethoneyblossom1 @fudge13 @crystal-faith @tita004 @ichanelvxgue @snowprincesa1 @joyouart @rosey1981 @alastorhazbin @papichulo120627 @apollonshootafar @jasminecosmic99 @partypoison00 @labellapeaky @rebelliuna @bxdbxtxh15 @impartinghades @thegirlnextdoorssister @angeliod @snh96 @aleemendoza2425-blog @natashaobo @watercolorskyy @nyenye @savagemickey03 @kishie8 @ewwwitsel @arabis-world @missusnora @nzygftoji @alisoncdariel @cookielovesbook-akie @partnerincrime0 @klara-lily @427120lxld @justhereiguess2 @buckylahey @wa801 @artistadistrada2002 @thelastemzy @justanotherkpopstanlol @yn-jackson @jacesvelaryons @pictureofcaroline

hotd masterlist

[georgiapeach30513]

Much Too Fast, Part 5

Summary: it's time for everyone to talk

Pairings: Curtis X Reader

Rating: mature

Warnings:  explicit language, Curtis and Tati arguing, flashing, sexual tension/frustration, skinny dipping, wet/dry humping, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 6.9K

Previous

Series Masterlist

*dividers created by @firefly-graphics

“And say please,” Poet slams her hands on the high chair, screeching, and you shake your head no. “Poe, you have got to say please,” your voice is still so soft, but the sweet baby slams her hands on the high chair, screaming out no.

“Poet!” Poet looks at Tati, puckering out her bottom lip, looking up at you sympathetically. Tati’s patience with Poet was virtually nonexistent, “I am tired, and I don’t want to listen to this screaming!” Poet lifts her hands up, making grabby hands up at you. Big drops of tears hug her lash line, and she softly whispers please. You didn’t want her to say please because of screaming. But you will hold her when she needs comforting.

Tati massages her temples. Circling her fingers over and over the area, paying you no mind, so you pull Poet out of her high chair. Shushing her as you bounce her around. The rules never seem to make sense when Tati is here. She wants Poet to learn to be independent, but when she’s here she just wants her daughter to be appeased as long as she’s quiet. Whatever it takes to keep her from making noise.

“Tati?”

“What?” You hold Poet even tighter at her mom’s harsh word. She never looks at you; just stays preoccupied with nursing her tender head.

“Can I ask you a question?” A question made things seem mild. You had so many questions to ask her, and none of which involved her daughter. You second guess this conversation because it truly wasn’t any of your business, but Curtis had made it your business. Over and over again he has made it your business because he is too persistent and needy, and dammit, you’re cracking.

Her arms slam on the table, and she glares at you. Her beady perfectly lines eyes bore holes into yours for daring to try and talk to her. For someone who’s head hurts, she’s being painfully noisy with that slap on the wood. She looks so irritated that you’re talking to her that you nearly change your mind. “Are you wanting a raise or something?”

“No.”

“No? Hmm, well, fine, I’ll give you a raise,” now she massages the bridge of her nose, ignoring you yet again. So you clear your throat, “What is it now?”

“My questions,” she moves her hand from her nose, glaring at you again. Clearly multiple questions isn’t something she wants to entertain. “I’m sorry, it’s just one question,” why did you fear her? Was it because she held a lot in her hands? “Umm, it’s probably none of my business.”

“Then you probably shouldn’t ask it. Grace, can you just spit it out. I really don’t have time for this. I have a headache, and I’m tired, and ready to take a nap,” that’s what she’s always doing here. You’re aware that you’re the nanny, but who was the mother?

“I’m very confused with yours and Curtis’ dynamics and relationship.”

Tati snorts, shaking her head. Her manicured fingers roll over the table before she looks at them like she’s bored. “That isn’t a question. But I should have figured. My husband is a very traditionally attractive man. But he’s stunted,” what a weird fucking thing to say about that man that spends more time with her daughter than she does. “I know there’s a lot of things about him that you may find attractive, but you deserve better.”

That took a turn. She didn’t know that you knew about her not even finding Curtis attractive sexually. She didn’t know that you knew that she had another life with a woman. You almost have a feeling she’s in love with that woman, and you’re falling for Curtis, but didn’t feel comfortable with this predicament. You didn’t want to share, you wanted him all to yourself. And Poet.

“No, I don’t love that man,” rude. There’s something that sits so grossly in your stomach about ‘that man’. That is the father of her beautiful daughter. And one she didn’t spend much time with. One that was tapping on your arm, and smiling up at you. “Curtis and I have never even been in love. This was a mistake. I got to go,” she pushes her chair back, standing abruptly before those stilettos click out of the kitchen.

There had to be some form of warmth that she possessed at some point for Curtis to have been friends with her. But now all you see is stress, and disdain for her life here at this house. Bitterness always coats her face and actions. She slams the door behind her, and Poet looks up at you gasping with a smile before she throws both hands up, “Yay!”

“You’re rotten, you know that?”

“Yep. Uh!” She looks out the back door, and to the pool. She loves swimming and spending the days outside. She’d swim in her float or your arms all day. Tati didn’t give you any clear indications on where you were with things. She didn’t give much at all other than she wasn’t in love, and Curtis wasn’t worth the time for you. And you didn’t believe that at all. You see how he loves his daughter, and know he has so much more love to give to a partner.

There is a part of you that wants to take Tati’s advice because this is a complete mess. It’s a disaster area. But you know what you feel when you’re with him. You know the way he looks at you, and smiles at you. And you love his daughter. This is all much too fast, and you didn’t know how to slam the breaks on it, but maybe you weren’t meant to.

Tati gave you absolutely no answers other than she didn’t love Curtis. She might not have told you that they didn’t have sex, but judging by her answers, you doubt she does anything with Curtis. But…dammit, you feel so conflicted. An ache sits in your stomach because you are too attached. You want him, and Poet, and want to go on a date, and not be hidden out here while she galivants around the world with her girlfriend. You want to be proud to be with Curtis.

“Poe Poe, if you eat your breakfast, we can go swimming, okay?”

“Tay,” she makes her sweet grabby hands for her plate, and you place her back in the high chair. “Pes!” she’s learning manners, and that’s more than you can say for her horny dad or hateful mother.

Tati’s car is in the garage. Your car is here. And there’s a very cute distinctive giggle coming from the pool. His kryptonite. And now you’ve brought his daughter into it. He sighs, walking out of the garage and to the back of the house. Stopping at the fence to stare at you slightly splashing Poet just to make her giggle.

Her chunky little legs kick about, causing her tube to spin around, and then you pick her up out of the tube. You lift her above your head, fully standing up out of water, and his mouth falls open. Poet giggles down at you, as streams of water flow down your curves. You’re too sexy to be holding his daughter.

And then you squat back down into the water, taking Poet with you, and she splashes around. Continuing to giggle, and smile up at you. She crashes her mouth into you kissing your jawline. Having a time of her life in the dreaded pool. The bane of his existence. This is bad. Great, and amazing. But bad. Too many feelings and emotions course through his bloodstream. Warmth and passionate heat.

He looks down at his pants, taking a deep breath, and telling himself that he would really like to join in the family swimming time, so he needs to calm down. Inhale and exhale. Relax, and get your fucking mind out of the gutter. Who knew he had a goddamn breeding kink because all he can think about is enjoying fucking a baby into you. Not accidentally, but pumping you full of him every night until it stuck. He’s a disgusting man.

Once he’s centered himself, he slings the gate open, and Poet screams at him, “Dada!”

“Hey, baby. Do you mind if I change and come swim with you and Grace?”

“Yay!”

“I was wondering when you were going to come inside the gate, instead of lingering out there watching us,” his tongue slowly exits his mouth, and he traces his luscious bottom lip with it. Pulling the lip back in his mouth where he bites on it. Smirking and shrugging while walking to his bedroom. “He’s a menace,” a fucking menace that makes you squeeze your thighs together, and regulate your breathing because you’re holding a baby, and can’t do anything about the need to touch and rub on him.

Poet giggles, blowing raspberries and points all over the pool. Telling you, in her way, where she wants to swim to. You ferry her around the pool, letting her splash along the way. The happiest baby you’ve ever met, and when she playfully gasps, and looks towards her dad’s room, that smile gets even bigger.

Curtis and his hairy tits jog to the diving board, and he dives it. Swimming under water towards you, and you back away, “Dada go?” Poet looks at the dark figure that travels in the water, until he pops up right in front of her face. He grabs onto your hips, keeping you in place, and she begs for him to hold her. “Dada!”

“Hey, baby girl. Come ‘ere,” reaching for her he makes sure to give your side more than too much of a touch. He skims his hands from your hips up your side, and you bite back a whimper. That devilish grin pops up as he stares so intently at you. “What have you and Grace been doing today? Just being water babies?” She smiles, laughing up at him.

“You got home early.”

“I liked what I was coming home to,” silence. You can’t respond to that without sounding like a twittering school girl, or a hateful bitch. He sure knows how to lay things on thick, and it just makes you weak. In an alternative life, you can imagine him coming home, and being all excited while you playfully flirt, and still have fun with the kids. You can see him smacking your ass playfully, while the kids are too busy to see their parents are setting up the long foreplay for the night.

Having hours of buildup, until each and every one of the kids are asleep, and Curtis and you lock the door, and have fun with each other’s bodies. It seems so easy, and yet this situation is a mess. Tati at least let you know that there aren't any lingering feelings with Curtis.

“I spoke with your wife today,” you begin. Curtis dips his mouth underwater, pretending to play with Poet, but he’s watching you. Too much. “She confirmed about not having any feelings. But she didn’t seem to think too highly of you, and that makes me confused.”

“Probably because I wasn’t enough to make her straight, because being attracted to women is who she is, and it’s easier to blame other people than accept that, and there’s no one at fault here. Tati being in love with a woman shouldn’t hurt anyone. The issue is that it has stalled me from moving on with you. It’s not fair to Monica either. It’s not fair to Poe because this baby knows that while her mom wouldn’t hurt her, she doesn’t want to be a full time part of her life. And I don’t think she enjoys her very much,” you can confirm that. But he already knows.

You wade the water. Making circles around his body, and he spins right along with you. Looking between you and Poet. “I’m crazy, but this feels right. Playing in the pool with my two favorite girls. Staring at your nipples poking through your bathing suit.”

“Curtis!” the bastard laughs as you circle your hands over your chest. “You are holding a baby.”

“She can’t really talk now.”

“Is all our conversations going to end up in the perverted realm of things?” Is there more than this burning desire to just fuck each other? Or is the need to have each other shadowing anything else?

“No,” you raise your eyebrows in a challenge. “No, but I think sex should be fun. I think that life is too serious, and why can’t I shamelessly flirt with a girl I find attractive?” That’s not flirting, and he knows it. That is being a horny devil.

“I don’t want that serious of a relationship with someone. I’ve done the five star restaurants, and the dinners with family and it’s this big ordeal. I don’t want that. I want to have fun. I want to be able to joke with you,” that boyish grin fades a moment. “This house is beautiful, and perfect in its way, but I don’t need this. I do like this pool.”

“Do you?” You couldn’t tell he liked it at all…

“Yeah,” his voice is menacingly low. And you feel it right to your core. You wade further away from him. Keeping your hands low in the water. It’s wrong, and you know it is. But sometimes a little teasing never hurt anyone. Poet is paying attention too much attention to her dad’s beard. That beautiful face of hair. A face that you would like to ride, and instead you’re going to rub one out alone. Again.

You grab a side of the gusset of your panties, moving it to the side. But you think twice about it, and pull it back to cover yourself. Had he not had that sweet baby in his arms, you would have asked him to look under the water. He makes you want to sin in too many ways.

“It’s hard to try and figure out what is acceptable when there’s a baby between us. But you can try that again tonight. When you meet me out here after Poet’s put to bed,” he stalks towards the shallow end of the pool. Backing you up. Up. And up, until you collapse on the stairs. “I’d really like to see what I’ve been missing. Without touching that is.”

“On one condition,” your voice is so hoarse, and you try to keep some decency. You’re too weak when it comes ot him.

“Anything.”

“You talk to Tati tonight. She can’t hold your feelings hostage forever. And I don’t want to wait on you forever. I’m greedy and I want you right now.”

Poet splashes and splashes, reaching towards you before Curtis relinquishes her into your arms. “What if…what if I talk to her, and she doesn’t like my ultimatum? Because I think she knows.”

“Knows what?” You know what time it is. If Tati is going to be here, she’s already here, and about to have her takeout delivered. She could already be walking to the door. Maybe she’s peeked outside the window, wondering what the noise was. Right now you didn’t care. You’re willing to break all the rules for just a kiss. Just a chance of normalcy for a moment.

You know exactly what he’s talking about as he gets closer. Looming over you with that giant stature, and ignoring Poet pulling down your top and exposing yourself. Curtis puts his nose right on yours, and you forget how to breathe. Have to focus on the rise and fall of his chest because you’re breathing is irregular.

“She knows I’m finally falling for someone. She knows that this has been a slow road, because she knows normally, I just fuck and move on. That’s why she chose me,” he pulls your top to cover your body again. “She thought I’d never ask for a divorce.”

You swallow deeply. Ignoring the door closing. He wanted to get caught, so he can have a discussion with her. “So are you asking for a divorce?”

“You said I have to if I want to be with you,” Curtis stands up, reaching for his daughter, and you hand her off. Letting him walk out of the pool. “And I want to actually try something real for once, so I want to be with you.”

You let out a long breath. Watching as he walks into his room with Poet. Surely going to dry both of them off, and dress so they can join Tati for dinner. Your chest heaves as you let the intensity of that moment wash over you. It leaves you in such a weird spot because Tati is your employer. And here you just were ready to flash her husband your cunt, while he held her daughter. You are losing all self control and self respect for yourself.

Curtis is making you crazy. Imagining that you and him were a normal couple that didn’t start off as a stranger fucking you within an inch of your life. What were you doing? You were risking everything. All of your morals. Ready to throw everything away for him. For this. To make this thing work. What the fuck? How was Tati even going to respond to that?

Whether you’re the one with Curtis or — you hate to think about it being someone else, but either way, it wasn’t fair. He deserves the chance at someone more than sex. And he’s somehow chosen you, and it makes you lightheaded. You’re horny and pent up as fuck. But you like him. Like his daughter, and in order for this to work, you do need to show some decorum and just wait.

Sighing, you get up out of the pool yourself. You need food. Probably alcohol. But definitely food. And to fuck yourself, so you’re not so fucking horny when you meet Curtis at the pool when the lights go outside. That pool is an aphrodisiac. You get in it and you need body parts touching. Ugh! Why is this so hard to not be such a slut with him? You’re horny. You’re just horny. It has nothing to do with actually having feelings for him.

Nope. Not you. Food. Come. Alcohol. Make yourself come again? How many times would it take so you’re not ready to jump on top of Curtis and ride him like your life depended on it? Alcohol. Just a little, not a lot. You can do this. You and Curtis were going to talk, and see where this goes. That’s all. That’s absolutely all you were going to do. Yep.

Curtis’ fingers roll on the table, and he looks at Poet. Then at the table. Then his Chinese takeout. Then his chopsticks. Then back to Poet. Everywhere but his ‘wife’. And Tati just glares at him. Chewing her food slowly, and being too aggressive with the chopsticks.

Watching the coward as he blatantly ignores her. After the conversation with you this morning, she could tell you wanted to fuck her husband. And judging by the two of you in the pool, he wanted to fuck you, too. Asshole. How dare he dishonor the marriage like that. He didn’t care about how it made her look. He just needs to get his dick wet.

She knows she’s being ridiculous, and Curtis knows about Monica. He’s met Monica. Actually likes her. But he is sneaking behind her back. He’s probably snuck right into that pool house, and fucked you already. Walking around, and pretending that he’s never touched you. Jerk. He’s such a pig headed man.

She lays her chopsticks on the side of her bowl, places her elbows on the table, and then rests her chin on her arms. That sickeningly sweet business smile spreads over her face, but lacks any warmth. “How long have you been fucking the nanny?”

Curtis doesn’t look away from Poet at first. He gives her another bite of food before his attention goes back to Tati, “Let’s not do this in front of our daughter.”

“Oh, I know she’s our daughter. I carried her for nine fucking months, because you couldn’t pull out properly.”

“And now you fuck Monica.”

“And you’re fucking that girl!” Tati’s voice is shrill as she losing control, but Curtis’ remains collected.

“Do not call her a girl! And, no. I’m not fucking her. I have fucked her,” Tati gasps, causing Curtis’ eyes to roll in the back of her head. “Yes, Tati, it was before I even knew her. It was supposed to be a one night stand with a girl that picked me up on the side of the road.”

“You’re lucky to be alive! Poet could have lost her father, and then…”

“You’d have to actually be a mother?” Her hand slams on the table, and Curtis stands up quickly when Poet’s lip puckers out, “We’re done with this conversation since you can’t be an adult.”

“You’re cheating on me!” He chuckles, pulling Poet out of her high chair, and he holds her close to him. Letting her lay her head against his chest.

“No, I’m not. We’re not together. Just legally, and I’m — I’m filing. I’ve been patient, Tat, but you’re living a life, and I’m not. I’ve met an amazing woman, and we can’t even move forward because of this shame of a marriage. We were always supposed to be friends. Things went way too far, and now we’ve even lost our friendship. We’re roommates that share a child.”

Tati worries her lip, something she only did during deep thought, so it gives Curtis enough reason to sit down. She’s at least considering his words. He waits on her to work through everything, as long as she wasn’t raising her voice and causing Poet distress, he could be here. He reaches over to his daughter’s plate, grabbing her something to nibble on. He smiles at her, as she gnaws on her dinner..

“Tater tot.”

“Don’t call me that,” her voice is short, but it doesn’t raise, and her eyes linger on the immaculate table. “I thought we had a deal?” Tati being an only child is used to having things her way. Everything always worked out for her.

“That I stay married to you forever, when a woman that I may be in love with can never be my wife? You thought I was forever going to be slut, so that’s why you thought this stupid agreement would work forever. How does Monica feel about being your dirty secret?”

“I love her,” the confidence Tati exudes disappears, and her shoulders slump. He sounds just like Monica.

“Not enough. You roam around the world on your little vacations, but she doesn’t go to family dinners. She doesn’t have a relationship with Poet, and I told her she should,” Tati’s nose scrunches up, shaking her head no. “Can you at least say it?” She shakes her head no faster. Covering her eyes with her hand. “Tati. Just tell me, and we can move forward. Your therapist said you have to admit it.”

“I sound like a terrible person,” no, right now she sounds like a terrible person. Curtis wouldn’t hold those words against her.

“It’s only terrible if we continue this dance. I can take care of her,” Tati whispers something, but Curtis doesn’t hear her. “Tati, say it. Step one.”

“I love her in my way.”

“I know you do.”

“I’d never hurt her.”

“I have never thought you would.”

“Does,” Tati sniffles, looking up at Curtis instead of the table. Glancing at her daughter with a smile, “Does she want kids?”

“I’ve never really asked. I think so,” he knows you do. You’re a perfect mom, and you deserve a child’s firsts.

“You know I can’t just tell my parents?” Curtis shrugs. He didn’t care what she told her parents, he wanted her to tell him. “You know, that your life will forever be altered?”

“It’s been that way since she was born,” Curtis made all the changes in having a child, while she didn’t make any.

“I don’t want to be a mom,” relief floods over her body, and tears break through her polished veneer. She’s been living a lie, and didn’t know how to stop it from spiraling. Gulping, she wipes at her eyes, and shimmies her shoulders. Deep breaths. One. Two. Three. “I’ve got to go.”

“Tati?”

“Just…I don’t care, just don’t go flaunting her around town. And I won’t sign my rights over until you’re married to someone I approve of. You can have sole custody like we discussed. But…I don’t want anyone to know before I’m ready. I’m going over to Monica’s. Have the fucking house,” her heels start to click out the door, but Curtis clears his throat.

“I’ll give you two weeks,” Her mouth drops open. She isn’t usd to negotiations, especially with him. He always gave her what she wanted. “I’m done waiting, Tati. Poet will be one in three weeks. You’re not doing anyone any favors by avoiding talking to your parents. And if they have a problem with who you truly are in love with, that’s on them. You will always have me and Poet, and you can be aunt Tati.”

Curtis senses her frustration. Can tell that she is irritated, but she smiles. Her smile actually reaches her eyes, and the warmth he loved about her shines through. She really didn’t want to be a mom. “I don’t want Poet to know about you. I mean who you are to her.”

“That’s fine. I — I had my tubes tied anyways. I didn’t — she’s not a mistake, but I don’t want kids. I never wanted kids. It’s not in me. Do you hate me?” He shakes his head no, and Tati sighs. “Don’t make her hate me. Either of them. I was ugly this morning.”

“And then you ran away.”

“It’s what I do best with this situation. But I don’t run from Monica. I run to her,” Curtis silently thanks her. He knows it’s been a long time, and hard work with her therapist to say all of that. Everything she said, all that she admitted to.

“I’m proud of you, Tater Tot.”

“I said don’t call me that,” Tati smiles as she walks towards the front door. Leaving a house that was never her home. Leaving a marriage that she never wanted, a daughter she loved, but didn’t need. A daughter that she is okay to step back and not raise. Give up all that responsibility to Curtis and whatever woman he chose as Poet’s mom. And she’d sign everything away. Let his wife adopt her and Poet become hers.

And for once, she’s not running away. She’s finally going home.

The house is eerily quiet. Even in the pool house, the only thing you hear is your racing heart. Having to look into the mirror to see if you can see it beating out of your chest. Thankfully, it isn’t, but your chest heaves with bated anticipation. Wrapping a towel around your body, you sit and wait like a fool in love. With the blinds open, you stare at the lit up pool, waiting. You won’t be the first one out there, even if you’re staring into that water like it can answer your questions.

You have bared enough of yourself recently, and will soon physically do that, but you need Curtis to be the one to lose control this time. Need him to tell you what you deserve to hear. At nine o’clock on the dot Curtis emerges from his bedroom. He looks towards the pool house, before going to the diving board, and diving in.

He comes up on the other end of the pool, and sits at the table. Resting his elbows on the tile before holding his head in contemplation. Water drips down his face, and you want to lick him clean. No. No. One thing at a time. And with how you’re dressed, you’re already going to cause him to have a heart attack. Deep breaths.

You step out of the pool house, but his head remains in his palms. You walk right up to the steps, and drop your towel. Making your way into the pool too slowly. Your chest is fully submerged when Curtis lifts up. His mouth in that crooked cocky smirk when he wiggles two fingers to you. Beckoning you to come closer, and you shake your head no.

“Earlier today you were trying to show me your pussy, and now you won’t let me see your naked body?” His head tilts to the side. He’s always an observant one, especially when it comes to your body.

“It was inappropriate at the time,” he nods his head as he slides out of the chair, “You stay over there,” if he comes any closer, you’ll be begging him to lift you onto his cock.

“Why?”

“If you want me closer to you, tell me how the conversation with Tati went,” Curtis sighs. He settles back into the chair, and faces towards you. His hands slide up and down his thighs, and his legs spread ever so slightly. “That bad?”

“It wasn’t bad. She’s fighting a lot. But I told her essentially I didn’t care, and gave her a time frame of two weeks, and I’m filing for divorce,” you take a step closer, staying squatted in the pool. “Put your arms down,” you shake your head no again, and he playfully growls.

“She left,” another step forward. “She’s going to stay at Monica’s tonight. You know when we bought this house, she jokingly said that if we ever divorced, she knew I would keep Poet, so I could just have it. She’ll give me full custody. But I need to be honest with you, so if you please give me a little peek,” he’s cheeky. Like showing yourself is going to make this any better.

You drop both arms from around your chest, and Curtis gets even more comfortable. Leaning back in the chair. “Stand up,” you shake your head no again. He wanted a little peek. “You’re frustrating tonight.”

“And you’re admitting to needing to see my tits to tell me this?”

“Yes. It relaxes me,” at least he’s honest. You stand up out of the water. Streams of water fall over your breasts, dripping down your hardened nipples before you dip back into the water. “You are a tease. Go up the stairs, and spread your legs.”

“The only person that will be spreading my legs will be you,” he palms his crotch, groaning. “Curtis,” you warn. He could have it all. Well. Maybe. Maybe not tonight.

“Tati doesn’t want to be a mom, and I will gladly take that off her hands. But…I don’t date to have someone in my life. I date for someone to be in hers, too, and maybe eventually, no time soon, adoption. I usually don’t date. In fact, I told Tati that’s why she went along with whatever childish game this was. Because she never saw me settling down. She thought I was always going to be fucking women at their places.”

“Theirs?” You cock up an eyebrow. Of course Curtis would be into casual sex. He slept with you after knowing you for a couple of hours. But keeping things at their places, keeps them away from his home. His safe space.

“I never bring women into my life. And I’m just a dick in theirs. I didn’t care to be more than that. Because I don’t want to share my daughter with them. Stand up all the way,” you do without hesitation, but keep your arms around your chest, “Now walk closer to me, I need to see you better,” you do. It’s not a slow crawl, it’s a normal speed. But the time just drags on as his eyes roam over your drenched body.

He stands, meeting you halfway, and his hands grab onto your hips. Sliding back behind your back as he pulls you closer, and presses your body against his. Your skin lights on fire at the feeling of his body against yours. All hard lines, and even harder cock pressing against you, and wanting to be free, “And yet, I don’t mind sharing Poet with you.”

“This is too soon,” is it? Is it too soon? Or are you too scared?

“I know, and I still can’t stop it. I don’t know how. And I don’t want to. I don’t want to be casual with you. I never saw Tati making this place her home, and she won’t be pretending to anymore. But I need to know if you see yourself becoming Poet’s mother in the future. Tati wants to be an aunt, so…” dizzy. There’s no other word than that. Whiplash maybe. But you don’t want it to be.

Yours and Curtis’ relationship has been teasing, and slightly sexual. Ultimatums about the future, but this is for real. This is the future for a little girl. “What if I don’t want that?”

“Then give me this one night, and I’ll back away. Poet needs a mother, and it’s not Tati. I’m not saying you need to adopt her tomorrow. I’m saying she doesn’t talk much, she knows you more than her mother. Her mother is nothing but an entity to her, but you are the woman that takes care of her. I already see her preferring you over her mom. And I want you, but I need you to eventually want her. Or at least see you wanting to be her mother.”

Wiggling your arms off your chest, you sink a hand low, and cup his bulge. “Do you always get horny thinking about a future with me?”

“Everything about you makes me horny. Thinking about you pregnant, seeing you make supper, watching you sneak to Poet’s room to kiss her goodnight, watching you watching me. Everything you do is sexual to me.”

You back his body up to the chair, pushing him down onto the seat before you climb in his lap. Straddling his body while you grind on him. His cock throbs on your core, and you’ve never wanted anything more than for him to sink into you. But if you’re to take things slow, you need to just get this pent up energy out, “We’re not teenagers.”

“And we’re taking this slow,” you mewl. Staring at Curtis through your lashes.

“Why?”

“Because it’s not about us anymore, is it?” He groans again. Letting his head fall back on his shoulders as he looks at the stars. Staring at you was like staring at a dream that he can’t make a reality, “Was it ever about just us?”

“That night in the hotel I was not thinking about my daughter as I was fucking you, no.”

“You never thought you’d see me again?” It’s something you’ve pondered many times. Because you never thought you’d see him again. Even if he left his card. He was to be a cock for pleasure that night. And now you see a relationship.

He sits up, shaking his head no. His eyes move over your body as you work his aching cock. This clearly isn’t enough for him, and sex right now seems rushing. But you need something. You’re dying inside. You need him, but your relationship thus far has been built on forbidden romance and sex.

“And now I can’t imagine not seeing you again,” you move faster, undulating your hips with so much enthusiasm. Writhing over him, and he’s mesmerized. It’s like a beautiful little dance that you do just for him. A private performance only for his eyes. A girl he knows has this filthy streak, but you are the perfect balance of lady and freak.

You are his perfect match. A friend, a lover, a fucking porn star with the way you’re moaning, the possible mom to his daughter, his best friend, his everything. A mate for him in all walks of life. Getting off on dry humping him in the pool and it’s the sexiest thing he’s ever seen. Well…he has been inside you, but this sexiness is different.

You’re frustrated, so you use him. “The tension is clouding our judgment, we — we — we need this.”

“Aw, is my little saving Grace getting off on this?” You nod your head yes, moving fast. “There’s a good girl. Ride me like you own me,” you move hard and fast over him. Leaning forward to nip and kiss on his neck. Taking out your frustrations on his freckled sensitive skin. “Because you do.”

You bite on his neck delicately, and give him a hard suck, while he bucks up his hips, meeting you while he blows his load into the water. Your movements slow until you’re just panting on top of him. “You know you do. Do you feel better now?”

“Yes.”

“So now what?”

“You can take me on a date on your bike. You’re the father, so you’re going to have to figure out a babysitter,” you move away from his neck, and smile at him. His eyes freely roam over your heaving chest. With a smirk, you lean back. Practically laying back on his legs so you spread your own, “You can look, but you can’t touch just yet.”

“But she’s swollen,” he says looking into the water. “And she’s blurry,” he starts to lift up your bottom half, but you sit up straight, shaking a finger in his face. “That’s not fair!”

“Proper date. And then we’ll see how I feel about something more serious with you.”

“You want it,” he teases as you saunter towards the stairs of the pool. You bend over to pick your towel up, but don’t wrap it around you before walking towards the pool house. “Can you sleep in the bed with me?”

“Find us a sitter first!” You scream over your shoulder. It’s getting harder and harder to walk away from him. Almost impossible to tell him no, while you’re dying to let him take you where he wants to go. You want him. You want everything that comes with him, but this is moving too fast.

Right?

You pace back and forth in your pool house, wrapping the towel around your body because you seem so cold. Your house feels miles away from him now. Any distance between you and Curtis feels too far away. He’s leaving her. He’s leaving his wife. You have spent months avoiding the thing and person you want, and it’s him. It’s a life with him and his daughter. It’s crazy. Absurd, and still you’re walking towards the door. Holding your hand over the handle, and then freezing.

Is it worth the risk now? Have you tortured yourself and waited long enough?

You have. Jerking the door open, you stand transfixed in the doorway, staring up at the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen. He couldn’t wait either. Meeting you at your door because he was needy for more. His azure eyes look more soft than predatory, “I don’t want to be too forward, but I don’t want you in the pool house. You seem so…”

”Far away?” He nods, holding his hand up for you to take. Glancing down, you grab the appendage, and pull him close to your chest.

“But I’m not fucking you. Poet will probably wake up in about twenty minutes. And I think you’re right, date first. But until the date, can you just sleep in the bed with me?”

He’s walking backwards, pulling you towards his own bedroom. “Can we do no sex?”

“Sweetheart, my cock has been aching to get back inside of you for months, what’s one more night? Or a few days? It’ll be what it’ll have to be, but I can’t have you away from me anymore. And we could get in a quickie, but the next time I’m inside of you, I’m going to take such sweet precious time. Because I know what it’s like to have to live without that sweet cunt, and now, I know what the woman is like.”

It’d have to wait. You’d have to wait. You’ve made it this far. He was worth it. A crazy night of picking up a man on the side of the road has led you to this incredible man with the sweetest daughter, and the possibility of forever.

“I think we’ll manage until our date. Should I warn you I sleep naked?”

“No. Absolutely not. You’re keeping those tits, and that ass covered, or I’m sucking on something until Poet wakes up.”

“Wanna bet?” You squeal, dropping his hand before running towards his door. Curtis rolls his eyes before chasing you. A playfully little romp around the yard to get out any extra annoying butterflies.

“I’m sucking or eating something if you sleep naked, you make your choice.”

“We’re sleeping!”

“Then all of that,” his hands sway over your body, “Has got to be covered,” you were only teasing. But seeing him having fun about sex sends a divine feeling of comfort all over your body. Sex shouldn’t just sweep you off your feet, it should be fun, playful, and wet, and passionate, but still fun.

“Deal. After the first date, I’m sleeping naked.”

“And I’ll fuck you asleep, and fuck you in your sleep,” he winks, walking into the room before you, “Come on, my lady. Let’s cuddle until the baby awakes. No touching. Just cuddling,” you can do that. And you look forward to it. All night. Every night.

Next

Masterlist

Taglist: @tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot @pono-pura-vida @peaches1958 @seitmai

@smile1318 @andydrysdalerogers @cjand10 @midnightramyeoncravings @kmc1989

@slowdownbeforeyouregretit @rogersbarber @evelineangel66 @steviebbboi

[dollishbabess]

I hc that sometimes weird ass convos goes down in that manor for example this is exhibit A

Tim: “have you ever gave someone directions and witness them get run over and flung to their destination?”

*everyone looking in his direction*: um no…

Tim: “oh Right… i haven’t witnessed such thing..”

Jason: “I have ran someone over once if that’s what you’re asking?”

Bruce: “JASON STOP ENABLING TIM-“

________________________________________

Dick: “have you guys ever dip your tongues into candle wax after eating something spicy to cool it down?”

Jason: “dude.. how are you still alive?! First it was you confessing you ate shampoo and now this? We can’t have two dead people in this family!”

Dick: “IT WAS A ACCIDENT OKAY!?”

Damian: “how does eating candle wax and shampoo result in “accidents”

Tim: “I don’t know but their accidents like you”

Damian: “shut up Drake-“ *dick trying to pull them apart before chaos erupts and Jason snickering in the back*

Tim: “I just calculated how long someone had if they ate shampoo and candle wax and it says about 5 weeks”

Dick: ‘it’s been 12 years so..”

Tim: *trying to manipulate dick* “yeah but 12 years + 5 weeks”

Dick exe has stopped working: “what… say your serious!”

Tim: “I’m serious, you got like 5 weeks left dude”

*cue Jason and dick looking at each other and Jason holding back his laughter*

Jason: “yeah sorry dude bye bye I guess it was fun knowing you”

Dick: “BUT I HAVENT EVEN HIT 10 MIL ON INSTA YET!?, you guys have to keep my TikTok streak with kori keep going” *tim and Damian and Jason just looking at eachother in confusion*

Damian: “is that what your concerned about?”

Dick: “um yeah?”

*alfred the cat coming up to dick*

Tim: “and apparently cats can sense when some is dying”

Dick: “WHAT!? I’M DYING!?”

Jason: “dude we told you 5 consecutive times are you dense?”

Damian: “perhaps the candle wax caught up to him not only in death”

*cue dick 5 weeks later after selling his apartment giving his brothers all his valuable items and money and possessions sitting on a dirty side walk outside homeless*

Dick: “now wait a damn minute… WAIT A DAMN MINUTE”

[juliaia]

Rainy Nights in Hell's Kitchen

—————————————————————

Summary: You’ve been dating Matt for about a year—you always sleep better when you’re with him.

Pairing: Matt Murdock x gn!reader

Warnings: Swearing, nightmares, fluff, overuse of em-dashes.

A/N: This is super short and sweet, but I wanted to try writing for Matty. Totally feel free to request stuff if you enjoy, but I post fics at random whenever the urge strikes, so I’m not like an “official tumblr fanfic person” or whatever—but I sure am here!

—————————————————————

It was a dark and stormy night—and usually you wouldn’t mind that. The rain is pretty peaceful, and with the windows open you can catch the cool night air and the smell of petrichor on the breeze.

But today has been long and tiring, and lately you’ve been having really vivid, unpleasant nightmares.

You’ve kept them mostly to yourself, tying them to the general stress of day-to-day life and maybe a dash of unresolved trauma—but they’re just nightmares. They’re silly, and you are definitely not afraid to go to bed tonight in your own room in the dark, with the occasional, startling boom of loud thunder in the background.

The fact that you immediately answer a much too eager, “yes”, when Matt asks if you want to stay over at his apartment is totally unrelated.

So now, you’re sitting in the bathroom with Matt, getting ready for bed.

He looks so damn pretty in the slightly dim lighting. His face is cast in a soft glow, his bare chest is looking like a very warm, very comfortable pillow, his sweats are fitting him very nicely and making his butt look exceptionally cute—but to be fair, he always looks sinfully good. You’re pretty sure you could watch him just exist for hours on end.

You see a grin creep onto his face as he feels your eyes on him.

“You’re staring, sweetheart.” He says, pushing his hand through his hair as he turns towards you and holds out a hand. You take it, and he leans in to kiss your forehead.

“Just watching you. You’re pretty.” You say. His grin softens to something less mischievous and more fond and sweet, and he leans in again, this time planting a soft kiss on your lips.

“You’re prettier.” He murmurs—he’s got this shamelessly lovesick look on his face. You chuckle and roll your eyes.

“Says the blind man.” He gives your hand a playful squeeze.

“I can still tell you’re pretty—ready for bed?” He asks. You hesitantly nod.

“Uh, yeah, alright.” He raises an eyebrow.

“…You’re usually more enthusiastic about sleeping.” You sigh, the two of you walking over to settle into bed on top of the cool silk sheets.

“I’ve just been having weird, bad dreams.” You explain. Matt’s face goes all soft and sympathetic.

If there is one thing Matt is, it’s protective. Which is usually sweet, but occasionally overdramatic to the point of hilarity. For example—two weeks ago, you got a papercut while opening a package (one of those awful cardboard-paper-cuts), and the moment Matt heard you let out that little hiss of frustration and pain, he came rushing over to fuss over you, face painted with concern as he took your hand and frantically examined the wound. It’s especially funny considering how he insists you don’t need to worry about him when he shows up at 3 in the morning after patrol, bleeding from a stab wound in his side, or on the verge of passing out from a concussion.

So, you mention the nightmares, and Matt goes all soft, pulling you against his chest, holding you close, kissing the top of your head.

“Oh, angel, I’m sorry. Why didn’t you tell me?” He asks. You shrug.

“Eh, you’ve got other stuff on your plate—they’re just nightmares.” Matt shakes his head, nuzzling his face into your hair and inhaling deeply.

“They’re upsetting you, and ruining your sleep.” He murmurs, kissing the top of your head.

“Matty, babydoll—“ He cuts you off by pulling back and pressing his forehead against yours, his warm eyes unfocused and unseeing but somehow still so damn emotional.

“Sweetheart,” He says. “You always take care of me. Let me take care of you, please?”

Dammit—Matt and his stupid puppy dog eyes. That sweet soft sad look he gives you, the pleading, pouty face, his pretty pink lips and big dumb wet eyes. You relent, sighing in defeat, and he grins, pulling you into his arms, kissing your cheek, and dragging you to bed, laying down with you.

“I’m here, okay?” He murmurs, kissing the top of your head. You grumble, folding yourself into his arms, smushing up against his chest. He rubs your back, holding you close. “Nothing gets to ruin your sleep except for me.” He says. You snort, giving his bicep a squeeze–oh those wonderful thick arms of his.

“Dork.” He pulls you over, tucking you against his chest for a cuddle. He nuzzles his face against the top of your head.

“I’m here. I’m not gonna let anything happen to you. No nightmares.” He says. You smile, hand finding his, fingers lacing through his own.

“I don’t know if you have any control over what I dream about, but I appreciate it anyway.” You say. Matt yawns softly, kissing your temple.

“I’m just gonna hold you so tight the nightmares won’t be able to get you.” He loves having you so close, loves being able to protect you and cuddle up with you to sleep. He presses his nose and mouth into the crook of your neck, letting out a happy growl. You reach back to ruffle his hair.

“Thanks, Matty.” You murmur. He nods, kissing your cheek.

Curled up in his arms, you fall asleep easier. The rain falls outside, soft pitter patters on the window panes as Matt’s steady breathing lulls you to sleep.

When you wake up at two in the morning, hands gripping the sheets, Matt wakes up with you, pulling you closer and kissing your temple, hands coming up to rub your shoulders.

“Hey angel, you’re okay. I’m here.” You push yourself further into his arms, body shaking slightly as you wrap your arms around his arm, holding it against your chest. “I’m here.” He rubs your chest, hand drawing soothing circles against you. “What can I do to help, hm?”

You just push yourself closer to him, and he settles you into his lap, shushing you gently and kissing the top of your head. He holds you tightly, hand gently rubbing over your racing heart in a gesture he hopes is grounding and comforting.

You tuck your face against his warm neck, inhaling the scent of him, pressing a soft kiss to his skin. He chuckles, hand coming to cup your cheek, his face tilting down and his nose nudging against yours. You wrap your arms around him, too tired and shaken up to be embarrassed about seeking him out for comfort. He cuddles you against him, laying back with you against his chest.

You’re quickly lulled back to sleep by the soothing sounds of his breathing and heartbeat, and after that, you sleep solidly through the night without any issues. Matt’s warm arms wrapped around you, blankets cozy and soft, the rain and thunder outside becoming gentle background noise.

In the morning, Matt wakes you up with a few soft kisses on the temple, stirring you to consciousness, drawing a little grumble from you. He chuckles, rubbing your back gently.

“Sorry sweetheart, I couldn’t resist.” He pecks you on the lips. You hide your face against his chest, trying to block out the light from the window. He kisses the top of your head, throwing his leg over your hip to pull you closer. He’s so warm, and he smells so good, and he’s cuddling you close like you’re the most precious thing in the world. “Did you sleep okay? Aside from the bad dreams?” He asks, hand resting on your back. You nuzzle your face against the crook of his arm. You did sleep okay, you felt safe and warm in his arms, held close in his arms.

“Mhm. Slept better with you.” You say. Matt grins, face flushing as he snuggles you closer, squishing you against him.

“You should stay over more often. Move in with me, so I can keep you safe from all the nightmares.” He says, fingers brushing through your hair. You smile softly.

“…Shit, are you asking me to move in with you?” You ask. Matt kisses your forehead.

“Depends…would you say yes if I was?” You chuckle.

“Yes, yes I would.” Matt smiles, nuzzling his nose into your hair.

“Then yes, yes I am asking you to move in with me.”

“And I’m saying yes.”

[pichiru]

The Sun Also Smiles - Chapter 3

Chapters - [1] [2] [3] [4]

Summary - With Mabel and Dipper's 16th birthday party on the horizon, Grunkle Stan takes to online dating to find a date for the party. But who he meets isn't who she thinks she is. Things start to get weird.

Word Count - 3,251

Pairing(s) - Stan Pines x OC

Genre(s): Romance, Comedy, Mystery

~~~~~~~~

Solana said:

Good morning, Stanley Pines 🖤

Stanley 🖤🖤🖤 said:

Mornin toots

Solana said:

Did you sleep well?

Stanley 🖤🖤🖤 said:

Like a damn rock. What about you?

Solana said:

I slept wonderfully. Had a hot date with a nice and shy old guy and my favorite tv show last night

Stanley 🖤🖤🖤 said:

Oh yeah? Hope he was handsome

Solana said:

He is. Sexy even.

Stanley 🖤🖤🖤 said:

Damn. You think I’m sexy? Wish I could give you a compliment too but I have no idea what you look like, toots

Solana said:

Soon, soon. Very soon. I promise. I wanna make sure that you’re not gonna up and run away the moment you see me.

Stanley 🖤🖤🖤 said:

Why would I book it?

Solana said:

Iunno. It happens all the time.

Stanley 🖤🖤🖤 said:

Even for me, that’s rude as hell. I’m sorry

Solana said:

Why are YOU sorry? You didn’t do it. I appreciate the kindness though.

Stanley 🖤🖤🖤 said:

Lemme meet you at your job some time?

Solana said:

Maybe. Let me get through the day today and I’ll give you an answer to that. I’m in a rush right now. Boss is on my ass about being present and punctual.

Stanley 🖤🖤🖤 said:

Yeah I gotcha. I’ll be waiting for that answer, babe

Solana said:

🖤🖤🖤

“Grunkle Stan, are you ready yet?” Mabel called from up the stairs.

“Did you sleep in your chair again? That’s not good for your back, you know,” Dipper said with playful disappointment in his voice.

Stan smiled to himself at the kids looking out for him despite the fact that he was a grown man and could take care of himself. It was just nice to know that people other than Ford cared for once.

He dropped the leg rest on the recliner then pulled himself to the edge of the seat. With a large and very much audible grunt, Stan pushed himself onto his feet. He knew Dipper was right but sometimes forcing himself to lay in an empty bed was tough. A loud crack was heard when he stretched out his back, immediately creating relief.

“Yeah, yeah, kids. I got it,” he yelled up at them, knowing they were standing at the top of the stairs listening to his morning routine.

“Lemme take a shower and snag breakfast on the way there,” Stan offered as he continued to stretch and crack bones in his rickety old body.

“No chance Grunkle Stan! It’s almost noon and I’ve been waiting alllllll morning for you to wake up and take me and Dipper-“

“I told you, it’s Maze now. Short for Mason,” Dipper murmured to Mabel, hitting her arm. Not hard though.

Mabel rolled her eyes in an exaggerated manner. “I’ve been waiting alllllll morning for you to wake up and take me and MAZE to that massive art store that just opened up recently.”

“Maze?” Stan asked under his breath to himself in confusion. “I’m sorry, kid. I stayed up a little later than usual to watch the rerun of The Duchess Approves. I’ll make it up to ya. I promise.”

Mabel peeked down the stairs to see Stan standing at the bottom, looking as if he was deep in thought. “Okay. As long as you keep that promise.”

“I’m a man of my word! I’ve never made a promise I couldn’t keep. Ask Sixer.” Stan yawned as he stretched one last time to get the residual tiredness out of his body.

“Shower then store!” Mabel said with a nodding huff.

“You got it, kid,” Stan chuckled. He turned the tv off and tossed the remote back into the recliner. He trudged up the stairs and past the kids at the top, immediately making his way into the bathroom. He shut the door quickly and sighed heavily.

Why was Solana being so avoidant about being seen? Was she actually a catfish or even a modicum of who she said she is? It was hard to tell through just a screen or a phone call. Stan was used to being scammed and the scammer but this one…this one felt like the worst kind of scam and that’s saying a lot considering he was actually a criminal.

He shook his head to try and shake the feeling off. Today was about Mabel and starting up her weird earring business. This wouldn’t even be a thing he’d consider if she wasn’t looking to be a business owner like her good old Grunkle Stan. It lit up the darkest corners of his heart to know that fact.

As he went through the motions of taking a shower and getting dressed, Mabel was sitting with Dipper in the living room. She was sitting in the seat of the recliner and Dipper on the arm with his leg up. They were barely watching some old cowboy flick that had a lot of staring and not a lot of action. It could almost be classified as media's longest staring contest if one to be honest.

Dipper had on a black denim vest with distress on the sleeves, (what he thought was) an obscure band t-shirt, ripped jeans, and combat boots. Even though it was the beginning of summer, he chose fashion over comfort. He even started donning "guy-liner" which everyone knew was just eyeliner he tried to masculinize. Mabel did it for him every morning without complaint because she wanted her brother to look pretty.

Mabel however barely changed her fashion sense in the years since they were last in the mystery shack. Except she upgraded to overall dresses over her sweaters instead of regular skirts and wore high top converse instead of regular black flats. Sometimes she would steal Dipper's band t-shirts if they had a weird enough logo.

"Dip-" Mabel started before she got a death glare from her brother. "Maaazzzeeeeeee," she said in a drawn out way to try and get the name on her tongue. "Maze, did you hear any of what Grunkle Stan was saying on the phone last night?"

"No, I was _actually_ sleeping."

"Hey! I was too excited to sleep because we're starting up my business soon! And going material shopping today. I had to make sure I had everything written down and designed so the art store people could help me," she explained before puffing out her cheeks at the end.

"ANYWAY!" she continued. "He was talking to a mystery woman and watching The Duchess Approves. It had a crazy plot twist at the end. I won't spoil it for you though," she rambled.

"Mabel, you're getting off track again," Maze said as he flicked the shoelaces on his combat boots.

"Oh! Right! Well anyway, I think he asked her on a date," she whispered to him.

"A date? Grunkle Stan? Yeah okay. Funny joke Mabel," Maze said as he rolled his eyes. "Grunkle Stan doesn't have it in him to even talk to a woman let alone ask her on a date."

"I dunnoooooo! He got pretty far on courting Lazy Susan before things went downhill. I just think they thought they were better as friends. But this woman...She's different. I think he really likes her."

"How could you know that from one conversation on the phone?" Maze asked.

"I can tell by the tone of his voice when he was talking to her. Grunkle Stan never talks to anyone like that. Not even us! And you know he loves us to death."

"He'd never admit it though," Maze added.

"Of course not. But we will always know his truth," Mabel sighed gently as she sat back into the chair.

"Kids? Ya ready to hit the road?" Stan's voice suddenly called from up the stairs.

Mabel and Maze sat up straight when they heard his voice. They looked at each other, scared that he might have heard their conversation. They gulped in unison.

"Y-Yeah! I got everything in my bag and Di...Maze is ready too!" Mabel called back with a nervous laugh, grabbing her tote bag and standing up straight.

"Nice," Maze said sarcastically with no real bite to it. But he's glad she said something because he knows they would have both been sitting there in stunned silence until Stan came down to see if they were even still alive.

"Shhhhhh!" Mabel covered his face with one of her hands. Maze didn't move in the slightest. He was used to Mabel doing that at this point.

They could hear footsteps descending down the first half of the steps then onto the landing. Stan was standing there in his mystery shack suit with his red fez, a sleek gold chain with his stylish, totally for show, cane in his right hand. Which meant...he was ready to haggle the art store workers at any cost. He only wore that suit when he wanted to scam during daylight hours.

"Grunkle Stan, you better be nice! I know what that suit means," Mabel warned, putting her hands on her hips and puffing her cheeks out.

"Hey, don't ya want the best materials at half the cost? Which means ya can get even more!" Stan retorted with his signature, boastful grin plastered on his face.

Mabel sighed loudly while leaning her head back. "Yeessssss," groaned playfully.

"Exactly. Let's get going." Stan looked at Maze and gave him a thumbs up. "I had a goth phase too, kid. Just want you to know that," he said as he finished coming down the stairs. He patted both of their heads with heavy hands and smiled even more. Nothing made him happier in this moment than seeing his niece and nephew continue growing into their own person. He just wanted them to be happy and he'd do anything to make that happen.

"Grunkle Staaannnnnn," Maze groaned, shaking his head from under Stan's hand and fixing his hair.

"Sorry, kid. Takes a lot of hair gel to get it like that, eh?" Stan chuckled as he walked towards the door. "Keepin it in mind for the next time."

Maze smiled at his uncle's apology. Stan was the last person he expected to understand him right now. How could Stanley Pines of all people understand what it felt like to be an outcast? It always seemed like he knew just what to do to fit in and Ford was the outcast.

"Maze?" Mabel called from the door. She was looking at him with concern at the way he spaced out suddenly. "You okay?"

"Y-Yeah! Sorry. I was just thinking about what kind of earrings I could make for myself when you get everything. Twin discount, you know," He said coolly.

Mabel grinned, clutching the strap of her tote. Her family's support meant the world to her. "It'll probably be something emmoooooo," she teased. "Shotgun!" she yelled suddenly before darting towards Stan's car.

"NOT FAIR! You got a head start!" Maze said as he ran out of the house past Stan to try and beat Mabel to the car.

Stan laughed to himself as he closed the front door and locked the door. He strolled over to the car as the twins argued over who was going to sit where in the car. "The lady of the hour should sit in the front." Mabel stuck her tongue out at Maze. "Then...Maze can sit in the front when we come home." Maze stuck his tongue out at Mabel in retaliation. Stan unlocked the car and hopped in. Right after, the twins piled into the spots in the car.

"Buckle those seatbelts up," Stan reminded as he turned the radio on a low volume so there wasn't any awkward silence.

"Grunkle Stan, you literally never put your seatbelt on," Mabel laughed as she put hers on.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm an adult. I could take a car crash to the head right now and be fiiine," Stan said smoothly but in a way that would definitely be conveyed as a joke. He admired her for calling him out on his shit. He needed to be setting a better example for them since they were much more sentient and impressionable than the last time he saw them. He popped it on, adjusted his rearview mirror and drove off towards town.

Stan and Mabel were singing along to a random pop song that they both were surprised that each other knew. Once they realized that they were karaoke buddies, they sang their hearts out to the song while Maze sat in the backseat, marveling at their ability to not care so much. Once the song was over with and they calmed down, Stan adjusted his rearview mirror so he could have a direct eye line with Maze.

"So uh, Maze. Ya wanna talk about the name change?" Stan asked as he turned down the radio so he could hear him if he decided to respond.

"Oh, uh..." Maze's cheeks flushed shyly as he sunk down into the seat. "I felt like Dipper was too little kiddish and Mason wasn't cool enough. It feels like an old man name. So I came up with Maze," he explained, feeling his ears heat up from embarrassment. "It's like a cooler and more edgy version of Mason, you know?"

Stan smiled to himself. He was proud of his nephew for taking steps to trying to find himself in this crucial stage of his development. "Yeah? It sounds badass," he admitted with a grin. "The ladies'll go crazy over Maze."

"You think so?" He asked, his cheeks fully flushed now. He had a smile on his face that was so relieved that Stan was extremely supportive without a second thought to it.

"Hell yeah! Better than borin old Stan," Stan said with a nod, smiling even more now.

"Well someone seems to like that, 'boring old Stan'," Mabel chimed in bravely with a devious grin while she wiggled her eyebrows knowingly.

The car swerved slightly after she said that. Stan was shocked that she knew _anything_. His own cheeks started turning red in response.

"Got no clue what you're on about, kid," he deflected quickly.

"Oh yeeeaaaahhhhhh? Who's Solana then?" Mabel asked, putting her head in her hands with her elbows on the arm rest between her and her uncle.

"B-Bill collector!" He stammered before turning the radio up loud enough to where he couldn't hear her if she tried to speak again.

Mabel giggled and turned to face forward in her seat again. She knew he was lying of course and it was hilarious watching him trying to explain his way out of it.

After what felt like an agonizing amount of time to Stan later, they pulled into a parking spot at the new art shop he promised he'd take Mabel to. He turned the car off then immediately pulled the keys out.

"Ready to get the ball rollin, kid?" Stan asked Mabel.

"I'm ready like Freddy!" Mabel said excitedly, practically vibrating in her seat at this point.

"Go on in. I'll meet you kids in there. Make sure you look all helpless so they'll feel bad for some kids and give even more of a discount," Stan reminded, looking between the both of them. The twins nodded and rushed out of the car to run into the store.

Stan took his phone out of his pocket to see if Solana had texted him. She didn't. He figured it was because she was at work so he figured he'd hear from her later on in the day after her shift. Or maybe on her lunch break? He hoped lunch was the option.

Wait what? Stop. Full stop. Why was he acting like this about a woman he barely knew?

Get it together, Stanley, he thought to himself, shaking his head and rubbing his face in disbelief. His eyes trailed over to his reflection in the rearview mirror. He almost didn't recognize himself.

"Ya got this. You are the man. Ya'll get Mabel the best deals in the history of Gravity Falls on art supplies. Keep it together around them. Don't let them see you crack," he said to his reflection in the mirror, trying to hype himself up like usual. He always did this before every Mystery Shack tour back when he still ran it. He left that up to Soos long ago. It'd been a while. He was rusty but he hoped he still had the charm.

Before he could get inside his own head any more than what he already was, Stan got out of the car. He made sure to grab his cane just in case he had to play up the old man card. As he locked the doors, he was already walking into the store.

The doors slid open and he was hit with the crispest wall of air conditioning he'd ever felt since he moved to this, not so, sleepy town. They weren't kidding when they said this was the biggest art store this town has ever seen. It seemed locally owned. By who, he didn't know. Nor did he care. He was about to scam the fuck out of them.

There was a loud clatter heard in a nearby aisle.

"Fuck!" the voice said in a defeated tone.

Stan grew curious if the kids had anything to do with that. He went to inspect almost immediately. Once he reached the aisle where the commotion was, there was a woman bent over in a short skirt. If she didn't have her striped tights on, her ass definitely would have been showing. It was nice and round plus her thighs were the perfect size to match. When he caught himself staring, Stan screeched to a grinding halt in his tracks when he remembered that he was still very much interested in Solana.

"Excuse me, toots. Ya need a hand?" he found himself asking without even thinking a millisecond about it. He cussed himself out internally for treating this woman the way he did initially and wanted to right the wrong. Even though she had no idea.

"Ah, no. I got it," she said as she stood up straight and turned around to see Stan. She froze in her tracks when their eyes met. She stood there, statuesque.

Stan couldn't help but look over her in the few seconds he had to respond. She had a light yellow color to her hair and it was almost reminiscent of Betty Boop with all the little curls she had covering her head and part of her face. It was short too. Above her shoulders. Her skin was dewy and brown. Her eyes were a deep and chocolatey brown. Her lips. Her shirt had one of those little heart shaped keyholes. It showed every bit of her cleavage.

He snapped himself back to reality first, still finding her seemingly frozen in time.

"Hello?" Stan asked, waving a hand in her face. "Anybody home up there?"

"Hi, Stanley," she said in a very familiar voice with a smile and a tiny wave of her fingers.

Stan froze in his spot as well. His throat immediately started feeling like it was closing up and his heart started racing.

"S-Solana?" he asked in quiet shock. His entire demeanor changed almost instantly. He was looking everywhere but her, feeling the anxiety of seeing her set in quickly. This was something he hadn't accounted for. At least not today.

"Tsk, tsk, Stanley," Solana said as she did the two finger wiping motion at him. "Eye fucking me already?" she laughed. "How ungentlemanlike of you."

[zith-ipeth]

A long post about a dog who got anxious (Dog Days 11)

I think I got overwhelmed today

The dining hall had a lot of bright noises and loud lights and the smells were like in your face and the talking and the talking sounded like a vacuum. I was also a bit on edge cuase I just became really aware of that I was wearing clothes today and I hated it alot. My heart was racing and my stomach had a fire in it and I was staring off and…

One of my friends asked if I was ok.

I said no not really but also explained that my situation is weird, I think I haven’t had a ptsd episode in many months and whatever this feeling is it’s not that I had no triggers and no forced in memories, but also beside my episodes I’ve never had like generalized anxiety really.

She said “I’m really sorry is there anything I can do to help”

And like I said no, cuase they’re isn’t, but she helped me have someone to talk to, and I talked with my friends at the table and that helped to muffle my screaming heart a little.

As soon as I got back to my dorm I undressed and got under my sheets

And here I am, notably less anxious, my hearts slowed down, my stomach isn’t screaming and I fell, ok. This room is the perfect thing, there’s enough stuff on the floor and walls and desk to keep you occupied but not too much to make you overwhelmed. The drone of the fan is nice and light and makes it so you don’t wander in thought, it smells like nothing with a slight tinge of my roommates passive scent, a color and direction I cannot place but have come to enjoy. The ears and tail felt strange, after that little sensory nightmare I’ve become so aware of my tail and ears that it doesn’t feel right to have them on.

I’m an anxious dog, I think my senses have been getting more heightened recently and it’s scary and annoying. I felt in the dining hall like if somthing touched me I would start screaming.

The thing is if it weren’t for my friends I wouldn’t have made it through, the people around you help you so much, so just, make sure to tell them thank you, and especially so if they’re supportive of your animality, my friend who consoled me knows that I’m a dog, I wear in on my sleeve, but that didn’t stop her from empathizing and caring about me. So…

Thank You

…lead your life as a social creature, as we all are meant to be, be that in a pack, a pair, or just in the howling of another dog on the other side of a river, seek out creatures of all shapes and sizes to help you make home feel like home

Run fast, bite hard, bark loud

Peace, love, and gratitude

-Zith Ipeth

[tortoisebore]

silly question, maybe, and I'm asking it anon because I don't want you to feel obligated /at all/ to answer (or to feel pressured to read my fic, lol) but.

my question is, how do you deal with the "pressure" of posting on ao3? I reckon for you it can be quite a lot of pressure to have so many people reading your fic / waiting anxiously for new chapters, and feeling that pressure when you're writing.

for me it's kind of the opposite - I post my stuff publically to ao3 but I barely get any hits/kudos/comments, which I know isn't the be-all-end-all of fic writing (I loooove fic writing and would continue to do it either way for my own enjoyment) but it can feel a bit daunting sometimes to post something and not feel insane pressure to /live up to high standards/.

like, I'm not delusional (most of the time), I won't be the next zeppazariel or moonymoment or whatever, but it does feel like a lot of pressure to write something PERFECT in order to be "allowed" on ao3 and receive comments and feedback and word of mouth, you know?

idk this became really rambly but I just figured you might have some good insights into this as you /seem/ really smart and I value your thoughts? anyway hope you're having a good day x

hi!! this is NOT a silly question 🫶 i’m speaking from my own experience so please take it all with a grain of salt and know that those feelings of pressure and discouragement and that need to meet a certain standard are reeeeaalllll and we all feel that at some point when doing anything in the realm of creativity

i have a very specific mindset when it comes to not just writing, but literally everything i create. i went to an art school and had all of my work ripped to shreds in public critique from age 17 on, so i built a very thick skin early and learned to separate myself from my artwork and designs. it sounds very cold, but it was/is necessary in my career and i’m thankful for it now!

all that to say i’ve carried pieces of that mindset into my creative hobbies. when i do something like write fic or make art just for the sake of making something, i’m coming at it from a place of “this is for me and me only.” i don’t find myself looking to other people for confirmation that i’m doing well because if i’m enjoying what i’m doing, that’s all that matters!

i feel like it sounds kind of arrogant to say this, but because of that, i don’t feel pressure surrounding writing fic. i write when i want, i write what i want to see, and no amount of comments asking for updates is going to change my process or make me feel guilty for taking “too long” between updates. i have a whole entire life outside of this (as do you!) and for the most part people understand that you’re a person with a hobby just trying to do something fun.

i’ve also been in fandom spaces since i was a very young teenager and i feel very familiar with the way people act surrounding fic and fic authors, so i knew what i was getting myself into when i posted the first chapter. i expected it to not be seen by many people, i expected negative comments, and i expected lots of backlash about the story not being finished when it was posted (for some reason people hate wips now????). i just got extremely lucky that someone liked it enough to post about it on tiktok, and then on twitter, and it took off from there.

i also don’t really keep track of hits/kudos other than getting the kudos emails (but i do read every single comment i get on ao3!). those numbers don’t mean much in the grand scheme of things and i try not to let them get into my head when i’m writing. i’ve also been extremely lucky in that i think i’ve had one singular kind of negative comment on the entire thing?? and it was someone that just didn’t seem happy with the slower pace of the story. i was able to look at that and be like “great, it’s my story and i don’t care <3” and move on from it quickly.

i know that this is not a universal feeling and that most people do not feel this lack of pressure and anxiety surrounding posting their work. i have such a specific set of experiences that’s led me to this level of comfort surrounding sharing my creative endeavors, and i know it’s probably not helpful to hear, but that’s how my brain has worked behind the scenes about this!

if i had any actual helpful tips to give, i think the biggest one would be to write from a place of self-indulgence! you’re going to be most passionate when you’re writing things for you, and that’s going to come through in your work. other people are out there looking for the exact things you want to write, they just haven’t found it yet.

((also use ao3 tags liberally 🫶))

this was so so so rambly and probably not very helpful i’m sorry fhfhffhfjfh if you ever want to talk more pls dm me or send another ask if u want to stay anonymous!! 💕💞✨🫶

[thresholdbb]

Can we talk about The Dying Swan moment in Coda? As someone who was once a very serious ballerina, I need to talk about the Dying Swan. Here's your context --

CHAKOTAY: Harry's clarinet solo was okay. I could have done without Tuvok's reading of Vulcan poetry. But the highlight of the evening was definitely Kathryn Janeway portraying the Dying Swan. JANEWAY: I learned that dance when I was six years old. I assure you, it was the hit of the Beginning Ballet class.

Have you seen The Dying Swan? It is dramatic.

Here, take a minute:

First of all, this dance is much too advanced for a six-year-old, even if they’re doing it in demi pointe. (Six-year-olds emphatically should not be in pointe shoes btw.) The dance is almost entirely bourees and arm movements done to very subtle musical cues, not the foundational ballet moves typically taught in Beginning Ballet.

This is a very vulnerable, dramatic dance that is effective because of its subtleties. The performer would need to embody that vulnerability in some way for a convincing performance. It's short, but it's a solo piece -- all eyes on you. I mean, it was choreographed for a prima ballerina, BUT THAT'S NOT MY POINT

Can you imagine our unflappable Captain Janeway willingly getting in front of her crew to do this ballet? I get that it’s thematically relevant to the plot of Coda, but since Janeway is only vulnerable in front of her crew when it means putting herself in harm’s way, it seems like a wild decision. She tends to hold herself apart from her crew, maintaining the professional distance of the captain. Further, when she does any creative pursuit, it is almost always in private, since her sister was the artist in the family and she was the scientist. As a captain, she commands Voyager in a much different way than she would as a dancer with this piece. I'm not saying she never shows vulnerability because she definitely does, but not necessarily in this way. Then when she talks about it with Chakotay, she just casually brushes it off with a laugh like no big deal.

There’s also the question of costume – would she have gone full tutu? Done it in her Starfleet uniform? An impeccable yet flow-y white suit? She does get into costume and command a performance in Bride of Chaotica!, but Coda is still kind of early days for our captain. Arachnia aligns more with what we know about Janeway's character.

Granted, it is Chakotay laying down these complements about her dancing ability and he is clearly biased. To be fair, Neelix does too before they leave in the shuttle. If she did this dance and performed it poorly or amazingly, I feel like the crew would look at her a bit differently afterwards.

Canonically she did The Dying Swan, but I certainly have trouble picturing it happening.

[why-the-heck-not]

insomnia? do u mean my true crime podcast time

[thebookofbill]

what’s your favorite muppet?

GONZO‼️‼️ I was cast as Gonzo in a second grade play, and I made his nose out of papier-mâché. He’s been my favorite ever since. I also love that he’s the weirdest one! (I’m guessing I got the role for a reason.)

Also, please look at how he dresses

[shima-draws]

Just got back from my friend’s wedding :’) I think it says a lot that I was the only high school friend that showed up

[grocerystoreanxiety]

ah well fuck it, going above my calories today for more whiskey hehe (dumb)

[stergeon]

for the writer ask

💭🚦💛 💌

💭 What inspires you and your writing?

this is a real marketing major-ass answer (from your local marketing major), but i love sharing knowledge and telling stories. writing’s one of those things that’s a bit of a compulsion for me—i’m always writing something. i took a five-year break from fiction writing before i stumbled ass-first into fanfic last year, but even in those years when i was focusing on my career, i was writing guides and trainings and a ton of other stuff—just not anything fun, lol.

writing is also so cathartic. sometimes i set out to tell a specific story, but at other times, a particular emotion gets me in a vice grip and i have to put it to words before it’ll go away. my stories tend to wind up as emotional dumping grounds as a result.

i don’t write things pulled directly from my own life, but there are bits and pieces of myself and things that have happened to me scattered throughout stuff i’ve written, and usually when i’m about 75% of the way through a piece, i’ll realize it’s absolutely related to something i’m currently going through. funny how art works that way, even when you don’t intend for it to.

and occasionally i just have a fire lit under my ass about an issue and i get so hot about it that i gotta compile my thoughts. looking at you, silver snow

🚦 What sort of endings do you prefer to write: ambiguous, bad, happily ever after, etc.?

look, i would love nothing more for them girls (pick whichever girls you please) to have a happy ending where they kiss and are stupid in love for the rest of forever. i love reading those kinds of stories. but in my heart of hearts, i love an ambiguous ending. i like when there are still questions after the story ends. i like thinking about where things could go or how the characters will go on after the events of the story. like, shared space could be read as having a happy ending, but i don’t really think it is. and with the victors; the vestiges, well. you’ll see :0)

come to think of it, i’m not sure i’ve ever written a happily-ever-after, but i don’t think i’ve ever written a 100% bad ending, either. i read too many bury-your-gays stories and watched too many sad european queer coming-of-age films in my youth to ever be happy putting that kinda thing out into the world. i want to write about love with all its ugliness, but not despair or hopelessness. i think what most appeals to me about an ambiguous ending is that lingering feeling of hope. it’s not the same as the kind you get from a happily-ever-after, and something about it speaks to me.

💛 What is the most impactful lesson you’ve learned about writing?

honestly? how to take criticism. i took a creative writing class in high school where we had to read our work out loud and then receive feedback on it from the other writers in the class, and that did a lot for me. going into that class, i’d already been writing for forever and had won some little local writing contests and such, so i was a wee bit of a pretentious douche. but i’d never gotten real critique before beyond, essentially, spelling and grammar checks. it humbled me lol. it made me grow so much as a writer, and i could see where i needed to improve or where my head was wedged way too far up my own ass for others to follow. it also helped me recognize strengths i didn’t know i had, and that was huge. it’s easy to get into a self-doubt spiral when making creative work, and good, constructive criticism can do so much to help avoid that.

to this day i love critique. i like knowing what worked or didn’t work so that i can continue to improve as a writer and do better next time. did my themes land? did something really work, but another part fall flat? i’d love to know!! i try to treat everything i write as practice for the next thing, and frankly that’s helped take some of the pressure off so i don’t go into total Perfectionist Mode.

i know critique is kind of a sensitive topic in fan spaces, but i think that’s because a lot of people have gotten unsolicited criticism that is purely critical and isn’t constructive. but getting good, constructive criticism will do so much to help a person grow as a writer. it’s scary, and sometimes it hurts! writing is very personal for most people, and it stings when things aren’t received the way you think they will be. but i know i’ve grown more from having my failures pointed out (and, very importantly, having the good things about those efforts acknowledged) than anything else.

💌 Is there a favorite trope you like to write?

actually Just answered this in another ask!

[froggychair05]

Bakery Au! It seems pretty cool! I came from your Jesskas cookie making fic thought it was great btw

Did you have any other hcs for the Bakery Au? Or any drawings?

Thank you!! I loved writing that fic, I’m glad people like it so much!! I guess I just have a thing for writing characters baking, haha

And ohhhh boy, do I ever! I uh. May or may not have just reached over 5000 words in scribbling down notes alone about this…so I’ll only go into a few so this doesn’t get ridiculously long. If there’s anything else you’d like to know, though, I’d be happy to share more! (as long as it’s not a major spoiler, that is)

This got…very long already, so I’ll put a cut here.

Some of these are plot-relevant, I’ll leave it up to you to figure out which ones 🙃

- Jesse is very good at cooking, but absolutely horrible at baking. Just absolutely terrible.

- He cannot drive. Like at all. Axel drives him everywhere (Axel makes jokes that he shouldn’t be trusted to drive, but he’s actually very good at it)

- Speaking of Axel, he has a rock collection that he’s very proud of

- He works as a demolitionist (because, you know, griefer? I wanted to give him a job where he could blow things up)

- Olivia works from home as a programmer. She has her own room while the other two have to share because of it, and also because they snore really loud.

- She handles all of the scheduling of appointments and stuff because the other two always forget

- Lukas takes a cheese sandwich and a granola bar to work for lunch every day. He also likes to put whipped cream and rainbow sprinkles in his hot chocolate :)

- He has a pair of clip-on stud earrings that he got as a gift from Petra because he never wanted to get his ears pierced but he did want earrings (he doesn’t wear them to work for fear of losing them)

- Petra met Lukas in high school and they became really close— she’s kind of a sister figure to him and they talk on the phone a lot

- She spends a lot of time traveling to gather things for her adopted dads’ (Jack and Nurm!) antique/pawn shop thing. Also she rides a motorcycle.

- Nell is great at handling rude customers. Lukas is 90% sure she does weed in the bathroom (she does)

- Radar organizes the display cases, like, all the time. He’s in college and he cleans when he’s stressed, so the bakery is always very clean

- Stella is genuinely good at business, but only the social parts. Binta helps with more of the technical aspects. (They are girlfriends)

- Aiden played football in high school, Maya was a cheerleader, and Gill played soccer.

- The three of them (plus Lukas) have been hanging out since middle school, and they still have the matching leather jacket thing going on

- Ivor works as a pharmacist (because potions and stuff? medicine?); he’s also Jesse’s dad/weird uncle figure (more on that another time)

As for drawings, I started doodling some character designs! Because the headcanon list got so long, I won’t go into a lot of detail about them, but again, I’d be happy to answer any questions about design choices!

The words got kind of blurry, so the first image says (from top to bottom):

- construction worker, always covered in dirt

- work uniform

- nether star tattoo on her arm

- I have never drawn him before this

And the second image, from top to bottom:

- runs counter/baking, also in charge of daily cupcake display

- bakery logo

- in charge of cleaning, organization, and finances

- owner/manager/supervisor, handles the social aspects of the business

- helps with the technical aspects of the business, also delivers from the ingredients supplier

I have other designs in progress and I’ve started doodling some of the scenes, so those will show up eventually :) I have some big plans for this AU. Thank you for the ask!

[seventh-district]

.

[giddlygoat]

uh oh i’ve developed both a hyperfix on customizing rubber ducks and argos and mr plant within a matter of hours. on top of ttcc. how am i going to be able to sleep with all this adhd energy dawg