#mama mabel au

[mamabelverse]

Is it okay if people write their own fic for your AU??

(I am so sorry, I just now saw this-)

And my answer is YES. Absolutely! I'd, honestly, be thrilled to see fans of my AU write their own takes or something inspired by my stories!

Just pin me if/when you make it, so I can also see it, okay? :)

[theratlivinginyourcouchcushions]

If monster falls happened in TAU during the triplets time, what would everyone be? Would Dipper still be a deer, or would Henry be the deer now? Would dipper be a cat then? I feel like Mabel isn’t a mermaid anymore by the time she’s had the triplets, so maybe a bear or something? What would the triplets be? (I feel like one of them would be a goat) what if Dipper was a Pegasus? Or a snake? ( I’ve made art of both those things) what do y’all think?

[rafecameronssl4t]

Like her mama || Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

Summary: inspired by this TikTok sound

Warnings: none!! just fluff :)

Word count: 1,416

MASTERLIST (dad!rafe au masterlist)

divider by @h-aewo

As you turn from the sink, water dripping from the freshly washed fruit in your strainer, Topper’s voice interrupts your thoughts. "Need some help with that?" he asks, his tone friendly and familiar. You glance over your shoulder, offering him a warm smile.

"I'm all good, thanks, Top," you reply, your eyes twinkling with gratitude. He nods and takes a seat on the nearby stool, settling in comfortably. Your attention shifts to the pool outside, where Rafe, Mabel, and Kelce are enjoying the morning sun.

"Everything alright out there?" you ask, your curiosity genuine as you look to Topper for reassurance. He glances outside, a slight smile tugging at his lips. "Yeah, they’re all good. The water’s really nice," he says with a chuckle.

You turn back toward the pool just in time to see Rafe holding Mabel in his arms, her tiny pink bucket hat slightly askew, too big for her small head. You wave, a soft giggle escaping your lips when Rafe lifts Mabel’s hand to mimic your wave, though you’re certain she can’t actually see you.

Topper can’t help but chuckle along with you. "Can’t believe she’ll be seven months next week," he remarks, his tone tinged with amazement. You let out a small sigh as you begin slicing the oranges, arranging them neatly on a platter. "Don’t remind me," you reply with a soft laugh. "She’s growing up so fast."

The two of you continue chatting, the conversation flowing easily until Rafe strolls into the kitchen. His hair is damp, the blonde strands clinging to his forehead, and tiny droplets of water trail down his chest and stomach, glistening in the soft light.

"Hi, baby," he greets you, leaning in to press a tender kiss to your cheek. "Hi," you respond, your smile widening at his touch. Rafe’s eyes drift down to the platter you’re preparing. "That looks amazing," he comments, quickly snatching a strawberry and popping it into his mouth before you can protest. You shake your head playfully, amused by his antics.

"Is Mabel all right?" you ask, glancing at him as he leans casually against the counter. "Mmhmm," he hums in affirmation, then suggests with a grin, "You should come in the water after this." You chuckle softly. "I will, I will," you promise, as he leans in for another quick kiss before heading back outside.

Topper watches him go, shaking his head with a smirk. "Rafe’s a complete softie now, huh?" he comments, clearly amused by the transformation in his friend. You snort, unable to hold back your laughter. "Maybe for us. But he still loves arguing with his sisters," you say with a fond smile, recalling the endless bickering between Rafe and his siblings.

Topper’s expression brightens with sudden recollection. "Did I end up tell you what happened this morning at the shops?" he asks, piquing your curiosity. "No? What happened?" you ask, looking up at him, eager to hear the story.

~

Flashback….

“Is she awake?” Rafe asks as he pulls his G-Wagon into a parking spot in front of the store. The engine’s hum fades as he shifts into park, and Kelce leans over to peer into the baby carrier. Mabel, with her big doe eyes, stares back at him, her tiny mouth busy with her pacifier.

“Wide awake,” Kelce reports with a chuckle, meeting her gaze with a grin. The three of them exit the car; Rafe decides against the stroller, opting to scoop Mabel into his arms instead. After all, they were only planning a quick stop. Mabel clings to him, her small hands gripping his shirt as she takes in her surroundings.

As they approach the store, Topper slips his oversized sunglasses onto Mabel’s little face. The glasses are comically large, sliding down her tiny nose, and the sight of it makes both Topper and Kelce snicker. They quickly pull out their phones, snapping a photo of the moment.

Rafe, oblivious to their antics at first, glances over his shoulder when he hears their muffled laughter. “You guys are idiots,” he says, shaking his head, though he can’t suppress the smile that tugs at his lips when he sees Topper’s sunglasses barely hanging on Mabel’s face. As her uncles continue to laugh, Mabel lets out a delighted giggle, her tiny hands reaching up to grasp at the sunglasses.

As they step into the shop, all three boys lift their sunglasses from their noses and perch them on top of their heads. The cool air inside the store is a welcome contrast to the warmth outside. “What are we getting again?” Kelce asks, glancing around as they enter.

Rafe pulls out his phone, scrolling through the list you had sent him. “Y/n gave me a little list,” he replies, quickly scanning the items before reading them aloud. Kelce nods and heads off towards the fruit section, while Rafe, Topper, and Mabel make their way down another aisle to gather the remaining items.

As they pass by the toy section, Rafe can’t resist stopping, his eyes drawn to the colourful display. Mabel’s attention is instantly caught by the toys on the shelves, her small hands reaching out eagerly. “You want that one? What about this too—” Rafe starts, picking up a soft toy, but he’s interrupted by a voice from behind them.

“Hey,” the voice says, drawing their attention. Rafe turns to find a girl, probably around their age or a bit younger, standing a few steps away. Her smile is bright, but there’s something in her eyes that makes Topper instantly wary. He notices the way her gaze lingers on Rafe before shifting to Mabel.

“Oh my goodness, what a cute baby you have!” she exclaims, her voice overly sweet, dripping with an eagerness that Rafe recognises all too well. It’s the tone of someone trying just a bit too hard to make an impression.

Without missing a beat, Rafe shrugs nonchalantly. “Yeah, my wife and I make pretty cute babies, huh?” he responds, his tone cool and dismissive, the question hanging in the air as more rhetorical than anything. He turns his attention back to Mabel, who is now clutching the toy he had picked up, her little fingers wrapped tightly around it. He places it in the shopping cart without sparing the girl another glance.

Topper stifles a grin, barely containing his amusement as they walk away, leaving the girl standing there, her plan clearly foiled. As they continue down the aisle, Rafe mutters under his breath, “The audacity,” his voice laced with mild annoyance, though a small smile still plays on his lips.

Topper bursts into laughter. “You handled that very well, didn’t he, Mabel?” he says, leaning over to tickle Mabel’s tummy. She giggles in response, her tiny hands gripping Rafe’s shirt as she hides her face, her laughter a sweet, infectious sound that makes both men smile even wider.

Rafe glances down at his daughter, his expression softening as he leans in to press a series of tender kisses on the side of her forehead. “Yeah, we don’t need any of that nonsense, do we, baby girl?” he murmurs, his voice overflowing with affection. Mabel giggles softly, her tiny hand reaching up to touch his face, and Rafe smiles, the warmth in his eyes evident as they continue with their shopping.

~

End of flashback...

A smile tugs at your lips as Topper finishes his story, the amusement clear in your eyes. His recount of Rafe's quick wit and protective nature at the store had you both chuckling. The memory lingers, bringing a soft warmth to your heart as you place the final pieces of fruit on the platter.

Topper grabs the colourful tray, balancing it with ease as he heads outside to join the others by the pool. Outside, Mabel is floating happily in a small inflatable ring, her tiny hands splashing the water as Rafe gently moves her around. His smile is wide, the pure joy on his face unmistakable as he watches her delight.

Your hands reach up to start unbuttoning Rafe's oversized button-up shirt that you had used as cover up over your bikini. You step into the pool, feeling the cool water contrast with the warmth of the day, and tie your hair up into a bun.

Rafe glances up at you, a playful glint in his eyes as you wade towards them. "Look, Mabel, Mumma's here," he says with a grin, his voice soft and affectionate. Hearing his words, Mabel turns her head, her big eyes lighting up at the sight of you. A gummy smile spreads across her face, and you can’t help but giggle at her reaction.

You move closer, lifting her gently from the floatie and pressing a kiss to her cheek. "You having fun, Bels?" you coo softly, spinning her lightly in the water. She babbles in response, her excitement clear as her little legs kick with glee. Rafe watches with a smile tugging at his lips, his gaze shifting between you and Mabel.

"I just realised you two are matching," he comments, noting your pink bikini and Mabel’s pink bucket hat that’s just a little too big for her. A playful grin spreads across your face. "I planned it," you tease, giving him a wink. Rafe chuckles, moving closer to wrap an arm around your waist and pulling both you and Mabel into a warm embrace.

He presses a gentle kiss to your forehead before leaning down to tickle Mabel’s tummy. Her infectious giggles echo around the pool, her little hands splashing the water playfully. You and Rafe laugh along with her, the happiness of the moment filling the air.

As you hold Mabel close, feeling the warmth of her tiny body against you, you glance up at Rafe, a soft smile playing on your lips. "We made a pretty cute baby, huh?" you say, your voice filled with pride and affection, echoing the words he had casually tossed out at the shops earlier.

Rafe’s eyes light up with recognition, a smirk forming as he remembers the moment. "Yeah, we sure did. The cutest baby" he agrees, leaning in to kiss you tenderly.

[thicctails]

Wait, so if Dippers a mamas boy regarding scalene does this mean Mabel daddies girl?/J but seriously I would love to know about Scalene and Euclid’s relationship with the kids! Like their relationship with them individually

Remove that /J anon, you're totally right! Mabel is a daddies girl!

Now, obviously Scalene and Euclid love their children equally (yes, even their asshole bastard son), but there are certain activities that Mabel and Dipper do with only one parent.

For Dipper, he and Scalene have bonded over their shared love of music and singing. I always imagined Scalene as having a voice like a 50s singer (think Jo Stafford) and knowing how to play piano. She teaches Dipper everything she knows, and the two often put on performances when the Pines parents aren't home. (They didn't have a real piano, but they made so with the kids one Dipper had) Also Dipper actually has really good hygiene in this AU, BC triangle mom isn't letting him leave the house until he smells like flowers or mint or something equally nice. Since her preferred way to manifest is on books, she and Dipper also often read together.

Meanwhile, Mabel and Euclid are the fashion icons of the family. Every day is greeted with a new outfit, each one at least partially hand crafted. They play games like Animal Jam and Roblox together, and win Best Dressed and Dress To Impress almost every time. Euclid teaches Mabel traditional Euclidean art (it's mostly abstract art with colourful lines) and they make puppets to add some pizzazz to Dipper and Scalene's ballads. On the rare occasions where he's 3D, Euclid does Mabel's hair, tying it up in the fanciest, prettiest bows he can make.

When they were young, both twins used to get their makeup done by Euclid, and Scalene would adorn them in triangular jewelery that she and Mabel would make. They (very reluctantly) stopped when the Pines parents told Dipper that makeup and jewelery were "only for girls." Sometimes, when they knew the adults would be gone for awhile, they'd do it for him anyways, and once he's comfortable around Stan during their summer stay, he starts getting dressed up again.

[shannonallaround]

When you love your friend's au so much that you write fanfic for it

Based on @punkinspice's @shadouge-family-au ***

Everyone froze as the glass shattered on the floor. 

Then little three-year-old Monty started crying because it scared him, quickly followed his twin sister Mabel, who cried because he was crying. Chase (who was five, almost six) simply looked at the glass mess and said “Oh oh.” 

Amy tiptoed around the kitchen table to reach the crying twins, soothing them with gentle hugs and soft words. She glanced up at her husband. 

Sonic stood exactly where he’d been when the glass had left his hand (by the kitchen sink). He stared at the floor, expression unreadable; a rare moment of him being perfectly still. 

He’s normally fast enough to catch things like that, Amy thought to herself. “Sonic?”

No answer. 

Any hid a worried purse of her lips, instead turning to her oldest. “Chase, you still have your shoes on—can you grab the broom for mama so she can clean up the mess?” 

Sonic then seemed to jerk awake. “Sorry. I’ll get it.” He quickly left the room, not meeting Amy’s eyes. Amy heard the shutting of a cupboard, followed by Sonic returning with a broom and dustpan in hand. 

“Let me help, Dad!” 

Chase had gotten down from his chair and now stood by his dad amid the mess. Sonic looked down into his son’s eyes, and managed a smile—small, but grateful. 

“Thanks, kiddo.” 

Chase chatted away about what he wanted to do after dinner while diligently holding the dustpan in place. He made Sonic chuckle once or twice, oblivious of the tightness in his dad’s shoulders. Eventually, he and his twin siblings left the room to play. Amy stood and took the broom from Sonic. 

“I’ll finish here,” she said, gesturing with her head at the living room. “Why don’t you go relax? It’s been a long day. I’ll join you in a minute.” 

Sonic looked at her, his eyes somewhat distant, but he gave her a half smile and nodded. Amy heard him sigh as he left, noticing him shove his hands behind his quills as he plopped down on their woven pink couch. 

A few minutes and a vacuuming job later (just to be safe), Amy came into the living room and sat beside Sonic. He stared up at the ceiling, frowning at nothing.

If Amy was going to get anything out of him, it was now or never. 

“What’s on your mind, Sonic?”

Sonic sighed through his nose. He closed his eyes as if thinking of what to say. In the end, he gave a defeated shrug. “You’ve seemed on edge for a few days, now,” Amy said carefully. “Ever since our last fight with Eggman.” 

Sonic’s eyes flew open. “I hate that man,” he spat out. He sat up, face scrunched with more choice, but unsaid, words. Amy stared at him, surprised at his strong language. Certainly it was universal knowledge that Sonic didn’t like Eggman (and frankly, Amy hated the man too), but to hear her husband say it outright in such frank terms was… unusual. 

“Are you upset about the forest he ruined?” Another sigh. “Yes… and no.” Sonic leaned forward, pressing his mouth against folded hands. He took a deep breath.  

“Do you… ever think about us as kids?”

Amy tilted her head. “How so?”

“You know… all the stuff we did.” Sonic stared at his shoes. “How… crazy it was that we were kids?” 

Amy took a small breath, understanding his meaning. She bit her lip. “Yes. All the time.” She waited for Sonic to continue, but he went quiet then. He began tapping his foot at the base of the couch—a nervous habit when he was thinking. 

“My earliest memories are running,” Sonic said finally. “I was, I dunno—maybe four? Five? Chase’s age. I didn’t know where I came from or where I was going, and I didn’t care. It didn’t matter. I thought I was fine. I was fine! I couldn’t even talk yet, and I was fine! I just ran wherever the wind took me.” He took a shaky breath. “But imagining our kids in the same position just-!” 

He cut himself off, burying his head in his hands. After a moment, he dropped them into his lap. 

“We were so young.”

Amy nodded slowly. “We were very young,” she echoed. After a moment, she asked “Does that scare you?” 

Sonic’s face scrunched again, but not in anger this time. “I was never afraid for myself growing up. I knew I’d be fine. But I was afraid for Tails, when he came into the picture. Some days I was so scared I didn’t know what to do with myself. And I guess, now… I’m afraid for them, too.” He ran a trembling hand down his face, forcing a laugh. “Heh… Guess things don’t change as much as you think they would, huh?” 

“No,” Amy said, watching him, “I guess they don’t.” She put a soft hand on Sonic’s knee, leaning into him. “But I think that’s a good thing. It means you love them.” 

Sonic sighed, his hand going to his forehead. “I just… I don’t know how to do this.” 

“Do what?”

“Raise our kids! Especially when we’re practically badnik magnets! It’s a miracle Eggman doesn’t send a squadron after us every week!” 

Amy rubbed his knee reassuringly. “Even if he did, you know Tails’ security system would warn us long before anyone was in danger.” 

“I know…” 

Amy thought a moment, then she leaned forward, trying to see her husband’s face. “You know, you know how to do this better than you think you do. You forget that you raised Tails.” 

A husky laugh, almost desperate. “I didn’t know what I was doing then, either! It's a miracle that kid's even alive! I pulled him into so many things without even a second thought, and I had no idea how to raise a kid, I—!” 

Sonic felt Amy’s hand on his chin then. It rested there for a moment, and then he relaxed just enough to let it guide him, lifting and turning his head so he could meet her gaze. Amy beamed at him, eyes soft and gentle. “And look how well Tails turned out.” 

Sonic stared at her. Then suddenly he realized his cheeks were wet, and he went to wipe them with his gloves. Instead, Sonic found himself sinking into his hands. He gasped. 

Amy started as her husband began to sob. A second later, she slid over again on the couch and encircled him in her arms, leaning her cheek against the side of his head, rubbing a soothing hand along his back between his quills. 

“I don’t deserve you,” Sonic coughed out from behind his hands. 

“I don’t deserve you,” Amy whispered back. She continued to rub between his quills. Then she kissed his head, feeling him tremble beneath her touch.

“Do any of us really know what we’re doing?” she eventually murmured in his ear. “We’ve never done this before, and that’s scary. I’ll admit, I worry about our kids sometimes too.” 

She continued as Sonic struggled to catch his breath. “We don’t know what the future holds. But,” she said, a soft smile in her voice, “you don’t have to do this alone. You won’t be alone—I’ll be with you every step of the way. We’re in this together.” She kissed his head again. “It’ll be another grand adventure.” 

A few more shuddering breaths from Sonic, and he gradually began to still. Then he nodded, though his head still rested in his hands. “Another adventure,” he whispered. “Like it’s always been.” 

“Like it’s always been,” Amy nodded affirmative. She moved her hands to hug him around his shoulders. 

They sat there for a few minutes, neither willing to move. They could hear their three little ones playing in the other room. Monty laughed. 

“You know what I think?” Amy eventually asked. “I think that, with our kids along for the ride, it’ll be even more fun. More so than it’s ever been before.”

At that, Sonic finally smiled. “Yeah…” He lowered his hands, revealing it, then he glanced her way. “The more the merrier, right?” 

Amy giggled. “Right!” 

She stroked Sonic’s cheek for a moment. Then she stood and took Sonic’s hand. Surprised, he followed her outside onto their balcony. It had been built directly onto the tree that had become their literal treehouse, overlooking their backyard. Sonic stopped beside Amy. 

“Woah…”

A vibrant explosion of oranges and deep pinks greeted them as the sun set over the distant mountains. They stared at the glorious sight, still holding hands. 

“The beauty still gets me every time,” said Sonic.

“Yes,” Amy sighed. 

After a moment, Sonic cleared his throat. "Sorry that I—" 

“No. It’s ok.” Amy looked away from the sky and into her husband’s eyes. She squeezed his hand. “I’m glad you told me.”

Sonic’s cheeks tinged pink as he smiled, rubbing the back of his head with his free hand. “Tryin’ to be better.” Then he met her eyes. “Thanks for listening.” 

Amy grinned. “Like I said: we’re in this together.” Then she pecked him on the cheek, which made Sonic laugh and blush harder. He squeezed her hand in return. He pulled her into a hug, his arms around her waist, head resting on hers while facing the sunset. 

“You know… I may still be scared silly,” he said, “but there’s no one else I’d rather be with on this crazy new family adventure than with you.”

Amy now felt herself blush. “Oh, Sonic.” She leaned into the fur on his chest, smiling as the sun ducked behind the horizon. “Me too.” 

[sarcki]

“even Demons of dreams have nightmares” -a small Fic from my “red strings and starlights” billford Au

Stanford woke up in the middle of the night, which isn’t too abnormal for him, the absence of a Comforting warmth and soft glow on his chest however was.

Getting up without his triangle shaped husband chastising him about getting his beauty sleep was odd… as funny as that sounds.

‘where the hell is he?’ Ford thought to himself, although hopefully bill would hear it and come back to bed.

‘it better not be dead rats again…’ Stanford made his way downstairs and was about to head into the kitchen, maybe Bill remembered he could eat and decided to raid the cupboards again. When he noticed a light coming from the living room.

“Oh no…” was the first thing he thought? Said? It didn’t matter, It’s not like Bill would hear him either way.

The TV static would make sure of that.

Bill was in his human form, unusual since they were in the house alone, he also had one of Mabel’s old baby dolls in his arms. tears were running from his face from where his eyes would be if he had any, Stanfords scientific mind would be fascinated by that if he wasn’t so concerned for his partner.

“Bill…” he said stepping in front of the TV

“Bill, it’s okay, she’s okay now, you didn’t mean it…” ford turned off the TV but bill was still in it deep. How a face with no eyes could stare right through him, he didn’t know, but nothing was above Bill (pines) Cipher.

“…mom…i wanna go home, I want my mama…” oh Axolotl please, ford was about as good at dealing with emotions as bill, which is to say he wasn’t.

“I know bill, but she’s gone… this is your home now, you’re home.”

“…home?” Bill cradled the baby doll tighter to his chest. that baby doll might as well have been fords heart because it felt as if it was in the same predicament, strangled by ciphers sorrows. Bill had confessed a lot to Ford that he would no one else, like how he was a mama’s boy, how be wanted to be just like her, how he… tried to show her the stars… without a space suit so to speak…

Accidentally killing the one person who truly loved you unconditionally when trying to show them something precious to you, ford was honestly impressed cipher was as stable as he was. …he couldn’t imagine, selfishly he also didn’t want to, even if it would help him understand his husband better.

So he just… hugged… hugged bill until sunrise because that’s all he could do, he couldn’t bring back Euclydia, he couldn’t bring back Euclid and Scalene, he couldn’t even hunt down the monster that killed them like he once promised because… bill was that monster. He couldn’t even be good emotional support… but, he could at least try and be a good husband

“Yeah bill, home…”

[obsidiancreates]

So thisisnotawebsite says that Stan and Ford' mom was the only attendee of Stan's fake funeral other than an IRS agent, yeah?

And I think, it's reasonable to assume that the funeral was held in Gravity Falls.

I know Bill was busy getting drunk and being a menace around that time but hear me out: AU where the night after Stan's funeral, Bill pops into, hang on lemme look up her name- Caryn's, dreams. He offers her a deal- she can see the son she lost again, and in return she just has to make sure he behaves better like, say, never betraying anyone he makes a deal with ever again.

So she agrees and Bill pulls her spirit out of body and tosses it Ford's way in the Nightmare Realm and now Ford has A Ghost Mom following him on his quest to kill Bill. It's a rough reunion for them both- Caryn is confused and upset because this isn't what she expected at all for a multitude of reasons, and Ford is basically like "So not only am I stuck wandering dimensions until I manage to murder that stupid triangle, now if I do ever get home it'll be to Stan having stolen my identity, and on top of THAT Bill targeted my MOM who's now a GHOST and was trying to see Stan instead of me?!"

Her deal kind of boils down to technically she's upholding it by being like "Don't do that," but not taking any action, so as long as she half-heartedly protests when Ford is making and breaking allies through the vast multiverse she's technically doing it (Bill was still a little drunk and didn't think his wording through well, and Caryn is where Stan gets his conmanning from, after all).

When Ford comes back through the portal she comes back with him. Because Bill forgot to be like "Also I can use your body," with their deal, as far as Stan knew... his mom died in her sleep the night of his fake funeral. Really, really bad time for him.

So when Ford comes back he not only sees his brother again but ALSO his mom, as a ghost, who as soon as Ford punches Stan she gets between them and threatens to find their old Hanukkah sweater she used to put both of them in until they get along.

For Mabel this largely means A Fantastic New Source Of Tiny Grunkles Childhood Stories. For Dipper this means a ghost who doesn't want to kill him he can study a little bit, at the cost of pinched cheeks and soering through a lot of lies (Stan says it's pathological, so Caryn isn't doing it to be mean or anything she just can't help it sometimes).

IDK, man. Ghost Mama Caryn Pines.

[musicfeedsmysoul12]

I have the sudden image of Izuku in the Snipe’s Little Cowgirl AU out on cousin Micheal’s farm. It’s after she’s come out as a girl and they’re in Canada for the family gathering that happens every two years. She’s wearing a pair of jeans that Snipe embroidered with little flowers cause he learned how to stitch from Big Mama who is big on that sort of thing. Her shirt is a cotton one she stole from Snipe earlier that day cause it has a cartoon cow on it and it’s cute.

They’re in the truck heading out with cousin Brandon, Big Mama, cousin Candice and Cousin Annie. Annie’s driving and the radio is playing country blasting away. Big Mama is in the cab of the truck while Snipe, Candice and the kids are in the bed of it, holding onto the sides with a big old golden retriever along side them. Snipe’s unmasked and he’s drinking a beer from Candice’s brewery that she made special for him. Snipe’s Shot it’s called. The kids are drinking fancy sodas that Candice made to. Candice is smoking as she cracks open the rear view window to listen to the music playing.

They’re heading out to the shooting range they set up on the property. Mostly cans and some targets. Sometimes they’ll go out and shoot gophers to, keep the holes down so the cows don’t trip. They’re the ones usually going out. Cousin Micheal doesn’t like guns after his daddy threatened him a few times with one. Cousin Jeff is a bit to young. The Gems are busy, while Cousin Steven is busy to. Cousin Mabel’s in town but she’s out harassing some idiot who decided to comment about the fact Snipe’s dating Mandalay back in Japan.

They get to the range and it’s one of the first times Izuku gets to shoot her own gun without support from Snipe. She lines it up nice and easy, the cowboy hat she stole from him on her head. She takes aim and BANG!

“Bullseye!” Cheers Big Mama, the woman laughing. “You’re gonna be as good as your pa, sugar!”

Snipe laughs and ruffles Izuku’s hair. It’s not long enough to be put into pigtails yet but it’s floppy and soft.

“Course she is! She’s my kid!”

Izuku beams up at them, a missing tooth in her smile.

It’s the best.

[streaminn]

Whew, okie Stream! I have had a real shit day ngl and I need to get it out lol. So, instead of just ranting and raving, I offer my interpretation of the latest update of the Ortegaverse! (I hope y'all don't mind, but I've stolen some ideas that were given here, but most of this is all me)

So, without further ado!! I present,,, Enid after losing Mabel during childbirth. (Note: please forgive any mistakes or inconsistencies with the rest of the AU, I had to take some creative liberties)

Oh god, this doesn't feel real. It feels like just yesterday, Enid was speaking her vows, and now... Now she's all alone again.

Well, she's not alone exactly. No, somehow this is so much worse. Now, Enid has a kid, a daughter.

And she looks just like her

Why? Why? Why does this keep happening? Is Enid just cursed? It sure does feel like it right now. Every time Enid thinks she's found it, found happiness, it gets torn away from her and every time it hurts so much more.

This must be some cruel joke by the universe at this point, some higher beings getting some sort of sick pleasure by seeing Enid suffer. The very process that brought the brightest light to Enid also took away the one person she felt the happiest with. Enid's not sure how much more she can take. Not sure how much more she wants to take.

No.

No, she's not gonna think like that. There's no point in that line of thinking.

And besides, she could never do that to their daughter. Mabel would never forgive her. Enid would never forgive herself.

No, Enid will raise this tiny human and give her the life and love she deserves. Enid is going to be the mom that Esther could never even hope to be. Enid swears with every fiber of herself that this little girl won't go a single day knowing an empty stomach or the icy cold of an unforgiving, unloving mother.

Mabel may not be here physically anymore, but Enid will carry her in her heart and she will gladly give her heart to this girl. Their daughter will know who her mother was and how much she would've loved her if she was here.

This world may be cruel, but Enid won't be. Enid will bear the brunt of all the world's hatred just to ensure her baby never has to know it.

Probably the hardest part of all this is that she doesn't even have a name yet. They both had wanted to wait to choose the baby's name until they saw her, knew that when they did, they'd know just what to call her. But now, Mabel is gone and Enid has to do this on her own. How is she supposed to make this choice?

"Miss Sinclair? Ma'am, did you hear me? Do you have a name yet?"

Enid can barely make out what the doctor's saying as she stares endlessly at her child in her arms. Enid watches every movement carefully, every one of her senses centered solely on the tiny girl. She looks into the baby's eyes, chocolate brown looking back at her and suddenly, Enid is taken back years into the past. Strikingly similar brown eyes swirl through her mind and Enid knows. These eyes so unfairly resemble those emotionless ones from so long ago. The very first pair of eyes Enid ever fell in love with. And as the little girl giggles brightly, Enid smiles just as brightly in return.

"Willa."

(Next part is just my silly little addition)

7 Years later

"C'MON MAMA!! I wanna go on the swings! HURRY!!" Willa shouts, dragging her mother with impressive strength. The last few times they've been to the park, Willa has had to wait hours just to play on the swings. Today, they finally managed to get out of the house at a reasonable time. For some reason, Enid felt lighter today. Getting out of bed this morning was remarkably easy plus last night was the first in years that she slept without any nightmares. It was as if her mind and body had finally synchronized into a mood that wasn't pure depression. Needless to say, Enid was shocked to find that her watch said it was only 8 in the morning when they left home.

Now, Enid was struggling to keep up with her rambunctious daughter as she dashed across the playground area of the park, one hand solidly wrapped around Enid's wrist. Enid laughed at the dark-haired girl's excitement, "Okay, okay! Willa, slow down or you're gonna pop Mama's arm off!"

As the pair ran towards the swingset, Enid caught a glimpse of long, dark hair in signature double braids. Was that? Enid shakes her head. No, of course not. Why would she be here? She wouldn't. That's the point, Enid thinks.

Enid shakes the thought from her head, unwilling to let some trick of the light distract her from a day as bright as this. No, today is all about Enid and Willa.

Thankfully, they make it to the swings just in time, there's only one swing left and Willa jumps on it without hesitation, leaving her mom in the dust, literally. Enid walks around the set and stands behind her daughter, ready to push her.

They go at it for a while. Until Enid hears someone walk up from behind her. Whoever it is, their footsteps are so light that it leads the blonde to believe that they're trying to sneak up on her. It sets Enid on edge, waiting for this idiot to try and attack a mother in broad daylight. She's unable to stop the protective growl that emanates from deep inside her chest. The person behind her stops suddenly at the sound and Enid extends her nails preemptively and speaks without turning, "Don't mess with me. This kitty's got claws and I'm not afraid to use them."

It's barely audible but Enid's sensitive ears catch the sharp inhale from behind her. With her body in full defense mode, Enid turns to face the potential threat only for her own breath to catch at the sight.

"Enid."

"Wednesday?"

And! Scene!!

Okie, I'm gonna go to bed and cry now lol

OKAY

OKAY

You didn't gotta do my heart like that bud but GODSAMN

Personally, I wouldn't think Enid would call her kid Willa, probably too consumed with Mabel's death to think of anyone else. Maybe a second name but not the first

Hope you get better soon mate, I'm sure things will go good eventually

[bitchinbarzal]

THE MCTAVISH’S

HEY JUDE!

• mama is trevor’s sister

• they have two children (jude & mabel)

• mason saved her from her ex

tags

hey jude au

[eeveelotions]

I'm still wondering these things regarding Pokémon AU of Gravity Falls.

If it will be the classical Gym Leader adventure or... if it will be like Pokémon Journeys? (In case you know, in Pokémon Journeys (seasons 23, 24 and 25), rather than exploring a region, Ash (alongside Goh and Chloe) explore the world, since they're assistant and help Professor Cerise to research about Pokémon, around the beginning Ash learns about the World Coronation Series, a championship where several trainers participate to become the World's Champion.)

Also... I wonder if Gravity Falls will have a Battle Frontier (like Hoenn and Sinnoh) or what will have?

oh wow, a pokemon au question!! eee!!

well, mainly it'll be Ford and Stan exploring, having different encounters, like they did with Myra the lapras. I do have some plans for them in hoenn, as the au does mostly follow canon, and I think I hinted at team aqua in the mama Stan fic.

I may include Mabel wanting to do the gym leader challenge, while Dipper definitely wants to become a ghost type expert, possibly a professor or gym leader, but then he'd have to do the gym challenge, and he's not sure he'd be up for that

[mamabelverse]

*Deep inhale, before starts screaming*

Okay, sorry about that... Let's rewind a little...

And so. Yesterday, about noon, I get a message from a good friend of mine (they asked to remain anonymous about their Discord, but they're @andmytearsarered on here) and can you imagine my surprise when I see THIS

Oh. My. GOD.

SHE'S AMAZING AND I LOVE HER! THANK YOU SO MUCH, MY FRIEND!

(The look from chapter 5, "Sweet thirteen")

[thelastspeecher]

my hell brain at 1am: hey your roommate is playing “Mama Mia”

me: yes

my brain: Mama Mia AU

me: what?

my brain: Gravity Falls Mama Mia AU

me: how- how would that even work?

my brain: easy.  Dipper and Mabel are trying to figure out who is their grandfather: Shermie, Ford, or Stan

me: 

[rafecameronssl4t]

dad!Rafe Cameron x fem!reader au

divider by @h-aewo

Happy house

Pilates princess

In the middle of the night

Golf day

Pranking him

Gold, Coffee and Mabel

Like her mama

Daddy's girl

Lunch with the family

Requests are open!!!

[and-stir-the-stars]

gravityboyfriendsnatural au where Dipper and Mabel record BABBA's "Disco Girl" over Balthazar's Mama Mia soundtrack--

[heli0s-writes]

III. Heavy With Mood

Summary:  You have two very different dates with Steve. At the end of the second, the two of you come to be on the same page. Pairings: Steve Rogers x Reader A/N: Modern AU, Teacher reader, Dad/Baker Steve… lots of pining, slow burn, romance. Enjoy!

Slow Like Honey Masterpost

The Last Day of First Grade (yes, it’s special) is a complete blur as all of your students are too restless and overactive to get through much of anything. Your body is so tired from the late nights of making sure everything is in order before summer break. Curriculum pacing just so happened to place two assessments on Monday, which left you and Heather with the task of frantically grading and re-testing any student who missed school. Entering grades and stuffing report cards kept you awake Tuesday night, as well as planning the Last Day festivities. Not to mention during your “break” periods at work, you were pulled into various meetings.

Other classrooms were doing huge events for the Last Day- full of parent involvement and showcasing student work.

You were dead tired. So you planned a pizza party and movie day before early dismissal. Screw the big huzzah. You had thrown two parties this year- Friendsgiving and Winter Solstice Party. The end of the year was going to be simple: Disney and pizza. The kids were beyond pumped for it.

In the morning you teach them how to make their own paper airplanes, decorating the papers together before folding. Then you take them on the playground and they all get a chance to fly them across the blacktop. Jason’s goes the farthest, coasting on a lucky breeze before diving nose-first into the bushes. Mabel’s plane gets caught in a basketball net and you have to poke it free with a snapped-off branch. The kids cheer as you teeter on your tip toes and jump until it comes loose.

By the time the pizza gets delivered, adults and children alike are sweat-glazed and ready for ice-cold juice pouches. You fire up the movie and begin passing out plates while Heather comes around with the pizza.

 When you and Heather finally sit down, you breathe a sigh and wipe your forehead with the back of your hand. The kids are intently watching as Dory dreams about her parents and excitedly swims into the anemone. They giggle when she gets stung.

You rearrange your desk to make room for your own plate, moving flower vases and thank-you cards, stacking candy bars and consolidating gift bags. You had planned on reading these randomly, but a certain twine bow catches your attention and the bit of crust you’re chewing on gets stuck stubbornly in your throat.

Pulling the threads apart, you peek into the small gift back where a card sits on top of a stack of very large cookies encased in cellophane. The paper is heavy and rough against your fingers when you pull it out, peering in awe at the watercolor blossoms on the cover. You turn it in your hand, peering at the delicate craftsmanship, wondering which card company made such an exquisite thing but unable to see a label anywhere.

Holy shit. You realize, Steve painted this. You’re awestruck.

On the inside, his handwriting scrawls your first name delicately in black ink. Your heart leaps into your throat, taking place of the chewed crust as you choke a little bit.

Thank you for everything this school year. Sarah and I will be so sad to not have you in our lives… unless you’d like for that to change as much as I do. It is the last day of school, after all…

Please come have dinner with us today. I promise we’ll feed you more than just banana bread and cookies.

Steve

The smile you try to hide persistently thwarts your attempts as you reread the note over and over again, fingers digging into the cellophane wrapping before eating a corner of the top cookie. The raisins and molasses melt against your tongue. The crunch of the oats immediately sweeps over the softness with such deliberate balance you think you might faint.

 It’s not your week on carline duty, but you take the students outside during dismissal to see and say thank you to as many parents as you can. Both you and Heather have received more hugs than you can count, and right after lunch, with pizza sauce on their shirts and all- the kids nearly dogpile you as you bend over to pick up a loose fork on the rug. Tears have been in your eyes since.

You hand off Grayson to his mother, Harper to her aunt, and one by one, all the children are gone. Except for, of course, sandy-haired, blue-eyed Sarah, who grips on to your hand and points when her father’s distinct figure peeks out from behind the crowd of parents. When he walks up, they share a smile and Sarah swings your hand in wide semi-circles.

“Are you gonna come have spaghetti with us?” She asks, skipping from you to latch onto her father’s leg. You look around tentatively, waving goodbye to any straggling student you might know. Other teachers glance over at Steve, then avert their eyes quickly.

The Rogers smile at each other and Steve gives Sarah a wink. There go those lovely eyelashes again, fluttering like your heart.

“Well, I do love spaghetti…” You mumble. Sarah giggles excitedly and jumps up with a clap.

“Yay yay yay yay! Daddy lets me make the meatballs and wash the tomatoes. Can you stay for a movie? Can you stay for a sleepover?”

Both you and Steve sputter at her suggestion but Sarah rambles on about what movies they have at home. He mouths an apology and you shake your head with a laugh.

“How about five?” He asks, fiddling with his phone. “I’ll send you our address?”

You nod and he shoots off the text. Then he takes Sarah by the hand and with a small wave and another shy half-glance back behind him, Steve leads her off the curb and into the emptying parking lot.

Wiping the beading sweat from your brow— more nerves than summer sun— you return to your classroom. It was about half-past noon. You have another two hours of cleaning up before you can leave. Heather stands by the door with a smile and swings it open for you. Graciously, she says nothing, only humming a brief tune as you take large strides out of view of your co-workers’ eyes.

—

A familiar wave of panic crashes upon you as you close your car door and step up to the Rogers’ house at four-fifty. It’s a cozy one-story Four Square with a manicured front lawn and tall rose bushes by the steps. The front porch suspends sprawling hanging plants and a swing bench accompanied by two outdoor chairs. Some of Sarah’s outside toys lay scattered by the doormat.

Your finger pushes the bell and you clutch into the bag at your side tightly.

Nothing.

Quickly, you check the address on the text again and step back to get a good look at the numbers to the left of the door. They match. You smooth your dress and try again.

Nothing.

A thousand errant thoughts run cross your mind— he must have given you the wrong address. This is a stranger’s house. It was a trick. He was pulling your leg. Of course he doesn’t like you. Oh god, you have to leave. You’re scrambling from the front steps when the door gets yanked open and Steve is chasing you down.

“Hey!” He calls.

Turning around, you see him apron-clad, trousers on, patterned button up sleeves folded up to his elbows. His hair is in slight disarray and he’s out of breath.

“Is it five already?!” He cries, checking his watch. “I’m sorry, dinner’s not ready—“ A shriek comes from inside the house and Steve whips around to look for it, “Sarah is— come on in, please! She’s very upset with me. I’m sorry. Oh damn it…” He rubs his eyes with the heel of his palm and dejectedly leads you inside.

The smell of butter and tomato sauce is so inviting as it pushes past the heavy stiffness that lingers in the house. Something sweet is in the oven, too. The hardwood path to the kitchen is open and decorated with paintings of nature and pictures of Sarah. Just as warm as the bakery is, the Rogers house is even more intimate. It’s also spotless.

“This shouldn’t take too much longer…” Steve sighs before going silent.

He motions for you to have a seat as he resumes his place at the stove, stirring and peeking into the oven. There are half-rolled meatballs on the other side of the counter and Steve starts washing his hands before looking at them disparagingly. After setting your things down, you wander away from the living room and try to find the source of his exasperation, giving him a moment of privacy.

 Sarah is in her room, repeatedly hitting a stuffed bear against a luggage bag when you gently knock on the door. She’s bright red and fuming, yellow butterfly dress crumpled at the hem, knee socks rolled down half-way and at uneven lengths. When she sees you, she screams your name and erupts into tears, smothering her face against your thighs.

Carefully, you kneel down and let her lean on your shoulder. Big droplets roll and collect in the hollow of your collarbone.

“Shhh, sweet girl. I know you’re upset.”

“I-I-I d-don’t don’t wanna g-g-go oh-oh-ohhhh!”

You pick her up and pat her back with a little effort. Her legs dangle down nearly to your shins because she’s got her father’s genes and she’s more than half your size at age six. You walk her slowly into the kitchen and upon seeing her father she presses her cheek to your neck and faces away from him. Steve looks pale and sullen as he rolls the last few meatballs between his two palms. Your heart is on the verge of breaking too. Sarah is breathing heavily, hiccuping in-between, rattling like a maraca.  

“Sarah, honey. Let me have a look at you.” You set her down and hold out both your hands. She places hers is them and blink slowly, blue eyes swollen pink. “Are you nervous about going to see your mom?” She nods. “I know you’re going to miss your daddy, honey. But it’s only for one month, remember?”

She opens her mouth to cry but you give her a pointed look- one she’s familiar with- and she stops, waiting for you to finish.

“Your mama loves you, and she’s so excited to spend time with you. She’s going to make sure you have lots of fun. You know that our school has a short summer, right? Know why?”

She nods again, the tears temporarily ceasing as you try to divert her fears with facts. “We have a different calendar.” She says.

“Mhm… so… you’ll be back here in thirty days and guess what?” You smile at her.

“What?”

“Then you’ll be in second grade! You’ll be a big girl in second grade where you’ll get your very own locker!”

After a breath, Sarah giggles finally. A small, short tittering before she pouts again. You poke her with a finger and then point to your bags on the dining room chair. “I have an early birthday present for you. Something for your trip. Can you help me get that brown bag?”

Following her to the chair, the two of you sit cross legged on the floor as she pulls out your gift- a light blue mini-polaroid camera. It was something you’d gotten a few years back but had remained mostly unused and gathering dust on your bookshelf. While you were getting ready to come over, you thought about bringing a gift, but a dessert would have been offensive (Steve being a professional baker and all), and a bottle of wine might have been inappropriate (Sarah being six, you being a lightweight).

At the last minute- the camera caught your eye and you figure it would be a good distraction for Sarah to have during her travels. You also recall her birthday being one of the first days of school- making her one of the youngest in her class. It was perfect.

You teach her how to use it, hanging it around her neck and pressing the on button and watch it whirr and buzz to life. You’d also brought her two extra packs of film. She peeks through the viewfinder curiously and points it at you.

“When you’re ready, push the shutter button here.” You lightly move her finger to the dip and sit back. She peeks into the viewfinder for a second, tongue poking out of the corner of her mouth as she concentrates. You’re laughing when Sarah clicks it and the flash goes off. Immediately, a small white rectangle ejects from the slot and you tug it out for her. She giggles and looks at the plastic, catching the kitchen light on its surface.

“Now we wait!” You say, playfully slapping it on her head before setting it on the counter, “It only takes a few minutes. But how about we take more pictures after dinner? I think your dad needs help setting the table.”

 Sarah walks with you, holding the forks and napkins as you bring the knives. She chooses the pitcher of sweet tea from the fridge and fills up three cups with ice before you pour. Steve quietly arranges the freshly baked meatballs on top of the pile of noodles and sauce with care and sets down three steaming plates on the table.

Sarah walks over to him before he can sit down and climbs into his arms when he kneels. Softly, she whispers “I’m sorry, daddy.” And Steve Rogers’ eyes fill up with tears. You tilt your head back so that your own won’t spill over, either.

Dinner is spent happily, the three of you slurp noodles and sip tea. By the end of it, you’re all so full that a single slice of blueberry pie al a mode has to be shared by three people.

-

Fifteen minutes into The Little Mermaid, Sarah falls asleep next to you. Little breaths escape her body as Steve scoops her up and takes her down the hall. You’ve been sitting on the recliner- a safe choice so that you don’t assume too much, but Sarah climbed up next to you and snuggled into the space by the armrest. When he returns, Steve moves to the edge of the couch and takes a deep breath. You send him a tentative smile, offering him your hand.

He looks unbelievably tired as he takes it.

“Thank you… Really, I--”

You shake your head, “No, I know it’s hard. My mother raised me on her own— she remarried when I was in high school, but trust me… I was tough. You’re just fine. Really.”

He squeezes your hand and you return the gesture, pushing your nerves down as much as possible. Fish are singing in the background, and the only thing illuminating Steve other than the movie is the lamp in the corner of the room. Slowly, as Sebastian the crab leads the chorus of marine wildlife, Steve laces his fingers in yours.

“I hope this is… um.. okay.” He whispers.

Your eyes are fixed on the T.V. “Mmhm.”

Another few minutes pass. “Can I get you anything else? More pie?”

You smile, “I’m okay. Thank you. Do you want help cleaning up?”

“No. No! I’ll do it.”

You blow a raspberry because there’s two pots, a pasta strainer, and a baking sheet, not to mention all those plates and cups and forks piled up in the sink. “Steve, I will have more pie if you let me help with the dishes.”

He rubs the back of his head. “Okay..” he laughs. “You’ve got a deal.”

Because you say it all the time, and because you swear your brain is just a giant spinning wheel of phrases you use in the classroom, you stupidly blurt. “Dill, pickle?”

He bursts into laughter. The sweetest, most joyful sound you’ve heard all night. Maybe ever. He clutches one hand to his torso and throws his head back. “Dill, pickle!”

 Steve walks you to your car at eight-thirty. The two of you had shared another hefty slice of blueberry pie together and spent the last hour on the porch- you on the swing, him on the chair- because your conversations were getting too full and loud with laughter and you were afraid of waking Sarah. Peggy would be landing early to get her, about seven. Both father and daughter needed a good night’s sleep.

He takes leisurely steps next to you, both hands tucked in his pocket, chin to his chest with a smile and you find yourself slowing down to match his pace— not yet wanting the night to end. At the curb, you put your hand on your keys but leave them in your purse for now. He leans against the frame of your car and rubs the flutter sleeve of your summer dress lightly between two fingers.

“This is nice.” Steve says, maybe a little bolder than he should have been, but the entire month has been a series of days leading him up the peak of a terrible roller coaster, which tomorrow morning would plummet him into the longest thirty days of his life so far. He hasn’t seen Peggy since Christmas, only able to avoid her because he begs Marnie to take Sarah each time she visits. But tomorrow, promptly at seven, because Peggy is always prompt, he’ll be handing off his little girl with tears in his eyes and throwing himself into work to take his mind off being without her all summer.

Steve tries to find an anchor in the sorrowful sea. The sleeve of your floral yellow dress seems perfectly capable of keeping him still.

You see the desperate look in his eyes, brimming with sadness, worry, even if the edges of it are alight with joy from your time on the porch together. His comment seems less about your dress and more about the time, you think, but say nothing. Maybe he’s not ready— and you don’t expect him to be because all you know of Steve Rogers is just the tip of his iceberg. The weight of him- his grief, love, his complexities, lie much further beneath that blue.

You float there, too, with your own intricacies. Two icebergs melting slowly in the summer.

“Do you, um.. would you like to have lunch with me tomorrow?”

Tomorrow is a teacher workday, and you’ll be in the classroom. He knows that, as he offers. The two choices are either going out to eat during the lunch hour, or him coming into the school to bring you something. You ponder the question for a minute as you memorize the lines of his face. Slowly, you let go of the troubles you’ve kept-- the fear of gossip and rumors. Steve Rogers is sweet. He is caring, he is gentle, loving, strong, respectful. There could be worse men interested in you.

Part of you also knows he would appreciate it, after the morning.

“Yes. I’d really like that.”

“Can I call you when I’m on my way? I’ll bring our daily special if you’re not already sick of my cooking…” He laughs.

“Oh no. Please, feed me more of it!” You respond, rolling your eyes back at the memory of the tangy tomato sauce that had simmered for over an hour. The robust meatballs perfectly paired with the delicate cheese and hand-torn sweet basil sprinkled on top. “Dinner was incredible. I can’t even—Ugh!”

Steve’s hand clutches his torso again as he leans back. “I guess if you hated my cooking we’d have to stop seeing each other.” And suddenly the statement makes both of you stop in your tracks because he’s brought to the forefront the exact kind of thing that you’ve been tiptoeing around all night.

“If that’s... I mean, if that’s okay with you? Us seeing each other?” He rubs the back of his neck bashfully and the two of you stand like teenagers after a first date, still leaning against your car, barely lit by the lights of his front porch.

 Inside, Sarah sleeps soundly to the soft melody of a night-time playlist Steve has put on for her. She dreams of a plane ride, her mother’s red lipstick, her father’s watch, the light blue polaroid camera that matches her eyes, and the white plastic picture that she forgot to look at before bed. On the sidewalk outside, her father steps forward, hand cupped underneath her first grade teacher’s chin and places a goodnight kiss to her cheek.

--

 In the morning, your face still sting with the softness of his kiss. Two completely contradictory sensations float over every thought you have- in the shower, brushing your teeth, driving to work, cleaning your classroom. Everywhere you look, you’re invaded with last night’s memory of Steve Rogers’ breath caressing you. The closer it gets to noon, the harder your heart squeezes and pounds.

Seeing each other.

Heather notices your dreamy looks and asks you after the third time you drop a chair and you tell her a white lie—too much wine last night, a hangover. You know inevitably, it’ll be too obvious to hide, with him coming in to eat lunch, but for now you just don’t know how to say it yet:

Seeing each other.

It feels so foreign. You haven’t seen anyone in almost two years. And now suddenly, you’re seeing possibly the most fantastic man to ever grace the Earth. There’s a very real and immediate chance that the both of you are getting caught up in the infatuated period of romanticizing a relationship. You try to ground yourself, but it’s hard when the very ground you stand on trembles at the thought of him. The more you know about him, the more you slip.

He’s been separated and now divorced, he revealed to you last night, for about two years. His whole life is the bakery and Sarah. She dominated the majority of your conversation, a good fixture to keep the mood from straying too far into anything too serious. It kept you from revealing your own baggage, mostly. Not that you had a lot of it. But you never know how people internalize others’ truths.

“You goin’ out for lunch?” Heather asks as she picks up her thermos.

“No, I, uh… I’m having lunch here.” You can hardly believe it’s noon already.

“You ain’t got anythin!” She looks around your desk from the door, and you pinch your lips together.

“S-Steve is b-bringing me something.” You whisper quietly before clapping both your hands over your face. Heather’s gasp makes you peek out from behind your hands and you see that she’s peering down the hall at the sound of footsteps. She ducks out of the door way and stares open-mouthed at you before jerking her thumb to the entrance.

“Girl….!”

You mouth get out to her and she cackles in delight. With a firm wink, she fixes the purse on her hip and struts out of the room, calling, “Well, good afternoon, Mr. Rogers! Y’all have a great lunch, alright?”

 Steve enters with a smile and a brown paper bag. He looks just a little more tired than usual, eyes puffier than last night. Instead of crossing the room and holding him, your first instinct, you meet him on the rug and stand on your tiptoes, left hand on his cheek to kiss him chastely on his right. It echoes his gesture from yesterday.

“You’re alright, Steve.” You whisper in his ear.

“Yeah. I’m trying to be.”

He nuzzles his cheek against yours and the two of you stand there before parting. Steve takes out lunch- yogurt, two pressed paninis, a cup of fruit. It’s small talk at first, about his morning and then yours, the steady and predictable grind of work, you looking forward to Friday afternoon when you officially start your summer break. You planned on visiting your family for about a week in July.

You tell him more about your family- your mother raising you and your brother on her own. He was closer to her, staying in town and making a living in the city, starting his own family. Silly stories were shared about both your childhoods- Steve was sickly and often picked on, usually finding himself battered into a pulp in Brooklyn alleyways. You went through a rebellious phase, chain-smoked, skipped school, hitchhiked around town. Neither of you could believe what the other was saying. Him- small?! You- goth?!

 Steve roars with laughter. You tell him you may still be in your rebellious phase- not wanting to move back home any time soon.

But, as you predicted, he asks the inevitable.

“So why did you move out here?”

You bite your lip, “For a partner…” you begin, “I moved here with my long term boyfriend, who got into the Ph.D program at the university.”

Steve listens as he finishes the last of his yogurt, wiping the remainder with a cut of cantaloupe.

“I had just finished my Masters and student teaching, was still interviewing for jobs… it uh, it fell apart early on after the move.”

“Why? If you don’t mind me asking.”

Your fruit cup begins to resemble sludge as your fork smashes against the chunks of watermelon and honeydew until they’re disfigured. Steve watches you intently, tilting his head.

“He… wanted to get married. Wanted kids. We’d been together for three years and it was always something we would eventually do— but he just became really convinced about starting a family.”

“And you weren’t ready?”

“Sort of.” You confess. “I had a bit of an awakening after spending a semester student teaching. After a lot of thought about my own childhood, being around all of these children who had such tough lives and required so much from me as their teacher... it came together.  I realized I don’t want kids, Steve. That was the-- y’know— that was it.”

The corner of his mouth twitches a bit as he places his hands awkwardly in his lap. It must feel so strange to him, you think as you watch him slowly look around your classroom, disheveled in the middle of stacking desks and rolling up rugs. Everything is cared for here, deliberately put together to foster growth in twenty-five children every year… but he looks at you, and he sees the finality, the seriousness of your revelation: you didn’t want any children of your own.

He stops himself from saying those cliched, callous statements that people offhandedly throw at women who decide they don’t want children. But he can’t help still thinking them. You’re still so young, you might change your mind.

“Oh.” Is all he can summon.

You watch him almost physically recoil and your eyes slip shut, the disappointment settling down your body to gather into a tight knot in your gut. Maybe this was for the best— getting the truth out in the open before the both of you lead each other on too far. He wasn’t a young boy dating for kicks; he was an adult man, with a daughter, who had divorced his wife because she worked too much.

You fall asleep on the couch in front of lesson plans at least three times a week.

The sharp bite of truth mixes on your tongue with the sweet memory of his kiss on your cheek. Any future you might have with Steve Rogers would be as a mother to Sarah. You just admitted to him that you had no desire to be one.

You manage a dry laugh as you begin to gather the trash into the bin next to your foot. This was the downfall of your last relationship, and your very own mother had advised you that any man you might date will want a child sooner or later. Steve, already having one, was ahead of the curve.

“We- uh,” a single chuckle escapes, “We started something we couldn’t finish, huh?”

Steve blinks from his reverie, “No!” he helps, but it’s a futile attempt to salvage your feelings, “No, that’s not.. That’s not what’s happening.”

“Look at you, Steve. You’re leaned so far away from me.”

He does look at himself, and you’re right. Unconsciously, Steve had tilted back so far he looks like he’s just finished pushing himself away from the table. He’s at a loss for words because he doesn’t understand it, he doesn’t know how you can be so wonderful to your students, to his own daughter, right in front of his eyes over and over again… yet, you don’t want to be a mother. He doesn’t understand because being a father has been his greatest joy.

“You would make a great mother!” Steve blurts, “I’ve seen you… with Sarah. With all your students.”

You both wince, because he’s done it. He’s callously thrown that dismissive statement people tend to throw at women who don’t want children. His head is a mess. The complicated thing that was beginning to seem simple in his life has returned to being complicated again. This time, it’s so layered he doesn’t know how to even begin to look at it.

On the one hand, he can fool himself –assuming the relationship works out—and say that technically, Sarah isn’t your child, so you get what you want. But he also knows that any person who doesn’t want children is a person who doesn’t want to pledge their lives to the obligation of a child. Bucky and Natasha have often reminded him of those exact feelings. Furthermore, your not wanting a child was because of your own dedication to other children… to your work.

He’s vaguely reminded of Peggy and her dedication to her work.

His brain feels like how your fruit cup looks: slush.

 “Wait.” Steve whispers suddenly, leaning forward. “I’m sorry I said that— I shouldn’t have. I don’t want to be the kind of person who invalidates you.”

He calls your name so softly it almost breaks your heart.

“I really like you. I’m not trying to change your mind. I… I don’t know what to do… but I really like you.” It brings a small smile to your lips.

“I like you too, Steve.”

“I just want to spend more time with you. Can we just .. see where this goes? At the very least, we’ll have this summer together… I…” he pauses, reaching across the table and linking his fingers through yours, like he did yesterday evening. It feels so good, and warm, and you sigh almost contentedly.

Steve takes a breath, “I don’t want this to end.”

That’s it, he thinks. This is him following Bucky’s advice, shooting his shot. This is Steve, laying himself down not knowing what will happen after summer, or even next week, or in five seconds, as he waits for your reply. All he knows is that he told the truth, with every fiber of him, he wants to keep seeing you. He wants to be in the presence of that incredible smile, the big heart, the warm laugh, so pure it lets him forget that he’s thirty-five and divorced.

It’s him, being selfish.

He stares at his shoes and says a prayer before taking the chance to glance across the desk. Your heart bellows in your chest before it drops from the incline. You take the plunge too.

Leaning over your desk, pencils clattering as the cup holder spills over the surface, you press your lips to his and whisper.

“Me neither.”

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