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mamawasatesttube · 3 months ago

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can't sleep so im thinking about sb94 again, as one does. sometimes i see fans talk about reworking tana into a completely different and wholly inoffensive character in response to the fact that kesel [somehow, inadvertently?] made the only woc in the main cast a sexual predator to a white boy [because he seemingly didn't think women could prey on boys, i guess? but that's another post entirely] and i have to say... like, as a poc in fandom i understand the urge, but as a stickler for characterization i really don't care for those concepts, personally.

one of tana's core character traits is ambition. even if you cut out the entire romance plot (which, imo, changing this changes a lot about kon's early character arc), one of her most consistent traits is that she is focused on her career. when faced with the moral dilemma of knowing vinnie edge hired the stinger to attack kon for publicity, but also knowing that whistleblowing would cost her her job, she chose to keep silent. while this is an understandable choice in that she was 23 and new at her job and therefore not in a good position to negotiate while being essentially blackmailed about it, the fact that this plot gets dropped after rots makes it read like despite leaving wgbs, she chooses to never come forward about it. add that to the way she consistently uses kon as an easy source of stories she gets first access to, and that she justifies this to herself a lot, and, well, i think that makes for a much more interesting character beat than a more sanitized version of her. i think it's very possible to have a character who is selfish and ambitious and wants to protect herself first and foremost, while also wanting to believe she is a good person, and struggling with her denial and her ability to talk herself into things she thinks she might regret, who does genuinely bad things, without making her into an offensive stereotype, and i find that much more faithful to her existing characterization than rewriting her from the ground up to become someone who does nothing wrong. (i also don't think it's that easy to say tana fits the predatory woc stereotype as all, but that's also another post.)

the issue with her being the singular woc on the cast and also being a predator does exist, though, and my thought process is more like... okay. a woman of color can do anything a white man can do. that includes massively sucking as a person sometimes. i think that, re: tana, there's two things to say on that front:

1) fandom and the internet in general have a tendency to jump on the idea that someone who does something wrong and hurts someone else is a bad person forever and forever marred by it. i do not believe that this view coheres with ideas of restorative justice, which i personally feel strongly about. this includes crimes people find distasteful to think about, such as grooming: i think it is completely possible to have tana be a character who, by convincing herself that kon wants this relationship, and it's good for her career, so really she isn't doing anything wrong, ends up really hurting kon, AND at the same time to have her be a well-rounded individual who is capable of growing up a bit more, realizing she made mistakes and hurt someone she did genuinely care about, and grappling with what that means now. like, her being fridged prevented any story dealing with the ramifications of her and kon's relationship, but to me, the idea of her having to deal with her actions is something far more interesting to think about than if she never did them. whether or not she actually grows as a person and admits fault, or if she doubles down on denial, etc, could all be interesting character choices, and are also very human responses to guilt. a lot of people just have this kneejerk response to dehumanize any character (particularly woc) associated with sexual crimes, grooming, etc, but i think that really is dodging the uncomfortable truth that a) no crime, no matter how heinous, merits the dehumanization of the perpetrator, and also that b) in stories, a character can commit uncomfortable and horrifying acts and still have nuance and depth as a character.

which brings me to point 2): that the solution to offensive stereotypes is not to insist that no one of x demographic can ever do y thing; it's to provide more characters of x demographic, so that the onus of representing an entire group isn't just on one character. tana being an indigenous hawaiian woman who grooms a white boy wouldn't be nearly so offensive if there were other significant indigenous hawaiian women in the narrative, not doing any of that. if hillary got more of a role, for example, or if (and hear me out, because this is my magnum opus of niche-ass superboy 1994 opinions:) silver sword got brought on as a mentor figure to kon and also was a trans woman. frankly, the handling of silver sword's story was egregious and if anything deserves a good, less racist rewrite, imo, it's his whole arc. kon getting an indigenous mentor to actually teach him about hawaii and the issues with colonialism and tourism and their impact on everything could've been really good actually, and silver sword would've been perfect if they didn't write him off like that. ... or, should i say, write her off like that?

listen i just think silver sword could've been an awesome native hawaiian transfem professor and a recurring part of the kon squad in hawaii. do you see the vision

#rimi talks #uuhhhhh what do i tag this. it's a long ass post and so rambly #but like yeah i just think declawing tana is so boring. keep her flaws just add more native hawaiian women #if your tana would've come forward about the stinger that ain't tana. to me.#like i know everyone goes oouhhh nooo grooming bad it shouldn't happen in fiction #but i do actually think the horrific exploitation by those he trusted and loved bc he had no life experience = formative #it's a good backstory even if it's heartbreaking. and softening it up into something more palatable is just so boring to me #also im still fascinated by the way kesel writes her very much using kon for her career but doesn't at all condemn that #like yes she is using him. but don't worry! she's still the good and mature and Most Correct love interest #but again. man. analyzing the narrative treatment of her is another post and this is already really long #anyways. um. tags. right #tana #kon #grooming cw #silver sword

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bubblgum-bish · 4 months ago

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Does Your Mother Know?

Posting this on here since it's already up on AO3. I'll update this once I have the smut also but for now it's PG.

Summary:

Stan's first time back in Boston in more than 30 years. While trying to make his own fun some young wild thing approaches him at a bar, good thing he knows better. Right?

It was really weird being back in the city. Hell, he hadn't been in Boston for more than 40 years. Obviously he didn't really have much of an opportunity to travel after his second falling out with Ford, but before the portal he had been banned from the state entirely. For what he couldn't really remember, time sort of just slipped together after all these years. Plus some of his memories were still a jumbled mess knocking around in his skull even more than a year after the whole Weirdmaggedon escapade. Regardless, it didn't matter anymore since Ford had made a nice little arrangement with the Feds after the fact to wipe both their records clean from any and all of the criminal activity.

He wasn't quite sure what to do with himself now. They were making a pit stop here so that Ford could meet up with an associate, a doctor of some kind, someone he knew from his years in college. Didn't matter and it wasn't his business.

He needed a break from spending every waking second with Ford anyway and in all honesty he really didn't have the patience in him to wait out all the nerd talk that was bound to happen between the two. So here he was, wandering around the streets of downtown Boston aimlessly. He briefly considered going to a bar but a cursory glance around himself told him that most, if not all of the surrounding dives were college spots. He already felt out of place enough in the young crowd in his meandering outside, he'd stick out like a sore thumb actually in one of these places. A sour look crossed his face as he imagined himself sitting at a bartop, a room thrumming much too loudly with some pop song he'd never even heard of, shoulder to shoulder with kids just barely old enough to drink. No thanks, he'd pass on that. Maybe one of the Irish pubs? He cast a look at one of them, peering through the over the top banded windowpanes. Yeah, not interested.

Turning on his heel he started the trek back to the boat, it wasn't too far from where he was. Ford's doctor friend had directed them to berth her right past the aquarium where all them fancy yachts and houseboats were. He tried hard not to think about how lonely he was inevitably going to feel when he got there and Ford was still gone. Maybe he'd make the most out of it and grab a couple beers on his way back, make his own fun so to speak. While contemplating what kind of beer he should grab and from what cornerstore something caught his eye.

It was a woman. She looked completely out of place, possibly more than he did. Actually to be more accurate she looked out of time as she stood next to him. She looked like she had walked straight out of the late seventies. Wearing a wispy little dress that didn't go anywhere near her knees with long flouncy sleeves that fluttered as she walked and paired with a set of off white platform gogo-boots that accentuated her legs in a way that made his knees weak. He watched as she snapped her head right and then left; checking the street. Her hair bounced with the movement, swishing in the wind as she crossed. He was still watching as she met up with another similarly dressed woman outside of what appeared to be a nightclub or some adjacent venue, bouncing giddly as she brought the other woman into a tight hug before turning to the bouncer. Stan was in far too much of a trance to really feel creepy about the whole situation.

Looking up he could see the sign above the place, below the colorful lettering that labeled the building there was one of those old movie theater signs that told you what show was playing. In big black letters it read “Gimme Gimme Disco. Disco Night Tonite, $20.” He laughed to himself. Casting his gaze back downward he found that this somewhat-less-mystery-woman had gone inside, leaving him to consider his options. Without too much thought past ‘ah what the hell’, he crossed the street and reached into his jacket pocket for his wallet.

He was at least dressed for the occasion he thought as he crossed the threshold. He had on a pair of camel colored slacks with a matching suede jacket, brown leather shoes and a burgundy dress shirt. He had felt the need to be well dressed among Stanford's colleagues, wanting to seem more dignified than he actually was. He shook the nasty thoughts of his self worth out of his head as he walked towards the bar, unbuttoning the top three buttons of his dress shirt and adjusting the gold medallion around his neck.

Observing the scenery he could see that this was typically a music venue for small shows. There was a small stage area with a pit surrounded by a more elevated surface that wrapped around up to the stage where there was a full bar against both walls. Correct in his earlier assumption, the majority of the crowd was young, probably college age. Among them were some people his age, possibly a bit younger. There was no real congregation of the older folks in any particular place, which he had somewhat hoped for but oh well. He wasn't really planning on talking to many people anyway, just here for something interesting to do and a couple overpriced drinks. To soak up the feelings of nostalgia for a bygone era and wash away the lingering feelings of inadequacy with some most likely watered down liquor.

There weren't too many people actually sitting at the bar, most just taking their drink straight to the dance floor. So it was pretty easy for him to just sit and observe while he nursed a twelve dollar whiskey sour. The music was loud, enough to feel it in his bones as it rattled up his body from where his feet touched the floor but not enough to make his eardrums pop. Currently they were playing ‘Hot Stuff’ by Donna Summers which the women in particular seemed to enjoy.

It was a sea of glitter, bell-bottoms, boots and blazers. Every shirt was low cut, every skirt and pant flared. It was truly amazing how people could accurately recreate the discotheque look, hell even the smell of cheap cologne and hairspray was period-accurate. He had a feeling that this was a regular thing for some of the people here. He could see some clearly vintage pieces, all tassels and suede amongst a fair amount of cheesy Halloween costumes that just screamed tacky. As long as people were having fun he mused

He'd been there for a good bit into an hour before he saw you again. You hair was tousled and your face was flushed with exertion, clearly you had been dancing and perhaps a little tipsy. He watched you as you waited in line for a drink. You were still swaying a little bit to the music, the skirt of your dress fluttering hypnotizingly around your thighs. Stan shook his head, he shouldn't be looking at you like that, he didn't want to come off as some creepy old geezer. He really couldn't help it though, something about you was just mesmerizing to him.

You had made it to the front of the line, chunky earrings clacking loudly as your head snapped towards the direction of the person manning the bar. You said something to them that he couldn't make out, a compliment maybe, as you fished out cash from your small purse. He turned back to his drink sitting on the bar next to his arm, taking a lingering sip before going back to people watching. His breath caught in his throat when he looked up.

You were looking at him. Your pretty eyes sparkled, refracting the various colored lights that bounced across the room, as you flashed a coy little simper his way before making your way back out into the crowd with two drinks in your hand. For some reason seeing you with that second drink left a bad taste in his mouth. The idea that you had already found somebody to spend your night with came with a certain displeasure that he had no right to feel. Not for someone so young. You looked young at least, no more than late twenties he'd wager. Not being able to help himself; his eyes found you again.

You were leaning against the far wall near the stage area, talking rather animatedly to an equally young man. Your hand was on his shoulder as you leaned up to practically yell something into his ear, the music to loud to communicate in any other way. Stan's grip tightened on the cup in his hand, watching you give the man a cheeky look as he laughed at whatever you said. He didn't know why he felt jealous, he truly had no reason to be and he felt gross in doing so. He chalked it up to him feeling lonely and being surrounded by the echos of his youth, making him feel a tad emotional. One thing he couldn't blame it on was the alcohol, having only just started his second drink of the night. Feeling that much more sober when your eyes met his again through the throng of people.

This time however you did not pivot in your heels and sink into the crowd. His eyes followed you as you clapped the man on the shoulder, telling him something before settling your gaze back to where he sat at the bar. Stan felt panicked and feverish as you strode gracefully across the club floor towards him. He feared briefly that you were coming over to tell him off, yell at him maybe for being some perverted old creep. However, these thoughts were dashed as you threw him that look again, that same little smile from before. You were interested, he realized. He felt a nervous sweat bearing at the back of his neck at the thought as you hopped up onto the barstool next to him, placing an arm on the counter to balance your chin in your hand flawlessly.

“Well hey there stranger. Don't think I've ever seen your face in here before “

You batted long black eyelashes at him, the glitter on your eyelids shining bright in the club lighting. He swallowed back his nervousness as he remembered how to be suave.

"Just passin through.”

Deciding to play along, he turned up the charm. What harm could some casual flirting do? He took another long sip of his drink, lilting a brow at you as his lips turned into a smirk.

“Now tell me, what's got some hot young thing like yourself comin and talkin to an old man?”

He looked at you from over his drink, eyebrow still raised playfully as you smiled dazzlingly and put your index finger on your chin thoughtfully; pretending to think about it.

“I just thought you looked like a good time.”

The look you pegged him with had his throat feeling extremely dry despite the alcohol still on his tongue. He must've made a face because you laughed and patted the space on the bartop next to his hand

“It's alright sweetheart I don't bite.”

You waved your hand dismissively, clearing the air. The comment didn't make him any less nervous but he could feel the adrenaline zipping up his spine and mixing with the alcohol in his system; dispelling any real anxiety. He could play this game.

“Ya got a name Sugar? Or ya gunna leave me in suspense?”

He grinned as you cocked your head at him and let out an airy little laugh. Straightening your posture and shot out your hand to him, offering your name. He gave you his name in return, shaking your outstretched hand in his own larger one. Your hands were soft against his, long painted nails scratching gently against his palm as you withdrew.

“So Stan, what brings you to my part of town?”

His name sounded good in your mouth, sticky sweet as your free hand drew circles aimlessly onto the countertop with your nails. You listened intently as he told you about his twin brother, his big wig doctor friend and his afternoon in the city. You both chatted for a little while longer, joking and laughing together with ease. His nervousness had completely dissipated and was replaced by flirty banter.

Unfortunately this couldn't last. He was far too old for you. He had tried to sneak a peek at your ID when you had flashed it to the bartender when he bought you another drink but his cataracts wouldn't allow him to read the nearly miniscule text there. Even without that information he knew you were still far too young for him to be chasing, even if you were interested in him. That on its own was hard to believe, even with your hand placed atop his own on the bar. He was just too old.

His train of thought came to a grinding halt as a hand appeared on your shoulder; it was the man from before. He could feel his right eye twitch behind the frames of his glasses as the guy leaned down and closer to your ear to whisper something to you. His gut twisted as he watched you laugh and hit his lithe shoulder, the hand that was touching his own moving from its place as you stood up and brushed the wrinkles out of your dress. He forced a smile onto his face and schooled his expression when you put a hand on his shoulder, winking at him.

“You've been a real peach Stan. I'll try to catch you in a bit, I've still gotta make my rounds. It would seem I'm a very popular lady tonight.”

You gave him a little wave as you turned, hand in hand with the smooth young man to your left before disappearing into the thicket of dancing bodies on the main floor. He couldn't help but feel disappointed, the sudden lack of company opening up a hole in his chest that stung.

He felt foolish, some like some old man trying desperately to reclaim some part of his youth. Deciding to be an adult for once, he sighed and leaned heavily against the wall behind him.

It had been probably about thirty minutes since he had last seen you, popping in and out of conversations with probably about a dozen different people. It made him feel a little better knowing that you were actually a hot commodity and not just trying to find an out from talking to him. It wasn't hard to imagine that that's what you were. You were beautiful after all; and from what he could tell, witty and extremely amicable. It was rather enjoyable seeing you find friends wherever you found yourself within the space, even if it made him feel a little less special.

Out of the corner of his eye, through the mist of sequence and bell sleeves he caught a glimpse of that fluttery little dress again; finding you in the middle of the dancefloor. He was surprised to see you by yourself there after he had seen you chat up so many people. He watched as you swayed your arms and hips to the rhythm of the song, dancing gracefully under the light of the disco ball above you; shimmering almost angelically as the sleeves of your dress twirled around you.

The track switched again. From the first few notes and the peppy instrumentals he could tell it was another ABBA song.

"You're so hot, teasing me

So, you're blue, but I can't take a chance on a chick like you

That's something I couldn 't do"

The irony of his current predicament paired with the song choice was not lost on him; though he was left little time to think about it. His breath caught in his throat again as your head snapped back to the bar almost viciously, looking directly at the spot where you two had been chatting earlier. He observed with rapt attention as your eyes surveyed the surrounding area; landing square on him.

"There's that look in your eyes

I can read in your face that your feelings are driving you wild

Ah, but girl, you're only a child"

Your face breaks into a wide grin when you spot him, clearly very amused that he was looking at you already. You tossed a rather saucy look his way and started walking towards him. He just barely contained the lunch in his stomach that told him to run as you reached where he had perched himself. Wasting no time, you grabbed his arm and leaned in so your voice would reach his ears.

“Come dance with me!”

He very nearly gaped at you, just barely managing to keep a cool exterior as you hung off his arm. Not quite being able to grasp that you still wanted to spend time with him. He couldn't. More accurately, he shouldn't. He should walk away right now and leave you and your perfect self behind and go straight back to his boat. That's what he should do, but alas he was never a man known for his restraint. He knew he was a goner when you batted those big (Y/E/C) at him and fluttered your lashes exaggeratedly, feeling his restraint wash off of him like rain.

“Sure thing Sugar.”

He let you lead him to the dancefloor, eyes glittering with excitement. He couldn't help but match your giddiness as he slid next to you.

“Alright Stan, show me what you got!”

You were beaming at him as you started swaying your hips to the beat. This was something he could do, something to impress you. With a flash of teeth and a wink he found his rhythm.

"Well, I can dance with you, honey, if you think it's funny

Does your mother know that you're out?

And I can chat with you, baby, flirt a little maybe

Does your mother know that you're out?"

He was still painfully aware of the song choice and the situation he had let himself get into as he widened his stance. Moving with a surprising amount of grace as he put his limbs to work at a very impressive rendition of the hustle, bumping his hips in time with the music. You clapped wildly when he did a little spin, ending tastefully with his right arm pointing towards the ceiling above.

“Wow Stan! You've been holding out on me! If I knew you were this good I would have dragged you down here earlier.”

Stan felt his chest puff out with pride, your praise going straight to his head; among other places. Now he felt in his element, feeling like the smooth young man he once was; being transported back into a time where such an interaction was not particularly uncommon for him. It was exhilarating to say the least, he really was having a great time.

"Take it easy (take it easy)

Better slow down, girl

That's no way to go

Does your mother know?"

Your bodies were nearly touching now. He could see the shimmer of the lipgloss you were wearing as you mouthed the lyrics. Lights bounced off of the glitter of your now hooded eyelids, further attracting his attention the sultry look you held there. Said look pinned him in place for a moment before you grabbed him by the collar, pulling him into you. While doing so you faltered a bit on your feet, so, dutifully he placed his hand on the small of your back to keep you afloat.

“Dance with me.”

He tried to keep it polite, he really did. Even in the haze of the alcohol the words of the song rang loudly through his skull as he tried to remember. It was difficult, his brain sending him a million signals when you stared almost hungrily back at him.

"I can see what you want

But you seem pretty young to be searching for that kind of fun

So maybe I'm not the one"

Briefly, he feared his heart would stop beating in his chest when you brought your bottom lip between your teeth and batted those gorgeous eyes up at him again when he dipped you low. Again he tried to remember himself, the lyrics in the song a clear reflection of the thoughts he should be having. He twirled you around again so he didn't have to face the intense look you were giving him, and to stop himself from thinking about how soft your lips would be against his own.

"Now you're so cute, I like your style

And I know what you mean when you give me a flash of that smile (smile)

But girl, you're only a child"

When you were facing him again your eyes were closed, a soft laugh leaving your parted lips as you let him guide your movements, clearly reveling in his attentions. You cracked your eyes open at him, winking as you let your hand slither up to the lapels of his jacket, grasping the smooth fabric between your fingers.

“I really like this song. It's my favorite one of theirs.”

Your lips just barely touched his earlobe when you spoke, he could barely hear you above the music and the thumping of his irrational heart. His pulse thudded loud in his head as your hand slipped down to trace around the medallion sitting on his sternum.

"You know what else I like?"

"Well, I can dance with you, honey, if you think it's funny

Does your mother know that you're out?

And I can chat with you, baby, flirt a little maybe

Does your mother know that you're out?"

Your lips finally brushed the shell of his ear, sending a shudder zinging down his spine and raising alarm bells inside his puddle of a brain.

“You.”

One word. One word was all it took to rip the very last vestiges of his restraint as he finally gave into his desires to take you up on your very clear interest.

"Take it easy (take it easy)

Better slow down, girl

That's no way to go

Does your mother know?"

“I think this song fits us pretty well don't you?”

Instead of responding, he decided to beat you at your own game. Catching the hand you had on his chest he brought it to his lips, barely brushing the skin of your knuckles as he watched you blush. Instead of placing a kiss there; he kept you on your toes, quite literally, as he spun you around by the hand he had stolen. Stan took full advantage of it, using the momentum to twirl you right into his arms, completely flush to his chest. You stared wide eyed at him before narrowing them, a somewhat smug smile fighting it's way onto your face.

“You sly old dog I knew you had it in you!”

You lips had tilted up into a small smirk as you regarded him with a mildly sardonic expression, giggling a bit. He laughed with you, tension oozing out of his body along with his inhibitions and any common sense as your other hand found his waist.

"Take it easy (take it easy)

Try to cool it, girl

Take it nice and slow

Does your mother know?"

“Yeah this dog knows a few tricks, s’pecially for a sweet thing like you.”

His hand smoothed slowly down your waist, faintly playing with the pleats in your dress as they moved lower to skim the hemline teasingly. Your throat went dry and you felt a little off kilter, feeling the control you had on the situation slip between dainty fingers. You wouldn't let go that easily though.

“Like what?”

You leaned back a bit, peering up at him through you lashes and watching intently as his adams apple bobbed in his throat. After a moment he matched you flawlessly.

“Ain't nothin I can do here Dollface.”

The hand on your dress flexed, emphasizing his not at all innocuous statement. Clearly a switch has been flipped somewhere and you had every intention of seeing just how far you could take it.

“Come with me.”

You weren't listening to the song anymore, you knew how it ended. It didn't matter that it was your favorite; what mattered was the hand you were pulling and the man attached to it following you through the horde of people crowding the dance floor. Pushing your way through the masses with a singular focus and holding tightly onto the hand in your grasp.

The cool night air was a welcome change from the stuffiness of the air inside the club. The breeze was pleasant on your flushed skin and a balm to your inebriated state. Stan seemed to have similar thoughts as he found his place beside you, closing his eyes and sucking in a breath.

“Ya sure ya wanna do this?”

He ran a hand through his hair in an exasperated gesture. You could see the trepidation in his face, clearly a part of him still on the fence about the whole thing. Delicately you took a hold of both of his hands, squeezing gently while looking into his eyes.

“Very, but I'm not gonna hold it against you if you're uncomfortable Stan. We don't have to do anything you don't want to.”

He shook his head at you. You were really too sweet, he really didn't deserve it. He let you reach out to him, to take his face in your hands as he leaned down to close the distance. The kiss was just as sweet as you were although extremely chaste. Just testing out the waters and nothing more. His brown eyes burned into yours from where they loomed above you, just inches away behind the thick frames of his glasses. One of your hands slipped forwards to tangle in the hair at the base of his neck, rubbing the skin there, watching as his lips split into a grin briefly before his mouth was on yours again. The second kiss was even better; Stan seemed more confident and sure against you. Lips sliding over and between your own leisurely as your mouths molded together into new and interesting shapes. You found that you had zero qualms when Stan's tongue pressed against the seam of your lips, humming contentedly as you let him pass.

Tongues danced languidly together, his hands finding their place; his right on your waist and then his left snaking into your hair to pull you infinitesimally closer. Both your cheeks were rosy when you pulled away, lips slightly puffy from kissing as you both caught your breath. When you opened your eyes Stan was already looking at you, his gaze smoldering and accompanied by a rather sultry smirk.

“So, yer place or mine? I ain't got a problem with makin the boat rock with ya.”

Stan let out a breezy chuckle, his new self assured countenance unruffled by his scandalous comment that had your blush intensifying tenfold. His hand on your waist slipped downward to sit teasingly just above your ass while his other played with the ends of your hair.

“Mine. It's less walking and I don't actively live in the same room as my twin brother.”

You laughed and poked his chest chidingly, forefinger lingering to trail through his exposed chest hair.

“I'll even pay your train fare, think of that.”

That pulled another laugh from him, his barreled chest jostling slightly under your hand to release it.

‘Y’wanna get me in yer bed that badly huh Sugar?”

He raised an eyebrow at you in a playful manner, voice dropping an octave into a sexy little rasp that put a pulse between your legs.

“Among other places Mr.Pines.”

Your voice was a honeyed purr, eyes twinkling with mischief as you hooked your index finger through the gold chain around his neck, pulling him that much closer. Calling him that did more for him than he was willing to acknowledge, feeling his cock twitch in his pants at the honorific.

“Careful now Sweetheart or we ain't gonna make it that far.”

The hand in your hair moved to skim your jaw with his knuckles lightly, you nipped at his thumb when it brushed against your lips.

"Promises, promises. Saddle up then cowboy, we got a rodeo to get to. C'mon follow me."

Your tone was light, chastising, as you pulled yourself from his grasp, cheekily squeezing the hand above your ass.

"Lead the way Toots."

His grin was wide, gesturing ahead of himself to urge you to direct him to your dwelling. Snatching his hand in yours, you pulled him along.

#stan pines #stan pines x reader #stanley pines #stanley pines x reader #disco stan supremacy #I HAVE A MASSIVE BRAIN FOR THIS IDEA #this has been untouched since October #gravity falls #gravity falls x reader #certified silver fox chaser #certified silver fox chaser posting #this ones for my Boston/ Cambridge natives #the interior of the club is based loosely of the Middle East in Cambridge bc i love Xmortis night #thank u swooning over stans u changed my life

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