#and it really really feels like you (stanley) leave a part of stanley (you) in the desert

[ckret2]

I honestly think that Ford is the only character in Gravity Falls that don't have moments of cruelty and unkindness... He's my favorite character because he's the one who is most near to perfection, in contrast to Stanley, who is the character most near to imperfection.

I think you can make some cases for a couple of moments—like, you could easily make a case for "standing by doing nothing while Stan was kicked out" being pretty damn cruel—but you could also just as easily make a counter argument that it wasn't really because it was Filbrick doing the kicking out and it's possible Ford was too scared to speak up and maybe he thought Stan would be fine since he'd already made globe-traveling plans and maybe at that moment he really believed that if Stan stayed at home he'd keep trying to sabotage Ford's future etc etc—like, everything he does that's Not Nice, how Not Nice it is depends on which literary analysis lens you choose to peer at the event through.

Part of this could well be due to the fact that he only got five and a half episodes; but I think the truest thing you can say about his character is that we don't see him act out of spite the way other characters do. Like, if Gideon had stolen Ford's perfect pool chair, he absolutely would have shown up at the pool in the middle of the night to claim the chair for the next morning, but he wouldn't have tried to blind Gideon with his wristwatch. If his nemesis had challenged him to mini-golf, I doubt he'd have conspired with the Liliputtians to cheat. If he was stuck in the house with an annoying pig he'd PROMISED not to put outside, he'd be more likely to storm outside in a huff and leave the pig in the house than he would be to break his promise and put the pig outside.

When Stan or Dipper want to be king of the hill, they're quick to turn to dragging their competition down; but when Ford wants to be king of the hill he tries to climb twice as fast as his competition. I feel like playing dirty to drag his competition down wouldn't even occur to Ford unless it's an "if I lose, somebody dies" situation. Winning by cheating would make him feel like he hasn't really won.

[neonacidtrip]

“ And it hurts so much! Life is suffering. It is hard! The world is cursed. But still, you find reasons to keep on living." ... "I don't regret a thing, you know. I don't regret the struggles. I don't regret the hardships. The pain. The sorrow. And I've seen so much of it! But still. I don't regret what I've done or how I've lived my life. I just wish the world had been a better place. A better place for them, for us... But surely, a better place for you, my dear." ... "I feel like a vast vessel, with so many dusty rooms and cabins... I have so many of them... So many memories... Some of them are gone, but some of them... Some of them will live on forever. In you, in others. ”

- Astrid, Spiritfarer Farewell Edition

[multi-fandom-imagine]

➤𝐈 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐞𝐥𝐬𝐞 || Stanley Pines ||

Warnings: male / female masturbation, fantasizing, blow job, age gap { reader can be in late 20's - late 30's } , dirty talk.

Based around this scene

Heart pounding in your chest you fell back on the bed, towel still wrapped around your body. Your teeth sinking in your lips.

You shouldn't be thinking about this, fantasizing about him.

Not with all he was doing for you, but after seeing the way his shirt clung to his skin, how he offered to teach you how to box.

But...it wouldn't hurt...just to think about him...would it?

God he'd look good, you saw him fixing your car. The way his muscles flexed. You could help wonder what it would feel like to have those arms wrap around you.

You'd let yourself fall into this fantasy once, no one will know. You were the only one in the house after all.

Eyes closed your fingers slipped under the fabric of the towel messaging and rubbing your breast, thumb gliding over the nipple as your other hand drifted down your stomach. Your breath hitching as your fingers teased your slick entrance.

"Stan."

His name was weak on your lips as your fingers continued to slide in and out of your pussy. You couldn't help but let your thoughts drift off to Stan, that it was him doing this to you. His thick fingers spreading your folds, thumb circling your clit as he stared down you with that smirk you've become so fond of.

'That's it doll...I wanna see you come undone'

You could almost hear his voice thick with desire as you humped your fingers. "Stan" his name was weak on your lips, your thumb rubbing your clit as your breaths started to come out in short pants. The familiar warmth pooling in your belly, the sign informing you on how close you were.

You had that messaged your breast moving to you cover your mouth to muffle your cries of pleasure as your walls clenched around your fingers, your hips rising off the bed. Your back arching as you came undone, your release coating your fingers. His name spilling from your lips again.

He didn't mean to watch, he swears on his life he didn't. Stan had just wanted to check up on you since you said you weren't feeling well earlier. He was worried so he left Ford with the twins but this, this wasn't something he was expecting.

Stan felt dirty, he felt like a pervert but he couldn't pull his gaze away from you. Were you really thinking of him that way?

Good you looked so good, the way your body trembled. How your fingers slipped in and out of your slick entrance.

'Fuck it felt a lot hotter here, his pant's felt a little to tight.'

Stan wanted to know what you tasted like, what your walls would feel like wrapped tightly around his cock, eyed still glued to your form he watched you come undone. His name spilling from your lips, your sex glistening.

Shuddering, his cheeks flushed from watching your orgasm he turned away shifting his body. Heart pounding in his chest he quickly made his way towards his room.

He needed to take care of his problem.

Now clad in your pajamas, you started to search the house. They weren't back yet, well the twins and Ford weren't judging by Stan's red car out in front of the shack.

Slowly walking towards his room, you didn't know why you were walking towards him after what he did but you had to see him.

Hand on the door knob, your body tensed once you heard your name. Heart leaping in your throat, you opened the door a crack. Stifling a gasp your eyes went wide at the sight. Stan lying back on the bed jaw clenched as he let out a guttural groan, his hips rocking in time with the firm strokes of his hand.

Biting your tongue you felt warm creep up your neck, heart pounding in your chest.

"That's it, doll," he rasped, his voice rough with need as he thrusted into his hand. Your name spilling from his lips. Part of you wanted to turn away, leave since you were watching this moment. But he said your name, he wanted you too.

Biting your lip to steel your nerves, you opened the door slipping in the room closing the door. Jolting from the sound, Stan grasped a pillow to cover himself as he did his best to stutter out a response as you made your way towards him, his body shifting to the edge of the bed as you dropped to your knees

"W-what are you?" Stan's cheeks a bright red as he watched you, a stark contrast from what you were used to.

Kneeling on the bed, you wrapped your hand around his. "Let me help you Stan."

This didn't feel real, it had to be some wet dream he was having about you. A strangled groan escaped his lips as your lips wrapped around the tip of his cock, his eyes closing as he tried not thrust up in your mouth.

Stan let out a strangled groan as your warm, soft lips enveloped him. His fingers wove through your hair, knuckles turning white as he struggled to keep his focus. The sensation of your skilled tongue swirling and caressing him was utterly intoxicating.

"Unngh, fuck..." he growled, his voice ragged. Every nerve ending felt like it was on fire, the pleasure building with every bob of your head.

Despite his best efforts, Stan could feel his control slipping. His hands clutching the sheets below him tightly as a particularly delicious flick of you tongue threatened to undo him.

"Sweetheart, I don't know how much longer I can..." His words dissolved into a guttural moan as you took him deeper, humming around his throbbing length.

Gritting his teeth, Stan willed himself to hold on, to savor every exquisite sensation. But you were relentless, your hand stroking and caressing in perfect harmony with your talented mouth.

The coil of heat in his belly was tightening with every agonizingly pleasurable stroke of her mouth.

"Christ," he growled, fingers threading through your hair as he fought to keep his hips still. "You're killin' me here, sweetheart..."

Glancing up at the man, you couldn't help but smirk as you slowly pulled your mouth away. "Don't go having a heart attack on me Stan...I care about you far too much."

Giving him one last look, you took him into your mouth not waiting on a response. The heat in his belly coiled at the familiar sensation.

"Fuck, I'm not gonna last much longer..." Stan rasped, his voice thick with impending release.

With a guttural groan, he fought against the overwhelming urge to pull your mouth off his cock and take you then and there.

"You're one hell of a woman, doll," he murmured, his tone laced with reverence and desire. "And I'm gonna spend all night showin' you just how much you mean to me."

Stan let out a guttural groan as hand wrapped around his shaft, moving in a steady, maddening rhythm. The vibration of your moan around his shaft sent shockwaves of pleasure through him, his control wavering.

"Shit" he rasped, his hips bucking as he felt the coil of tension reach its peak. "You're gonna be the death of me, you know that?"

His grip on your hair tightened as he threw his head back, stars exploding behind his eyes. With a hoarse cry of your name, Stan surrendered to the waves of ecstasy crashing over him, his release spilling forth in hot, thick spurts.

Moaning, you did your best to swallow his release as your hand worked the base of his shaft as his cum dribbled past your lips.

"Fuck, yes," he growled, his body trembling with the intensity of his orgasm. "Just like that, doll. Take it all."

Pulling his softened cock out of your mouth you gave him a lazy smile licking your lips. "Didn't think you had it in you old man." You teased as you felt him grasp your chin.

Stan's chest heaved as he struggled to catch his breath, his gaze molten with spent desire. A lazy, satisfied grin tugged at the corners of his lips.

"You really know how to work a guy over, don't you?" he murmured, his thumb tracing the outline of her swollen lips. "I'm one lucky son of a bitch."

Stand off your knees, you gave him a lazy kiss as your hand move to his belly. "I think I'm the lucky one Stan."

Biting back a snort, Stan tugged you to his chest as he lazily tucked himself back into his boxers.

"We're gonna take a nice little nap and once we wake up I'm gonna fuck you good sweetheart."

"I'm holding you to that Stanley." You smiled snuggling into his chest.

After what you suspect will be mind blowing sex you'll let the man you've decided to stay. You had a feeling he'll be happy about it.

[mariahcarreyyy]

.ೃ࿐𝐒𝐂𝐎𝐓𝐓𝐘 𝐃𝐎𝐄𝐒𝐍’𝐓 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖 | 𝐦𝐯𝟑𝟑 |

max verstappen x fem!reader

plot. when max visits years after your split, the strong facade you've worn crumbles at his fingertips

wc. 3.4k

warnings. smut 18+, angry n rough sex, p in v, degradation kink, reader cheats on her longterm boyfriend lol, oral sex (f!recieving), rough fingering (f!recieving), dry humping, name-calling, doggy + missionary style, dom!max and reader who thinks shes a dom, hairpulling, slight choking, and very angsty in some parts

Two seconds.

The amount of time it takes Max to grasp your door handle and trudge into the dimly lit apartment instead of patiently allowing you to let him in is two seconds. A fitted black suit adorns his body. His body, who glides assuredly into your humble kitchen. His eyes, who choose to ignore your irritated frame.

Then his lips. His big, red lips, who swallow the copious amount of popcorn that his hands were shovelling down his throat. His massive, veiny hands who used to intertwine perfectly in yours.

Him, Max. The figure leaning over your marble counters with slouched shoulders and forearms resting against the cool surface is Max. Two cups, he notices, stand side by side on the sink. A pink Stanley cup and a cheap protein shaker that isn't his.

Max’s fingers twitch.

From where you’re frozen by the door frame, only his side profile is visible. You curl your fists tight. Suddenly, wearing an oversized Metallica t-shirt and panties didn’t seem so comfortable.

“Max.”

Your eye twitches at the acknowledgement you receive. Or lack thereof. The recently crowned third-time world champion huffs at the bowl of popcorn in his hands before turning to open the fridge. He doesn’t look very satisfied. But then again, he never really was when it came to you, was he? 

The light of the furniture illuminates Max’s face rather annoyedly, contouring his sharp jawline and the curve of his lips like it had a point to prove. This is what you could’ve had, it taunted, if you hadn’t broken up.

Much louder and more irritated than before, you call out for him. And then, your eyes meet. You had spent the last few years meeting his gaze solely through the rectangular box in your living room; now, you pinch yourself in disbelief—anger, as well.

“What,” you stutter, and almost curse yourself when you catch a glimpse of his cocky smirk you remember all too well. “What are you doing here, Max?”

The fridge begins beeping loudly. Rolling his eyes, the Dutch slams it closed, slipping past you and into the living room. You follow him. The room is lit up by what feels like a thousand scented candles and it’s cold despite it.

The blond collapses on top of your couch, and the cushions pull him in like they missed him. It’s been so long, they think, and you feel better than the girl who’d been crying on us when you left.

“Where’s that guy?” Max asks bitterly, eyes stubborn on the television before him. “The one you posted yesterday at that restaurant.”

Max doesn’t follow you on any social media anymore, and an evil part of you feels content with the fact that he’d had to manually search your name to see that photo. Last night, Scotty had made a reservation at a fine, respectable Italian place to commemorate your one-year anniversary. 

You had a good time; Scotty would quip about everything and anything, and you would laugh exaggeratedly. You two were a great pairing, you think— hope, for the sake of your sanity.

You make yourself home in the space next to him, pulling your knees to your chest and tugging at your shirt to cover your bare legs. “You need to leave. Now, Max.”

A quiet ‘hm’ slips past his lips. But he’s still stuck on the couch, toeing out of his dress shoes and crossing his legs together like it was his home—but, it isn’t. Not anymore. Not while you are evidently a meaningless speck in his glorious life.

When Max turns to you, disgustingly pretty blue eyes and all, you succumb to the tight grasp he has on all of your logic. “Business trip. Milan.”

An empty chuckle raises the tiny hairs on your arm and echoes across the room. Max clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth; his eyes refuse to leave yours. He brings a cold hand to tuck a fallen strand of hair behind your ear; his fingertips leave burn marks against your cheek.

“You don’t even like Italian food,” he continues, because does he ever really know how to stop? “Does he even know you?”

And that. It shouldn’t have made you as frustrated as it did, not when you had gotten over Max. Totally. Completely. Utterly. “What, like you did? Max, you wouldn’t even give a fuck to remember our anniversary!”

The sarcastic glint in his eyes turns sour. “I had to race—Fuck! y/n, I was leading the championship, you knew that.”

“Yeah, Max, how could I forget? Red bull this, Red bull fucking that,” you seethe through gritted teeth, face inching closer to him and squinting eyes shining predatorily. “It’s been two years, Max, two years since you broke up with me. So, congrats. You got what you wanted—a trophy and a name under your belt. Why don’t you fucking leave me alone?”

Max’s breath hitches, but your uncontrolled panting inhales enough air for the both of you. Then, his hand wraps around the side of your neck, not squeezing, but it’s there. It’s warm, and it feels painfully refreshing against your skin, and your protests die in your throat.

The Dutch whispers an octave lower, and only then, when his minty breath tickles your cheekbones, do you perceive your proximity, “Because I think if you really wanted me gone, I would be by now.”

And, well. He might as well be ripping open your ribcage and twisting your heart until it breaks in half, crimson blood making a mess of the carpeted floor. 

You’re left speechless under his gaze because as much as you try to deny, you know it’s true. Max would leave as fast as he did two years ago if there was even a hint of honesty in your words.

“And you know what else I think?” Max takes your silence as encouragement to continue. “I think he doesn’t fuck you well enough if you’re this desperate for it.”

Somehow, you muster up enough irritation to murmur, “I—m’not desperate.”

“No?” he taunts, extending his thumb to the underside of your chin and tilting it upward. “Why haven’t you properly kicked me out, then?”

You rack your mind for a response, a reaction—fucking anything to prove you aren’t wishing he’d just inch a bit closer to close the gap between you. 

“I . . . I hate you, Jesus Christ,” you curse defeatedly, craning your neck upward and frantically meeting his stupidly large lips.

The kiss isn’t slow or loving; it’s wet and filthy and you wouldn’t have it any other way. There’s a lingering taste of honey on his tongue when he brushes it between your parted lips, and you can’t help but pull him in deeper for more. 

The hand on your neck tightens significantly, Max’s breath tickling your upper lip as the other seizes around your under thigh and swiftly pulls you onto his lap.

A gasp flows out of your mouth and he greedily swallows it. You want to skin him alive when you feel him grin arrogantly, but then he presses a hand on your ass and lowers you flush against him—Him, and the massive bulge straining his black trousers—and the thoughts spill right out of your head into a gooey puddle beside your feet.

“I hate y— oh,” your murmur morphs into a shaky gasp when he rips his lips away from yours and attacks the canvas of your neck; you say those three words like you could them words into existence. 

And I hate that I still want you so fucking bad; those eleven words are left unsaid like you expect him to read your mind. But Max couldn’t two years ago, and you know he can’t now.

Your hands glide over his muscular frame, relearning the sharp edges and smooth skin of his body and you moan breathily when Max sucks on the sweet spot beneath your ear. “Y’might hate me, baby, but your pussy doesn’t. Fuck, she’s dripping all ov’me.”

A pathetic whimper slips past your lips. He’s not wrong— you could feel your slick coating your panties and rubbing against Max’s pants. You were usually one to stand your ground, but fuck, you need him. Need him the same you did the first time you met, both young and inexperienced. Maybe more.

Probably more.

But he isn’t doing anything to relieve the ache between your thighs, so. Before you take matters into your own hands and grind your pussy against his covered dick, Max’s hands cup the mounds of your ass and lift you sideways to splay your body on the couch.

“Max,” you say like the breaths have been knocked out of your poor lungs, but it might not be so far from the truth.

Max positions himself in between your legs, hips and thick thighs parting them wide, and the itchy fabric against your naked skin spins your head in dizzying circles. You could fucking see the damp patch your slick left on his crotch. Your hips buck into the air; you hate him, you hate him, you hate him.

His dishevelled hair lay atop his head and you want to pull. His flush trails down his neck and you want to bite and kiss and mark it till pretty bruises litter his soft skin. Your hands and lips stay pliant under his body instead.

“Y’d only get this wet f’me, though, hm?” he groans when his fingers push your skimpy underwear to the side, unblinking like the sight of your glistening folds would disappear if he looked away.

I’m always like this for you, you feel the need to reassure, even when you aren’t here—especially when you aren’t here. But your blood still boils at his stupid hair and stupid smirk, so. He’s met with silence.

Growing impatient, Max slaps at your swollen clit, humming satisfactorily at the loud gasp you let out. He grazes his digits past the bundle of nerves, and your incessant need to murder him and fuck him till he realized he’d made a mistake letting you go only intensify.

“Answer me or I swear to fucking God I will leave you like this, shatje,” he ends up growling lowly, thick fingers hovering over your hole. “And then it’s your boyfriend’s problem.”

“Max, fuck off–”

The warm body abruptly stands up, and you don’t think you’ve ever been this cold. But the empty sensation doesn’t last long, anyway. Max barely has any time to walk away before your fingers latch onto his forearm tightly.

You splutter, “M-Max wait, wait.”

When he tilts his head down to meet your eyes with a raised brow, you have no recollection of what you'd even wanted to say. 

“Please…please, just fucking help me.”

And apparently, that's all Max needs because his hands are immediately tugging your shirt off, lips trailing hot kisses in the divot of your tits. Your lips part around a moan when he purses his lips around your hard nipple, stomach stirring uncomfortably with need. His mouth leaves marks like cigarette burns in its wake; it stings against the wounds that have already healed years ago.

The Dutch doesn’t leave you much to dwell on before he lays between your thighs again, trails his hand across your body till his fingers nudge at your lips, and shoves his index and middle finger inside the wetness of your mouth. if you were slightly more desperate, you would've whimpered at the pleasent pressure on your tongue.

If.

“Fuck, lieverd,” Max exhales when you suck your cheeks in, wet muscle darting over and between his digits— wide, innocent eyes and all. “Can he get you like this? Fucking dripping and desperate for dick?”

You shake your head frantically because it’s true. Because he couldn’t, not like Max can. Satisfied, Max only presses against your throat slightly to watch you gag around him. He brings his hand back down to the space between your legs agonizingly slow and alas, pushes them both in like he’s in a rush.

“Max! Oh, oh m’God, fuck,” you gasp, the twinge of pain is quickly overshadowed by the hot pleasure bubbling in your lower stomach.

Your hips involountarily buck upwards into the fullness, but Max flattens his palm on your lower stomach to shove you down. Eyes rolling back and threading your fingers through his hair before tugging his insatiable mouth on your pussy.

“He doesn’t,” Max cuts himself off with a groan when his tongue flicks at your clit, familiar tasting slick pooling on his taste buds. “He doesn’t know you like I do, can’t make you cum as hard as I do, can he?”

He doesn’t expect a response; it isn’t even a question, as well as you’re aware. Max knows he’s the only person who can have you writhing and moaning on his fingers, cock, tongue— all three, one night.

And he’s right. But. Max’s control of the situation makes you feel queasy, so.

“No– ohh, fuckfuckfuck,” you moan, high and needy, when Max curls his fingers upwards, like a reward for agreeing with him. “He–, he fucks me better.”

From under you, Max’s face visibly dims, but you aren’t able to bask in the satisfaction it gives you before he drags his thick digits out of you—your hole clenching in protest, crying out at the emptiness when it fails to keep them inside—hooks his hands into the small of your waist, and your ass meets the hardwood floor.

“What the fuck–”

Your breath hitches when he flips you over on your elbows and knees. Back arched almost uncomfortably, furrowed brows with Max’s bruising hands on your hips to lift your ass further in the air. 

When Scotty slips into bed tomorrow morning, you hope he’ll see the ugly hues of blue and green on your tainted body and leave soundlessly.

Shaking your head at the intrusive thought, you curse internally. Scotty’s nice, and you don’t deserve him. Not when you’re willingly presenting yourself to Max, the folds of your pussy connected by the lewd lines of his spit and your slick.

"Y’wanna act like a whore?" Max whispers hotly from behind you– his breath tickles your ear and his hands rise to your hair, gather your locks into a makeshift ponytail, and tug it forcefully to tilt your head back, making you wince. "I'll fucking treat you like one."

A string of your desperate whines fills Max’s ears like a symphony, and he groans with you when you begin to grind your ass backwards against his dick. His dick. Fuck, Max needs it wrapped around your tight walls, milking him for all he has; needs to watch you writhe on his cock like it was what you were made for.

“I hate you,” you repeat, much more breathless than the other times you said it, and Max has the audacity to laugh.

Though, you guess it has more to do with the fact that all the while you were saying those three words, you were still needily humping your ass against his covered dick.

You still are, and it’s driving him fucking insane. Max curses when he realizes he’s still trapped by the confines of his pants. Whoever thought wearing clothes was a good idea?

Clumsily and with only one hand whilst the other grips your hair, he fumbles out of his suit. And Max throws the articles of clothing mindlessly—on the couch, on the floor. He doesn’t know, and he doesn’t fucking care. 

A relieved sigh fills the room as the cool air wraps around his painfully hard cock. Your breath hitches when you feel the thick tip graze your pussy. His hand hastily grips at his base, aligns it to your folds, and coating it in your slick as he strokes it once, twice.

“Ah! Max, holy shit,” you blabber when his cock nudges against your swollen clit, and finally, thrusts his hips forward, the tip fitting snugly against your walls. “Oh, oh, fuck, moremoremore, please.”

And Max. Well, Max is doomed.

“Fuck, liefje, your pussy missed me so fucking bad, I know, I know,” Max coos when your hole clenches around him greedily, and spreads your cheeks with one hand, gazing obscenely at the sight of you sucking more and more of him inside.

The familiar stretch burns and yet your hips push back against his cock— three words ringing in your otherwise empty mind: full, full, fuller. Max’s hips stutter as he meets your movements halfway, fucking his stupidly massive cock into your wetness and tightening his hold on your hair.

You wish you could say you hate the pain as much as you hate him.

“Max, Max, Max,” you urge him as your eyes roll to the back of your head, but you don’t really know what for; your neediness took over your senses the moment Max kissed you.

But Max, he’d already memorized all of it— all your tells, those things that pushed you over the edge—, protected them inside a dust-covered chest buried in his mind. It was no surprise he knew what to do with you now, filling you to the brim and pounding into you ruthlessly.

“Yes! Yes! Mm fuck, please, don’t stop, don’t stop,” you sob happily, and Max wouldn’t fucking dare.

The man behind you tugs you upright with the hand on your hair, his chest flush heatedly against your back and tilting your head to pounce at your neck.

“Tell me,” Max growls slowly, slowing his assaults on your wet pussy, and now, you’re almost sure that your hate is reciprocated. “Tell me he means nothing to you.”

A loud yelp leaves your lips when he slaps your clit again, and a slight gush of slick slides down your walls, dripping lewdly onto his balls. Your hand reaches up to grip his hair and pulls his pillowy lips back onto your neck; tears brim at your waterline. You aren’t sure if it’s because of how badly you want to cum or miss him— you blink.

No, no, no. That wouldn’t be possible because. Because you don’t miss him.

“He’s nothing, Max, nothing compares to you,” you cry out, and Max falters.

Then, he pulls out.

“Huh? Wha…” You inhale sharply, feeling so stupidly empty.

Before you dig a hole for you and your pussy to crawl in and die, Max is swiftly turning you over by your hips and engulfing his dick in your walls again. Your mouth falls open again; Max takes it as an opportunity to press his lips against yours.

Your hands cradle his face and kiss him back gently like he isn’t fucking the life out of you. Like he isn’t projecting his pent up frustration for the last two years onto your wet, tight pussy. A muffled cry escapes your mouth when Max thrusts into you with newfound fervor.

His lips detach from yours, burrying his forehead into the crook of your neck to, hopefully, muffle his groans. “Max– ah! Oh m’God, I’m so close, please just.”

Max nods, wild and frantic and horny, slipping a hand between your sweaty bodies. He tweaks, pinches, and rubs at your clit until you let out a shriek and your thighs close instinctively around him.

He bottoms out, grinding helplessly inside the heat of your pussy. “Cum f’me, shatje, wanna feel you cum on m’cock. Fucking cum.”

And, well, if you were even the slightest bit good at denying Max, you wouldn’t even be in this position. So. You arch your back off the ground with a high, loud moan and savour the white specs in your vision that only Max seems to bring out of you.

He fucks you through your orgasm—chasing his own with short, wild thrusts. “Ah, fuckkk, if only y’were as good as y’pussy is to me, liefje, y’d be getting m’cock like this every fucking night— Fuck!”

Beads of Max’s thick cum fill you to the brim with a loud groan and a long string of curses, tainting your insides a heavenly white. His hips stutter when you clench around him, milking him for all he has just like he’d wanted. And, when Max pulls out with a shaky gasp, he takes another piece of your heart with him.

Maybe, if you make this same mistake enough, he’d realize he has your heart already, full and pieced together.

But Max was never one to take a hint, never one to read your mind, so you settle for the parts of him you can have once in a blue moon; you settle for him picking you up, carrying you to your bedroom, cleaning the mess between your legs, and pulling the covers above your naked frame; you settle for the scowl on his face when he notices the polaroid of you and Scotty on your bedside table.

“I hate y—”

Max leaves the room before you can finish your sentence. 

He knows.

authors notes dedicating this to @enchantecafe + @scuderiahoney bcs they were hor knee for max on this poll (me too) i hope you guys like it and thank you to @cafekitsune for the dividers once again xx

i feel like this isn't my best work but i'll post it anyway because i spent a lot of time on it and yolo. also i think i fried my brain with it.

also, writing this fic made me realize idfk how to write angry sex it just ends up being angsty so. i think at times theyre angry but as they go on, some of that tension dissipitates and they both realize they want but cant have each other. tried my best tho!! xx

lemme know how you liked this story or give me some feedback in the comments or my inbox! 💬🐢

taglist in separate posts bcs tumblr chooses to be annoying <33

p.s reblogs and likes are always appreciated 💚💚

[fangirlwriting-stories]

What's Almost Familiar

Summary: “It’s not quite that simple,” Ford says, turning to look back at his drink. “If the portal is turned back on, it could give Bill a path through to whatever world it’s turned on in. It’s not as easy as turning it on and you get to go home. It’s the needs of the many versus the needs of the few. He has to keep the world safe from Bill. I can understand why he has to leave you here.”

He winces a little as soon as he says the last part, and braces himself. He expects a glare, or for Stan to snap at him, or anything similar. Something that shows he doesn’t understand the sacrifice part of all this. But instead, Stan laughs, a strange mix of fond and sad, and takes another swig of his beer.

“God, Poindexter,” he says. “You’ve been out here almost thirty years and you still haven’t learned a damn thing, have you?”

Author's Note: No of course I didn't read the Book of Bill lately like everyone else what are you talking about

I also blame this post with all the amazing inspiring art btw

...

In retrospect, Ford probably shouldn’t have run when the fashion police from the last dimension had started chasing him.  But while he doesn’t know anything about how to look fashionable, he does know that based on the suits and dresses of that dimension, he wouldn’t stand a chance in court.  He hadn’t even known someone could wear that much glitter.

He hadn’t even meant to go to the stupid dimension in the first place.  He’d been aiming for the one over, but his dimension-hopping gun had been buggy for weeks now, and the parts still aren’t ready to fix it.  The dimension he was aiming for was supposed to give him an opportunity for a short rest, somewhere he could stay just long enough until the jerry-rigged screen on his gun would go off and tell him the parts are ready.

But surprise surprise, the malfunctioning gun still has a tendency to malfunction, and he’d wound up in a dimension that took his proclivity for comfort personally.

He hadn’t really had a dimension in mind when he fired up the gun again, just somewhere he could hide for a bit, but unfortunately the fashion police followed him right through the portal, meaning Ford is still running, with them hot on his heels and shouting about the tears in his coat.

Okay, okay, he can do this.  He’s been on the run enough times to figure this out.  He needs to lose them, find a place to hide, and get his dimension gun working long enough to find a place they can’t follow him.

Ford looks ahead and sees a corner to his left, and dives around it.  What meets him is a straightway of crumbling abandoned buildings.  Well, he’s hidden in worse places.  But as he starts running down the street, aiming for another alleyway to duck down in a hope of losing the officers behind him, someone sprints out of an alley on his other side, and runs headfirst into him, knocking them both to the ground.

“Hey, watch where you’re going you knucklehead!” Ford snaps, but when he turns to glare at the person as he tries to pull himself to his feet, he’s met with… himself?

No, that’s impossible.  If this was an alternate version of himself, both of them and the entire dimension would now be starting to fade from existence.  But it sure looks like him, which only leaves the option of—

Ford’s eyes widen.  “Stanley?”

Stanley stares back at him, looking equally as stunned as Ford feels, but before either of them can say anything, from behind Stan comes “You won’t get away with it this time!” and Stan whirls back to look towards it.

“Uh, we should probably get out of here,” he says.  He stands and pulls Ford to his feet, and starts pushing them both back the way Ford came.

“Uh, no,” Ford says, pushing back.  “Bad idea.”

Before Stan can ask why, the fashion police run around the corner, and Stan looks at them.  His expression turns baffled, which is fair, Ford hasn’t encountered cops who wear that much perfume before tonight either.

“Get back here, you filthy criminal!” one of them yells.  “The detective themed party was last week!”

“O-kay, we’re running now,” Stan says.  He grabs Ford’s hand and pulls them both down the street, away from both sets of cops.

“Buy me some time,” Ford says, yanking out his dimension gun.  “If I can get this damn thing to work I can get us out of here!”

Stan turns over his shoulder, and there’s the sound of a gun of some kind going off, which is strange, because he hadn’t thought Stan had one.  But judging by the pained cry and the “No, not blood on my suit!”, Stan definitely hit the fashion police with something.  Another cry comes from behind them, and Ford manages to get the gun settled on one dimension.

He hits the button on his gun, and a portal opens in front of them both.  He grabs Stanley’s arm and pulls them both through it, then points the gun over his shoulder and zaps the portal closed.

They’re in a dimension that’s clearly experienced an apocalypse recently, just a flat, gray, dead expanse of land.  And while whatever happened is bound to be depressing if they take the time to figure it out, for now the both of them just use it as an excuse to stop and catch their breath.  Ford leans forward and puts his hands on his knees, and lets out a large sigh of relief.

After a moment of heavy breathing, Stanley laughs.  “Well, that’s the last time I ever bring that much fake money into a casino,” he says.

“I’m not even going to ask,” Ford mutters.

Then realization strikes him, and he stands back up.  “Wait, Stanley,” he says.  “What are you doing here?”

“What am I doing here?” Stan asks incredulously.  “You weren’t supposed to jump in after me, Poindexter.  What the hell were you thinking?”

“After you?” Ford asks, baffled.  “You mean you…” he pauses as the obvious option occurs to him.  It seems to occur to Stan at the same time.

“We’re… not from the same place, are we?” Stan asks, his face falling ever so slightly, despite the way he was just yelling at Ford about coming in after him.

“It seems not,” Ford says, giving a sympathetic smile.  “But hey, thanks for the save back there.  How did you do that, anyway?”

Stan shrugs, and hoists up his right arm.  Now that they’re not running from the cops, it’s easier to see that the arm looks suspiciously metal, which is confirmed a second later, when Stan points it firmly away from both of them and turns all of the fingers into what look like miniature guns.

For a second, all Ford can do is stare at it.

“Lost the real one a decade and a half ago,” Stan says.  “Figured if I was gonna get an upgrade it might as be an upgrade, y’know?”

Ford swallows, still looking at his arm.  “Six fingers?” he asks quietly.

Stan’s eyes widen slightly and he immediately hides the arm behind his back.  “Yeah well uh, you know, the guy who made it doesn’t get too many humans and wasn’t super sure what he was doing.  Plus uh, more bullets.”

Ford raises an eyebrow.  “Why not get seven fingers, then?”

Stan sighs, and drops his arm back to his side, then rubs the back of his neck with his other one.  “Don’t make a thing of it.”

“Never,” Ford says, smiling a little despite himself.  And despite the fact that he really can’t afford to waste time finding parts for his quantum destabilizer, he can’t help the next thing that comes out of his mouth.

“Hey,” he says.  “I know a good human bar a couple dimensions over.  I can probably get this thing working long enough to get us there,” he says, lifting up his dimension gun.  “Do you want to get a drink?”

Stan grins.

…

This version of Stan who got sucked into the portal is everything Ford would have thought to expect from a version of Stan who got sucked into the portal.  He’s loud and brash and boastful, with plenty of tricks he can pull off with his prosthetic arm and plenty of stories about space heists he’s pulled off.  Ford is fairly certain they’re not all true, but he wants to hear every one anyway.

He hadn’t realized how much he missed Stanley.  His feelings about his actual brother from his own dimension are so tangled up with betrayal and anger and a million other things that it’s hard to even know what he’d do if he saw him.  But in talking to a version of Stanley that carries none of the emotional baggage, Ford almost feels like he’s eighteen again, before everything went so horribly wrong between them.

“Listen, I’m telling you, that one was the law’s fault,” Stan says, setting his mug of beer down.  “Laws shouldn’t be stupid if they don’t want to be broken.”

“I don’t think that’s quite how that works,” Ford says, though the large smile on his face is definitely giving away how little he’s bothered by it.

“Hey, I wasn’t the only one running from the cops tonight,” Stan points out with a bright grin.  “Guess I’m not the only criminal in the family anymore.”

“Laws broken in the name of science and survival don’t count,” Ford says, picking up his own beer and taking a drink.

“Great, so that means I can write off everything I did in the ten years after dad kicked me out, good to know,” Stan asks, sounding amused.

Ford startles a little, surprised at the casual way that Stan says that.  He doesn’t often think about what life was like for Stan during those ten years, but if he’s talking about writing off broken laws, Ford really doubts he means it in the name of science.

Either way, Stan seems totally content to move on, instead grinning back at Ford.  “And what was tonight, survival or science?” he asks.

Ford wrinkles his nose.  “Fashion.”

Stan laughs, loud and delighted in the way Ford hasn’t heard in decades.

“I’m sorry, didn’t you say something about bringing fake money into a casino?” Ford says, shoving Stan in the shoulder rather than acknowledging the ache in his chest.

“Yeah, but you expect that of me.  Next time you want to break the law, put some actual malice behind it.  It’s way more fun.”

Ford just rolls his eyes and takes another drink of his beer.  “Please, I bet I could outshine you with multiverse law-breaking stories.”

“I’m sorry, have you been listening to all my space heists?”

“And how many run-ins have you had with monsters and dream demons?  Have you ever even met Bill Cipher?”

“Bill Cipher?  What is he, like a secret code nerd you lost a boxing match to?”

“Oh, now I know that wasn’t a dig at my boxing skills.”

“Well, if the glove fits.”

“I’ve been traveling the multiverse and fighting monsters for almost thirty years, my boxing skills are a little better than they were in high school.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it.”

Ford glares over at Stan.  “Are you trying to get me to start a brawl in the middle of a bar?”

Stan just takes another drink of his beer, though Ford can see the smile behind it.  He can’t help but smile back a little as he shakes his head and takes a drink from his own mug.

Stan sets his drink down after another second, and turns to face Ford again.  And while Ford is expecting another joke or the start to a story to try and one-up all of Ford’s options, instead Stan surprises him.

“So uh, your portal incident,” he says.  Ford turns and faces him.  He wasn’t expecting Stan to go there.  But then Stan says, “where’d you end up after going through?  Because like, if we didn’t run into each other until now, but everything else seems mostly the same, does that mean we started in different places?”

Ford gives an “ah” of understanding.

“Well, I ended up in the nightmare realm with Bill,” Ford says.  “Had to run for my life pretty fast, but I made it out.  I mean, obviously.  Where were you?”

“A giant empty void of some kind,” Stan says.  He rubs the back of his neck and gives a sour smile.  “Thought Ford was mocking me.”

Ford narrows his eyes in confusion.  “Huh?”

“Oh, my Ford, obviously,” Stan says with a wave of his hand, as if that clears it up.  “Not you.”

“No, I— what do you mean, you thought he was mocking you?”

“Well, after he shoved me in,” Stan says, and something about the way he says it makes Ford’s chest go cold.

“But… why would that mean he was mocking you?” he asks, hoping he’s misunderstanding.  “It was an accident, wasn’t it?”

Stan turns and gives him a confused look.  “What?  No.  What are you talking about?”

“Well, I wouldn’t— you’re not saying he shoved you in on purpose, are you?”

“Hey,” Stan holds up his hands.  “Different worlds, different Fords.  It doesn’t say anything about you.”

Ford tries not to let his obvious discomfort show.  “I suppose,” he says.  But still, he can’t imagine any scenario where he’d shove Stanley into the portal on purpose.  He might have been angry at Stan, but he never wanted him in danger.  And shoving him through the portal would have guaranteed that.  He shut it down because it was dangerous, and he didn’t want anything like what happened to Fiddleford to happen to anyone else.

“You’re really bothered by that, huh,” Stan says after a second, because he’s far too similar to the brother Ford knows, which means he can read him like an open book.

“I just don’t understand,” Ford admits, shaking his head.  “I mean, you are so similar to how I remember my version of Stanley.  Why would I be so different?”

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, he was actin’ different too,” Stan says.  “My brother, I mean.  Real weird.”

Ford looks curiously back at Stan.  “Weird how?”

“Like, real giggly and manic.  At one point I kicked him hard into the wall and he just started laughing.  He said something about how hilarious it was.  Honestly, I think he was on something.”

Ford can’t breathe.  His mind is starting to paint him a horrifying picture.

“He— Stanley,” he says.  “Did he fall unconscious at any point that you were down there?”

Stan looks at him in confusion.  “How’d you know that?”

Ford runs a hand through his hair.  “That— god.  Stanley, that wasn’t your brother.”

“What are you talking about?”

“That— remember when I mentioned Bill Cipher?”

“The secret code nerd?” Stan asks, smirking.

“He’s not a secret code nerd, he’s a demon,” Ford says, turning to face Stan directly, trying to get across the importance of what he’s saying, because if Stanley meant it when he said he never met Bill, that means he’s spent the whole time here thinking his brother pushed him through the portal on purpose, and Ford can’t let that go on.

“Stanley, he’s a demon that I met, and that your brother must have met too.  I suppose I can’t say that things went exactly the same, but from what you said…” he takes a breath and folds his hands together.  He doesn’t make a habit of telling people his history with Bill, but this is important.

“I met him when I was young and idealistic and stupid,” he says plainly.  “And before I realized how malicious and dangerous he was, I made a deal with him, and let him possess me whenever he wanted.  He can’t anymore,” Ford knocks on the metal plate in his head.  “But back then, he could anytime that I fell asleep.  And that whole thing, about pain being hilarious?  He said that all the time.  He probably thought that you were too dangerous to him, or that you’d get in the way, so when your brother fell unconscious, he… well.  I can’t imagine why he’d lead with the fact that it wasn’t your brother in control anymore.”

Stan looks at him for a long moment after he finishes, and to Ford’s surprise, he can’t read his face.  Finally, Stan just says, “Huh.”  He turns and takes a drink of his beer.

Ford blinks at him.  “Huh?” he repeats.

Stan looks back at him.  “Do you want me to say something else?”

“Something— do you believe me?” Ford asks, a little incredulous.

“I mean, I’ve seen enough crazy shit out here that it can’t exactly be off the table,” Stan says.  “You also have no reason to lie to me, so… yeah, sure.”  He shrugs.

Ford looks at him for another minute.  “I’ll admit, I was expecting a bigger reaction,” he says.

“I mean, it doesn’t change that much,” Stan says.  “I’m still here, aren’t I?  Come on, we both know how smart you are.  If my brother wanted me back he’s had thirty years to do something about it.  Even if he wasn’t responsible for the first part, it’s on him now.  It’s fine.  I made my peace with it a long time ago.”

Oh.  Ford gets it now.  Stan wants something he can’t have.

“It’s not quite that simple,” Ford says, turning to look back at his drink.  “If the portal is turned back on, it could give Bill a path through to whatever world it’s turned on in.  It’s not as easy as turning it on and you get to go home.  It’s the needs of the many versus the needs of the few.  He has to keep the world safe from Bill.  I can understand why he has to leave you here.”

He winces a little as soon as he says the last part, and braces himself.  He expects a glare, or for Stan to snap at him, or anything similar.  Something that shows he doesn’t understand the sacrifice part of all this.  But instead, Stan laughs, a strange mix of fond and sad, and takes another swig of his beer.

“God, Poindexter,” he says.  “You’ve been out here almost thirty years and you still haven’t learned a damn thing, have you?”

“I— what?  I’ve learned plenty,” Ford says, feeling a little offended.  “I’ve learned so much about the multiverse, and about Bill, and—”

“About yourself, knucklehead,” Stan says, smirking at him.  “Have you just been passing through from one place to another for thirty years?”

“I— there aren’t a ton of other options,” Ford says.  “I can’t stay in a parallel Earth, I could run into a version of myself.  There’s too many dimensions that can’t sustain a life form like me, and I still have Bill to worry about.  It’s not like I can just leave him to do whatever he wants.”

“Sure you can,” Stan says.  “Someone else will take care of him.”

“Someone else will what?  Stanley—”

“It’s not all on you, Ford,” Stan says, looking back at him.  “If there’s a version of me here, there have to be other versions of you.  Let one of them take that risk.”

“I can’t just count on that!  What if that’s what we all think?”

Stan snorts, like that’s somehow funny.

“Stanley—”

“And then what?” Stan cuts him off, turning and raising an eyebrow at him.  “After you defeat Bill.  What do you do then?”

“I— there’s bound to be something else that—”

“What stuff do you do because you want to, Ford?  What out here makes you happy?”

“Well— discovering new dimensions and how they work,” Ford says.  “Their laws of physics, their food and cultures, their—”

“You got any friends?”

“What does that matter?”

“How much of the stuff you learned was pure observation?  Did you go up and talk to anyone, ask them questions about how things work?”

“Right, because everyone in every dimension speaks English.”

Stan raises an eyebrow.  “You’re telling me you’ve been here almost thirty years and you’ve never gotten your hands on a dimensional translator?”

“I— I have, but that’s not—”

“Ford, listen.  We have to live here, right?  I’m never going home, and it doesn’t sound like you think you are either.”

“I’m not,” Ford says.  “What’s your point?”

“So this is all we got,” Stan says.  “You’re never going home, so you have to do something else.”

“Obviously, what are you getting at?”

Stan grins at him.  “You want to come check out my place?”

Ford stares at him.  “You have a house?”

“Of sorts.”  Stan pulls out a small box that looks vaguely like a treasure chest.  “I’ve got a dimensional lock on her.”

“I…” Ford says, and trails off, not quite sure what to say.

Stan smiles at him, and then waves over at the bartender.  “Thanks for the drinks!” he calls.  He slams a couple bills down on the counter and turns back to Ford.

“Are those bills real?”

“Shh.  Let’s go.”  Stan hits a button on his dimensional lock, and the world bends and twists around them, pulling them back to whatever Stan’s put the other lock on.  When they stop, Ford looks around, and—

“Why am I not surprised?” he asks, rolling his eyes.

“Yeah, she’s a beauty, ain’t she?” Stan says, grinning at him.  “Welcome to the Stan-O-War II.”

They’re standing on a houseboat in what looks like a fairly typical human ocean, if you ignore the fact that a stretch of it rises into the air and twists upside down into the sky not too far up ahead.

They’re sailing right towards the lift into the air, but Stan seems completely unphased by this.  He walks up a set of stairs to a steering wheel, and pulls a lever on the side.  The entire boat starts glowing gold, and as they reach the shift in gravity, the boat turns into it with no issue, and Ford doesn’t feel his own center of gravity shift at all.

“You would not believe how much I had to steal to get that part working,” Stan says.

“Stanley—”

“Alright, I lied.  I worked odd jobs until I could afford it.  Easier that way.  There’s so many police checks on these kinds of dohickeys, it’s ridiculous.”

The boat sails with the curve until they’re upside down, and Ford can look around him to see stars and planets around them, though not any that he recognizes.

“Remarkable,” he breathes, because he can’t help but be a little blown away by it.

Stanley walks back down the steps and over to stand next to Ford, smiling at the stars around them too.

“I picked this dimension as a home base,” Stan says.  “I think you can guess why.”

Ford just nods.

Stan walks forward and leans over the side of the boat to look down at the water.  After a second, Ford joins him.  From the— sea? sky?— below, fish leap up and eat the stars out of the air.  As soon as they land back in the water, one of the stars still in the air splits in half, and the number of stars in the sky remains unchanged.

“Some of the planets,” Stan says, pointing at one with his finger and following it as the bot sails past it.  “Can support life.  So when the fish eat the stars, the stars split so nothing on the planet dies.  The brief moments of darkness are the planet’s solar eclipses.”

“Planet-wide solar eclipses?” Ford asks, amazed.  “Is the star gone for too short of a time to make a difference in the temperature?”

“Nah.  The folks on the planet just evolved to get used to it.”

“How do you know?” Ford asks, looking back at him.

“I shrunk myself down and went to ask ‘em.  Had to time it right, though.  I’m sure not evolved to survive an eldritch fish eating the sun.”

“Stanley, that’s… incredibly dangerous,” Ford says.  But for a moment, he can’t help but feel impossibly jealous.

“Worth it though.  I’m apparently well known to everyone on pretty much every planet.  They kind of view me as a god.  Hell of an ego boost that was.”

“Oh lord,” Ford mutters.  “I don’t want to think about that.”

Stan laughs.  He turns and leans back against the side of the boat, then gazes up at the sea, back on the… well, Earth, of sorts, now above them.

“When I said I made my peace with it,” Stan says, without looking at Ford, “I meant it.  I know my brother.  I know how his head works.  I know he’s probably doin’ alright without me, and I’m okay with that.  Way I see it, my two options were either let everything fester and grow into an angry, bitter old man, or let it go.”  Stan spreads his hands.  “I like where the second option has let me end up.”

Ford looks at Stan, and finds he doesn’t know what to say.  It’s an unusual feeling.  He’s not sure he likes it.

It looks like they’ll be sailing along the sky for a while, judging by what’s ahead of them, so Ford leans back next to Stan and looks at the sky below them and the sea above them.

“But…” Ford says finally, because he has to say something.  “What’s your goal, here?  What are you trying to do?”

Stan turns to him, raises an eyebrow.  “Goal?”

“What do you want to do, with your life?” Ford asks.  “It— it can’t just be— this.”

Stan smiles, just a little.  “And why not?”

“Well— because…” Ford trails off, lost.

Neither of them say much for a while.

Finally, Ford’s dimension gun beeps at him.  He glances down at the screen and lets out a sigh of relief.

“My parts to fix my gun are ready,” he says to Stan.  “I’ve gotta get going.  But… thanks, I guess.  It was nice to meet you, and have a drink, and…” he looks around, and his words are stolen for another moment.  Eventually, he just finishes “…this.”

Stan gives him a long look, then just nods.

Ford moves the gun’s settings carefully, and when he fires it, it shows him the right dimension.

It’s just as he’s about to step through that Stan speaks again.

“You could come with me, you know,” he says.  “We could hunt for treasure and adventure, like we always said we would.  Even if we’re not technically the ones we said it to.”

This, Ford has been expecting, and he responds instantly and with ease.  “I can’t,” he says, turning to give Stan one last look.  “I have to try and defeat Bill.  I have to save the world.”

But rather than get angry, or sad, or doing anything that makes sense, Stan just sighs.  “Yeah,” he says.  “You always do, huh.”  He turns and starts back up the stairs towards the wheel, and Ford watches him go.  Stan gives no argument, doesn’t keep trying to convince Ford to come.

Ford doesn’t know what to say.  It’s the third time it’s happened, and that’s enough that he’s decided, he’s not a fan.  He would say it’s foolish to expect to know how a Stan from an alternate dimension would act, but so much about this version of his brother has been familiar enough to make Ford’s chest ache.  And yet, when it comes to the big things, the set-in-stone things, like the Stan-O-War, and Bill, and getting shoved into the multiverse for thirty years by someone Stan freely admits he thought put him here on purpose; when it comes to the conversations that Ford should absolutely know the path of, Stan reacts in the complete opposite way he expects, and it leaves Ford feeling lost and unsteady.

“I…” he says, reaching for something normal.  He fails.  “I don’t understand.”

Stan turns to face him.  There is so much sudden warmth and love in his gaze that it takes Ford’s breath away.

“That’s okay, Sixer,” Stan says.  “Just go try and save the world.  Come find me if you fail, okay?  I’ll still be here.”

Ford doesn’t know what to say to that either.  After a second, he just turns and walks through to the other dimension, to get the parts he needs.

He turns one last time and watches Stan as the portal between them closes.  Stan smiles as it does, and then he’s gone.  He leaves Ford with a lump in his throat, an ache in his chest, and the feeling that he’s missed something important.

[auras-moonstone]

Could you write Ethan/Jack going with reader to a basketball/hockey game and getting on the kiss cam?? Hope ur doing well!! 💗

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ kiss you in a crowded room — ethan landry

ᡣ𐭩 word count: 990

ᡣ𐭩 pairing: hockey player!ethan landry x fem!reader

ᡣ𐭩 summary: ethan sees his best friend’s face on the kiss cam and, filled with jealousy, he rushes to stop it, leading them to confess their hidden feelings.

ᡣ𐭩 contents: fluff. hockey. kissing. public confession. jealousy. best friends to lovers. cheesiness.

y/n’s legs bounced nervously as she watched the team fighting to gain possession of the puck and failing miserably because the rivals managed to score once again, leaving them 2-1.

“fuck!” she cursed when the intermission started. “i’m going to throw up, i swear”

“calm down, they can still turn it around.” tara tried to be positive, despite being nervous for chad, her boyfriend.

“i just want eth to win this goddamn championship. doing it in his rookie year would be amazing.”

“an ethan fan? he’s great. he played a huge part on the team making it to the playoffs, so his rookie year will still be amazing no matter what.” the guy that sat beside her said.

y/n turned to face him, a proud smile on her face. “i’m his biggest fan actually.” she said, which was true. she was, always had and always will be her best friend’s number one fan. “and you’re right, his rookie year is one of the best. still want him to get the stanley cup tho.”

“you and me both. but your friend is right, we still have 30 minutes to turn it around.”

“keeping my fingers crossed.” she showed him her crossed fingers and he did the same.

“okay, i just gotta say it. do i know you? you seem really familiar but i can’t put my finger on it.”

y/n blushed under his scrutiny. “um, i’m y/n. ethan’s childhood best friend.”

“oh! that’s where i know you from. his instagram. my boyfriend is always stalking his social media, he’s got a big fat crush.” they both chuckled. “it’s nice to meet you.”

“you too!”

ethan, who was watching the scene from a couple of feet away, clenched his jaw. his urge to call security to ask them to not-so-gently scort the stranger—who was shamelessly flirting with his girl—outside was almost uncontrollable.

“you need to calm down.” chad said. “they’re just talking.”

“they’re laughing, chad. he’s making her laugh at my game.” ethan growled.

“okay. you’re actually growling, you’ve gone ins- oh dear god.” chad’s panicked voice made him unglue his eyes from the stands. his friend was looking up at something, and ethan raised his head to see what made him act that way.

there, on the screen of the arena, were the shocked faces of y/n and the stranger. the letters on top read ‘kiss cam’.

“um, how do we get out of this?” y/n asked.

he took a deep breath “we can just say no, right? it’s not like they’re going to force us.”

y/n nodded which ethan completely mistook it for her giving consent, and he just saw red. before chad could stop him, he skated towards the stans and hit the glass that separated the seats and the rink with force, startling his best friend and the guy, who were both sitting in the first row.

“um, hi?” y/n asked, confused by ethan’s pissed off face.

“don’t you fucking kiss him.” he said with a frown on his face and glaring at the guy, who quickly raised his hands and yelled “i have a boyfriend!” with a voice so terrified and high that y/n had to bite her lip to not laugh.

the hockey player’s demeanour changed from angry to embarassed “oh… i saw you talk… and you nodded- i thought—“

“—that i was going to kiss him in front of the whole arena.” she finished his sentence. “yeah, i got that. what’s got you so furious, though? you almost scared my new friend to death.”

“well, i- i wasn’t sure you’d be okay kissing a stranger.” he chuckled nervously.

“you thought i was consenting when i nodded, so try again. why were you so pissed, landry? no bullshit.” y/n crossed her arms in front of her chest.

“because i don’t want you kissing someone else.” he admitted, not daring to look her in the eye.

her face softened. “well, i don’t want to kiss anyone but you, so…” she confessed in return.

warmth spread through his cheeks and the nervousness faded when he met her smiling face. “please stand in that fucking chair so i can do what i’ve been wanting for a long long time.”

her body bent over the pixie glass and ethan didn’t have to rise his head too much to meet her lips. the crowd’s cheers were drown by the thundering of their own hearts. y/n’s hands were shaking as she caressed his cheeks once they had to pull apart because of the awkward position.

“now, rookie, you gotta turn this game around, okay?” she kissed his nose before climbing off the seat. “i have faith in you.”

“i’m not stopping until i lift that stanley cup.” he did the soldier motion with his hand, making her laugh. “to have the girl and the cup sounds like a dream, doesn’t it?”

“okay, lover boy, that was quite a half time show.” chad arrived to his side. he looked at the boy sitting next to y/n and frowned. “jesus, you look kinda pale.”

“for a moment i saw my life flashing before my eyes. i thought he was going to kill me.” he answered, stumbling over some words.

“eth? he’s only tough on the ice. outside? he’s a huge teddy bear.” y/n smiled lovingly at her now boyfriend.

the hockey player let out a dramatic gasp “shh, babe. my reputation!”

y/n rolled her eyes. “you’re a dork.”

“but i’m your dork.”

the girl gaged. “get out of my sight.” she waved with her hand, acting disgusted by his cheesiness.

“i love you, too.” he winked before skating away.

y/n sat down with a content smile on her face. she couldn’t believe that just actually happened. she’s spent years and years pining after him and thinking they would never be more than friends, and now ethan was there, after having confessed his feelings in front of a whole arena, dedicating his goals to her.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Hii! How’s ur day?^_^

My request is, what if the reader is nervous to confess to Stanford, and Mabel helps them?

If ur able to do this thank you, and I love ur fanfics!

I decide to be a little mean here, whether it’ll be a misunderstanding on your part for Ford’s reaction or not, I’ll leave it up to fate. Hope you enjoy!

Part 2 right here

Mabel could tell immediately that you liked Ford but didn’t have the confidence to say anything to him in the slightest, and it disheartened the poor girl to see a potential romance that’ll never happen due to your fears of rejection.

So she decided that you needed the power of Mabel to gain the confidence to confess to Ford about how you truly felt because she knew deep down in her heart that Ford felt the same, he was just as awkward about as you were about his feelings.

(She may or may not have sneaked a peak inside his hours on his entry on you and felt as though she was reading a poem with how passionate he seemed to be about you, so much so it was enough to make her shed a tear)

‘But what if he meant all of that in a platonic way?’ You asked Mabel when she told you about the journal entry that she shouldn’t have read.

Mabel pouts and puts her bawled fists on her sides. ‘Is this the insecurities talking? You are amazing, fantastic, wonderful and a delight to have in someone’s life and Grunkle Ford would a stupid stupid head if he didn’t see the greatness you posses! Which he does and you should not let fear stand in the way of love!’ She exclaims as she dramatically posed, she really was Stanley’s grandniece that was for certain and undisputed.

‘Still, what would I even say to him?’ You asked as you sat down on the edge of your bed, holding your face in your hands. ‘I can’t just go up to him and say I like him, it’s too forward-‘

‘And totally not romantic nor memorable to tell your future descendants at all.’ Mabel adds which only made you flustered at the aspect that Mabel believed in your and Ford’s relationship that much, but Mabel always loved to look ahead to the future in an optimistic light, while taking great pride in having fun in the present with the people she cared about while she could before it was too late.

‘What if he finds me unbearable?’

‘Stop it with the what ifs!’ Mabel exclaimed as she walked over to you with a determined look in her eye, she had about enough of you looking down on yourself, and then using it as a scapegoat as to avoid confessing your burning feelings for her Grunkle Ford. ‘Ford likes you, I see it in his eyes when he looked at you, he looks at you as though you hung the stars in the sky! You take his breath away effortlessly and I see the way his cheeks get all pink when you compliment his turtleneck! What else could you probable want to be affirmed that he actually likes you!’

‘What’s going on in here, I could hear Mabel shouting from down the stairs, is everything okay?’ Ford asked when he opened the door to see you sat on the edge of your bed and Mabel looking as though her face couldn’t get any redder.

‘Yes every-‘ Mabel give you a pointed look and mouthed the words: tell him or I will.

You sighed and Ford only seems to grow more confused and worried about what he had walked in on by pure curiosity. ‘Y/n?’ He asked softly this time. ‘Is everything okay?’

‘I have something to tell you-‘ Mabel squeals ‘-alone.’ You finished all the while giving Mabel a pointed look as she pouted like a kicked puppy, she wanted to have a front row seat to the confession but she guessed outside the door would have to do for now as she shut the door behind her, leaving you and Ford alone like you wanted.

‘What’s wrong?’ Ford sat next to you, his beautiful eyes full of worry and concern as they flickered across your face as though he could see the things that were worrying you as though it was written across your forehead.

‘It’s nothing bad I promise it’s just that I…Ive been made aware of something that I fear might ruin our friendship.’ You said as you found yourself wanting to back away from actually confessing and leave it at that, but Mabel might as well have locked you both in the room for all you were aware until you actually did tell Ford that he tormented your heart in the best way possible.

‘I’m sure it won’t, there’s nothing that you could-‘

‘I really like you Ford, romantically.’ You blurted out as a silence befell the both of you that you swore you could hear a pin drop somewhere as you awaited the worst.

Ford looked at you for a prolonged period of time as though he was stuck in place and it only made your fears worsen when he had yet to say anything.

‘Ford? Say something please.’ You pleaded but what you weren’t expecting was for Ford to silently stand up and leave the room, closing the door behind him and soon enough you could hear your heart break as you heard him walk down the stairs, probably to go back to his lab for the rest of the day.

‘What happened.’ Mable asked as she walked back into the bedroom to see your broken state as you looked at her with a weak smile.

‘I lost him.’ You tell her before burrowing your head into your hands and for once Mabel didn’t know how to fix this…

[jinxthequeergirl]

The Ol Switcharoo (pt7)

Ford x reader/stan x reader

Summary: You realize the two people you thought to be your best friends are actually strangers and take up the task of talking to one of them

Warning: none!

Hi! I hope this is angsty enough for you freaks(lovingly) who ASKED for angst. (I wrote this part completely zooted so hopefully it's good)

Enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~☆~~~~~~~~~

The household dynamic wasn't the same anymore. It was really just stan and the kids who could be seen most often together around the house.

You found yourself as more of a ghost haunting the place.

You didn't care much to come out of your room much like a sulken teenager. Not when those two strangers were also out. You'd warmed back up to the kids around a week or two. Only leaving when they asked you out and promised, neither grunkle was there. Of course, Mable had to know your every thought and feeling about them.

Most of the time though you found them coming to your room just to talk.

Mable came to you most offten.

"I don't like how everything's changed around here...I mean I like having another Grunkle... but I don't ever see him... I don't see YOU anymore either." You hummed in response, signaling for her to continue as you did her hair.

"And I'm almost in high school! And my high school dreams are ruined! Everything fun about this summer has changed, and it feels bad." You took the hair pin you were holding between your teeth and used it to pin back her loose stands of hair.

"Mable growing up is just a part of life... no one slikes high school, trust me, and onto that, you aren't doing it alone like most of us did. You're always gonna have Dipper." You reassured her. "There!" You held up a mirror for her to see.

"I like it...can we try this one now?" She asked, holding up a picture of a magazine. You rolled your eyes and pulled the freshly formed hairdo down.

"I know Dipper will be with me, but I've been worried we'll end up like...." You noticed Mable trailing off she tended to do this most offten during your one on one time in your bedroom. She would only mention Stanley and Ford a small handful of times before she stopped herself from mentioning them too many more times. It was clearly an unspoken rule she had set in place for your comfort.

"Mable...I didn't know Ford had a brother... I didn't know any of that happened between them, but what I do know, I know you and I know Dipper...what you two have is special you are inseparable trust me!" Mable seemed to lighten up a bit at your confident words.

"You always know how to cheer me up y/n." You you chuckled lightly while focusing on her hair again. There was quiet, only the faint sound of sev'ral timez playing.

"You know... I know it might feel a little hard right now... but don't you think you could talk to both of them? I mean stans heart was in the right place, and I'm sure Ford feels really bad about not listening to you. You give great advice. How could he not!?"

"This is just one of those things..."

"But I miss having you around to help make dinner! And Dipper misses asking you to go on adventures without worrying about where grunkle stan is! I mean, what about your feelings for them!? Wherent those real!? Don't you still feel that way?" Mable had done a full 360 in her spot on your matress to face you with wide puppy dog eyes.

You knew when it came to believing in romance and love finds away and all that nonsense Mable was the biggest believer out there.

"I don't know what I feel for either of them right now, mable ... that's why it's so hard to talk to them right now..." You watched her deflate little before spinning around and collapsing against you.

"Fine! Let's talk about something less... mushy feeling!" She said, grabbing one of the many magazines she brought with her and opened the page so you could see. Eventually she'd fallen asleep and Dipper came looking for her.

You helped bring her up to their shared bedroom.

"Thanks for still talking to us?" Dipper said as you closed the door. "I would never turn my back on you, never Dipper." He smiled and gave you a quick nod. "Good night y/n."

"Goodnight, Dip."

As you ascended the stairs, you heard rustling. Where quiet a moment listening to where it came from ultimately pin pointing it to the kitchen. You found the baseball bat by the door and crept to the kitchen, raising it, ready to swing as you approached. But in the blue light of the fridge, you remembered.

you weren't the only ghost haunting the house lately.

"Oh! I, uh, I'm sorry I didn't mean to wake you!..." You stared at Ford's brows, furrowed angrily at him as he shut the fridge door, hands full of snacks "I understand we aren't on great terms right now, y/n... but the bat?" He asked, pointing to your weapon still raised high in the air.

You lowered it, leaning it against the wall and turning on the light. Ford stared at you in a way you couldn't place, like he was studying you. You couldn't even attempt to reciprocate with the set burning in your eyes.

"I'm sorry I was just leaving-" He said breaking the staring contest.

"This is your house." You mutter walking past him to the fridge.

"Our house." He corrected.

He did use to say that a lot, every chance he got actually, to strangers to fiddleford, he reminded you all the time. Use to.

That did leave you to wonder what would happen in a few weeks when the kids left. What would happen between you, the Pines brothers, and the house. Part of you assumed you'd leave. Part of you didn't want to.

You scanned the fridge, still feeling Fords presence in the room. You sighed, shutting the door.

Mable had a way of tugging at your heart strings. "Can't you just talk to them?"

Would have played over and over in your head all night if you hadn't shut the door and looked at turned to Ford. "Are you going to share that?" You asked, pointing to one of the containers in his hand.

You could visibly see him perk up.

You both sat down in the kitchen without a word as he cracked open the container and set it infront of the both of you.

You both took turns picking from it and eating in silence. Ford still staring at you like he'd never seen you before. In a way you supposed that was almost the case.

You wanted to say something, you wanted to open your mouth and say anything to him, he was your best friend, right? But every time you attempted it felt like you'd forgotten how to talk.

Ontop of that, what would you even say to him? Where would you start?

"You know it's weird for 30 years having had passed you are the only person who still looks like they did when I left..."

You blinked at him. There was slight relief he was starting. "I thought about you every day...about how mad you'd be when you brought me home...never this, though."

"So...what's changed in 30 years? Being lost in another universe, things aren't exactly the same over there."

He was easing you into it.

"Well..." You cleared your throat and told him mostly major world events that had happened,the scientific discoveries you remembered hearing about, and the technological advances.

You ended up talking like you used to. You even laughed. Ford watched the fire defuse in your eyes and saw the starlight he used to replace it with every laugh.

He'd changed. He was still your Ford...he was still Ford but different.

"I...Feel like I know you... but I don't...I don't know you anymore! It feels almost like we've never met." You admitted to him.

"And what's crazier is, too? I thought I DID know you... which makes this worse." Ford let your words sink in a moment. He understood what you meant.

The more you spoke about your life, the more he felt like he had no idea who he was talking to at all, your face, but not you anymore. Different likes and interests. Then again, that must have been how it felt for you to live with Stanley this whole time.

He cleared his throat and stood. You assumed he was leaving. Instead, he pulled out a piece of paper.

"Y/n...I have something I would like to say."

"You wrote me a speech?" You asked, looking up at him. "Well.. it's more of an apology... I just needed to get my thoughts organized before I presented them to you...then, of course, you've been hiding, but that doesn't matter now." He cleared his throat once again.

"I am sorry. Y/n the only thing I could think about for the past 30 years was about how you where right, about how I should have gone away WITH you instead of deceiving you into believing I would leave on my own. You were only trying to do what was best for me. You always have. Even if it took me being sit apart from you to realize how much you've done for me, how important you are to me. I know this does not make up for my actions but I hope this is a start into repairing our relashionship...friendship."

You smiled lightly and stood up, extending your hand. He grinned and took your hand, shaking it.

Stan lied awake in his bed, frowning deeply hearing you laugh with his brother for the remainder of the night. Sure, he messed up, but did the time you shared mean nothing?

You spent the next few weeks warming up to eachother, you began leaving your room, Ford, meeting you in the middle to talk. Luckily, you had plenty of stories to tell each other. And lots to talk about.

You noticed Dipper following Ford. You smiled at the sight of Dipper with Ford, they where a perfect duo. You felt like things were slipping back into place. You started talking to stan too. Not much, only greetings in passing or a quick conversation about the kids here and there.

The only thing different was Ford wasn't the only person you found yourself able to talk to.

"You're really just going to forgive him like that!?" Bill voice echoed around your mind. You shrugged in response.

You began a weekly meeting with Bill. You found he was of good use. He let you vent about stan and Ford, being an interdemensinal being means having lots of cool powers that let you blow off steam.

Tonight was just a normal of one of these "hangouts"

"He wrote a whole, sincere apology...he was my friend at one point, and i even -"

You could see Bill make a disappointed expression. "After all he put you through!? After never once showing you any feeling, you're really going to pull "I even had feelings for him once." Card? He was a different man back then."

You sighed.

"Listen, I say don't trust it, he's always down in that basment, right!? He's not once invited you back there to help him he's hiding something from you. "

"Oh, like you'd know you don't exist outside of my mind! You wouldn't know what it's like with him."

"Believe me, I know more than you know... but if that's how you really feel..." He extended his hand a blue flame engulfing it.

"Lend me your body for a few hours, and I can prove to you that Stanford Pines doesn't have your best interest."

"Why!?" You asked recoiling from him. "Why do you care so much about Ford not being trust worthy?"

"C'mon y/n! Have I ever steered you wrong!?" You chewed on your lip thinking about it.

You just wanted to be certain you could let him back into your life. You thought about it.

Just to be certain, you agreed with yourself and shook his hand.

Ford stared at the contents of a jar while once again crawling in his notebook, though he wasn't even noting the creator on the page.

Ford found himself once again filling pages with your likeness. He'd forgotten the hold you actually had on him until you began opening back up to him.

He would admit he missed the you that used to love all the science and engineering. But he was particularly fond of the version you'd grown into. He hadn't realized, but most of his time was spent in a daze over you. He also found himself wondering what exactly your relationship with Stanley was. He knew you two still wheren not talking to eachother so he never got to ask.

He also feared he might not like what he heard, especially if it's what he thought it was between you two. He could feel jealous rise up in his chest when he thought about it. Which was ridiculous, of course. He wasn't here. Of course, you'd move on. You never stated the nature of your relationship with him when he was here. But that didn't change anything.

"Fordsy!.."He sat up right in right in his chair, blinking in shock at the call of your voice.

"Y/n!?" He quickly scattered, hiding the artwork from you.

"Uhm what are..what are you doing down here?"

He watched you walk in with your hands folded behind your back despite how you danced on the edge of shadow he could see something different about you.

Not just like the other good differences he's noticed in you.

"I just came to see you fordsy... "

His face flushed at the way you had said that.

"I..i.." You laughed.

It was different from your normal laugh. Between the flush you were causing him and the human voice. He would have never picked up on why it still sounded familiar.

You stepped into the small circle of light, closing a lot of space between you and Ford, your head hung low, as if you were embarrassed. "I have something to tell you sixer."

"Ye..yes? You can tell me anything!"

"I've always been kinda in love with you!" Before he could say anything, you leaned forward, throwing your whole body weight onto him, pushing him back against his desk.

Engulfing him in the deepest kiss, you could muster.holding his face in your hands. You pulled away a wild grin spread across your face. As you forced him to look at you.

"Did you miss me sixer!? Admit it, you missed me!!" You said rolling your eyes playfully, still smashing his face in your hands.

Ford nearly choked when your eyes met his.

"Do you like my new body sixer!?I picked it just for you!"

~~~~~~~~~~☆~~~~~~~~

@muffin1304

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[pix-writes]

For the NSFW requests; what kinks do Stan and Ford have? 👀

👀 I've got you, anon 😉

18+ under cut, minors DNI

Stanford:

Edging - likes to experiment with it to see how far he can go, what are the limits of his patience? He's working out his self control like he's stretching out a muscle. And with you as well, how far can you stand to be teased? Knows it's worth it for the intensity of the orgasm(s) when he finally gives you what you both want. Likes the sense of control he gets from it too!

Biting - likes when you bite into him when you get close/overstimulated/want to keep quiet, makes his feral side come out, wants to mark you too as he nips and nibbles at your skin, all over. A darker, protective (*cough* possessive*cough*) part of him enjoys seeing the hickeys and marks he leaves on your skin. Ford has a lot of scars and other unwanted traces on his body (laser tattoo removal can only do so much), so he feels so loved when you leave marks on him.

Temperature/nipple play - warm wax (and ice) on his body gives a contrast of overstimulating sensations that feels nice to him, have no idea of how or when/if he finds this out though, perhaps it's a way for him to feel light pain in a good way? Likes when you pay attention to his nipples too as they're sensitive.

Clothed sex/dry humping - (kind of goes with the kink below) actually really turned on by dry humping, gets incredibly flustered even though neither of you have taken anything off yet.

Tights - idk why it just seems right to me. Ford loves how the fabric feels and how it smooths over your skin. Maybe he's always been attracted to how they look on people in the past, but it's not until you are grinding against him fully clothed that it really awakens! The silky feeling of your tights on his cock, the thin layer between him and your heat has him staining them with his pre cum.

Praise - will praise you a lot but he likes it back the other way, I hc Ford is a perfect switch, so whether he's taking the lead or not likes to know he's doing well, has been starved of affection for so long so praise helps him to know he's doing good.

Stanley:

Restraints - here's the thing, Stan's been put in cuffs enough times to hate it, but he's also quite adept at getting out of them (as long as it's a situation where he can of course), he figures that he wouldn't hate it as much if his pretty partner is the one to do it to him 😏 ya know? Though most of the time, it makes him feel a bit too helpless/claustrophobic, but he'll tie you up or put you in cuffs any time (he always has them nearby), gets him going because he gets to tease the hell out of you and you can't do anything about it! (I have a hunch that he's a teensy bit of a brat tamer) Spanking is another he likes too, in theory more than practice, because he may be game for a lot of things but doesn't want to hurt you, feels conflicted about it. Kind of loves it when you give him a firm slap to his behind, as long as he knows you're going to do it (he's hypervigilant), likes when you say nice things about his ass.

Primal play - doesn't know that it's called that but there's something in the playfulness of chasing each other around the house etc., that does it for him in a more serious way, likes to chase you more, though doesn't mind if he's the one on top or bottom, sometimes is nice when his partner is doing the work and he gets to lay back and enjoy the view.

Sir and begging- likes to be called sir (the fact that Alex said this on a stream is WILD, joking or not, and it's been burnt into my brain ever since!), never been really seen as a figure of respect and melts his brain a little to be treated reverently, likes when you beg it's basically praise for him for pleasuring you so well

Marking - likes to mark you but loves it even more if you leave some on him, he'll keep it there for others to see, he's a taken man now 🥴 - that's his expression after you've kissed him and left him with lipstick all over his face

Painted nails - doesn't have to be those fake nails really, he just likes to see them with some colour on them, thinks it's attractive, the way they look when you're placing your hands all over him and maybe scratching across his chest?

[bigfatbimbo]

honeymoon with stanley pines👀

a/n — Stanley Pines the man you are!

summary — SFW headcanons about the [gender neutral] reader on a honeymoon with Stan

──★ The photos from the zombie episode were chosen because things would escalate to stakes that high, even on a honeymoon.

──★ Well, maybe not that high, but I feel like things would go comically wrong.

──★ You run out of money, a bar fight starts, your taxi driver turns out to be robbing and bank and you’re involved in a car chase, you end up crashing another wedding, etc.

──★ The honeymoon is totally in Vegas, by the way.

──★ Stan tries so hard to make this a romantic trip for you, he’s honestly terrified of you leaving him.

──★ He’s hiring mariachi bands at restaurants you go to, and paying for your name to be written out in fireworks (they spelled it wrong but it’s the thought that counts.)

──★ And when anything goes wrong at all, he’s honestly really scared it’s gonna convince you to break it off with him.

──★ There’d have to be a lot of reassurance on your part that you are having a good time, and you love him.

“Look, I know i’m a lot to handle— And maybe this whole trip isn’t going as planned, and maybe—“

“Are you kidding? I’ve had a great time, Stan,” You smile genuinely.

He looked surprised, “No kidding?”

You laugh, “I always have a good time with you. I married you for a reason.”

──★ Imagine spoiling him as much as he spoils you.

──★ Like while he’s trying to write your name in fireworks, you’re on the black market trying to name a planet after him.

──★ Getting him breakfast in bed, and him being all surprised because like he didn’t ask you to do that.

“No shit, where am I? A hotel?” He’d jokes, faint blush rising.

“Motel,” You correct, “We couldn’t afford a hotel here. Hope this makes up for it!”

──★ I feel like the most romantic part of the honeymoon would be like the more insane parts.

──★ Like you two tied up in the back of a gangs hideout, and having to break free with a nail file.

[avcdgrdn]

── .✦ [ FIC ]: can i really stay here? [ part two ]

[ a continuation of part one ]

mullet stanley pines x innkeeper reader

tags: angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, sfw

word count: 1875

˙✧˖° ༘ ⋆｡˚

in any other circumstances, you wouldn’t even dare to imagine holding a man you had just met the same day.

but stan … was different.

when your eyes first locked with his from across the counter, you could tell that he was hurting, and badly. he was trying so hard to cover it up, and it worked for the most part — after all, up until now, nobody had cared about him enough to see through his facade.

but you saw straight through him. and not only that, you actually did something about it. you offered to care for his needs, at your own expense.

his father only ever saw him as an expense.

so, there you were, sitting at the bar, holding onto the maroon fabric of his jacket as he trembled like a leaf.

the scent of cigarette smoke and pine needles was strong in your nose as he buried his face into your shoulder. you could feel his stubble scratching against your skin.

there was a part of you that wanted to speak up and comfort him, but ultimately you decided against it. you didn’t quite know enough about him to be able to speak to his situation.

after a few minutes, stan seemed to be calming down. his breathing became even, although he was still clinging onto you tightly.

“i …”

his voice was cracked and raspy.

“i … screwed up. i don’t … know how i’m gonna fix it.”

your brow furrowed as you listened to him.

“y’know, stan … i don’t know what you’re going through. but can you do me one favor?”

“... yeah?”

“look at me.”

slowly, the brunet lifted his head, pulling himself back just enough to be able to look at you. his eyes were red and puffy, but his gaze was sincere.

you looked back at him, determined. “i’m gonna help you out.”

stan didn’t know how to react. he swallowed a lump in his throat, scanning your face as if to check whether you were lying to him or not.

“... you don’t … hafta do that. i brought it on myself—”

“i don’t care.”

his eyes widened.

“if i can keep somebody from a worse fate, then i’ll do it. let me give you a place to stay, even if it’s just for a little while.” you smiled warmly, squeezing his arm for emphasis. “you shouldn’t have to feel like your life means nothing.”

“… you’re an angel.”

those words made you blush. “i–i wouldn’t say that—”

uh-oh, he’s smirking now. chuckling lowly, he let go of you so that he could cross his arms over his chest.

“what, are you tryna tell me you’re not sent from heaven? think about it. you’re saving my biscuits here, toots.” there was serious gratitude in his tone, despite his teasing. at least he seemed to be in a better mood. “i think i’ll hafta call you that more often, yeah? angel.”

you laughed nervously, trying desperately to distract yourself from your red hot face. “really? h–how interesting …”

stan snickered again, gazing at you for a moment longer with fondness dancing in his brown eyes. then, glancing at the wall clock, he realized the time. “damn, it’s midnight. i should probably stop bothering you ‘nd get to bed, huh?”

“huh, it is late … i should sleep, too.”

“then it’s decided. i’ll see ya tomorrow.” he hummed, standing from his seat and stretching out his arms before cracking a soft smile and turning around to walk towards his room.

you were left to watch him leave, your eyes following his footsteps as he made his way back up the staircase.

approximately eight hours later, you awoke to the sunlight gently filtering through your bedside window, causing your eyelids to flutter open.

the events of last night came flooding back into your mind.

i guess i’ll be seeing a whole lot more of him …

sitting up in bed, you yawned, rubbing your face sleepily.

“mm … what time is it …”

the alarm clock on your nightstand read 8:02 am.

shoot, i overslept—oh, wait. it’s my day off.

that little fact was enough to put you in a good mood for the morning. humming happily to yourself, you began to get ready for the day, picking out a comfortable outfit and a few accessories.

descending two flights of stairs, you wandered into the lobby of your inn, greeting a few different patrons and employees with a cheerful wave. it was breakfast rush hour for the kitchen, and you could catch glimpses of your executive chef running to and fro behind the bar.

he seems pretty busy today. maybe i’ll grab a bite to eat somewhere? hmm, but the question is where …

just then, your train of thought was interrupted by the sound of someone calling out your name.

you whipped around to locate the voice’s source, and there was stan, walking towards you at a leisurely pace. a radiant grin broke out on your face.

“stan! hey, good morning! how’d you sleep?”

raising a brow, he chuckled at your energy. “well, good morning, sunshine. i slept like a baby, thanks t’ you.”

“ah, don’t mention it.” you smiled, placing your hands on your hips. “i’m just glad you could sleep.”

the two of you looked at each other for a second.

why did his stare make you feel butterflies in your chest?

probably unimportant ………… right? yeah.

clearing your throat, you averted your gaze before you started to blush again. “so, um … have you had anything to eat yet?”

“nah. i was just about to, though.” to be frank, he had totally forgotten that he had access to breakfast until you just mentioned it.

“sounds goo–”

you paused mid-sentence, remembering something.

“actually … i was planning on eating out for breakfast today. would you wanna join me? since the kitchen is bustling and all …”

oh, wow. did you really just ask him out to breakfast? it didn’t hit you until after you had said it out loud that it could be considered that way. oops. was that weird? were you weird? augh.

stan had half a mind to tease you senseless for how cute that was, but after thinking about it, he decided against it. he wouldn’t wanna ruin his chances at having breakfast with you.

“you kiddin’? i’d love that.” he nodded his head, flattered and amused. “not many people can say they’ve had breakfast with an angel, ya know.”

your ears turned red.

i walked right into that one. darn you and your smooth talking …

“oh, let’s just go already.” embarrassed, you grabbed his wrist, pulling him along towards the front door. stan laughed heartily, allowing himself to be led.

it wasn’t long before you arrived at one of your favorite diners in town, known for their homey atmosphere and good breakfast. walking into the building, you were met with the smell of eggs, bacon, and coffee. the two of you breathed it in simultaneously, sighing.

“reminds me of breakfast as a kid.” stanley mused, thinking of the days when he and ford would poke at each other’s food and giggle. you smiled, watching his expression.

“c’mon, this way.” you beckoned him over towards the table you usually sat at, and a familiar waitress walked over to you as you settled in.

“good morning, loyal patron~ i see you’ve brought a plus one today, yes?”

“uh—yes. don’t go jumping to conclusions, though …”

the waitress grinned innocently. “of course. now, what can i get for you two?”

stan wound up ordering pancakes with bacon and eggs, while you settled on some waffles and a mug of coffee. you could have sworn you saw that waitress giggling to her coworker about something as she went on her way, but you shook your head to yourself in an attempt to ignore it. instead, you directed your attention towards the man sitting across from you.

“so, i’m guessin’ you’re a regular here?” he tilted his head, leaning back against his seat. there was a smirk plastered onto his face that you couldn’t quite decipher.

“you would guess correctly.” you hummed, picking up the salt shaker on the table and fidgeting with it absentmindedly. “have you ever been?”

a rumbling sigh escaped his lips.

“nah … i’m not exactly from around here.”

your gaze was trained on him. so far, he’s kept a laid-back demeanor, not to mention that little smirk that drives you insane—but you couldn’t shake the feeling that there was way more depth to his character than he let on.

“yeah? where’re you from?”

“...”

there was a brief silence. his chocolate brown eyes, warmly lit by the sun, stared into your soul.

“i’m from new jersey.”

your eyebrows shot up. “from jersey? wow … you’re far from home, then.”

“it’s not home anymore.”

you opened your mouth to say something, but closed it again. stan was staring out the window, a frown creasing his face.

“i … sorry. sensitive topic?”

he turned back to you, a faint blush appearing on his face. “uh … well, yeah, i guess … it’s okay.”

“come again?”

“... it’s, uh—i–i’m okay, if it’s you.”

he was a darker shade of red now, scratching awkwardly at his stubble. he felt so … vulnerable. but somehow, he was okay with it.

at that moment, the waitress came back with plates of food. “order up!”

you watched as you were served, salivating as you saw golden waffles covered in butter and syrup smiling up at you. it didn’t take long for the both of you to start digging in.

“... wow.” after the first few bites, stan had stars in his eyes. “it tastes just like ma’s.”

“was your mom a good cook?”

he snorted. “well, she wasn’t exactly a michelin star chef, but she could make some damn good flapjacks. at least, i sure thought so.” putting another forkful of pancake into his mouth, he chewed thoughtfully. you simply propped your head on one hand, watching.

“i always told her she could sell ‘em for a fortune.”

his tone was soft with nostalgia.

“she just laughed. prob’ly cause i was five when i told her that.”

“they must’ve been really something, huh?”

“they were. all my life, i dreamt of selling somethin’ as good as that. i haven’t stopped trying, either.”

he scoffed.

“most of ‘em have been a bust.”

you hummed softly in understanding.

“you’re still trying, though. that’s worth more than any failed effort.”

he looked up from his plate. “... you think so?”

“sure i do.” lifting your mug, you took a sip of coffee. “perseverance is worth a lot.”

stan could barely handle your uplifting words. his heart was squeezing in his chest. covering his flustered face with one hand, he leaned against the table, grumbling.

“... an angel … God sent an angel.”

“what?”

“what? nothing.”

a few hours later, you were walking side by side back to the inn. stan couldn’t help but admire the way the fall breeze tousled your hair, and the gentle smile on his face was speaking his thoughts out loud.

he’d never known that somebody this beautiful could even exist.

maybe ...

maybe he hasn’t hit rock bottom quite yet.

end

author's note:

thank you for all the love on this fic !!! :D

part three ....????? any part three hopefuls out there?

i gotta keep cooking.

if you have any fic or headcanon requests, hit up my askbox! <3

tag list: @icouldntthinkofanythingclever @seahorrorz @blustalker @hay-needle @phanmai1002

[littlelambscandyland]

Bunker Down

Yan!Platonic Daddy Stanford x Fem!Reader, Side Yan!Platonic Uncle Stanley x Fem!Reader

Warnings- Forced Age Regression, Kidnapping, Use of Daddy (Non-Sexual Obviously), Accidental Self Injury, Time shit I don’t understand, Implied spell casting induced age regression, Reader is implied to be 20,  Ford has blue eyes cause I fucking said so, not matching to the canon ending

Your eyes burned from your sleep. The bones in your body sore and unmoving. You were content on letting yourself rest, allowing yourself some form of recuperating. Want and need were two different things, however, and you found yourself crawling from your covers. With Dipper and Mable leaving just a week ago things are still struggling to get back on track.

Something caught your eye, or rather your feet, when you left your bed. The floor was oddly soft. Now that you think about it, so was the bed. The bed that most certainly wasn’t yours in a room that also was definitely not yours. Your eyes still burn, but your curiosity burns harder.

You stand up with caution and exhaustion. The door was easy to spot among the slightly bright room. It reminded you of the room you saw taped in the back of the first journal, but that couldn’t be the same room. No, that room was your nursery. The room Ford built just for you after your sudden appearance in his life. It did look like it though. Different yet the same.

A part of this situation made you sad. The remembrance of loss and odd deja vu feeling of the room decor made you uneasy. Not the best way to start the day for sure.

Your hand clasped the golden handle and immediately turning it, or trying to. The door knob didn’t turn. The door barely even shuddered when you panicked and slammed yourself against it. It was a chilling realization when you figured out the door wasn’t actually wooden, just painted. You found out when the cold metal dislocated your arm from the pressure.

Your cries of pain stirred something up because a red light blinked above the door lit up and washed over you. Nothing happens. Nothing comes to stop you from angrily banging on the door.

It lasted a while. Sitting on your knees scratching at it with wavering hope. You were tired, but it felt like it’d been so long.

Finally the door opened. Frantically your father, Ford, entered the room. For an old man he moved quickly. All those years running must’ve made him tough if nothing else. He threw you in his arms and rushed you back over to the bed while muttering to himself. He sat with you looking over your damaged arm and hands.

“F-Ford…” You called out to him wearily.

You’d never called him your dad. Not since he’d come back. Not since being alone for so long. You couldn’t bring yourself to rely on him. You couldn’t be his daughter, not when he doesn’t even seem to feel that you are either.

“Dad.” He says searching a bag full of bandages.

You take it back, maybe he did think you were his kid.

“Wha- Just what’s happening?” Your voice rang through the quiet room.

Ford stopped searching and the scuffling noises ended. He didn’t answer. Instead, he works on your hands. Torn flesh wrapped delicately in the bandages. Did you really scratch that hard?

You look up impatiently. “Ford-”

“Dad.” Ford says, wrapping the bandage tighter than needed.

“Fine- Fucking- Dad. What is going on?” You asked anxiously.

“It’s-” He stops. “Hold on one second this is going to hurt.”

He wraps his hand around your wrist and then places his other on the crook between your arm and neck. Ford tightens his hold slightly and pushes hard on your arm. A gasp and a scream leave your mouth as he pops your arm back into its proper place. He pulls you closer into himself and pets your head.

“C’mon, sweetie, it’s okay.” He coos at you. “Shhh-shhh… Daddy’s here.”

As the pain faded he continued to work on wrapping your arm.

“You didn’t answer my question…” You drew out.

“It’s complicated to explain.” Your father answers, finishing your arm. “Overall…” He trails. “I’m just trying to keep you safe. I missed so much and, and so did you.”

“So… Your solution was a concealed box?” You ask.

You couldn’t quite wrap your mind around what he was trying to prove. Why were you locked in? If this was to keep you safe why not lock things out? Your curiosity showed on your face. The slight shake in your hands giving way to your fear.

“I didn’t think you’d wake up so early… Or try to tear the door down. You can’t go acting all crazy like that, kiddo. Why do you think you’re hurt?” Ford says concern lining his scarred face.

“That doesn’t- Why aren’t you answering my questions!?” Your panic voice breaks through.

“I know! I know. I’m just trying to save you…” He sighs and grabs your arms lightly. Ford frowns as you try to pull away. “I just want to have my baby girl back… I think we both deserve that. Don’t you a princess?” He asks hopefully.

It makes sense, a bit, why he’d do this. Bill had thrown you threw a portal at such a young age. This portal threw you years in time. You grew up alone in a completely different time. You made it to your teenage years without anyone. You did it! And you were so proud of yourself. Then again you missed out on being a kid. You missed your father. You missed everything, but, then again, so did he.

These thoughts didn’t shadow your panic. All this made sense, in a way. The man's mind was most likely fractured from all he’s suffered through the years. What you didn’t understand was the nicknames, or the room, or, now that you’ve noticed, the clothes.

His mind may be broken, but how old did he think you were? How old did he want you to be?

You sighed. “Ford…”

“Dad.” He cut you off quickly. A panicked laugh followed after. “I’m your father. I should be treated like your father.” His words rush out.

“Okay, I get it. But you still aren’t really explaining anything to me! Like the clothes, the room, fuck, the-the door? What exactly are you hoping to gain and what exactly is the plan here?” You integrate the man.

Ford lifts you into his arms with ease. Your tense body seemingly makes no difference to him. Your face to face with him, his broken frames shadow some of the intensity in his eyes. Blue eyes darkened by age and trauma. Your heart pounds dangerously hard against your ribs. Eyes wide and panicked matching his tired and manic orbs.

Ford rests his head against yours, but doesn’t close his eyes. His intense gaze frightens you and you close yours tightly to avoid his own.

His voice comes out thick and heavy. “I know… It seems radical. I know, you’re scared.” Your father says, moving away, cupping your face in his large hands. “I just want us to be happy again,” He whispers desperately. “Is it that bad to want to see my baby grow up?” His voice breaks. “I know, I know it seems odd right now, but you’ll get used to it! You can be daddy’s little girl again! Wouldn’t that be nice? No more worries just you, me, and occasionally your Uncle Stan.” He finishes with a smile filled with hope and delusion.

“I think,” You say, trying to pull away. “You need to take some time to- to calm down… Everything that’s happened and after all that occurred Dipper and Mable had to go home. I get it your- your stressed, but I really don’t think you’re thinking straight. Y- Y’know?” You plead to him.

Ford says nothing. His grip tightens every time you try to wriggle out. You’d never felt afraid of him until now. The lack of natural light, the decoration, the words from his lips, all have you in a state of fear you've never experienced before. Which was saying something because you’ve been through some stuff.

His eyes harden and he’s suddenly standing with you in his arms. Ford walks out of the room and up a set of stairs. Were- were you in the basement? Surprising you a bit when you made it to the door at the top of the stairs you weren’t met with the inside of the shack rather you found yourselves in the hall between the two mens’ rooms. Confusion crosses your face.

“We added a separate entrance so it’d be more safe. On top of that it’s more discrete.” Ford smiles pridefully.

You try to leave the older man's grip again, hoping maybe you could find some comfort in being a few steps away from him. This hope dies quickly when he simply switches you to his other hip. How the hell is his 70 year old ass able to hold you for so long? Your fear boils over to anger as you try to push yourself out of his arms.

“Ford! Ford put me down!” You shout pushing as much as he pulled.

He wrestled with you all the way to the living room. His grip was tight enough to carry you even while you tried to fight.

“That is enough young lady!” He shouts and plops you down onto… Another lap? “I’ve had enough of this little tantrum. Now you're going to sit there and be good for Stan while I get you breakfast. Am I understood?”

Your heart stopped. Not even when you were little did he yell at you. You were always his “little angel”. You never got in trouble. It was startling to hear him angry at you.

“Don’t think you answered your old man there sweetheart.” Stan chimed in.

Realization hit you for a moment. Your father threw you straight onto your uncle's lap… And your uncle seemed completely fine with what was going on… Are you going crazy?

“Why- I - uh - I…” You trailed on in a stuttering line.

“C’mon I know you’re young, but spit it out will ya.” Stan says with faux irritation.

“What- What is wrong with the two of you?!” You shout in frustration.

You try your best to scramble off of Stan's lap. A fight you lost very quickly when the old man crushed you into a bear hug. Through your pleas of “let me go” and “why are you doing this” you were cooed and hushed at. You found that your uncle seemed to find some sort of humor in your “tantrum”. He shouted jokes to Ford about how much more difficult you were being all because of a little change. How you were so pitiful it was cute.

Your movements came to a halt when you heard your father clearing his throat. Stan makes another joke about how you’re really in trouble now. Your eyes water quickly and your breathing becomes erratic. Before Ford could even scold you for you “bad behavior” you were having a full blown panic attack.

The whole thing happened in a blur. Warm arms and a faint glowing light. You felt so much smaller so quickly. It’s like the world changed course. You were so angry and now you felt so much more dependent.

“Please… Daddy, I don- I don’t understan…” You sniffle out onto his shoulder.

Your arms wrap around him as tightly as his wrap around you. Your head felt so much fuzzier.

“Told ya’ this would be faster poindexter, then again didn’t think ya had it in ya’.” Stan says proudly from his chair.

You peek over your daddy's shoulder… What’d he mean by that? Aside from the fogginess you felt fine. What’d they do?

“It’s just till she gets used to things…” Ford says while rubbing his hands over your back.

“Sure it is,” Stan says. “Anything to get your little angel back huh?”

Your father rests his head on yours. “I already have her, she just needed a little help.”

[atalana]

second thing from the book of bill i wanna overanalyse! ford's journal entry right before he sent that postcard to stan (written out for ease of reading)

CONS: 1) S is an overgrown child with none of my rigorous mental training. Who knows what could happen if Cipher stepped inside Stanley's mind for even one minute... 2) What if Stanley somehow manages to destroy the portal like he destroyed my perpetual motion machine? I suppose that machine did work in it's own way... It kept me perpetually angry for thirty years! [Coded message: Have I been too harsh all along?] 3) What if he tries to rope me into his latest get-rich-quick scheme? His latest commercial was for "Stan Sauce: The Miracle Sauce that's too cool for the FDA!" 4) What if... he mocks me? What if he sees that I abandoned our family to become a recluse on the brink of madness? Could I risk admitting that I was... wrong? PROS: I have no one else.

like okay, to take this point by point

1) i keep comparing this one with "you would have seen him for the scam artist he is" in the finale. it took ford that long to come around on the idea that stan actually does have areas where he's the smarter twin. the idea that stan could be better equipped than ford to handle bill is something that never occurred to him, ford was just focused on "only the most intelligent person could beat bill and i can't so what hope does stanley have??". which is exactly how bill suckered him in the first place

2) it took me a few rereads on this one to realise what it was ford was actually afraid of? like, yes, he wants to shut down the portal, he doesn't want bill to use it. but just like with his journals, he's terrified of the idea of the portal being destroyed. it doesn't matter that it was furthering bill's plans, or that leaving all of these things intact just increases the chance of them being used for harm in the future - that's his life's work! it's his ticket to being recognised by the whole world for how great he is!

ford you are full on "fairytale king can't let go of his fortune even when it dooms the world" here. you can blame other people all you like, but the reason you got sucked through the portal (starting the chain that would eventually cause the apocalypse), is that the portal was still fully functional. like! you could have stopped all of this by just taking the portal apart. but you would never be able to rebuild it, because it was a joint effort between you bill and mcgucket, and neither one of them will ever help you again. you got addicted to the idea of the glory you would get for this, and your self esteem is rapidly dwindling the more you realise how wrong you were, so as far as you're concerned, this is all you've got. and just like your dreams of going to that college, you're scared stan will take it away from you

2.5) the fact that "have i been too harsh all along" is the part in code. because even while you're considering it, you don't want to acknowledge it. of everything you wrote here, that's the part you're ashamed of, and so you're hiding it where no one could possibly read it.

3) this is just an excuse to rag on stanley and feel better about yourself. do not pretend for even a moment like this is a genuine worry. what could stan possibly do to rope you into a scheme that would be worse than the situation you've already cooked up for yourself? it's not like you have a problem saying no to him

4) there's the meat of the issue! the shame is back! it's been motivating you your entire life, it sure ain't stopping now you've got something to legitimately be ashamed of!

but this is also the most clearheaded and honest about the whole situation we've seen ford be. it really does feel like a tipping point where it could have gone one way or the other - if the portal hadn't split them up again for another thirty years, it's possible stan might have been able to get through to him here. it wouldn't have been easy, but there was a chance

and then god that last line hits so hard, i had to stop for a moment when reading and just let that one sit with me. like you have a whole page of reasons why you don't want to involve stan in this, and you could probably come up with several more if someone asked you to. but at the end of the day, none of those objections actually matter. you know they're superficial, compared to that massive glaring truth - you have dug a hole for yourself so deep there's no way to get out of it on your own, you've pushed away absolutely everyone who could try and help you, and there's only one person who's stubborn enough and loves you enough to come anyway

[multi-fandom-imagine]

𝚆𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚒𝚜 𝚊 𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚔𝚒𝚎 || Stanley Pines ll

Also called the seal people, the sea people or the mermaid – a selkie is a marine legend that tells of people who are half fish, and half-human. In the water, they are seals, but on land, they shed their skin and take on human form. And for some reason, they are irresistible to ordinary humans, who are apt to fall in love with the seal people

A/n: I am not happy with this

Stan couldn't help but roll his eyes as he tried to zone out on whatever Ford was blabbing about, docked in some small town in Ireland his brother received some tip that a creature was lingering here. One that Ford has never seen.

A Selkie

He really didn't care, as long as had an actual bed to sleep in he was happy.

....but did it have to be in some tiny ass town that wasn't even on the map, leaning into his hand an irritated sigh left his lips he didn't even notice you approach him.

"Top your beer off?"

Stan had to do a double take, he couldn't tare his gaze away. You looked like you stepped out of a painting. From that radiant smile, to how your eyes seemed to shine even in this dimly lit tavern.

Though the one thing he did notice was how you did not fit in here at all. Maybe it was you lacked the Irish accent or it could have been you looked nothing like the patrons you served. A scowl then formed on his lips.

'Idiot...you could be from anywhere...and decided to just move here.'

"Uh...sure..." Stan cleared out his throat, it was like all of his confidence was sucked from him. "Thanks."

"You're not from around here are you?" You teased leaning across the bar top.

Swallowing thickly, Stan let his eyes dart to your cleavage then quickly looked up as his cheeks flushed for a moment. "Uh.."

Humming, you smiled sitting up dusting off your apron. "You're cute."

It was strange, to be able to find a connection with a man after one that stole your hide. He was charming, he made you laugh. It was a strange feeling, while you longed to go home part of you longed to stay with him.

"So you're what...a Selki? My brother is lookin for one."

Tensing, you frowned letting your feet skim the waters. "Are you going to tell him about me?"

"Nah...I'm enjoying this too much....besides the longer he keep's searchin the longer I keep talkin to you." Stan gave you a smile as you glanced away for a moment your own smile tugging at your lips.

"Thank you Stanley." You muttered as you let your head rest against his shoulder.

Cheeks turning pink, Stan gave you a smile as he gave your side a squeeze. "Ah shucks, you don't gotta thank me dollface."

"You're getting awfully close to the barmaid." Ford glanced at his brother as he jotted something down in the new journal.

Tensing, Stan scowled as he stubbed out the cigar as he turned away from Ford. "Why don't you worry about that creature you're lookin for...I got shit do."

Shrugging on a black coat, he started to walk off the dock only to pause hearing his brother.

"We're leaving tomorrow Stanley so try not to get drunk."

'Tomorrow?' Stanley swore under his breath as he quickly rushed off into the night. He didn't think they'd be leaving so soon, not when he was just starting to fall for you. Sure it may have been a month but Ford usually stayed longer.

Shaking his head, he looked up at the house looming in front of him. He knew that bastards schedule by now and where you'd be. Cracking his neck he stepped towards the door.

"One last house Stanley...then you're done."

"Stanley! Stan!" Chest heaving, you rushed towards the man as he stood at the end of the dock, he was holding something behind his back as you did your best to catch your breath. "You're leaving...weren't you."

"I was gonna...I swear...I just had to give you something. Away from those guys." Stan cleared out his throat. "Here."

Eyes going wide, tears swelled as you clutched your coat to your chest. "How did you."

"A good con artist doesn't relieve his secrets" Stan gave you a wink.

Holding the cloak, you stood on your toes placing a kiss to the corner of his lips. Waking towards the dock you slipped the fur around your shoulders only to hesitate as you looked back at the man, your heart aching. You never meant to fall in love.

"Ah go ahead doll face....I'll be fine." Stan cleared out his throat as he watched you vanish in the water. A seal poking its head up for a moment only to dice back down.

"You alright Stanley?" Ford stepped up beside him as he looked at his brother.

Rubbing his eyes, Stan cleared out his throat nodding his head. "Ya I'm fine..let's get going."

Frowning, Ford tipped his head then sighed as he followed Stan. "Right."

Hours passed as Stan kept his gaze on the waters, hoping to at least get a glimpse of you though he couldn't help but snort at Ford's rambles on missing his chances on speaking with an actual Selki, he had half a mind to tell Ford he not only talked with one but also slept with one too.

But he couldn't...not when you meant so much to him.

"Uh Stanley?! Can you come here for a moment?"

Hearing his brother's panicked voice, Stan rolled his eyes as he walked towards the back of the ship only to see Ford pointing some gun at....was that a seal?!

"Whoa!? What the hell are you doin?" Jumping in front of the barking seal, he pushed the gun away as Ford let out a scoff.

"Do you-"

"Please tell him to put the gun down?" Your voice muttered as you peered out over Stan's shoulders glaring at Ford.

"You..."

Turning around, in where the seal once was stood a very naked you. A pout on your lips though Stan had to shake his head as he quickly shrugged his coat off wrapping it around your body. "What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be?"

Shaking your head, you gave him a smile placing your hand on his cheek. "I tried Stanley but it's lonely...I want to be with you...if you'll have me." You whispered as your head rested on his chest.

Holding you close, Stan kissed your head then smiled as he cupped your cheeks. "Doll face, if I ever say no just toss me over the side of the ship."

"While all of this is well and good...can someone explain to me why there is a naked woman on the ship?"

Glancing up at Stan, you then turned the attention to Ford. "I'm Y/n....and I am the Selki you've been looking for."

Grasping your hand, Ford gave you a smile only to give his brother a glare. "It's nice to formally meet you, we'll talk about this later Stan-...where are you going...I AM NOT SLEEPING ON THE DECK TONIGHT?! STANLEY?"

Your laughter followed by the sound of the door slamming shut was his only response.

[writingwithciara]

𝒾𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒽𝑒𝒶𝓉 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓃𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉 ~𝓁.𝒽𝓊𝑔𝒽𝑒𝓈~

summary: luke fucks up & forgets...again

word count: 955

pairing: luke hughes x reader

notes: this was kinda requested on my main blog but i put all my writing on this blog. whoever sent in the request, thank you ❤ i hope this was okay

can you write how you'd think luke would react to reader whike in a heated argument, like what would he do? woukd he argue back or just let you finish

masterlist

it was nearly 2 in the morning before y/n saw luke.

the devils had been out all night celebrating their huge stanley cup win and y/n decided she would celebrate with her best friend after.

she wasn't counting on him being out all night.

she had fallen asleep on the couch and was woken up when he came stumbling in the door. he wasn't even trying to be quiet.

and the worst part, he wasn't alone.

he had a tall blonde hanging off his arm and she was giggling at whatever he said in the hall outside.

luke didn't even acknowledge y/n as he and the mystery blonde made their way down the hall and into his room.

y/n grabbed her phone and texted jack.

bold=reader, italics=jack

hey are you awake?

yeah what's up?

can i come stay at your place for the night? luke just got home and he brought a girl don't feel like listening to them all night :(

yeah of course door's unlocked so just come in

y/n grabbed her phone & keys, making sure to be as quiet as possible as she closed the door and headed upstairs to jack's apartment. she walked in and went right to the couch, falling asleep almost instantly.

the next morning, luke woke up and eyed the blonde in his bed. her identity escaped his mind as he searched for some clothes to put on. his first thought was to apologize to y/n so he went searching for his roommate.

usually he would find her in the kitchen, cooking up something delicious for breakfast. it was what she always did the morning after he won a game.

but when she wasn't in the kitchen, he began to panic. he went to her room but found her bed was untouched from the night before.

where could she have gone? he thought. his mind began racing and his heart was beating faster.

but his thoughts were interrupted when the blonde from the previous night appeared in the hallway. she looked liked she was trying to sneak out.

"oh. didn't think i would run into you. thought i could make a quick getaway." she laughed awkwardly. "last night was...different. i never go home with a guy i just met."

"yeah. me either. i hardly ever bring anyone home." he looked at her. "last night was a mistake, right?"

"yeah. i'm so glad you brought it up. i didn't want to hurt your feelings."

"same." he smiled. "it was nice meeting you, i guess."

"yeah. you too, luke." she waved and as she was about to leave, y/n walked in.

"don't worry about me. just cam to get some clothes." y/n put her hands up and politely pushed passed the girl in the doorway. the blonde nodded at luke before taking off down the hallway.

luke followed y/n into her room and watched as she dug through her drawers.

"what are you doing?"

"i'm staying with jack tonight so you can have some alone time with whoever you decide to bring home tonight."

"did you stay at jack's last night?"

"yeah. didn't feel like being forced to listen to you and some random girl all night." y/n avoided eye contact as she moved passed luke. he spun around to face the direction she was heading.

"i'm really sorry about that. it's just the boys and i were at the bar and it just happened..."

"yeah, yeah. i know the story at this point, luke." she sighed and looked up at him. "is that all you're sorry about?"

"what else would i have to be sorry about?"

"unbelievable." y/n rolled her eyes and turned back towards the front door.

"okay, you should quit with the attitude. if there's something i need to be sorry for, then i apologize for it. whatever it is."

"the fact that you have no idea what you need to apologize for is insane."

"maybe you should just tell me then, y/n!" luke raised his voice. it was lined with frustration and y/n was having none of it.

"you know what, luke? fuck you. i'm tired of being put on the back burner all the time. you always forget about our plans and it's ridiculous. wanna know what makes it even more ridiculous?"

"no but i'm sure you're going to tell me anyway." luke crossed his arms and stared her down. she was not about to give in.

"it's even worse because you're at the front of my mind all the time. 24 fucking seven, luke! we make plans and i remember every bit of it, down to the last detail. you have no idea what it's like to be the last thought in the mind of someone who always comes first for you!"

the way she looked like she was bout to cry as she grabbed her bag and headed for the door made luke snap back to reality.

"oh shit. i was supposed to come home and celebrate with you last night, wasn't it?"

"ding, ding, ding! ladies and gentlemen, we have a winner." y/n remarked sarcastically.

"i am so so sorry, y/n." he looked at her and when she grabbed the doorknob, he knew that was it. he had forgotten about their plans many times before & she wasn't going to let him get away with it anymore. but he understood.

"i don't care how sorry you are for last night, luke. it's not the first time you forgot about me, but it will be the last. goodbye, luke."

with her bag hanging off her shoulder, she made her way out of the apartment and out of the building.

and as far as luke was concerned, out of his life for good.

taglist: @worldlxvlys @fearfam69691

[angstychilz]

Y'all, the idea of Shapeford has wormed its way into my head and fundamentally changed my brain chemistry at this point. I mean, hear me out real quick!

Okay, okay, strap in cause this is a bit of a longer tangent than I usually yap about. I promise I'll make it worth your while QwQ

Firstly, considering I imagine this happening on the first day of Weirdmageddon (or at the very least some time very early in it), imagine what lengths the Pines' family would need to go in order to actually beat Bill this time. They can't pull the ol' switcheroo with Standford in the shape he's in now. Literally! I've had ideas on what this could lead to, but I've been swirling it around indecisively for about the entire time I have been growing this concept. Gotta let that baby cook for a few more days I guess XD

Then there is the fact that Ford being no longer human is, by all accounts, far more of a freak than he could have ever imagined himself as. And, depending on how you think about it, it really is a self-fulfilling prophecy at this point. Hell, to drive the point home, he actually has five fingers for once (since I imagine Euclidean's naturally have 4 fingers so by all accounts Ford is still Polydactyly) but that's the least freakish thing about him by human standards. He eats out of the same whole that has his eyes, he speaks and yet has no mouth, and he is the farthest thing from anything mammalian with his physical makeup. Even worse than that, there isn't anything he can exactly do to reverse the damage at this point. He's just a shape now as his human body was obliterated beyond truly fixing. So he'll just have to live with this new form, or, ya know, go crazy trying to find a way to reverse it.

Furthermore, while I like to imagine he would try softening the blow by just telling Dipper and Mable how Bill simply turned him into a shape for entertainment, having to admit to Stanley that the real reason he can't simply be turned back is because he was by all accounts killed and reincarnated as something completely different has so much angst potential. Like, fr fr, just think of Stanley realizing Staneford actually died, and imagine the distrust and hurt he'd feel considering their rocky brotherly bond to begin with and knowing the only reason his brother is 'back' is because Bill basically went 'nuh-uh' and turned Standford into this thing. Imagine the possible guilt of never truly reconciling with said human brother before whatever he is now.

Gosh, I just realized, would Standford never be able to leave Gravity Falls then due to the barrier? Would his weirdness make it so that the whole 'going to sail the seas with your twin brother' dream Stanley had is just dead in the water?

Also, a part of me is just made so delightfully ill at imagining Standford having untapped potential power in this form but being unable to access it due to his own metal barrier of trying to be less freakish and more 'human'. Whatever that means to him by this point.

Does this make any sense? Am I actually cooking? Y'all please, I feel like I'm only one this invested in the idea of a Shape Standford Pines and it has me in a chokhold

Anyways, this New Normal AU has been on my mind, and I just needed to dig out some of the brain worms to release the pressure in my head. Thanks for listening to my Ted Talk, and maybe expect some more doodles and art down the line cause I haven't even finished the possibilities.