#mullete fluff

[avcdgrdn]

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

[ part one & part two ]

mullet stanley pines x innkeeper reader

tags: fluff, hurt/comfort, sfw

word count: 1765

˙✧˖° ༘ ⋆｡˚

he was so obviously staring at you.

it was a crisp fall morning, and a light sweat formed on your brow as you swept the floor by the front desk. you’d been at it for a while, and about halfway through, stan had meandered down the stairs and happened to see you. presently, he was casually leaning against the wall, and you could feel his eyes on your back.

there were moments where you’d turn your head in his direction, and he would jolt and quickly look the other way. you rolled your eyes amusedly, wondering what he could be thinking of.

after a moment of thought, you spoke up, your gaze still focused on the broom in your hands. “so, whatcha doin’, stan?”

there was nobody else in the lobby, so he didn’t really have a good excuse to pull out of his back pocket. he looked up, drumming his fingers against the wall. “uhhh … nothin’. what’s it to ya?”

“you know, you can come closer if you want to.” you shook your head, chuckling. the broad-built man sighed in defeat, pushing himself off of the wall and walking over to lean against the front desk instead.

as you continued to sweep, he pursed his lips, fidgeting with the edge of his t-shirt. “hey, uh. i been thinkin’.”

you gave him a glance over your shoulder. “yeah?”

one of his hands wandered up to his shaggy mullet, tugging absentmindedly at chocolate brown hairs. “well, i’ve been stayin’ with you for a few days now … and i really appreciate your help. i … i’m still tryin’ ta think of ways to make a buck, but … a–anyway, what’s i’m saying is—”

he stammered, blushing faintly as he averted his gaze. it was frustratingly difficult to be so open and honest.

“ … is–is there any way i could help you out? since i’m not payin’ at all …”

you straightened, turning to fully face him. his desire to settle his debt was endearing, but you knew in your heart that he really didn’t owe you anything. you wanted him to have someone to watch out for him, someone to care about him.

someone to … love him.

“i really appreciate it, but it’s okay.” you grinned, warm with compassion.

stan blinked, and he suddenly found that his heart was aching in his chest again. just as it had at the diner, as it had when he took that key from your hand …

his square jaw clenched shut as your genuine empathy pierced into him like daggers.

“please.”

he almost sounded desperate.

“i, uh. i just don’t like ta feel useless.”

after studying his expression for a moment, your smile softened.

“okay.” swiftly, you extended the broom towards him, raising your brows. “wanna finish sweeping in the lobby? i can start on the dusting.”

immediately, he lit up. “alright, angel. i’ll sweep this place so good, you’d never guess that anyone’s set foot in it.”

taking hold of the broomstick, the brunet got to work, happily gathering dust bunnies, crumbs, and random bits of trash that various customers had left behind. you rummaged around in the supply closet for the duster, pulling it out and starting to clean up different decorative objects and shelftops.

the soft music emanating from the record player served to create a peaceful atmosphere. occasionally, one or two patrons would pass through, but for the most part, it was quiet.

after you’d taken care of all the dusty surfaces in the room, you put the duster away, lighting a pumpkin spice scented candle and carefully placing it on a table in the center of the lobby.

“hmm ... wow, that’s nice.” stan hummed, clearly affected by the calming aroma.

“i know, right? i love having this scent in the fall–”

you stopped abruptly upon seeing the perfectly clean floors. it couldn’t have been more than fifteen minutes, and yet all of it was spotless.

“wow, stan, you made quick work of that! good job!”

stanley puffed out his chest, clearly smug and quite proud of himself, like a small child showing you a drawing they had worked hard on. “i told you. ain’t i helpful?”

“you’re a huge help, thank you.”

he hadn’t been praised like this in so long. he was practically glowing at this point.

“so, er … what else can i help ya with?” he stepped closer to you, hands on his hips.

you racked your brain in an attempt to think of what else needed to get done around the inn. “oh, i know. a shipment arrived for us earlier today, but they’re both heavy boxes that i can’t quite move on my own. would you w–”

“I’M ON IT! lead the way, sweetheart!”

“o–okay–” you led him around to the back to collect the packages, trying so hard not to let his pet names affect you. nonetheless, you were blushing like an idiot.

next thing you knew, you were watching him carry two heavy boxes with ease, one on each arm. he had rolled up his jacket sleeves, revealing his muscular forearms.

… it’s fall, right? it’s not supposed to be this hot in here.

“where to, toots?” he grunted, arching a brow.

“uh … the storage room. this way.” you were avoiding eye contact as much as possible. everything about this guy was attractive right now.

oh God, don’t let me die yet…

after the contents of the boxes were successfully unloaded and put away, the two of you sat at the kitchen bar, helping yourselves to the lunch that your chef had made. stan ate enthusiastically, probably in the best mood that you’d ever seen him in. why that was, exactly, you weren’t sure—you were too overwhelmed to figure it out. there was just something about the way he looked at you that was making you silently freak out.

i know that he’s been calling me names even since we first met. it seems like it’s just a thing that he does with everyone … but lately, they really don’t feel like just names.

i don’t know. am i going crazy? i might be. and yet …

chewing on a mouthful of rice, you snuck a sideways peek at the man beside you, admiring his chiseled jaw and dark brown hair. that is, until he caught you looking, and you nearly choked on your food.

“what? ‘s there somethin’ on my face?” he chuckled, his tone taunting.

“i, uh, i thought there might’ve been–but you’re fine. no worries.” bullcrap.

“hah, whatever you say.”

you continued to eat in silence. your fork was slipping in your hand.

just great. my palms are sweating.

this … hasn’t happened to you since high school. butterflies and blushing suddenly clouded your brain whenever he was close to you. how did it even start? he just walked into your life, and …

you were so lost in your thoughts, you didn’t process stan calling your name for the third time in a row. it wasn’t until he put his hand on your shoulder that you snapped out of it.

“gh– huh?” your face was redder than a cherry tomato.

“hey, you alright? yer actin’ all spacey.” he was evidently concerned this time. “how many fingers am i holdin’ up?”

“f–four.” you exhaled, rubbing your temples with one hand. “i’m fine, just lost in thought, is all. thanks, stan.” you offered a small smile as you fought the raging butterflies in your stomach.

stan nodded in understanding, gently taking his hand off your shoulder.

“okay, just lemme know if you need anything.”

with that, he took care of his plate, rinsing it off in the sink before making his way up to his room. your chef walked into the kitchen, shooting you a look as you handed him your half-full plate.

“sorry, i don’t think i can eat any more. i’m feeling … nauseous.”

it was around six o’clock in the evening now, and you sat up in your personal living room on the very top floor of the inn, falling deeper and deeper into your thoughts.

do i … really like him that much?

am i in love?

you tangled your fingers into your hair, hunching over slightly.

but … so quickly? i’ve only known him for a number of days. is that a thing that happens!?

what if he doesn’t like me back? what if he flirts with everyone? what if he thinks i’m weird for liking him? does he know i like him?

just then, you heard a knocking on your door.

oh.

heart thudding violently in your chest, you swallowed your anxiety, standing up from your sofa to find out who it could be. you turned the doorknob, letting it swing open.

the first thing you saw was a beautiful bouquet of red tulips.

your gaze trailed up to find stanley’s broad figure, dressed in slacks and a flattering button-up top. he had pulled his hair back into a ponytail, although a few stray hairs remained out of place.

his brown eyes met your own, and your breath hitched in your throat.

“hey. listen, uh … these are for you, first of all.” he handed the bouquet to you, which you mindlessly accepted, being unable to look away from his face.

“i … wanted t’ properly say thank you. lettin’ me stay here has helped me get my mind right ‘nd allowed me to think about the important things.”

he took a breath.

“and, well … i figured out that you’re real important to me. so. i–i was wonderin’ if you’d wanna grab dinner tonight?”

“… dinner?”

“y–yeah, like a date–”

your cheeks flushed a dark shade of red, matching the tulips you held in your arms.

stan tripped over his words, staring at the floor. “and i, uh—i understand if you’re not interested–”

“no! i mean, yes! yes, i’m–i’m very interested.” you rushed to answer him, not fully realizing that a gleeful smile had broken out onto your expression. “i just … wow …”

he laughed, beaming with joy as he realized that the answer was yes. “oh, damn, i didn’t actually expect to get this far…!” gently, he scooped you into a snug embrace, lifting you off of your feet slightly. “thank you, angel.”

“... anything for you.” you murmured in reply, hugging him back for a sweet moment before the two of you stepped apart. “let me just get ready, then.”

“sounds good, doll. i’ll be waitin’ downstairs.”

and just like that, the door was shut, and you were left to stare at the red tulips in your hands.

end

[ part four ]

author's note:

screaming into a pillow kicking my feet giggling

i wrote this one so fast somehow ??? i had a vision

if you wanna be added to the tag list for updates, lmk!

tag list: @icouldntthinkofanythingclever @seahorrorz @blustalker @hay-needle @phanmai1002 @samanthastarss @bumblingbriars @arya-eats-chips @bihexualandferal @hello-i-like-owls @blurryface505 @ryethebrokengae

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

saw @chez-cinnamon's absolutely BANGER butterfly!Howdy design and couldn't resist! two fluffy flutterbyes <3 solidarity

[ilovepapahet]

James Hetfield HeadCanons

1994 James has me in a chokehold guys, his hair looked so good like this oh gosh

this is peak Viking James Hetfield

————————————————————————

SFW

Very similar to 1991 since there not that far in year

but he has this different charm to him (I think it’s the hair) he’s infatuated with you and can’t get enough of you

he loves to kiss your face he’ll kiss your cheek, top of your head, nose, mouth (obv), your temples literally anywhere he can get

Same as the kissing he has his hands or arms around you at all times I feel like he’s just very affectionate in this era

continuing with the affectionate thing he loves cuddling with you on the couch in bed literally anywhere he can cuddle you he will

he loves bringing you places like on tour, the studio and hunting trips

he also loves showing you off not in a jerk way but in a loving way he’s so proud that your his girlfriend and he love to show everyone how much he loves you

he loves it when you plays with his hair (but I feel like he just likes it in general) it soothes him especially when he’s stressed about music

NSFW

another way you can destress him is giving him head he loves getting head

he’ll let out sound only your ears have the blessing to hear letting out gasps and moans and on rare occasions he’ll whimper

he loves fingering you watching you lose yourself on his fingers making your eyes roll than making you suck your own juices off his fingers

He’s very loving when he fucks you not like 91 when he’s rough with you making sure you feel him when you sit days after

he likes to take his time with you worshipping your body kissing up your thighs than your stomach, your tits than you face

he’ll slowly push his cock into you bitting his bottom lip to stop himself from moaning

and he’s praising you the whole time telling you how good your doing so good and how beautiful you are

he’ll make out with you while you both are cumming it’s his favourite thing to do

he loves the feeling of you moaning into his mouth giving him more pleasure when he dose cum deep inside you

————————————————————————

1994 is so fine guys I can’t I also apologize for not being active I’ve been busy

[localcanadiancreature62]

My Thoughts on Fiddlestan

Okay you people are literally all or nothing with these mfs,like it's either all gut wretching angst or all tooth rotting fluff. So i raise you,"what if it was both?" aka i made them have a good time but they also have Issues ✨. @misteria247 you might wanna see this one cuz i know you love Fiddlestan lol.

So first things first,their first meeting. They would meet soon after the portal incident when Fidds' sanity is slowly starting to slip from the first several usages of the memory gun and he ends up going to Ford's house after having a vague familiarity with the place as well as a desire to make amends with his friend while he still remembers him,only for him to see Stan at the door. A man wearing his best friend's face. Stan lets the guy in while still keeping the ruse of pretending to be his brother after he just faked his death,trying his hardest to pretend that he knows what Fidds is talking about regarding the portal and Ford's time in college.

A few weeks pass,and Fidds get the slight suspicion that he's not actually talking to Ford as "Ford" brushes off his science-y ramblings with "I don't understand" or "I'm too tired to hear about it maybe later",when he knew that the real Ford would know exactly what he's talking about regarding his ideas for modern computers or Schrodinger's cat as well as gladly ramble along with him even if it's 2am at the time instead of ignoring it. He also realizes that "Ford" surprisingly knows nothing about anomalies and either tries to shoo creatures away or just beats the hell out of them rather than studying them whenever they have an encounter with gnomes or something,plus the fact that he gets jumpy whenever an eye-bat appears. Fidds is still sane enough to notice these "tells" and so he confronts the man about it despite Stan already being nervous about not being able to keep up the act. Stan decides to come clean after the southern man literally backed him into a corner while interrogating him about who he is and where the real Stanford is,he explains the truth about Ford's disappearance and that he's trying to fix the portal while having no idea about how his brother's science mumbo jumbo works. Fidds' expression of anger and fear changes into guilt sympathy and even intrigue as he regrets trying to aggressively gouge the man for answers,when the grifter turned out to care about Ford all along instead of selfishly stealing his life for success. He wondered about Stan's relation to Ford and the man explains that he's Ford's twin brother and that they had a rough patch in their brotherly relationship which lead to this whole mess. Fidds then offers to help fix the portal since he's the one who co built it and Stan couldn't be more than happy,although with the condition of no more lies as that impersonation fiasco genuinely scared him which Stan agrees to. They didn't get along at first with Stan's stubborn personality and tendency to tease others at random while Fidds was just really tired and he wanted to get Ford back so that he can get out of this whole mess,but they managed.

Throughout the building of the portal,the two begin to bond regarding their history with Ford and how the man inadvertently screwed them over with his ego. Then talking about how they always felt inferior in comparison to everyone else (Stan with Ford,Fidds with his rough and tumble ranch family who roughhoused constantly while he was a scrawny nerd),discovering that they weren't so different as they thought. Stan ends up taking his partnership with Fiddleford more seriously as he soon realizes that they only have each other,while Fidds starts to humor Stan's teasing and occasional goofing off since he doesn't have anyone else to turn to with Emma may and Tate still refusing contact from him ever since the divorce (just so that Fidds wouldn't yknow. cheat on his wife). They soon become friends who often look out for each other with Stan trying to stop Fidds from overworking himself while Fidds teaches Stan about quantum physics as he tries really hard to understand despite being the "dumb" twin.

Fidds' use of the memory gun becomes less frequent as he didn't have a reason to blast himself with it anymore due to finally having someone that understands his troubles with Ford and the darn triangle feller,no longer feeling as though he had to forget everything as he had someone to talk to about all of this (i mean in canon he wouldn't never went insane if Ford fucking talked to him and explained why he's still going through with the portal with his desperate desire for approval). Stan sees his steadfast love and support be appreciated by someone besides his ungrateful brother,while Fidds sees his unwavering loyalty and handmade gifts be cherished by someone who cares rather than ignored by his egotistical friend.

The fact that the two found someone who cared even when they have their own troubles means a lot to them,this steadfast love and concern was what made Fidds and Stan slowly fall for each other. Stan finally found someone who appreciates him and sees him as worthy even with his many mistakes or occasional stupidity while Fidds finally found someone who won't waste his loyalty and kindness in favor of their own selfish wishes (*cough* Ford *cough*). They're finally happy,after dealing with so much pain. They had their happy ending,or did they? 😏.

While they WERE in a healthy and loving relationship,things weren't all sunshine and rainbows. Stan outright refuses to talk about his problems in fear of being a burden to his nerd plus the emotional walls he put up were too strong even when he tries to be open toward the southern man which always ends in him not wanting to talk about it,meanwhile Fidds opts to metaphorically run away from his issues by using the memory gun to forget every argument and misunderstanding he had with the drifter (which were mostly caused by the memory gun in the first place). Whenever they have a problem with something that the other does that isn't related to the portal,they don't set boundaries they don't talk about it they don't confront the other about it,they do NOTHING.

Fidds slowly starts to go insane again as he starts forgetting about Stan at times with his use of the memory gun whenever they have an argument which is a LOT of arguments as every couple doesn't always agree with each other,he lashes out and has a paranoia episode over either imagining Stan being a stranger that wants to hurt him or him being Ford that wants to take revenge on him for quitting the project which obviously upsets the drifter but he doesn't do anything about it as he cannot afford to lose the one thing he has left because of his dumb problems (little does he know,is that he's already doing it. he's already losing Fidds cuz of his issues). Stan on the other hand,starts treating Fiddleford with the same codependency that he gave Ford with him expecting the hillbilly to always be there for him and always put HIS interests at heart despite the man having his own wants and needs with his Mcgucket Labs project. Thus Fidds is being taken for granted again while Stan is confused and angry over why this hick is ignoring him and trying to abandon him like Ford did (Stanley your brother issues are showing).

It only gets worse in the moments culminating to Fidds' insanity,where Stan doesn't even know who his hillbilly partner anymore while Fidds is completely unaware of the torment he's putting Stan through with his erratic behavior and amnesiac ramblings. Stan was there for the tapes,he was behind the camera with every transition as the southern man told him it was a little experiment regarding the memory gun and he believed that at first only to soon realize that Fidds was literally frying his own brain with that gun after reading his notes about the electricity that erases the memories plus the side effects of prolonged use. By the time Fidds had that car crash,he quit the project again and stopped seeing Stan as he left the drifter alone to fix the portal by himself albeit with more knowledge of how it works due to the various quantum mechanics lessons the man drilled into him. He just needed to figure out the elaborate codes to actually activate it. Stan missed Fidds as he was guilty about their last interaction being an argument about the memory gun and even encountered him but with a new red robe while the man went on and on about some memory cult,but he knew that the man is too far gone for him to make amends with.

Stan then ended up using Fidds' Mcgucket Labs money to support himself but then he realized that it won't be enough as that business was just a start up gig that didn't had the chance to become successful due to the portal and the memory gun,so he had to come up with another way to survive all alone. Then he went to the Dusk 2 Dawn convenience store and saw that everyone was interested in Ford's weird mad scientist house,taking everyone there as he saw that people's interest in the freaky things in that house would make great revenue for him. The Mystery Shack (originally the Murder Hut) was born,and Stan had finally left his life of being a miserable grifter behind. However.. he still saw his Fiddleford rummage in the trash or make killer robots in the news sometimes. He yearns for what could've been yet he shakes his head as he knew what he had with the nerd was currently unsalvageable in his current insane state.

[roseworkshop]

the fiddlestan vampire and werewolf au low key needs it's own tag

I don't wanna see all this normal stuff I want them monsters

Am I a monster fucker??

[thicctails]

Hidden Saplings | Under The Falls AU

A lil ficlet of Stan discovering the twins after the death of their dad, Sherman Pines. Tw: Minor character death, unintentional child abandonment, vomiting

It was early September when Stanley got the letter.

He'd just gotten done helping Rico with some "friendly negotiations" and had pushed open the door of the run down motel he'd been staying at, intent on jumping into the shower and then passing out for however long his body allowed him to, when he noticed an envelope resting on the dingy carpet.

Ignoring the way his bruised knuckles ached, Stanley scooped the envelope up and squinted at it, trying to make out the writing in the dim evening light. His brows raised when he saw his mother's frilly, flowing handwriting printed on the face of the envelope, and he quickly produced a small knife from his pocket, slicing it open as he made his way over to his bed.

He hadn't spoken to his mother in... God, six, seven months? He always feared that it would be his father who picked up the phone, so although his gambles had paid off so far, he wasn't about to tempt fate. He wondered what was so important that she would go to the effort of writing to him.

Sliding the letter out, Stanley set the knife and envelope aside before rubbing the grit out of his eyes and glancing down at the paper.

"My dearest Stanley,

I'm not entirely sure how to write to you about this, but I know that I must somehow find the words.

Your father and I were visited by the police the other day. They told us that Sherman's home had been broken into by a violent criminal while he and his wife were sleeping."

"I don't know how to-

They're gone, Stanley. Someone found out our secret and murdered them. My little angel is gone because someone wanted to take his scales or have some kind of sick trophy. Thankfully, the magic is still working to trick everyone, so everyone believes that Shermie was just a Halloween enthusiast.

Words cannot describe how I'm feeling, and I'm so sorry that you have to find out this way.

I know you didn't get to know Sherman very well, since he came home so little, but I have a favor to ask of you. The funeral is being delayed while the investigation finishes, but the police are allowing us to visit the house to retrieve some personal items and photos. I'd like you to go to Sherman's house and pick out a few photos for the funeral and send them to me. I know it's far for you, but your father and I have to organize the funeral, and your brother hasn't been answering my calls.

I've put Shermie's address below. I'm so sorry, my little free spirit. I know you probably won't be able to come to the funeral. I know you want to, and that you loved your brother. I miss you, I love you, and again, I'm sorry I had to write to you about this.

-Ma"

Stanley dropped the letter, eyes still locked on the spot where it had been. It felt as though time had stopped, and he wasn't sure if he was going to throw up or pass out.

'Throwing up it is.' he thought numbly as nausea bubbled up in his gut. Stanley shot up and staggered into the bathroom, just barely managing to grip the seat of the toilet as his dinner came rushing back up his throat. Stomach acid and cheap liquor burned like fire as he heaved into the toilet, wincing and hacking.

The contents of the letter jostled around like a jar of shaken hornets, and forming a cohesive thought seem to be as difficult as keeping hold of sand. Once his stomach stopped rejecting everything, Stanley wiped ah his mouth and shakily pushed himself up. Turning, he reached for the shower taps and set them both to full strength. Shucking off his grimy clothes, Stanley all but threw himself into the water as his glamour slipped.

A long, powerful red tail bashed painfully against the filthy shower wall, his tailfin curling to accommodate the lack of space. His earfins lay flat against his head as Stanley slumped down, letting the lukewarm water spray onto him. His gills fluttered, relieved that he was finally allowing them to be out. Carding his claws through his greasy hair, Stanley let the shower water soothe his aching body as he tried to come to terms with what he'd just learned.

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Stanley hadn't expected to find himself standing outside his older brother's house in the early hours of the morning under these circumstances.

Well, to be honest, he hadn't ever pictured himself standing outside Sherman's house at all. The two of them had never been close, and Stanley had only ever seen him a few times throughout his life. Shermie had been in the war, and he'd come back different, more distant and reserved, but even before then he'd never been around much. He and Pa just... never seemed to get along. The last time Stanley had seen him was at at his wedding years ago.

'Well, at least it wasn't just me he didn't like.' Stanley thought, before taking a deep breath and turning the door handle.

Shermie's house was almost picturesque. It was a little townhouse, light yellow in color with white shutters and a matching white picket fence. A garden was growing well in the front yard, and Stanley could see a few little decorative animals sprinkled here and there. It was soft and cutesy; the exact kind of place where no one thought anything bad could ever happen.

Ironically, places like that often ended up being the backdrop of the most horrific crimes possible.

The interior of the house was pleasant enough to look at, but there was a strange air of wrongness that put Stanley on edge. There was something inherently chilling standing in a place that had once held life, and now lay empty.

Brushing off the feeling, Stanley made his way inside, kicking off his boots and setting off down the hall. He looked over the various pictures on the wall; all featuring Shermie and his wife, Sally. Stanley hardly knew her, but she'd seemed like a nice gal when he met her at her and Sherms' wedding, and his brother clearly adored her, what with how he'd looked at her that day like she hung all the stars in the sky.

Seeing their smiling faces laid out before him just made the knife of misery and grief twist deeper. They were a young, happy couple. His brother was a good man, and he'd gotten outta Glass Shard with someone who loved him.

Neither of them had deserved this.

Turning away, he noticed a flight of stairs. Figuring that was a good place to start searching for more photos, Stanley made his way upstairs, peering down the hallway that met him at the top. There were two rooms; a bathroom, decorated with all manor of sea creature paraphernalia, and a bedroom.

Stanley pushed open the bedroom door, stepping onto the room's plush, carpeted floor. The room was as charming as the rest of the house, painted a light cream colour and decorated with lavender purple curtains, a king sized bed with a comforter that matched the curtains, a wooden dresser, and a closet in the corner.

'Guess I'll check the dresser first.' Stanley thought to himself, walking over to it. It looked worn, likely purchased second hand, and sported three drawers. Pulling open the top one, he found a bunch of women's clothes and a few socks. Not wanting to mess with Sally's things, he shut the drawer and moved onto the next one.

This drawer looked like it belonged to Sherman. Stanley gently moved some of his brother's clothes around, but there was nothing else to find. Sighing, Stanley shut the drawer and crouched down to open the final one.

This drawer was far more bare than the other two. There were no clothes inside, only a few small, soft blankets and, perplexingly, baby toys.

Stanley stared at the contents of the dresser drawer, confused. He plucked one of the toys from the drawer, a blue teddy bear, and sniffed at it. He could pick up the mildly familiar scent of Sherman, the chemical-laden scent of vanilla perfume, and...

Stanley sniffed the toy again, not sure if he was really smelling what he thought he was, or if it was just his imagination.

The scent of milk hit his nose, sweet and rich.

Stanley froze, alarms bells suddenly screaming in his head. He stood up as fast as he could, ignoring the swooping rush of dizziness that washed over him, and began to scent the air, praying that his brother was just holding onto the toys for a friend or something.

Now that he was looking for it, however, the milk scent was everywhere. It permeated the air in the same way that Shermie and Sally's scents still did, fading but noticable. There had been a pup here.

Shermie didn't have a pup.

...did he?

Stanley ran a hand through his hair, pulling at it slightly. Sure, Shermie and Pa didn't get along at all, but surely, surely he would have let him know if he had a fucking kid, for Ma's sake at least. Right?

Right?

'You wouldn't.' a quiet, vicious little voice hissed, 'You wouldn't say a damn thing, because that would mean facing Pa again. Who's to say Shermie just didn't want to deal with him yet?'

But if that was true, if Stanley wasn't just finally going crazy from loneliness...

...then where was the pup?

Panic began to build in Stanley's chest. Sherman would have hidden his pup, just in case they had an unexpected visitor, but that meant that no one knew that they were even here. How long had they been alone? How long had they gone without food?

Stanley sniffed at the air once again, trying to track down where the scent was strongest. He prowled around the room and stopped by the closet door. He yanked it open and ripped all the clothes off their hangers, ducking his head inside. It was dark, but that wasn't a problem to Stanley, and after a few moments he spotted something out of place. There was a small dip in the wall, like there was a door or panel.

Stanley reached for it, and his fingers found a handle. He pulled, and the wall opened, revealing a hidden doorway. He waisted no time, stepping into the short hallway and poking his head into the room that waited at the end.

The room was a small nursery. It was painted a pleasant blue color, and the room was illuminated by the gentle glow of a night light. There was a modified baby pool on the ground, the bottom padded with soft foam. The water, likely once pristine, looked muddied with filth.

And in that pool were two tiny, mewling pups.

A pair of twins, shivering and shaking, barely able to open their eyes, curling around each other for comfort. They had curly brown hair, just a few shades lighter than Stanley's own, and were coated in the pale white spots that all young pups had. One had pink scales and purple-pink fins, while the other had blue scales and orangey-red fins.

Stanley's body moved before his mind did. He crossed the room in record time and scooped the pups up into his arms, shaking as he did so. They were so, so light and so tiny, barely weighing anything as he picked them up. The pups twitched at the sudden sensation, chirping and crying loudly when they realized that someone had finally come back to them. They looked pale and washed out, their scales faded and their little bodies far too thin. Stanley wasn't an expert on pups, but his instincts were screaming at him that this was bad.

'Shit.' Stanley blanched as he realized that he wasn't just "not an expert" on pups, he had no idea how to care for them, 'Shit shit shit SHIT.'

Okay, he couldn't afford to breakdown right now, not while he was holding two pups that were probably starving and definitely needed to be cleaned up.

"Fuck. Okay, food first, then a bath, then... God, I don't know." Stanley murmered to himself, quickly leaving the nursery and heading back out into the bedroom. The bright lighting and open layout of the room made Stanley's hackles raise, and he had to fight the urge to find somewhere dark and defensible to hide himself and the two squirming bodies in his arms away.

The pups needed to eat. He could suffer through his instincts going haywire for a bit. He had long since learned to take his fear and shove it wayyyy down deep within himself.

Oh so carefully, Stanley made his way back down stairs and made a beeline for the kitchen. Shifting the twins so that he was holding both pups in one arm, he set about rummaging through the cupboards in search of formula. That was something pups ate, right? He didn't think that they could chew fish or anything like that yet.

God he hoped Sally didn't breastfeed.

'Fucking score.' Stanley mentally cheered as he spotted a can of the coveted formula tucked in behind various cans. He snatched it up and peered at the instructions for a moment before setting to work.

He awkwardly washed his hands, tore up the kitchen looking for bottles, and put all of his focus into not fucking up making the actual bottles. Once they were ready, he warmed them up a bit under the tap, tested the milk temperature, and eased himself onto Sherman's couch as he gave the twins the formula.

The pups all but snatched the bottles from him, their screeching quieting down into hungry growls as they suckled. Now that he wasn't worried that they would drop dead in his arms from starvation, Stanley took a minute to gather himself and actually look at the pups.

They were definitely twins. If you ignored the color of their scales, they looked the same. Close as they were now, Stanley could tell that the blue scaled twin was a little boy, while the pink scaled one was a little girl. Both of them had pudgy pup fat, but there was far less than there should have been.

"Sweet Moses, you poor things." Stanley croaked, nuzzling the pups, "I'm so sorry. I'm probably the worst person you coulda ended up with. God, I hope I haven't screwed things up somehow."

As he pulled back, he noticed something on the boy's forehead. Stanley brushed his brown locs aside and sucked in a breath.

A perfect recreation of the Big Dipper was on the kid's forehead, a striking birthmark that set him apart from his twin.

An anomaly.

"Heh, I guess it isn't just twins that runs in the family." he laughed wetly, "Man, Sixer would love you, kid."

Holy shit, Ford. He needed to call Ford. His twin needed to be caught up on what had happened.

Stanley felt his stomach flip at the thought, and he blew out a long gust of air. He had tried calling his brother a few times over the years, but he'd always been too chicken shit to actually do it.

Now, though, he couldn't afford to hang up again. He was going to have to man up and actually talk to his brother.

"Fuck." he cursed, slamming his head back against the couch. "I really don't wanna do that."

A quiet sound made him raise his head again, and he saw that the pups had finished their bottles and were now gnawing on the rubber nipples. Stanley sighed and got to his feet, gently pulling the bottles away. He didn't want to talk to Ford, but he had to. His twin deserved to know what had happened, and these pups deserved a guardian that wasn't a total fuck up.

But first, he was going to give these kids a bath. Bath first, dealing with deep personal problems later.

[rubydracogirl]

WOW SO

I did not expect that drawing of Stanley to get notes. Thank you all so much for that, I keep rolling around in the likes and reblogs like a husky in fresh fallen snow.

Since I wrote a one-shot with Reader kissing Ford, I thought about it, and Stan needs a hug.

Why don't we give him one? ^_^

Stanley PinesXReader

Rated T for depictions of tobacco and adult conversations.

"Just A Hug"

It had been such a long day at work. You couldn’t wait to lock up and leave, though you dreaded walking in the snow. The bitter cold was waiting for you with wide arms, and as you clocked out and zipped up your coat, you regretted taking this shift.

Fuck it, I need the money….

To your surprise, when you stepped out, you noticed someone out in the parking lot. A lone car, with someone leaning against it, smoking. You squinted, recognizing the silhouette. It was that weird science guy from the woods. Stan something. He’d just come in for a pack of cigarettes, a loaf of bread and a carton of eggs an hour before the store closed. But that was over an hour ago…

What was he still doing here?

You weren’t normally nosy, but it was late, and you had some… neighborly concerns. You didn't know him well, he'd always been a bit of a hermit. He had been coming into town more often this past month, so you'd seen him a lot more. You liked him alright, he seemed harmless.

You shivered in your jacket.

Why was he sitting out here in the freezing cold?

Screw it.

“Hey there, buddy, y’doing alright?”

He seemed slightly startled by your voice as you began to walk over and he waved at you sheepishly.

“Fine, fine, just, uh, enjoyin’ the uh, night life.” His gravelly voice called back to you.

“Yeah, real wild hangout this is. You should see it in the summer, we get all sorts around here.” You chuckled. “Can I bum one off ya?”

He looked at you with surprise before reaching back into his pocket.

“Didn’t take ya for a smoker, toots.”

“On occasion. Much appreciated.” You replied, reaching into your own pocket for a lighter.

You lit up before taking a deep drag, ignoring the cold and focusing on the calming rush of nicotine. As you blew out a thin wisp of smoke into the air, you looked at him from the corner of your eye.

“So, you wanna tell me why you’re hanging out so late at night?”

He gave a hoarse chuckle.

“Didn’t think anyone would care. It's not illegal, right?”

“No. Not illegal… but weird.” You replied. The pale smoke drifted into the air, and you leaned against his car with him. 

“C’mon, buddy. You can talk to me.”

He looked at you with narrowed eyes.

“Sweetheart, I don’t even know your name. M'not gonna bare my soul to a stranger, even if you are cute.”

“I wear a name tag, y’know. You probably would’ve seen it if you weren’t so busy looking at my tits all the time.” you replied boldly.

He snorted sheepishly at that. “Sorry. I uh, thought I was being discreet about it.”

“You’re not exactly the type of person I would label 'discreet'.” You chuckled. “You’re also not the first guy to ogle…. It’s (y/n), by the way. You’re Stan, right?”

“Yeah…Stanford Pines.”

You hummed thoughtfully.

“There, we’re acquainted now, for better or worse.”

He chuckled.

“You’re awfully pushy, Miss (y/n). I don't know if I like that.”

“Hey now, I'm not pushy, just worried… no one just hangs out in an empty parking lot during awful weather, not even in this backwoods town.”

He grunted.

“I don’t really want to talk about it, no offense, toots.”

You nodded.

“That’s fair… can you at least promise that you’re not up to mischief here, Mr. Mysterious guy?”

He looked down at you, and you saw the barest hint of a smirk appear on his rugged face.

“Not the kind of mischief that you need to worry about, honey.”

You squinted, trying to read his emotions. It was impossible, though you could clearly see lines of care and some deep worry behind his tired, dark eyes. In that moment, with the cold night pressing in and his presence the only warmth around for miles, you felt your heart clench into a single desire. He didn't want to talk to you, that was fine… but you weren't going to leave him like this.

“Ok, Stan. I won’t bug you anymore… can I ask for a favor though?”

“Depends on the favor, but shoot."

“Can I hug you?”

He actually choked, coughing out smoke and turning from you as he tried to regain control.

You winced in sympathy, but as he turned back to you, his already reddened cheeks were even redder.

“You're serious? A hug?” He repeated incredulously, his voice raw from the coughing. 

You nodded, adding sternly, “Don’t get any bright ideas, wise guy. It’s only a hug.”

“Oh, no, I didn’t- that wasn’t…. Sure. Yeah. I could hug you.”

It was obvious you had caught him off guard, but as you put out your cigarette and opened your arms, you didn't expect how strong he was. He pulled you in against his body effortlessly. The heat from his body stole your breath and suddenly, you didn't feel so cold.

His bulky frame shielded you from the winter air, his arms enveloping you perfectly. Your heart skipped as you felt him sigh.

You squeezed him tightly, resting your head against his shoulder. He smelled like cigarettes, cheap cologne and some strange, musky smell, like burnt metal. It was a strangely comforting scent, and you thought you felt him turn his head towards you. 

"You're so small…" he murmured softly, his breath puffing against your hair.

"Naw, you're just big." You shot back, but didn't lean away or let go. In truth, you didn't want this moment to end...

Inevitably, he let go after a moment, awkwardly patting your back, his cheeks still rosy, though it could have been from the cold. You gave him a smile. 

"Hey, if nothing else works out for you, you can at least know that you're a good hugger, Stan Pines."

"... Thanks." He replied quietly. You suspected he wasn't just thanking you for the compliment.

It was getting close to midnight, and you decided you had been nosy long enough. You patted his shoulder, giving him a soft grin.

"I suppose I'll leave you to it. See ya around, Stanford."

He piped up, looking somewhat embarrassed.

"Wait, (y/n)… look, do you, uh, need a ride?"

You considered it.

"Hmm. You're not gonna kidnap me, right?"

"No! No... Not tonight, no." He chuckled.

You giggled.

"Not tonight huh? Too bad. But, well, sure, I could go for a ride. Thank you."

He grinned back, a spark of sincerity lighting up his dark eyes.

"Don't mention it. Let's get out of this crummy weather."

[spacesapphi]

if ur still doing drawing reqs... some sharvey doodles or samseb Perchance. pls pls pls i would love u forever /p

What if I told u I could do BOTH, quick lil pieces but 😁

[theghooligan]

rindou’s audacity should never be questioned. my nasty little meow meow.

[gravity-falls-fanatic89]

November's Naughty and Nice Stories

Day 11: Mr. Mystery/Part 1 of 2

Mullet Stan Pines x Reader

Part 1-Fluff with mild language

Part 2 will be spicy:18+/MINORS DNI!

"Did you hear that guy in the woods finally came out to talk to people last week? He's been renovating the place since he opened it awhile ago." Susan said, already jittery from the 5 cups of coffee she downed before noon.

You and Susan were working Saturday morning at Greasy's Diner, and you were half listening to the gossip, pretending like you didn't care, but she was piquing your curiosity with the guy that finally made a public debut in a more vocal manner. He was a recluse for a couple years, and was now coming out and about, advertising his newly rebranded Mystery Shack, previously The Murder Hut that he was renovating.

"I don't pay no mind to the guy, Sue. You know that. He seems cocky, and a chatterbox," you said. But that wasn't true. You were always checking him out, and knew his stories were hogwash, but he was pretty cute for a bullshitter.

You two gossiped back and forth before the dinner rush rolled in, and you tried avoiding talking about Stan "Mr. Mystery" Pines.

"Hey, it's him!" Susan elbowed you, almost knocking you over.

He walked in, his chest puffed out a bit, with a white shirt covered in sweat on, and black slacks. His hair was a mess, but he looked like he was whooped for the day. Susan handed you a menu, and nudged you on.

"I can't go talk to him right now.... I'm 'busy.'"

You rolled your eyes, and took the menu. "Yeah, sure you are."

And Stan sat down, and you followed behind, placing a menu at the booth for him. "Well, hey good looking, ya decide to take care of me today?"

You could feel your cheeks get slightly red with the smooth talk, and try to dismiss it. "Can I start you with a drink, Stan?"

He smirked. "I'll take a coffee if it's fresh. I appreciate it."

You grabbed the coffee, and handed it to him, and let him know the specials. Turkey dinner with all the trimmings was what he landed on, and you brought it out, and proceeded to walk away, standing by Susan.

"He's actually being pretty mild for him today," you said to her. "I'm actually a little shocked."

"I think he's a little wore out. He's been cleaning up his place for business, and seems to be alone....Even for Thanksgiving," and she gave me the side eye.

"Yeah, yeah," and you swatted her off. You wrote up his check, and prepared to cash him out, walking up to him.

"Any pumpkin pie at all to finish up?"

"Nah, I wanna make sure I leave ya a tip. I appreciate ya dealin' with me after I've been stinkin' to high heaven from workin' all day. Probably don't need it anyways."

And you actually felt a little bad, and went to the counter, grabbed a slice of pie, and handed it to him in a to go box with the check. He was pompous at times, but even he seemed alright tonight. He looked at you, a little surprised.

"You need your energy to get that place up and running. Good luck, and just think of this as an early Thanksgiving Day snack to keep you going."

He looked at the check, and looked at you. "I appreciate that. I'm sure this pie is gonna be sweet, but nothing compared to you. Keep the change."

And he walked up and left, his check folded with the money inside. There was enough for the bill, and $50, along with his number.

You ever want to stop by, give me a call so you can check out the Shack.

-Stan

And his number was below it, and you felt your stomach do a somersault. Maybe you might pay a visit to Mr. Mystery after all.....As soon as you could get Susan to calm the hell down after she saw you two.

[freaky-corner-of-the-crying]

a second point to the werewolf Stan and vampire fidd what if during sex Stan bit fidd and accidentally drank his blood so now he's a werepirewolf

[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

[ part three ]

author's note:

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

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

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

butterfly Howdy... he must be the prettiest girl at the party.... also so so tired

[4ttack-ur-heart]

Paperwork

Pairing: Jean x gn! Reader

Warnings: hinting of sex, slight groping but mainly fluff.

A lil similar to my Levi one.

“Jean, you almost ready for bed?” You asked as your knuckles wrapped against the door to his room, the door was slightly ajar so you peeked your head in. Jean said he would join you in your bed when he finished all his paperwork… those words were promised some time ago.

Jean sat at his desk by the window, ash-brown hair slightly ruffled from his head resting on his hand and a pen was gripped in the other.

Ever since Jean gained the title of Commanding Officer, a lot more responsibilities were set in his shoulders. Including mindless paperwork and reports. Technically, he could submit them as he saw fit, but the longer he waited, the more would pile up.

“Yeah, just give me a few more minutes. I’m almost done.” His sight not leaving the stack of papers below.

“Mm, you said that an hour ago.” You muttered closing the door and standing in front of his desk. “Worry about it tomorrow, please?”

His tired eyes met yours, honey meeting (e/c).

He was still adjusting to the new workload and it was noticeable through the dark circles under his eyes.

A heavy sigh escaped him. “Sweetheart, it’s getting late. I promise I’ll be there with you soon.”

Rolling your eyes at his weak attempt to get you to leave, you sat on the chair across from him. He looked up from his paperwork once again with a raised eyebrow.

“What are you doing?”

“Waiting for you to finish.”

“(Y/n), I don’t want to keep you waiting, I know you’re tired-”

“Then you better hurry.”

Smirking at your own quip, he chuckled lightly at your words. The two of you sat in silence after that.

The faint sounds of crickets chirping rang throughout the room and the candlelight’s flickered with time. Your posture was slouched against the chair and you rested your head on your hand. Settling down, your eyes drooped shut.

Jean flipped through the papers, agonizingly scribbling out his signature on a few and writing down small notes. His hand started to cramp a while ago and he huffed everytime he had to shake it out to chase the numbness away.

His eyes looked up to your figure on the chair, his hard expression softening at the sight of you trying to stay awake. Keyword: trying. Your head bounced up every few minutes as you startled yourself awake before slowly returning to its original position and the process repeating.

With a gentle toss of his pen, he stood up and walked around the desk to you.

Jean hovered above you and gripped under your arms, making you stir. “Jean, what-?”

“Just relax, hun. I’ll be done soon.”

He scooped your body up and you automatically folded your legs around his waist with your arms around his neck. One of his hands secured itself around your waist and the other rested around the curve of your ass.

“Ya know…” He slightly dragged out with a teasing smirk. “If we weren’t so tired, I’d suggest we do something more productive.”

You scoffed and buried your head in his shoulder. “Yeah, but we are. Besides, I thought you had paperwork to finish, you man-whore.”

Jean chuckled at your words. “Only for you, sweetheart.”

He gave your ass a firm squeeze, making you grumble against his frame. “How are you in the mood for sex right now? You’re only a giant teddy bear in my eyes.” Your voice was slightly muffled from the material of his shirt.

“Wow, you really know how to make a guy go crazy, huh?” Jean playfully rolled his eyes.

He returned back to his desk and sat down. Peeling your legs off of his waist, he positioned them over the arm of the chair so your body was basically laying down on him. Your head was buried in his uniform jacket, inhaling the cologne he wore.

Eventually, your body started to give into the sweet drowsiness and your eyes fell shut once more.

Jean picked up his pen and returned to filling out the stupid paperwork.

His head would drop every few minutes to plant a soft kiss against your head. His non dominant curled around your body and rested at your hip, thumb rubbing up and down.

After about 30 more minutes of dreadful paperwork, he decided to call it a night. Jean shuffled the papers together and placed them off to the side before settling his gaze to you.

Your eyes remained closed throughout the entirety. Breathing steady as Jean felt how loose your grip around his neck was. You were out.

Both his arms moved to secure under your figure, before Jean carefully stood up with you. He slightly bounced you to get a better grip and carefully placed you on his bed on the other side of the room. Jean worked to take your boots off, then your jacket and shirt, being mindful not to wake you. Grabbing an old shirt he knew you loved to steal, he slipped it on over your head and slid off your pants.

Once he was certain you would be comfortable enough for the night, he stripped himself down to his boxers.

He walked around the room and blew out the candles until only the faint glow of the moonlight peeking through the window was the only source of light.

Jean tucked you both under the blankets. His body curled up next to yours and he protectively draped an arm over your waist, pulling your body against his.

His lips dragged against your shoulder, placing sloppy kisses all the way to your neck. He could practically feel his tension of the day simmering away.

Jeans voice was murmured against your skin as he finally closed his eyes and allowed his body to relax for the night.

“I love you, baby.”

[sysig]

Shapes never felt so good (Patreon)

[the-march-hair]

Triumvirate naptime.