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cantgetworsethanthistbh · 24 days ago

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SOOOOOOO fem stan…. i see you too have strong feelings for her 👀👀 how about ford watching her get ready for a date?

alright here's the first of the ficlet ask prompts i FINALLY got around to writing and finishing. i think i went to far with this one but fuck it WE LOVE FEMSTAN HERE. Also THANK YOU for the ask😭😭

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Growing up means getting bigger. Getting bigger means the space that holds a person that occupies a plane shrinks smaller and smaller. One takes up more and more space until there’s hardly any left at all, so they simply take up more and more, and the four walled rooms shrink smaller and smaller. It doubles, triples, quadruples with people, grown or growing, and suddenly there’s too little room left to get big in.

Suddenly there’s none at all, and spider webs in the ceiling corner are too visible and the dust gathered on high shelves once out of reach are too close to the peripheral of the eye. The smudge of red going slightly out of line on Ma’s lips and the stubble already starting to root and grow on Pa’s face are so small and insignificant when Ford was smaller. Ford is bigger now, even more of an observer, and although those details are still small, the space between his noticing eyes and them have closed, making it impossible not to see. That’s how growth works, and until the walls of their home turn to rubble and ash, it’s occupied space. Occupied by four or five at a time.

Occupied spaces are suffocating— one must either leave or get used to the closeness. Ford swears he’ll be leaving.

“I don’t like this.”

“I don't think you like anything, Sixer.”

Ford frowns, crossing his legs stubbornly on Stan’s mattress in silent response. Parallel to him from across the room, Stan is shimmying to a whistle tone coming from her lips, a little sway in her hips and a little bounce in her step. A little swell in her smile makes a little cut in Ford’s chest throb ever so slightly more. Too many little things, too big of a picture. The picture being the worst possible scenario Ford has ever faced in his young life.

Standing in front of her dresser, wrapped in a damp towel, Stanley was getting ready for a date.

A date with Carlos-fucking-McCorkle.

“Stan…” Ford starts a little exasperated, trying to catch her attention, but not so much that she would turn around to look at him in all his not so glorious desperation. Just… enough to listen to reason.

“Fooooord…” Stan calls back mockingly, but she’s listening, which is all Ford could ask for. It’s his chance to make a solid, logical argument.

“You’re making a mistake.”

Which is a fact. Not one taken too lightly when he catches Stan rolling her eyes in the reflection of the mirror, however, but still very much a fact. It is a mistake, and if Ford is in his right mind, which he always is, then he’s doing the right thing, trying to talk his sister out of it.

Unfortunately, Stanley had just the habit of being on the opposite side of a right mind.

Carlos McCorkle is the most popular guy in their grade, especially among the gaggles of young women. With his “hot pants and smooth moves” (Stan’s descriptors, which Ford couldn’t roll his eyes enough to) he’s made a name for himself as a rival to many other teenage boys in their school and a goal to every girl to stand by his side as designated eye-candy and probably more.

In other words: Carlos was a womanizer. And that never bothered Ford. It never even crossed his mind for even a second before, just like Carlos himself.

Until now. Now that the prick’s new pickings is Ford’s twin sister. Now that it’s Stan.

It’s blood boiling, more than anything, to think that not even a month ago, the guy had barely glanced at Stan’s way, brushing her off as the freak’s twin sister. But one second swoop, and everything just changes, as if planned by the universe. And Ford hated that. It just wasn’t logical. It had to be a ploy, a well thought out plan by the universe to punish him.

There was a piece that would lead to one night, Stan would be standing in the line of a movie theater to ��Grandpa The Kid: The Movie”, and a scumbag would attempt to rob her. There were pieces that fell together when the boxing classes Stan had been taking for months for self defense in the one instance of good parenting their father has ever given her had honed her reflexes and strength enough to sock the man in the jaw. There was the giant, annoying piece of the fact that Carlos McCorkle was there and Ford wasn’t. Too caught up doing homework instead of spending time with his sister like he’d originally promised and he could have protected her because that’s what brothers do. Ford may be a wimp— he doesn’t know how much his presence would’ve actually helped. But he’d do whatever it takes to protect Stan. Swearing up and down so she didn’t have to do it herself.

But she did. And she was catching Carlos' eye all the while, as if she fucking proved herself for his sake that she’s good enough to be his new girlfriend.

That’s what Ford understood of it at least, when she came home giggly and red face from still pulsing adrenaline and blushing, gushing about him and their date when dread quickly but so very painfully crawled into Ford’s chest at the very idea he could have lost his sister right then and there and he wouldn’t have even known. Stan obviously wasn’t grasping the reality of the situation, leading to a big fight about that. They’ve made up, thankfully, but it hasn’t stopped Stan from mentioning Carlos’ name every other second of the day like a love sick dame.

“You know his reputation, Stan, even more than I do,” Ford points out, watching as Stan finally finishes combing through half dried hair into what Ford just assumes is an acceptable amount of fluff. His eyes follow her hand as she reaches into her underwear drawer.

Stan shrugs. “Eh, so what?”

“So what–?” Ford sputters, flabbergasted. “Stan–”

“I’m just sayin’, maybe Carlos dumped them for a good reason. It don’t have to be ‘cuz he’s just a huge jerk, ya’know?”

“Even you don’t believe that,” Ford groans, crossing his arms and curling up to the wall. Stan is never that generous with her opinions on people. She must really like him.

“If he is,” Stan starts again, a smile in her voice. “This time’s gonna be different. And he’ll totally ditch the whole fuckboy thing when he sees me tonight. He won’t get enough of me!”

Bitterly, Ford pipes up again. “Oh, I’m sure he won’t be able to resist you.”

Which is a mistake beyond mistakes. Looking over her bare shoulder, Stan finally looks back at Ford for just a fleeting moment to throw him a wink. “Can anyone?”

Ford feels his brain melt into their synapses. It’s what he gives as an excuse when instead of looking away, he watches Stan pull a lacy pair of panties over the length of her legs and disappear into the towel and somehow twist herself into a matching bra, which is so far a cry from her usual boxers and cheap bras combinations Ford has seen her slip into numerous times before.

Which is something he’s not particularly proud to admit, yet too desensitized to his own shame to really care anymore. He can’t make up his mind if he’s relieved or offended Stan has never noticed his ogling.

Because on the opposite end: Ford knows he observes Stan a little too much and a little too hard. He blames it on the close proximity of their childhood room, cluttered with pieces that make up the two of them forcing them together. He blames it on the gap between them narrowing even further from the slit-thin space it already was. He blames it on how growing up, his sixth finger alone already made him “too big” anywhere else, unwelcomed in any space outside of the one he shared with his tomboyish, equally outcast sister Stan who he dragged down just by being related to him and who she used her girly fists to fight battles for him and made it worse, so all they had was each other.

He doesn’t blame Stan though, even though that’s the logical conclusion when his eyes snap back in attention to when her towel drops and all the things he’s seen, memorized and fantasized over the years pulls him like a magnet. Big things like the roundness of her hips and large mass of her thighs that would fill out her denim shorts to the little details, like the dips of fat on the garter of her underwear and the scar on the back of her leg and a mole and pimples by her shoulder blade. Stan was never bothered changing in front of Ford, the barrier of Boy and Girl not mattering to her when it’s between siblings, but Ford very, very much was. He couldn’t help it, helpless to all the parts that make her so damn her.

Stan was just too noticeable, in the best way. That’s how Carlos got his eyes on her. Ford is again, stuck to seething, heat radiating under his skin for too many reasons, but biting his tongue and calming himself with the objective fact he’s currently the first to see Stan in her new garments. Of course the idea of another boy being able to is just…

Stan finally pulls on her shirt and laces up her “swinging shoes”. Finally facing and grinning at Ford with a new gleam in her eyes that made it so the one of the few identical aspects of them being fraternal twins almost unrecognizable to his own that Ford feels like smashing his glasses against his face.

“Don’t wait up for me, Sixer,” Stan says, blowing him a kiss that’s obviously just a joke but Ford internally catches it anyway, keeping it locked away in some deep vault in his mind because that's as good as he's ever going to get. She’s still humming when she exits the door, her brother’s warnings (and okay, several complaints about Carlos being a shallow prick who’s probably into tree huggers and Stan should dump him before it's too late) furthest from her mind.

Ford flops down onto Stan’s mattress. Like any twin bed, it’s cramped, and despite being a girl, she should know better than to hide her shorts under her pillow where perverted twin brothers might find it, but luckily Ford never bothers them. It’s empty. it's suffocatingly empty, even with Ford here.

He has got to get out. Ford’s got to leave.

send an ask with a prompt of your own if you want! i'll get to it eventually lmao

#ask #stancest #should i tag that #anyway #fem!stan #i love jealous ford #ask prompt #my writing

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