#they make you go 'wait! that's not fucking stanley/me!' the first time you look at them

[hellofastudysession]

i love the stanley figs so much

[a-scary-lack-of-common-sense]

More of Stanley's sketchbook because he makes me sick /pos

(Just imagine he was looking in a mirror at the subway to draw this anshfhwj. The london bus ticket is unrelated, it's just a random knick knack he had lying around<3)

People weren't the only ones Stan met on the streets.

------

+ this is an absolute fucking batshit WILD oneshot I initially wrote for these drawings that got WAY out of hand, if you feel like reading that.

The oneshot below is a stand-alone now, and in no way is related to the drawings above, but I just wanted to show you guys because Jesus Christ

------

Winter of 1981, at a subway station Stan doesn't remember the name of-

The sorry excuse of a transport system that this hellhole of a city called a functioning subway was hardly anyone's first choice of a warm place to stay the night. And yet, here Stanley was; standing like an idiot in the middle of a small bustling stairwell that led down to the full screeching chaos of a train stop on a Tuesday evening. A rowdy crowd of exhausted office workers streamed out like a tidal wave from the entrance of the station, the bustle of their footsteps all too eager to go home and relax after a long day of work.

The faint, stuffy stench of old piss and sweat followed the crowd to the surface from the deep depths of a less than sanitary and overcrowded train station. The pungent smell intermingled with the crisp stinging winter air in a cocktail of shitty city gloom often associated with this time of the year; when the holidays were too far away and the sun seemed to come and go with practically the same 9 to 5 schedule as the workers had, leaving them going to work in the pitch dark and coming back out in the inky black as well.

He might have looked like he belonged there, depending on how one would want to look at it. He stuck out like a sore thumb amongst the sea of prim, pressed suits and neart uniforms. His ratty old jacket and generally unwashed appearance certainly didn’t help his case, but he also knew that stations like these also tended to shelter quite a number of homeless wanderers like him, especially during the winter. So, it wasn't exactly uncommon to see other sore thumbs seeking reprieve from the biting cold and the dangerous likelihood of frostbite from within the enclosed walls of the subway station.

Heck, if most of these underground kingdoms didn't also happen to be a breeding ground for several illicit activities, he might even have followed their lead. But, believe it or not, Stanley's already had enough experience with illegal activities to last him a last time, and he isn't looking for a new fill. He was satisfied with what meager shelter his trusty car offered him, as little a difference it might make in terms of safety.

Stanley's obstruction of the already narrow stairs with his loitering went unappreciated, as shoulders roughly shoved past him and swinging briefcases repeatedly bumped into his sides, usually coupled with a nasty glare and a snide comment or two. He paid them no mind, however. He wasn't here to start a fight with some random bum with a dead end job, as much as he thought it would probably do them both some good to duke their stresses out on one another.

The hours ticked by with wave after wave of new crowds being dropped off by a train and left to pour out of the station into the streets. By the time the streetlights turned on and the pale pink in the sky slowly faded to make way for the stark glittery black of the night sky, the tide of people had slowed to a trickle and rush hour was long since over. He was now the stairs’ sole occupier, with a few occasional stragglers stumbling up the steps and hurrying past him without a second glance.

Stanley did not move from his spot, however. He stood resolutely in the middle of the stairway, fervently rubbing his arms and stamping his feet in a futile attempt to try and regain feeling in his extremities as he waited. Rocking on his heels, he titled his head backwards to let his eyes roam the constellations that carpeted the endless expanse of the sky stretched out above his head, almost losing himself in the scintillating canvas of stars.

It reminded him of old times; of the sparkling beach sand twinkling in the dim moonlight, and the soft sound of lilting waves hovering in the background as he lay back on the cold wooden deck of his ship and watched the stars dance.

He still remembered every name his brother had once recited to him time and time again as he pointed out each star and galaxy from the night sky.

Then, like clockwork, he was broken out of his reveries by a telltale meow coming from below. The sound was a familiar blanket that immediately melted away the tension that had begun to build in his chest as he practically sagged with relief.

His body moved almost automatically as he leaned down to detach the frail tabby cat that was attempting to literally fuse with his legs, purring up a storm and rubbing her head against his pants as though her life depended on it. The cat gave a soft chirrup of dissatisfaction at being manhandled, which Stanley absentmindedly replied with a chiding click of his tongue as he lifted her up his chest and gently tucked her into his jacket in a practiced motion.

She thankfully remained blissfully limp in his grasp as he shifted around some more so that she was nestled comfortably inside the dark pocket of warmth inside his ratty jacket. The tiny warm lump that rumbled contently against his front radiated with heat, and his fingers finally began to feel like actual fingers rather than useless stiff frigid lumps of meat and bone attached to his palms.

A pointed cough startled him from his clumsy wriggling to get the cat to settle down. An oddly familiar security guard stood at the entrance of the station at the bottom of the stairs, leveling Stanley an unimpressed look with the metal gate in his grip already halfway closed, ready to seal the subway for the night. He must have been a comical sight; caught awkwardly bent over while trying to get his newly acquired cat to stop kneading biscuits on his stomach, with said cat peeking out from the gap between his collars.

Stanley faintly recognized the guard. He was a much older man, with a shock of thinning white hair neatly tucked underneath a dark blue cap and a strange depth in his eyes that reminded Stanley of the sea; with countless unspoken truths lurking far beneath the surface, but no less grand and knowing of all that the universe had to offer, as though he had already lived a thousand lives before this one.

He had seen the man around before, at another station, doing the opposite of his job by ushering stray buskers and homeless stragglers from the streets and into the (relatively) safe walls of the subway, instead of doing what any other law-abiding security guard would do and kick them out into the elements. He wasn't sure what the older man was doing here, of all places, since all the previous stations he'd seen the man at had been several states over, practically on the other side of the country.

A brief spark of panic shot through his spine at the thought that this man could be following him, but he quickly discarded the ridiculous notion as soon as it entered his mind. He had never even seen him before, and hardly ever even interacted with him; there was no reason for there to be any sort of bad blood between them. Unless he happened to be related to one of Stanley's many, many enemies, then perhaps his fear was a little warranted.

However, the old guard made no move to attack or do anything other than stare judgmentally, almost expectantly. For the first time in a long time, Stanley felt like a child being caught doing something he wasn't supposed to do. He tried his best to keep his uncomfortable squirming to a minimum under the unrelenting gaze, stubbornly returning the man's gaze with his own wary glare. His cat’s muffled whining came from inside his jacket. The traitor, she was leaving him to deal with the old man on his own.

With an exasperated jerk of his head, the security guard gestured towards the inside of the station. For a moment, Stanley stared dumbly, uncomprehending of what the old man could possibly want from him. Rolling his eyes, this time the man gestured more insistently at the small gap that still remained between the metal gate and the entrance, his arm sweeping the air in a low arc as he dramatically urged Stanley inside. Suddenly, it clicked, and Stanley shook his head.

“I have a car,” he said plainly, his voice echoing loudly in the desolate silence of the winter night that surrounded the unlikely pair.

He wasn't sure why he was so nervous, it wasn't as though he was lying. He did have a car, his trusty Stanley-mobile was parked safely away in the corner of an unassuming alley that wasn't often frequented by anyone. There was no way he was reaching it tonight, though; it was practically on the other side of the city, much too far away for him to arrive at a reasonable time. His nightly excursions to meet his small friend unfortunately left him with no other choice than to leave his car behind, the hunk of metal far too unwieldy and noticeable to drive around openly on the streets. He never knew who could be watching, after all.

He had simply been hoping to find himself a dark corner to tuck himself into with his cat, just for the night, but it seemed as though the universe had other plans. Or rather, this strange old man had other plans.

Although, if Stanley thought about it, the subway wasn't such a bad suggestion. This was one of the safer stations in the city; and with the rich neighborhoods being so close by, no rogue criminal or dealers dared to come near this area unless they wanted to be slapped with a hefty fine or face a higher potential to be arrested. And of course, there was the obvious shelter from the unrelenting cold that now seemed to permeate his bones, even with the purring warmth that was nestled inside his jacket.

So, that was how he found himself hunkering down for the night inside a shabby old subway station, with a satisfied cat still rumbling away against his chest and a strange old security guard locking down the gates behind him. The man said nothing as he hooked his keys back onto his belt and gave a firm pat on Stanley's shoulders as he walked past him, pausing to scratch his cat behind her ears before moving away. His footsteps bounced off of the grimy tiled walls with an odd reverb as he turned a corner.

“You'll be safe in here,” the man said, voice sage and gravelly. The words had a weight to them, and seemed to hang in the air with such a presence it was as though the old man had never even left his side.

The subway was empty, quiet. It was such a stark contrast to the loud rowdiness of the rush hour crowd these halls once held. Stanley hadn't yet registered the utter silence of the station as he aimlessly made his way down the winding, deserted halls of the ancient station. He mindlessly walked past the aged and peeling advertising posters plastered on the walls, his nose becoming accustomed to the stinging stench of the subway. The quiet seemed to swallow the sound of his steps as he explored the branching paths and endless tunnels. They were almost kaleidoscopic, dizzying, nonsensical. There were doors where there shouldn't be, and deadends where it didn't make sense.

The silence only began to truly settle in his bones the more he walked. He suddenly wished that he would head the telltale footsteps of the old security guard again, just to hear another sign of life in this underground hellscape other than himself. The ghostly memories of screeching trains and bustling crowds haunted the halls; now, only nothingness reigned supreme. He glanced down at his small feline companion, who slumbered away against his chest, blissfully unaware of his jackrabbiting heartbeat threatening to burst out of his ribs. The silence seemed to permeate every inch of space and crush the air out of his lungs. He couldn't breathe.

Stanley’s steps grew faster, more frantic as the walls and ceilings seemed to close in on him. They grew smaller, tighter; squeezing, trapping. He hardly even registered his cat's complaints as she was jostled around in his grasp, breaking into a full out run. His breathing sounded loud, too loud, and the world was collapsing around him.

When he finally broke out into a large, open platform, he could finally breathe again. He had arrived at the tracks, the empty tunnel where the trains would pass an empty, gaping maw in the wall that seemed to swallow all light around it and beckon him closer. He felt his cat wriggle out from within his jacket and hop out with a displeasured yowl, scampering away and disappearing behind a corner much like the old man had. True silence pierced his ears and thrummed like a deafening pressure in his temples. He was alone.

Stanley was stuck in that subway station for years.

[gay-dorito-dust]

I saw the Dad! Stanley, could you make the Dad! Stanford one? Like how his reaction come back after 30 years saw Reader already become responsible adult

-🐈‍⬛

Ford kept a picture of you -his life’s greatest achievement- in his pocket at all times during his time in the multiverse, reminding him of who he had waiting for him back home when he felt as though he was at his limit.

Being a father was never on the docket but the moment you entered his life he dedicated himself to raising you as best as he could, even going so far as to do extensive amounts of research in preparation for any and every vital moment of your life.

You had became a pivotal part of his life and made everything he did even more important for he was doing it for you and the future you’d live in. He wanted you to grow up prepared for anything and everything life would throw at you, along with how to handle yourself for the inevitable day where he couldn’t be with you anymore. (He hates it as much as you did)

He commemorates everything you did and dedicated parts of his journals to you and your growth or things that you did that made him laugh. (You wore his coat once and Ford was fighting the demons within him known as cuteness aggression because of how it swamped your tiny form.)

An excerpt:

‘They look at me like I’m something and I’m worried that one day they’ll grow up and not view me as such when they see what I’ve done when they slept soundly in their crib, but all I do, I do for them.’

However this desire to watch you grow and be apart of your important developmental stages would be cut short when he fell into the portal when you were just 8 years old.

His last words before the portal closed entirely to Stanley were: ‘no! Y/n! I haven’t done everything I’ve wanted to do with them yet! Go trick or treating with them on Summerween! Go Fishing! Watch them grow up! Stanley, don’t leave them alone, they really hate being alone!’

And raise you Stanley did as he would try his hardest to keep your memory of Stanford alive and well, thinking it was the best he could do after accidentally taking his brother from you. He’d even make a whole album for when Ford comes back from the day he fell into the portal.

Stanley didn’t miss a single moment to capture you doing something adorable (dressed up as a paranormal detective for the summerween he took you out on) or similar to Ford himself (becoming curious about about the mystery of Gravity falls after an incident with a bunny demon and even making a series of journals yourself)

Stanley made sure to capture every little thing he could from you helping him run the shack, to you making your first friends, your little experiments on how much food Soos could stuff in his face without getting full. Which was fun until he always threw up.

You were so much like Ford it hurt Stanley to look at you sometimes because all he could see was his brother in you that he had to look away sometimes, and he knew that Ford would be so fucking proud of the person you grew up to be but also knew that he would hate himself for not being there for it all.

So when the day came when Ford finally retired home, his first words as he stepped out of the portal were; ‘where’s y/n?’

Dipper, Mabel, Soos and Stanley could only watch as you, a full grown adult of 38, stepped forward with tears in your eyes when meeting face to face with the man who raised you before his brother took over, reaching out to him whispering ‘dad?’

Ford was shocked to say the least when he looked over at this adult calling him dad, only for his brain to work fast and connect the dots as he pulls out the picture of you as a child from his coat pocket and made the connection that you and the smiling child in the picture he held close to his heart were one in the same.

You were now all grown up and he wasn’t there to see it happen with his own eyes, something that broke his heart into a million pieces knowing that he never got the chance to see it himself! The coat that hung off of your frame was his, he could clearly tell but it didn’t swamp your form like it use to, it suited you and the makeshift journal Ford saw you had clutched in your hand and knew you were his child in more ways then one.

You had his curiosity and his need to understand the unknown to great but sometimes dangerous depths, god he missed you so fucking much, his sweet child and his sweet child you’ll always will be in his eyes as he watched as you quickly walked towards him and hugged his frozen form tightly as you wept in his shoulder.

‘Dad.’ You said. ‘I’m all grown up.’

Ford chuckled weakly as he too found himself unable to keep the tears at bay, ‘I can see that sweetie pie,’ he said as he held you tightly against him. ‘I’m so sorry I wasn’t here to see it.’ He adds knowing that this will be one of his life regrets until the day he died, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t use this time to catch up with you and learn all about you all over again.

‘It’s okay.’ You reassured him, clinging onto him as though he’d disappeared again. ‘It’ll give me an excuse to talk your ear off about all my expeditions, my theories and my thoughts on everything that’s been going off here.’

‘They really are cut from the very same cloth as you.’ Stanley told Stanford as he watched you tuck Dipper and Mabel into bed that night. ‘They’re smart and even graduated from a prestigious college at the top of their class, they were even valedictorian just like you back in highschool, but they came back to gravity falls because they wanted to dedicated themselves to helping me in getting you back.’ He adds as Stanford looks at his twin with tears in his eyes.

‘And I wasn’t there to watch them walk across that stage…’ he mutters and Stanley pulls out a photo that he had taken during your graduation ceremony and gave it to Ford who could only smile weakly as he took you in. You had blossomed so much when he was away and it broke Ford even more when he realised that he knew little to nothing about you now.

‘I’m such a terrible father.’ He tells Stanley who grips him by the shoulders and looks him dead in the eye.

‘Hey! You are not a terrible father, they love you so much that they stay up late at night trying to decipher you work in hopes of finding a lead so that they could have their father back in their life. So don’t you dare say that about yourself when they’ve nothing but miss their father for the past 30 years!’ Stanley scolded him just as you walked into the hallway after bidding dipper and Mabel goodnight.

You heard them but decided not to speak up about it, after all today had been quite emotionally exhausting and all you wanted to do was sleep. ‘I’m going to bed, good night dad, good night uncle Stan.’

‘Hold it you.’ Stanley said as he walked over to you, pressing a kiss to your forehead, pulling away as he smiled at you. ‘Night pipsqueak.’ You smiled back before looking over at Ford, wanting to go to him and Stan could see the conflict in your eyes and pushed you towards his twin before retreating to his room.

‘So I was thinking that we could go monster hunting…you know like father and child. I’ve been trying to track down this dragon like creature that’s said to live on the highest mountain of gravity falls since its conception.’ You said awkwardly as Ford smiled at you and placed a hand on your shoulder.

‘I’d be glad too sweetheart, you don’t have to ask me to spend time with you because I’ll always want to spend time with my child.’ He replied and you couldn’t help but smile widely as you hugged him tightly again. Needless to say you and Ford made up for lost time in quick succession as you both ran away from being burnt alive by the massive dragon that was originally thought to be a myth.

[darlingdaisyfarm]

what once was | Stanford Pines x reader

tags: sfw, memory loss, established relationship

a/n: this one was hard to write, not gonna lie. i even cried. thank u anon for this wonderful idea! Ford has always been such a complex character to write, but I tried to show his love, pain and his determination.

thank you for reading, i hope this breaks you as much as it broke me to write :,,,,,)

Stanley version

you wake up to the familiar weight of his hand resting gently on your arm, it’s warm and it brings a sense of. . . some kind of safety. as if you’ve felt it before, but. . . at the same time no. no, you don’t know why it’s so comforting.

you blink, trying to focus, but your head hurts like you’ve been hit by a truck. you rub your temples, wondering why it feels like your brain’s been shredded into pieces that won’t stick together.

your vision is blurry at first, but your gaze shifts to the man beside you. dark circles under his worried eyes that still got some hope in them.

Ford hasn’t gotten more than an hour of sleep in weeks.

“hey. hey, sweetheart. you’re okay.”

you analyse his face, feeling a slight sense of panic inside. “wait, who— who are you?”

Ford’s face drops, not in shock, but in something far more painful. you’ve asked him this question before. you’ve asked it every single morning since the accident. and every morning, the answer is the same.

“it’s. . . it’s me, darling. Ford. your husband.”

your husband, he names himself. . . you wish you could make sense of the emotions in your chest right now, but you can’t, because you don’t understand, you can’t remember, nothing’s connecting. nothing makes sense and everything feels so wrong.

Ford cant stand the silence. “y-you don’t remember, do you?” please just tell him you do—

“no. . .”

his lips press together and he looks down, but he’s not mad, not angry. no, Ford’s never angry, not at you.

“i— i’m sorry,” you mumble with guilt in ur voice. “i really don’t remember, i’m sorry.”

Ford shakes his head, running a hand through his hair, trying to control the storm of emotions inside of him. he’s trying so damn hard to stay calm and not burst into tears right in front of you. “don’t— don’t apologize, it’s not your fault. none of this is your fault.”

you continue to look around, trying to find at least one thing in the room which could be familiar to you.

“w-we’ve been through this a thousand times, love,” Ford explains and looks away, focusing on the empty space in front of him. "i know this isn’t easy for you. for us. but i’m not going anywhere, we’ll figure this out. i’ll— i’ll fix it. i’ll find a way to bring your memories back. i promise."

“how long?” you ask. “how long have we been. . . married?” it’s so weird to even pronounce the last word.

“seven years, my love.”

***

Ford holds it together for you. he always does.

every morning, he wakes up before you. sits at the edge of the bed, rubs the sleep from his eyes and prepares to tell you who he is.

who you are.

he’s a scientist, logic is his shield and his weapon. he throws himself into his work, searching for something that could help.

he’s got sketches pinned to the walls, equations scattered across the desk. an entire board dedicated to explore how human’s psyche and mind works.

he's been up countless nights, fiddling with wires and strange gadgets, all while researching any possible way to bring you back to him. every book, every article, every experiment. even though he’s exhausted, theres still light in his eyes that never fades, a fire in him too. a stubborn determination to make things right, no matter what.

you catch him once, sitting at that desk with head in his hands, probably tired as fuck.

“hey. . .” you forgot his name again, damn.

Ford’s head snaps up immediately when he hears you because he hopes you came to tell him “honey, i remembered! i remembered we are married!”. you see the redness in his eyes, from tears or lack of sleep, youre not sure. he scrubs a hand across his face, trying to pull himself together.

Ford looks at you, waiting you to continue, waiting to hear these cherished magical words. but you stand here all silent and confused.

“you should be asleep, honey,” he finally tells you, realising you won’t continue.

“so should you,” you say softly, stepping closer.

when you reach out to touch his arm, he shudders.

“i can’t, i can’t lose you. not like this. i need to work.”

***

but there’s always another plan. the one he doesn’t tell you about.

Bill.

and Ford is not proud of it.

he knows it’s a dangerous path, one that’s led him to dark places he never wanted to go. but the temptation is too strong. the idea of reaching out, of making that deal to bring your memories back. . . if only for a moment, if only for a chance to see you smile at him like you once did. Ford has considered it, weighed the consequences, overthought it.

but each time, he’s pulled himself back. he can’t go down that road again. he won’t.

still, this idea stays in his mind. because every hour of research, every failed experiment, every sleepless night feeds that urge, a feeling that maybe the price will be worth it. just shake his hand and—

but he’s trying so hard to fight it because he can’t bring himself to make that choice, no matter how broken he feels inside. he won’t drag himself into that nightmare again, no matter how much his soul hurts, no matter how badly he wants to see you smile at him.

right now, he just wants to hold you, to keep you close. to be the one you turn to. he doesn’t need a deal with Bill. he needs you. he needs you to remember him the way he remembers you.

***

another morning.

you’re lying there, your head pressed softly against the pillow, still struggling to make sense of everything, who you are, who he is, what this is, you feel a mix of confusion and fear.

his hand is resting gently on yours, as always, his fingers caressing your skin with a tenderness that feels. . . familiar again, but so far away. he’s looking at you, waiting. just waiting. sitting beside you, thinking, trying to come up with more ideas.

you flip through a page of his journal and one of his drawings seems funny to you, you smile as you point at it, asking, “hey, Ford, so what is that thing?”

Ford.

he looks at you in shock. he doesn’t move, doesn’t speak as if the wrong word might shatter this fragile moment he’s been waiting so long to happen.

his heart pounds in his chest.

“Ford. . .?” you ask again, worried why he got so silent. unsure if you should’ve said anything at all.

again, you say it, his fucking name, and it shatters him. because it’s not just the name. it’s that you remembered it. that piece of him, the one he’s been clinging to with everything he’s got, has finally stuck in your mind.

his eyes shimmer for the first time in all these months. his gaze falls to your lips, memorising the shape of the sound you just made.

“did— did you— did you just say my name?”

you nod slowly, unsure if you’ve done something wrong.

but you did exactly what he’s been waiting for, praying for.

his hands grip at his face, trying to control the flood of tears that he can’t hold back any longer

“you— say it again. please. say it again.”

you’re confused at the urgency in his voice, but still do as he asks you. “Ford. your name is Ford.”

his name. his name. from your lips, it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever heard.

Ford’s hand comes up, trembling, to cup your cheek. he touches you like you’re something so delicate and the sight of him hurts. hurts because you don’t remember what it feels like to be in his arms, what it felt like when he used to kiss your forehead goodnight, when he used to make you laugh until you couldn’t breathe.

“oh god, my love—” he cant continue because he simply starts crying. Ford presses a hand over his mouth, as if he could stop it, but he can’t. he can’t. “you— you remembered. oh, darling, you—” he just shakes his head, unable to speak as he gasps for air between sobs.

you stare at him, all lost. “Ford, are you— are you okay?” no, he’s not, he’s damn not, because he spent every waking moment trying to fix what’s been broken, for you.

Ford smiles through his tears, not even bothering to wipe them away. “no— yes. i-i’m fine, i just—” another sob cuts him off and he laughs bitterly through it. “god, you don’t. . . you don’t know what this means. you don’t—”

it’s not the anger, not the frustration that has been building up for weeks. it’s relief. it’s all the grief he’s been carrying.

Ford leans forward, reaching out for your hands, but he hesitates, because he’s scared you might pull away. because too much emotions which Ford used to hide. but you don’t and he grips them tightly, clutching them, wide smile never leaving his face.

“it’s you,” he whispers. “it’s you. you’re still in there. i knew it. i knew it.”

his forehead drops to your knuckles, his glasses slipping, tears falling down. “i was so scared, my love,” he admits through sobs. “so scared i’d lost you forever. that i’d never hear you say my name again. that—”

he can’t finish the thought, can’t even say it aloud. it’s too much, too cruel.

“Ford, i—“

he looks up at you and his cheeks are streaked with tears, eyes red, swollen and wide with disbelief and love. so much love it hurts.

“you d-don’t have to remember everything,” he whispers, his voice trembling but so, so tender and soft. “you don’t. i’ll wait. i’ll wait as long as it takes. but this. . . this is enough for me. hearing you say my name, it’s enough, darling.”

you don’t know why, but his words make you want to cry, too.

you can’t find the words to comfort him. how do you comfort him when he’s the one who’s been holding it all together, for you, all this time?

“it’s okay. it’s okay, Ford.”

the words feel too small, but they’re all you can offer, as your hand brushes against his cheek.

and Ford, your lovely Ford, your husband, he melts into your touch, like an affectionate puppy. he doesn’t try to hide it. he doesn’t try to be strong.

“i’ve been trying so hard. . .” Ford remembers every sleepless night, every failure, every moment when he thought he might lose you forever.

he pulls you closer, burying his face in the crook of your neck, holding you. you hold him back, just as tight.

“thank you,” Ford whispers into your skin. “thank you for remembering me, darling, for remembering us.”

you don’t know how much you’ve given him, not yet. but you will understand it later, much later. when you’ll remember him again, completely, soon.

but for now, you just hug him back, feeling how his body shakes, how he clings to you and you promise him you’ll remember.

“I love you so much,” he murmurs, “i’ve always loved you, sweetheart. i just— just needed you to remember that.”

he’s not asking you to remember everything, to recall every detail, every moment. no. he just needs to know that you still remember him.

and you do.

you do.

[staticbleeding]

⛧°。 ⋆Waiting on the Stars⋆。 °⛧

+:｡.｡　teen Stanford Pines x gn reader　｡.｡:+

The second part!! I was not expecting so much love on my first post on this account! I am so happy y'all enjoyed the first part! Enjoy this <3 warnings : strong language, suggestive language, the usual teen shit pt.1 pt.2

1972 After the night at the pawn shop, Ford hasn't been able to stop thinking about you. It is starting to become painfully obvious. Especially to Ford's twin that has to hear all the midnight ramblings. Will he have to help his brother out, or will fate help Ford himself?

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Ford's POV

I wake up to Stan's snoring. Pushing my glasses onto my face, my feet touch the ground beneath me. I rub my eyes and start to regret not getting much sleep. Looking up at the clock on the bed side table, my heart drops. I'm gonna be late.

"Wake up Stanley. We are going to be late if we don't leave in like 30 minutes! I can't miss the first block", I say as I shake the sleeping man above me. His arm lays down off his bunk.

"Fuck off Sixer we can be a little bit late"

"Stanley it's not going to happen." I say as I stumble out of bed and pull my neatly folded clothes out of the dresser and begin pulling them on.

"Sorry you only get a chance to see your little lover in class man, but ain't no way I am getting up after you kept me awake all night". Stanley grumbles and rolls back over in his bed.

"Please Stanley.." I reluctantly beg my sleeping brother

With a loud groan Stanley jumps off the bed and starts putting on his clothes from the floor.

"Thank you". I sigh out and rush to the kitchen to make some sort of breakfast before we leave.

"Morning dears! You two slept in didn't you?" Ma cheerfully asks as her arms cradle the youngest of the Pines, Shermie.

"Yeah Ma," Stan runs out of our room yelling and leans down to plant kisses on our brother's small head, " Fordsy wouldn't let me get anymore. Couldn't miss out on seeing his little lover." His elbow pokes my side before grabbing his favorite snack.

"Stanford! You didn't tell me you have a little (girl/boyfriend/partner)! I am your mother!" Ma laughs out.

Looking down at my feet I stutter out, "Not exactly.."

"He's too.. s-scared to ask t-them out." Stan poorly attempts to mock me. A loud booming laugh comes out of his mouth.

"Quit it Stanley. I am sure your brother will get the courage soon. When can I meet them?" An overly excited Ma elbows me.

"We have to go Stan. Please. Ma, I haven't even really talked to them. I can't ask them out, let alone invite them over for dinner. Now we must leave." I say before kissing her on the cheek and grabbing Stan to pull out of the door. 

Wishing for a quiet ride to school was nothing but fantasy with Stan. I couldn't do more than just stare out the window and wish the long rant of his would end quickly.

"I don't see why you don't just go up and ask them out Ford. They seem like a nice enough person to not throw a drink in your face for asking them out. I take a couple of classes with them. Pretty smart cookie too." My twin's words fall out of his mouth as if he is some expert in relationships.

"I can handle my own relationship ventures Stanley. Thank you but I really don't think they like me back. Hell why would they? I can't even look at them without becoming a mess and stumbling on my words. For all I know, they have a guy already." My hands find my face.

"Ford, they don't have a guy. Please. They ask me about you all the time in class. I may not have a good thing with relationships, but look Sixer, they would be stupid to not like you back," His hand touches my shoulder and squeezes, "but if they don't then more chicks for us when we set sail on the Stan O' War eh??". My stomach tightens at the thought of (Y/N) asking him about me. What did they want to know? Oh God what did Stan tell them?

As the car comes to a stop, I jump out and thank Stanley for the talk. Rushing to class, I find (Y/N) sitting in their usual seat doodling in their note book. I smile and wipe my hands on my pants. Walking over to our partnered seats, I feel my heart race quicken when they look up and smile that smile at me. My face warms quickly. My hand waves at them.

"Thought for a second you weren't gonna show Ford. Started to get worried Stan's driving finally killed you." God there is that smile of theirs.

"Haha.. no no. He just wouldn't get up." I stutter out as my stomach tightens realizing that they just said they worried about me.

"Well I will remember to yell at him later for almost making you late". They laugh and we sit in a comfortable silence.

"So what do you have planned for this weekend?" I swear I see a light blush appear on their face.

"Me?! Oh um.. working probably. Stan hates working the shop on the weekends". I say while looking down at my hands.

"Oh well that sucks. I was gonna see if you wanted to maybe.." They are quickly interrupted by the teacher coming into class with a mumble of sorrys and excuses for being late.

Quickly they turn their focus back to the notebook. It's a little black notebook that has stars they are drawing on the cover. A blush coats their face.

Soon class ends and I watch as they hurry out. This time they turn around and smile at me. My heart skips. I find myself thinking of that one interaction the rest of the day. I walk out of the school and towards the bright red car parked out front. A smile plastered to my face. It fades seeing Stan outside the car holding a way too familiar notebook.

"Don't tell me you took their notebook Stanley! I get wanting to help me but that is insane!" I whisper scream out towards my brother.

"Don't get your panties in a twist Sixer. They left it in class today, but...here check the cover". He tosses the object towards me that I luckily catch. I open the cover and see their name and the words 'If lost call me!' with their number attached. A blush finds my face. Is this the chance I have been waiting for?

"Lets go man. You got a call to make". Stanley laughs and gets into the car.

The car ride home was filled with silence as I went over every possible outcome to this. They could think I was weird for using their number without permission, or ask why Stanley didn't call, or..

My thoughts are quickly stopped as Stan slams on the breaks and parks. I quietly get out of the car and go upstairs. I thank the stars that Stan is working the shop tonight.

I sit in the kitchen watching the phone as if it will grow legs and walk out. My palms sweat against the hard cardboard cover. Stanley walks in to the room whistling. He stares at me and sighs.

"Sixer...seriously? You still haven't called?" He leans across the counter and eyes the notebook.

"This is a really bad idea Stan. I can't do it. I will just hand it to them personally first thing Monday Morning" I sigh and start to stand up to leave. I freeze in my tracks hearing the rotary dial turn.

I whip around and see Stan putting in the numbers I have eyed now for hours.

"Stan wait! Don't you dare!" I run over and go to press the receiver before the call goes through. Too late. Stan laughs and hands me the phone. Walking away with a shit eating grin. I hear the voice I have imagined in my dreams countless times, the voice that causes my body to instantly react, oh God what am I going to say? Do I hang up? I feel like throwing up. My heartbeat I can hear in my ears.

"Hello?"

Too late

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Hahaha gotta love good ol' siblings!

[triptychcryptid]

What if there was a version of Ford that never really thought that Bill was wrong after he reveals his true intentions? Like Ford still follows him like a religious leader and builds the portal, but Fidds still leaves after being half sucked in. Ford thinks Fidds is just being overly dramatic and can't handle the truth of their reality needing a "Scrub." But he still needs someone to help him build this thing, so he calls for Stan. At the very least, Stan can carry heavy shit around for him and do manual labor.

Stan shows up, they fight about the portal, but they both get sucked in. The portal still breaks, but there's no one to bring them back (at least not immediately.)

Ford is ecstatic that he gets to meet his God, but Stan recognizes that they need to get out of there, grabs his brother and runs, Ford fighting him the whole time. He asks his brother what the fuck is going on, to which a delirious Ford gives him the basic rundown and tells him he needs to get to his Muse. He needs to be the conduit between dimensions and a better world.

Stan realizes how far gone his brother is, but thinks he can help bring him back. At first. What he realizes after visiting a few planets with this guy is that he's stuck with a brother with an impossible ego who won't recognize that he fucked up and how wrong this all is, and continuously uses Stanley for his own gains. At some point, he fucks Stan over SO completely and leaves him in the multiverse to go back to his Muse and try to fix the portal from their side. Stan then makes it his life goal to kill his brother, kill Bill, destroy the nightmare realm, and put an end to this madness.

He ends up meeting a couple of other Fords and helping them get parts they need for the Quantum Destabilizer. After it's finished, he steals it and goes to battle Bill/his Ford in the Nightmare Realm. Just as he's about to take his shot, the portal turns on. He and Ford both start to go for it at the same time, but he kicks Ford back and goes through. The portal powers down and Stan picks himself up to see Sherman standing a few feet away.

"Stanford?" Sherman asks as Stan gets up. Stan grimaces.

"Don't call me by that fucker's name. It's Stanley."

"STANLEY?! I thought you were dead!"

"No, I...wait, what are you doing here? WHY WAS THE PORTAL ACTIVATED?! HOW?!" He grips Sherman with a manic look in his eyes.

"15 years ago, Ford went missing. I tried calling him for about a week and he didn't answer, so I came here. I ran into his research assistant who told me about his lab and portal. He said he thought something may have happened to Ford. I'd been working at NASA for a year, and my wife, well girlfriend then, knew alot about this kindof thing, so we moved here and she helped me get the portal up. Let me tell you, even with Linda being an Aerospace Engineer and me a Research Astrophysicist, it was NOT fucking easy." Sherman waits for a response, but Stan is shell shocked.

"What the hell happened to you? And where's Ford?" Stan shakes his head.

"Whiskey. Now. I'll tell you everything after I finish the bottle."

[hughesluver43]

“𝐈𝐦 𝐬𝐨 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮“ (Quinn Hughes)

Warnings: oral sex (m receiving)

Summary: Quinn and the Canucks clinch a playoff off spot, and reader thinks he deserves a reward.

Word count: 817

————————————————————

I waited for Quinn outside of the arena by his car. The Canucks just won their last ‘game’ of the season, the next game they would play would be for the Stanley Cup playoffs.

I was looking down at my phone when I heard him call my name.

“Y/n” I heard him all out behind me

I immediately turned around and through my arms around him. This was his first time clinching the playoffs as captain. I was so happy and excited for him.

“Im so proud of you.” I say into his jacket, my head tucked into his neck.

“Thank you baby.” He says. I can hear the excitement in his voice.

I pulled back from our hug and both of my hands are on his cheeks, cupping his face.

I pull him to a long awaited kiss.

After a few seconds I pull back and rest my head against his. As we relish in the moment I can’t help but have a huge smile on my face, and so does Quinn.

After we pull apart we get in his car and head back to his apartment, the place Ive been staying at for most of the week.

Once we get back to his apartment we lay on the couch with a movie on in the background, cuddling in each others embrace.

“I love you, and I hope you know how proud I am of you.” I say looking up at him and into his eyes.

“Thank you, I appreciate you and I couldn’t have done it without your support.I hope you know that.” He responds, kissing my forehead.

I smile into his neck and move one of my legs to go on the other side of him, straddling him. As my head is in his neck I start kissing him under his ear, kissing his sweet spot. Both of his hands move to my waist and he pulls me closer so our bodies are flushed against each other.

I start kissing lower down his neck before I say

“I think you, captain, deserve a reward for how great you played tonight.” I whisper in his ear.

“Oh do you?” He says in my ear.

“Mhm” I mumble as I slowly slide down to sit between his legs. I play with the band of his sweatpants as he leans down and kisses me hard, and full of passion.

I rub his hard on through his sweatpants and I hear him groan. I tug at the band if his sweatpants, hinting at him to take them off.

He lifts his hips up so I can slide his pants and boxers down to his knees.

His rock hard cock springs free from it’s restraint inside his boxers. I smile up at him from my spot between his legs and grab his cock with one hand while the other rubs up and down his thighs.

I jerk him off with my hand and gently run my tongue along the slit of his tip. Quinn throughs his head back and groans. His hand comes down to pull all my hair into a make shift ponytail with his hand.

I wrap my whole mouth around his cock as he pulls my hair back. Once he does he throws his head back against the hard backing of the couch.

I feel Quinn push my head all the way down, till my nose is nuzzled against his pelvis. I gag a little then Quinn pulls my head back up and I take back over, running the bottom of my tongue down his cock, while make a vacuum with my mouth, sucking him.

“Fuck” I hear Quinn mumble

“Don't stop baby, i’m almost there.” He adds

I suck him harder, if I even can.

I bring my head all the way down so i’m gagging around him and I feel his muscles twitch under my arm that’s resting on his thigh. He’s close.

I keep my head down as far as I can but I guess Quinn doesn’t think it’s far enough down because he pushes my head down more, my nose is smushed all the way down into his pelvis as I feel him come down my throat.

Once he takes his hand off my head I come up and he cups my face and pulls me in for a kiss.

He pulls his pants and boxers up and pulls me onto his lap and wraps his arms around my waist.

“I love you.” I hear Quinn say into my neck, where his face is nuzzled.

“I love you too.” I say into his neck when my face is rested against.

We stay like that for the rest of the night, cuddling each other, with a movie playing in the background. We don't even move to the bed to sleep, we just stayed on the couch resting in each others arms.

————————————————————

With lots of love -Jazzy 🎀🧸

[halforresterluvsford]

I suppose this is a prompt since you asked for asks: Stancest and it’s their first time having sex, but it’s not teen Stancest it’s post show old men Stancest!

Yesss! I love Sea Grunks Stancest! Their first time with each other being after they’ve lived whole other lives is so enticing! The endless possibilities of both fluff and angst too! Thank you for the request!

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

“Poindexter-Stanford, wait, I need to adjust my back pillow.” Stan pushed back from Ford’s lips, a hand reaching back to push his orthopedic pillow back into place.

“Oh, yes. Sorry, Stanley. I should have asked-“ Ford sounded winded, his voice graveled, but no less concerned for his brother. He removes his lubed fingers from Stan’s pliant hole, his other hands softly rubbing Stan’s flank.

“Nah, don’t worry about it, Sixer, happens all the time. I should probably not use it, ‘cause uh-you know. It’ll probably get knocked out a’ place again when you start fucking me.” Stan wiggles his eyebrows with a smirk, laughing at Ford’s expression.

“Nonsense, Stanley! I want to ensure that after we-“

“Fuck?”

“Have sex, you’re still able to walk!” Ford crossed his arms, staring down firmly at his twin.

“Well, ain’t the point of sex to ensure that no one can walk afterwards?” Stan indignantly replied, an eyebrow raised

“Not because someone threw their back out or slipped a disc!” Ford threw his arms up in exasperation. “I want this to be pleasurable for both of us, Stanley, and I can’t have you bedridden because we weren’t careful enough-“

“Alright alright, Stanford! We’ll keep the back pillow! Now come ‘here!” Stan pulls Ford down, wanting to shove his tongue in his mouth a lick away all his unnecessary words. He wants to tangle their tongues together and-

“Ouch!” Their noses smushed against each other, their teeth clanging, and their glasses knocked into each other. Ford rips his off and, with all the carefulness he can muster, sets them on the bedside table. He does the same with Stan’s, rubbing his stinging lips. He looks down at Stan, who looks stunned. Now their night is ruined and they’ll never have sex. Maybe they’re doomed to never be intimate, fate disagreeing with their consanguineous relationship. He sees Stan open his mouth, probably to call this whole thing off.

Stan, surprisingly, burst out laughing. Big belly jostling laughs as he throws his head back. Ford feels his face heat up, embarrassment and irritation coloring him in their vibrant colors.

“What is so funny!?”

But Stan keeps laughing, and his laughter and exuberance got to Ford, causing him to crack a smile and a snort, laughing slightly as his twin full-on cackles against him, his larger stomach jostling Ford with every laugh. This causes Ford in turn to laugh even more, until they’re both just sitting on their bed, laughing in the nude.

“Seriously! Stanley, why are you laughing?” Ford asks, still slightly chuckling.

“Nothin! Heh, nothing! I’m serious, Stanford,” Stan brings Ford’s face down, knocking their foreheads together and nuzzling their noses together, “‘S just, I don’t know. I’m glad that we can still laugh about sex mishaps at our age. I’m glad it’s not just all serious, ya know? I like it-makes me feel comfortable. Even more comfortable with you.” Stan doesn’t know what got over him, his words cause his own face to feel on fire, a red matching his twins spreading across his face.

“Stanley…” came Ford’s soft reply before he starts peppering Stan’s face with kisses, coaxing small giggles from him, “Thank you for feeling comfortable with me. You have no idea how much that means to me.” He kisses Stan’s forehead.

“Yeah, yeah. Alright, enough snappiness, Sixer! It’s time for horniness! I’m still ready and rearin’ to go!” Stan spreads his legs, separated by Ford’s hips, even farther, a hand reaching down to tug on his still hard cock, “think ‘m still pretty stretched, just lube up and go for it!” He throws a smirk at Ford, who, having been four fingers deep in Stan’s ass just minutes ago, complies, dribbling cold lube on his own erection. He hooks one of Stan’s legs over his shoulder, pressing the other one down and out towards the side. He uses his free hand to position his cock, slowly sinking in his twin, angling his hips up to hit that special gland he had been playing with not too long ago.

“Ngh!” Ah. Found it. Ford moves slowly, gently rolling his hips into Stan’s clenching and hot hole. Aiming each thrust to hit his prostate.

“Ford! Ford-fuck! Right there! Ngh, please! A-ah, ke-ep going! Faster!” Stan demanded, needing his brother to fuck him harder and faster. They can do tender and loving later, but this is their first need and Stan needs it.

“Stanley! Shit-so good! You feel so good around me, you’re so good for me!” Ford feels Stan clench around him and hears what could be described as a mewl escape his throat. He could work with this. “Fuck, you sound so sweet, Stanley, and it’s all for me. I love your sounds, how sweetly you clench for me. How good you are for me.”

“F-Ford! Hah! Yes! Yes ss-sso good for you! Need you so bad all the time!” He reaches his own hand down, stroking his aching cock. His other hand grasping for Ford’s by his hand, grabbing and intertwining their fingers. His five bracketed by Ford’s six. His moans are almost punched out of him by the sheer force of Ford’s thrusts, a wet and audible “plap plap plap” echoing throughout their room between Stan’s moans. “Never stop, Ford! Please I-Mmmph!”

“Moses you look so pretty when you touch yourself for me, Stanley, such a good boy for me-Ah!” Stan clenched so hard at that pet name, Ford almost came, “You like that, Stanley? You like being good for me? You like it when I fuck you and call you my good boy? I need you to say it. Say. It. Stanley!” he punctuates those last words with harsh thrusts, aiming directly for Stan’s prostate. These pointed thrusts cause Stan to wail, his legs interlocking behind Ford’s back and his stroking hand speeding up. His balls feel so tight, he feels like he’s about to explode, but he needs Ford to tell him to cum. He doesn’t know why, but he knows he won’t be able to otherwise. Look at him, in his 60s and still learning new sex things about himself.

“I-I like it! I like being your good boy! I-oh fuck, Ford I’m so close! I love when you fuck my ass and call me your good boy! Please, please can-fuck ah-I cum!?” Ford didn’t expect Stan to ask permission, but he’s not going to argue against it. The thought of being able to deny Stanley to maximize both of their pleasure is an interesting thought, but he’ll have to table it for next time.

“Fuck yes, Stanley. Cum for me, stroke your pretty cock and cum for me like the good boy I know you are. Like my good boy!” Ford can barely move with how tight Stanley clenches down on him. He watches, barely able to thrust into Stan’s ass, as his twin cums all over his stomach and hand. He watches that prominent vein on the underside of his dick throb, his cock twitching with each pump. Ford’s thrusts prolong Stan’s ejaculation. And Ford isn’t far behind him, the stimulation of Stan’s warm insides clenching around him and the visual of his coming undone getting to him. He drops Stan’s hand and steadies both hands on the bed, focusing all his energy on chasing his own orgam, grunting as he pounds into his brother, drinking in the soft and overstimulated moans being breathed into his ears.

“Stanley!” Ford says with a strangled cry, dropping his head down into Stan’s neck, thrusting once, twice more before he buries himself as deep as he could inside him brothers warm hole, feeling Stan’s slowly softening cock on his abdomen as he finishes inside his twin. He feels like electricity is shooting down every nerve he has, his breathes coming in short bursts. It takes a few moments before he comes back to himself. He pulls his face out of Stan’s neck, looking at his brother closely to make sure he wasn’t too rough, but it looks like he’s also in the middle of catching his breath and coming down from his high.

Stan startles a bit as he feels six familiar fingers caress his face, turning his head to face his twin. Soft kisses are speckled across his face, soft reassurances that he can’t make out are murmured in his ear. He slowly comes down and back to his senses, feeling Ford’s arm wrapped around and holding him, his other hand rubbing his face and brushing his hair behind his ear. He looks so soft. Stan can’t resist leaning in closer and pressing a soft and deep kiss against his lips.

“Hey,” Ford whispered softly, “welcome back. Are you alright?”

“I’m better than alright. You okay, Sixer? It wasn’t too much was it?” Stan worried, hoping it felt just as good for him as it did for Stan. That he was getting off from Stan’s old and fat body. He knows Ford said he loves Stan’s body but what if-

“It was great, Stanley. Better than anything I’ve ever felt before. You were wonderful.” He grabs and pulls their blanket over them when he sees Stan shiver. The temperature is much cooler on their naked skin without the heat rushing around and between their bodies. “Don’t doubt yourself, I’ve told you this before. You couldn’t be less than perfect for me. How could you? You’re my brother, my twin, my other half. We were formed for each other.”

Man, if that didn’t want to make Stan cry. But he’s a man, an old one at that, and he doesn’t cry from a few sappy words that mean way more than an “I love you” to him. He just buried his head in the hair on Ford’s chest and squeezes his eyes tightly closed, breathing in Ford’s musk. He doesn’t think he can manage words right now. Just hugging Ford close is all he can do. He doesn’t think Ford minds if the arms squeezing tightly around him and kisses pressed to his hair are of any indication.

Between the soft rocking of the ship on the ocean and his brother’s breathing, Stan finds himself drifting off, surrounded by Ford’s heat and sent. And he couldn’t ask for more.

Ford finds himself thinking similarly; thinking that this was his Perfect World. Being with Stan, loving and being loved by him, holding him closely like this, sleeping with him wrapped soundly and securely in his arms was always his dream, deep down. This was Stanford’s perfect world.

[skeletboi]

Part 17 of the Intridmensional AU!

This one starts right at the end of the last part, so I'd suggest reading the last few lines of part 16 before diving in here!

First /// Previous /// Next

________________________________________

“Would you believe I told ol’ Fordsie here to keep his idiot brother away from his project after what happened last time, yet here you are! HAH!”

“Ford…?” Stan asked, taking a step back.

“Sixer isn't home right now! Please leave a message after the beep! BEEEEEEPPPP!” Ford said before breaking out into laughter.

“Stanford… what in tarnation…” Fiddleford asked.

Stan grabbed Fiddleford's arm and took a step back.

“Didn't I just say he wasn't home?!” Ford said, tilting his head and smiling painfully wide.

“I don't think that's Ford…” Stan said, dragging Fiddleford back another step.

“DING DING! The idiot gets one point! I figured you'd be the one to catch on first, Fiddlesticks! How disappointing! You'd think you'd be better at recognizing the man you left your wife and kid for! Hilarious! How are they, by the way?! Or did you forget them?!”

“What- Stanford…” Fiddleford said, his voice barely a whisper.

“Fidds, something is seriously wrong, that is not my brother!” Stan said.

“‘Fidds?’ Damn, lesser twin, that's cold! Ruin your brother's life then steal his ex boyfriend, too?! Hah! No wonder he hates you!”

“What are you?!” Fiddleford asked, his voice shaking.

“Haven't figured it out, specs?! Hah! I thought you were supposed to be smart! What would Fordsy ever see in you?! You noticed his ‘sleepwalking’ and ‘weird behavior’, but even when I'm right in front of you you still can't put it together!”

“You're the one who came up with the portal idea.” Fiddleford said slowly, dread sitting heavy in his stomach, freezing him in place even as not-Stanford stepped closer to him.

“DING DING! Another winner! The name's Bill! It's a displeasure to finally meet you! You humans are so stupid! Once Fordsy finishes that portal your world will be mine! And another thing-”

Stan didn't wait to hear the rest. He grabbed a wrench from a nearby work table and swung, watching in horror as Ford crumpled to the ground.

“That was still Ford.” Fiddleford said, looking seconds away from passing out.

“What else was I supposed to do?! Let him keep sayin’ nonsense?! I mean-fuck! What the hell have you two been doing?! What is this portal you keep mentioning?!”

“It's a transuniversal metavortex.” Fiddleford said quietly. “A gateway into another dimension.”

“Why in the sci-fi hell would you want to build that?!” Stan asked.

“Because! He asked me to!” Fiddleford suddenly yelled, making Stan jump.

“I thought he forgot about me, Stanley.” Fiddleford said, quieter now. “I couldn't say no ta him after he called. I reckon lookin’ back now, I shoulda said no, but he was so excited-”

“Fidds!” Stan said, drawing Fiddleford from his quiet rambling. “Blaming yourself isn't going to do anything. All three of us have made some fucked up mistakes! Right now we need to find out what the hell that thing using my brother as a puppet is before he tries to turn on that sci-fi death triangle over there!”

“Triangle.” Fiddleford mumbled.

“Yes, a triangle. Glad you caught that part.” Stan deadpanned.

“I hafta dismantle the portal.” Fiddleford said, looking across the room at the machine. “Stan! We gotta stop this! We have to stop that demon!” Fiddleford grabbed Stan's arm and dragged him towards the portal.

“Missing leg, Fidds!” Stan said, trying to keep his balance on the dirt floor as Fiddleford pulled him.

“Right, sorry Stanley. I jus’ need yer help, There’s an emergency shut off. We can shut the whole thing down, but it takes two people!” Fiddleford said quickly, letting go of Stan's arm to rummage in his pockets for a set of keys. “Take this.” he said, pulling a key off the ring and handing it to Stan. “There's a spot in the control panel o’er there. I'll count ta three, then we both gotta turn the keys. Got it?”

“Fiddleford!” They heard Ford yell from behind them.

“Shit.” Stan swore, putting the key in his pocket and turning towards Ford. “Fuck you, you weird ass demon! Leave my brother and Fiddleford alone!”

“Demon?! Stanley, what are you talking about? What the hell happened?! The last thing I remember was you and Fiddleford fighting! Did he use the gun on me?!” Ford asked, panic rising in his voice.

“You happened, asshole! Don't play dumb with me, Bill!” Stan yelled back.

“Bill?! How do you know that name?” Ford asked, dumbfounded.

“Because he possessed ya! He told us his name, Stanford! How could ya trust a demon?! What happened to the idea for this darned portal bein’ ‘hard work’?!” Fiddleford yelled, finally joining in on the fight.

“He's not a demon! He's a higher being! A Muse!” Ford said. “I gave him permission to possess me as he saw fit, I just didn't expect him to do it now!”

“He possessed ya, Ford! That sure as heck sounds like a demon ta me!” Fiddleford responded.

“He- no- he…. he's my friend!” Ford said.

“You have got to be fucking with me!” Stan yelled. “Friends don't let you possess them and then shout insults at your actual friends!”

“Insults? He- he was joking. He loves joking, that's all.” Ford said frantically, taking a few wobbly steps towards Stan.

“Goddammit, Ford. You're too smart for this!” Stan said, turning away. “We're shutting this sci-fi nightmare down.”

“No!” Ford said, running down to meet them. “Stan, you can't!”

“I'm sorry, Ford.” Fiddleford said, making his way back to the machine on the other side of the lab.

Ford grabbed Stan's arm and yanked him backwards, miscalculating the amount of force he used and accidently throwing him against the control panel. Stan glared at him and lunged, grabbing him by the collar and pushing him backwards.

“Goddammit, Sixer! We're trying to help you!” He yelled.

“Help me? You have no idea what you're doing! You know nothing about Bill!” Ford said, sounding a bit unsure and pushing Stan back.

“Uh- fellas, careful ‘round that ‘quipment, there!” Fiddleford said, but the twins ignored him.

“I know enough! I know a con man when I hear one, Ford, and that demon is the ultimate con man!” Stan yelled, trying to walk away from Ford before he hurt him again, but Ford grabbed his arm and tried to drag him away from the control panel.

“How much of a con man can he be?! He was right, after all! I should have done better to keep you away from my project!” Ford snarled.

“Fuck you, Ford. If you want to believe that fucking monster over us, than fine, but we're shutting this down!” Stan said, pushing his brother as hard as he could, sending him falling backwards onto the lever in the middle of the room.

“No!” Fiddleford yelled, but it was too late. The portal crackled to life, filling the dark lab with an eerie blue glow.

“Oh shit.” Stan said, taking a step back.

“It works.” Ford said, smiling up at the light. “It works!”

“That ain't good, Stanford!” Fiddleford said, running over to try and drag Ford away. “We need ta shut it down!”

“We are not shutting it down!” Ford said, pushing Fiddleford away.

Ford tried to pull Stan away from the machine, but forgot, in all the commotion, about Stan's new peg leg. He grew up with Stan. He had seen him stand his ground against bullies twice his size. But that was back when he had two legs to stand on, so he was thrown off guard when Stan didn't stay standing. They both slid across the ground, over the yellow line where the portal could reach, and suddenly started to float.

“What the fuck?!” Stan exclaimed, flailing his arms and looking for anything to grab onto.

“Stanford! Stanley!” Fiddleford screamed, grabbing some spare cable from the ground and running towards them. “Grab on!”

“Tie it down!” Stan yelled, as he caught the cable and grabbed Ford's arm, holding on for dear life.

“I can't!” Fiddleford said as he started to slip.

The twins were much heftier than him and his shoes were not grippy enough to keep him down. He wrapped the cord around his wrist and reached behind him, trying to grab the lever to hold himself back, but his fingers just barely grazed it.

“Do something!” Stan yelled as Ford disappeared through the blue light. “Fiddleford!”

Stan melted into the blue after Ford as Fiddleford's feet lifted from the ground.

“Well, shit.” Fiddleford said, as he fell through the portal after them.

___________________________________________

This feels a bit like a cheesy movie scene. That's all I could think while I was writing it... but hey! We made it to the portal!

There is probably some serious plot issues with this scene, like was the portal even ready? Sure it was! It's January and they were going to test it in the next day or two, so... sure it was!

Would Bill leave Ford's mind if he was unconscious? Probably!?

Does Stan not hit very hard, because Fidds and Ford were both hit, and not out for very long?! Well, he was probably subconsiously holding back a bit- this is his brother and his new friend he met a whole day ago and would fight a literal god for.

Why does Stan immediately trust and want to protect Fidds?! He just be like that, okay? Fidds is someone important to his brother, therefore worth protecting.

Okay, I'll stop now.

I start a new job tomorrow, so the updates on this might slow down a bit... sorry. I need to survive in this failing economy.

[kittartz]

I'm making a BillStan Fanfic right now but I'm not sure if it's ooc or not so uh here's a sneak peak (WIP):

He walked around the house as he reached the gift shop's door, slowly opening it. He peeked outside and saw a pinkish, round headed creature that's standing. Wearing a lab coat and glasses while holding a clipboard. “Stanley Pines?” it asked, turning its head slightly to its side. “Yes?” Stan replied, wondering why an axolotl was here, then again, anything can happen in Gravity Falls.

“Ah! Lovely to finally meet you, you can call me Ax, Bills doctorー”

“Bill Cipher!?” Stan exclaimed, did I not hit him hard enough? He was burned, reduced to ashes.

“Yes, I know some of you and your family's history with him. Not a lot, only his therapist knows. And they recommended Bill to have a summer with you and your family. It would help his healing process.” the salamander explained. It moves to the side and reveals Bill, only, he was not a triangle anymore. He had a human form. Almost human―he had a lanky build, pointy ears, yellow-ish skin, shoulder length blond and black hair, and a cyan slash against his face. He wore a bright orange suit, like the ones in prison and he had a collar around his neck.

“We’ve completely stripped his powers so you don’t have to worry about him suddenly bursting into flames. Oh and, Before I forget, here's the remoteー” a small black remote was pushed into Stan's free hand, “ーfor the collar around his neck. It shocks him, it doesn't do much damage, just enough to control him. I'll take my leave now, buh-bye!” The salamander then disappeared. 

Stan presses the button his finger was hovering on. “Fuckー” Bill said as he held the collar. “What are you actually doing here? I don't know if this is some sick joke to get back at usー me but i'm uninterested.” Stan spat out, his finger lingering on the button again.

“Wait, wait, wait! I swear this isn't a trick, if it was, I wouldn't let that thing near me.” Bill said, sitting on his knees on the porch. A long silence fell before Bill realized Stan would listen to his explanation.

“After you “killed” me I shattered. And that was the only time I was scared that I’d actually lose my life so I called out to the Axolotls’ name. But in return for me living again, I went to theraprisim. Time over there is different from here, I was there for 1000 years. Some time for me but a lot for you.” 

They hear footsteps approaching them.

“Grunle Stan, who are you talking to?” Mabel asked, standing at the corridor separating the gift shop and the house. “Don’t worry about it pumpkin. Just some homeless man.” Stan says as he shuts the door. Bill sees this as an opportunity and runs for it—click—he falls to the ground groaning.

Mabel stares blankly at Stan, reading his body language, one hand behind his back, forced smile, his eyes looking at anywhere but her. “You’re lying.” she said, staring blankly.

“What? No..” dragging the o, “..yeah but let's talk about it later. Let's eat first, you go sit, I'll be there.” Mable then turns to go to the dining room. Stan watches her until she is completely out of sight. 

He turns around and opens the door again, seeing Bill on the ground, “I don't trust you around my family but I’m not letting you roam free.” He took a fistful of Bill's clothes and dragged him as he took a rope from the shop and tied his hands behind a tree. “Don’t think about escaping, I have your remote.” he threatened. “I know Pines.” Bill said, saying the family's name bitterly. Click. “Shitー why do you keep using that? Do you feel some sort of revenge? Being able to control me?” Bill asked genuinely but it sounded like taunting to Stan. Stan stayed silent, tightly tying the rope around his wrists. Once he finished, he stood up and went back into the house.

Let me know if this is ooc or bad writing, I'm new to this so sorry, please leave criticism :3

edit;This is just the first part btw, it's a oneshot. They get to know each other of course

[genesis-otto]

If there is one thing that I'm sure of, it's that the losers club always bake cakes for their birthdays. But as we all know, they are iDiOtS. And their cakes are just...bad. I don't mean the taste, the cake always tastes good cause there are some responsible people in this group who somehow manage to do this part right. It's the visual that is horrible. Like do you imagine them trying to decorate the cake without fucked it up on purpose (or not) ? Yeah me neither. So here is what I imagine all the cake that the losers have done one year :

This one is for Bill, it was the first time that they actually made a real cake so he is ugly as fuck. Bill is born in january which makes him the oldest of the losers and I would imagine the losers always making fun of Bill for being old. And since he is the first to celebrate his birthday, the others will totally tease him all the time with the fact that he has now like 15 while all of them are still at 14. This nightmare will last until Beverly finally celebrates her own birthday in february. One entire month of torture for Bill Denbrough.

Bev is the only girl of the group and I'm sure that sometimes she's just so done with the bullshit of the other losers. She always reminds them that "boys are trash, but no offense guys." So it was obvious for them to make her a cake ridiculously girly with that beautiful sentence on it. (The cake is way better than Bill's cause they eventually did practice for it to be perfect. 'Bev deserves a perfect cake' they all said. It took them at least three tries before to manage to make it look good).

This one is obviously Richie's. They did it the year when Richie officially came out to them. They wanted to make a trash cake at first (Eddies and Bills idea) but Stan thought that making a gay joke was funnier. Mike agreed saying that it would show that they truthfully support their gay favorite trashmouth <3. (Eddie still used colors that didn't match together cause he wouldn't let go the trash idea).

(I don't know who are the people on the pictures, but let's just pretend that there are the guys of the new kids on the block). So this one is Ben's. It's Bev that came up with the idea and all of the others followed her cause they like to make fun of Ben for his, as Richie says, bad tastes in music. Ben still was happy when he saw his cake (and he ignored the comments of his friends) cause he thought that his cake was matching with Bev's.

This is Stan's cake. Who is surprised ? Not me. It was a collective message of all the group and Stanley flipped them off when he read what they had written (even if he found it funny, which he will never tell out loud). He also tried to say that he didn't need to go to therapy that bad but they're all traumatized, Stan fooled no one. (Bill promised him that they'll make him a bird's one for the next year so Stan was happy).

Mike is a sweetheart and they all know that. So they HAD to make him a cool cake. They know that Mike LOVES the animals at his farm so they wanted to make him a cute cow. They eventually manage to not completely fucked it up and Mike, very happy with his cake, give it a name. So when Bev tried to cut the cake for eating it, Mike took it away from her because "YOU CAN'T EAT JOHNNY, HE'S MY CHILD."

Eddie is the youngest, born in september. And oh god you don't know how long it seemed for Richie who was waiting for this moment all the year. Since the first time making a cake for Bill, he already knew what he wanted to do for Eddie's when it'll be his turn. The losers all made the cake and it was pretty nice. They left it one moment without supervision and it took only one minute to Rich to fuck it up. He was very proud when the others came back with Eddie and saw the note. Richie died this day.

[hazybisou]

TOOTHLESS

blurb

reader x jack hughes

summary: y/n finds out through twitter that jack has lost a tooth and calls to see for herself.

a/n: IT MADE ME CACKLE HELLA HARD!! like imagine the lisp he’s gonna have 😭😭 it’s gonna be hella cute but wayyyy too fucking funny. also i js had to write this like cmon 🤣🤣

jack was away in Raleigh for the second game of round two of the stanley cup playoffs against the carolina hurricanes. you stayed home due to have finals but were still able to watch the first game.

you were finishing up homework while watching the second game, the score being 1-4, the canes winning. you finished typing up your essay when you got a text from your friend, jane.

janey boo 🙃

did you see?!!

you

see what?

janey boo 🙃

JACK LOST HIS TOOTH

you

WDYM HE LOST HIS TOOTH

janey boo 🙃

i was scrolling through tiktok and saw a picture of jack missing his front tooth to the sound bigger than the whole sky

you

BAHHHHHAHAHAHA

WAIT OMG THATS SO RUDE

poor jack

BUT LIKE IWHSHABXSJ

OMG IMA GO LOOK

janey boo 🙃

woody and mercer and jack are now the toothless trio

you

THEYRE TRIPLETS HOW CUTE

ANYWAYS BYE

you couldn’t help the little laughs and giggles that escaped. you open up twitter and search up ‘jack hughes’ and clicking on ‘latest’. you scroll down and can’t help but burst out laughing. you probably looked crazy right now but this news was too funny.

you look up and notice the game has ended, the canes winning 6-1. you decided to wait a couple minutes, knowing it would only be a matter of seconds until jack would text you, something along the lines of ‘i just got out of the arena’.

a couple of minutes later, you’re phone dinged and you saw it was jack who texted. it said ‘hey i just left and am headed back to the hotel’. you don’t respond as you immediately go and click on his contact before the phone started ringing.

“hello?”

“hey babe, just wanted to let you know that you played great tonight. m’ sorry about the loos,” you told him syntactically.

jack smiled on the other end, “thanks. i appreciate it. anyways, what were you doing?” you noticed he had a small lisp. it was cute. his words sounded like a little kindergartners.

you just smiled at the question, knowing jack would always ask about your day and how it went. “oh i was just finishing up some homework. nothing much. why?”

“just wanted to know,” jack responds. you look down at your phone and realize he’s facetiming. you slide the button and are met with the ceiling of his car. you hear the jingle of keys and rustling before he picks his phone up and his face comes in view. “hi.”

“hi.” you respond back. “whatcha doing?”

he smiled. “nothing. just gonna head to the hotel before getting to see you again.”

the smile on your face grew even bigger before you remembered why you called him so fast. “hey jack?” he perked up and hummed. “could you smile at me real quick?”

jack looked at you suspiciously before shrugging and showing you a toothy grin. you just giggled before small laughs started to come out and soon you were cackling.

jack looked confused.

by the time you were done laughing tears began to fall from how hard you were laughing. “oh jack..your tooth.” you finally told him.

he finally got it and just began to pout. “it’s not funny.” he remarked.

“just a little bit. it’s ok though.” you told him. “it’s cute. especially your lisp.”

jack’s cheeks turned pink at the comment. “stop, it’s not cute.” he still had the same pout on. you just started at him with loving eyes.

“jack, baby, it’s ok.” you cooed but he didn’t seem convinced. “you’re still the same jack it’s just you’ll be missing 2% of that smile i love so much.”

“i hate it though.” jack whined. “it makes me sound weird.”

you just stared at him. “it doesn’t matter jack, alright? i still love you and always will.”

“that helped a little.” you just laughed before continuing to talk.

“i have to go and study for that exam i have next week. just make sure you get back safely. call or text me when you’re at the hotel. i love you.”

“i love you too.” jack said back. you said your goodbyes before you hung up and went back to watching the tv. you kept laughing at the thought of jack coming home with a missing tooth.

idk if i hate or love this. but wtv. his tooth is now gone 😔😔 ALSO THE WAY LUKE COULDVE SAID MORE ABT JACKS TOOTH IF HE WANTED TO BUT KNEW JACK WOULD BEAT HIS ASS IF HE DID AND PROB TOLD HIM NOT TO SAY ANYTHING ABT IT IS JS SO FUNNY TO ME!! jack literally reminds me of a pirate with taht crusty ass heard 🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️

[nylwnder]

lake house

a/n: HELLO SWEETIES!!!!! welcome to my first 2024 fic n series! i started it off with ryan cause if you know me, you know he was everything to me for the 4 months we had him. also, HUGE SHOUTOUT to @shoot-the-puck for in a way co-writing this and the others with me i love you so much scoob thank you for being my asylum roomie!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! anyways, enjoy and dont forget to tune in to the other drops <3 mwah!

pairing: ryan o’reilly x fem!reader

warnings: SMUT, its giving soft sex (unprotected), lowkey body worship, lowkey exhibitionism, cockwarming, childhood friends to lovers, use of “snook” and ryan being such husband material. gawdamn.

word count: 1.9k

taglist: @11livpangburn , @domi-max , @boqvistsbabe , @sweetiet , @p1tstop , @occasionallyaurora , @laurenairay, @fallinallincurls

series masterpost

the drive to the lake house was as calming as ever. although it was a couple hours, it was a trip you knew all too well. one you were dying to take every june the minute the last bell rang for summer break.

sometimes it was just you, your parents and your brother. most times, it was you and the o’reilly family. a lot of kids shared between two vans, snacking on chips and freezies from the coolers at the back of the cars.

the tradition never stopped when the lot grew older. you escaped to the house every time your winter term ended, then after your internship finished, and then when you could use up all your saved vacation time from your new job. ryan always followed when his nhl duties came to an end. both respective families coming in to stay in between.

that being said, this was the first time you drove to the lake house with ryan in the driver's seat and with you in the passenger's seat. it was the first summer since he came back home to toronto. but more so, to you. officially.

he was sick of waiting until your usual shared break, and you were very much sick of coming home to a cold bed.

before any headline could find you, ryan called you that night. and it was as if the 100 ton weight was being lifted off of your desperate shoulders. because it was. after ten years of long and needy facetimes, one-night lustful visits, and the best stanley cup celebration you two could possibly have imagined, you were going to have him, at your full disposal, “whenever you fucking want” as ryan had told you.

ryan put the car in park and you couldn’t help but smile about the fact that this would be the first time you’d be stepping into that house, as a proud pair. the “finally” ’s already shed by your parents who were following in behind the two of you.

—

the first night was spent with take out, laughs, pjs and movies and it always makes you grateful for growing up with a group with such a tight knit bond. your heart was full when you heard inside jokes from circa. 2006 running through the house — which are still ever so applicable, presently.

the next day, you didn’t wake until you heard the cars drive off in the late afternoon. it had been a while since you had the time to sleep in, so it seemed your body pranced at the chance. after heading to the bathroom, you couldn’t find ryan in the rooms or common areas. he always made sure you get as much sleep as you need, not only because he knows how grumpy you get if you don’t, but also because he always wants the best for you.

as you made your way to the kitchen, you looked out the windows casing the large lake. you saw the large figure of the man sitting at the edge of the dock and didn’t do anything else but make the walk over to him.

you sat beside him as he turned to face you with a toothless smile. you smiled at it, you always told him he looked cute like that, and he started listening to you. “sleep good, sweetheart?” he asks as he looks down to cut the leaf caps off the pack of strawberries between his legs. “wonderful” you emphasised before you reached for the strawberry he handed you. “i’m glad. you deserve it.”

you took a bite out of the soft strawberry, the juices from the flesh spilling into your mouth. you couldn’t help but let out a little innocent moan. the first time you tried these, they were immediately the best strawberries you have ever had in your entire life. and they just so happen to be locally farmed near the lakehouse.

ryan giggled, “had to stop by the market and buy you a few packs during my run. wouldn’t be a lake house summer without these guys right here.”

“this is why i love you. thank you.”

he only responded by handing you the bigger piece between the two in his hand. you put your head on his shoulder as you two looked out in front of you. the sun was bright but not exhausting, as the wind from the water dismissed the heat.

“the folks went to gather some things for this week's meal plan.”

you hummed a response. but it got you thinking. and so you didn't waste time.

you turned yourself around in order to lay your upper body on ryan’s lap. he placed the knife and strawberries safely aside as he smiled. you gave him a small smile before shutting your eyes for a bit.

you reached for ryan’s hands from his sides. you played with his big and thick fingers for a bit, before taking his hand and placing it on top of your shirt. then you moved his hand under the hem. as you began to move it further up, the material of your shirt wrinkled with your movements and began to expose your skin.

ryan kept his hand in your grip and his eyes firm on you. you kept moving it up, reaching the curves of your boobs. “take it off” you mumbled as he obliged. taking off the tshirt and throwing it on top of the other items he had set aside.

you didn't reach for his hands again. he knows what to do. he always knows, ever since your first kiss.

the sun shined on your supple flesh. his calloused hands moved back to your curves. pushing down your pants a tad, in order to squeeze your love handles. later, his fingers lightly trace up the soft line marks found upon your hips, and the ones on the sides of your breasts.

your cheeks begin to mimic the berry blush as you open your eyes to look at ryan. you loved how comfortable you are to be vulnerable around him. you always felt adored, and safe.

he pulled you up swiftly, allowing your legs to straddle him. your arms naturally wrap around his broad shoulders. you look into his gentle eyes, “i love you, snook.” you lean in for a tender kiss but his hands push your body tight into his. “i love you more, sweetness.” his lips finally meet yours and he envelopes you perfectly. “always have. always will.” he whispers.

his lips meet your cheek as he leaves wet kisses on your jaw and neck. you let soft moans escape your parted lips, your body melting into his figure. ryan often joked that his body was made for you specifically, with the way you fit against him so perfectly.

“gorgeous.” he whispers into your ear as his beard scrapes against you. you bite your lip at his words. one he's been telling you since you grew butterflies in your stomach every time you saw him. “want you snook” you plead, your pussy twitching as his hands squeeze your bust. you grind down on him, and he huffs outs. “just had you yesterday morning, honey.”

“dont play with me, ry. you know i always need you.”

he hums in response. “thats true. i can never say no to my girl.”

he lifts you once again, getting to lay you down on the thin throw ryan had brought out with him. your eyes close again as the sun hits your face, but you feel kisses pressed all over your skin. ryan’s lips trace from your lips to your cheeks down along your jaw, and onto your neck once more. he sheds a few soft nips while he makes sure your panties and shorts are discarded.

its not long before he nips on your nipples, noises escaping your exposed body. your fingers pull down his own shorts and you feel his cock against your skin.

two digits slip smoothly into your damp cunt as ryan cups your face. you bite up a cry. but before you know it, he’s lined up at your entrance and you're pleading for him to move.

you let out a lewd moan as he pushes in. ryan followed with a low groan and you clenched around him immediately, “that’s my sweet girl. so divine.” he says as he gives kisses on the edges of your collarbone.

his thrusts are a blend of slow, long and quick, hard movements. his hands held your hips as he didn't let his lips leave your body. his hair tickles your chin as he gives your breasts some love once again. you felt yourself reaching the goal closer and closer. the all too familiar feeling of your wet walls stretching around ryan’s thick length driving him crazy.

your effect on him was always so strong. right from when you both were young. the minute you got hurt, it broke ryan to see you cry. it was his dire mission to help clean you up or provide you with the necessary pick me up. oftentimes that was bringing you your favourite snack or sometimes a kiss on your cheek was all you needed. when you laughed, ryan laughed. and even when it seemed like ryan and your brother were picking on you, he always made sure to give you a hug later on. he would never hurt you. and he'd never let anyone hurt you. that was for sure.

you were pleased that there were laughs, screams and talk from the surrounding residents that can help drown out your shared sounds. at the same time you couldn't possibly care if they heard either. your mind was far too fuzzy.

“make me cum snook. make me cum all over your cock” you were desperate and needy, i think that was already established. ry smiled at your words, pulling your body up into him once again.

your arms were so tight around him, you stuck to his body like gum on a shoe. he pumped into you as you also began riding his length. the way your body swayed with your hips helped bring ryan even closer to his climax.

your head fell back as you felt the wave of pleasure overcome you. ryan continued your movements for you until your whines dyed down. once you both finished you kept yourself on his lap “don't move, ry. still need you there.” you mumbled.

“till they come back?”

“please.”

a smile appeared on both of your faces. droplets of sweat trickled down his chest and you crushed them with your finger as your head laid on his shoulder. his hands rubbed the sides of your body as his face was cuddled on top of your head. his nose tucked into your thick hair. your smell, your weight, your breathing and your warmth calmed him. his mind never wandered off. he was the most present, the most grounded with you, like this.

“why is it that every time we have sex you’re so quiet?” you asked ryan as you looked up at him. it was a thought you had often so you figured you’d ask. “sometimes you used to make me feel as if i did something wrong…” you said with a little titter.

it was a stupid idea to think about, you knew ryan loved you so much.

he scoffed, “no honey, you could never.” you smiled. “you just take the breath out of my lungs”

you both start laughing. “you’re a pro hockey player and i’m the one who can kill you? i’ll take it.”

ryan lets out a chuckle again. “all i know is words cannot express how i feel when i’m with you, but i want to experience it till my dying days.”

your heart warmed. you grab his face and eagerly kiss him. “and so you will.”

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[thevestigeofvanillaan]

You and Stan Marsh were young when you'd met. Only five years old when you'd meet on the first day of school.

The two of you and three other boys became friends awfully fast and the five of you grew together.

Elementary school went by quickly, and effortlessly. You were smart, and it got you through all the years that led up to seventh grade.

Seventh grade sucked, you started your period, all the boys started puberty, everything got harder. It wasn't great.

That year, too, happened to be the year school taught you about sex and the human body.

Masturbating was something you started to do frequently.

The only time you'd ever "experimented" with a boy was when you kissed Kyle on the cheek at recess in the second grade. That all changed in your freshman year.

"Hey Stan, can I go to your house? I want you to teach me something."

And then that's when you and Stan would be alone in his room, sitting on his bed together.

That progressed to him showing you his cock and letting you masturbate him, and he'd return the favor to you.

It was about a year or so and a few months between that when your next interaction like this would occur. Though this time it went slightly further.

Homecoming weekend of your junior year– Stan and you got bored of the party quickly and decided to leave together to his house where nobody would be home.

The two of you would kiss and touch eachother, getting completely naked and laying with one another.

About a week later you'd done the same thing but this time Stan would ask, "Can I put it in? Just the tip?"

You'd lay on your back and Stan would hover over you, kissing your neck softly and muttering praise into your ear.

"So pretty, know that? God how I love the scent on you, it's addicting."

"You ready?" Stan'd ask and you'd hesitate before nodding. He'd rub his tip on your wet folds and make eye contact with you before looking down and sliding into your entrance with only about an inch inside.

And there you'd sit, moving your hips, gripping and scratching at his forearms so hard it leaves read marks. "Stan—"

"What?" He grunts, clearly struggling.

"Stan, just fuck me.. please." You wiggle underneath him and bite your lip, desperate to lose your virginity, especially to someone who knew you and your body so well.

He placed a hand on your lower stomach, putting a small amount of pressure on it as he tries to make it as pleasuring for you as he could. You were so tight, so wet, so needy for him.

Stan would stay inside you, waiting for you to tell him to go. "You can move, Stan." You nod and sit up slightly to rest on your forearms, watching him slide out and back inside you at a slow pace before looking up into his eyes that were watching as he fucked into your tight cunt.

It was surprisingly big for being quite young, but he always grew faster than the other boys. His voice deepend faster, his balls definitely dropped faster, everything with Stan was better.

"Fuck–" He groans out as you wrap your legs around his waist, trapping him inside you. "No, don't do that.. what if– god." He feels himself coming closer to his release.

"Just do it Stanley." You say, gripping at his bare biceps with a loud moan and arch of your back and he feels himself bottoming out with a loud groan.

He'd lay beside you on the bed and the both of you would breathe heavily. There was silence, and you moved yourself to rest on Stan's chest.

Stan kissed your forehead and softly rubbed a hand through your hair, "Do you.. need anything, or.?"

"I'm okay. Just want you, Stanley."

He'd scoff in a laugh, "You're the only one who calls me that." He places a kiss on the top of your head, "It's cute."

[eyes-of-metal]

Revenge

Paul Stanley X OC

Chapter Two

-> {Prologue // Chapter one} (would love to link it but can't)

I do one final look at myself to make sure everything is perfect. I'm wearing a beautiful satin emerald green tea-length dress. It is sleeved with a plunging v-neckline, and the fabric gathers up at the torso. The dress looks stunning to me—the perfect revenge dress. I look damn good.

I look at my living room wall clock—two minutes till four. I take my clutch off the table and head out the door. As I leave my apartment building, a slick black Porsche pulls up.

I know there is no one living around here with a car that nice. The most excellent vehicle I've seen is my Toyota. So it has to be Paul. Right on time. Impressive. I note. More than I can say for Jack, my ex and groom of the wedding I'm about to attend.

The car is sexy as hell. I haven't ever seen a Porsche in person before, at least not this close. You might think it is crazy, considering I live in Los Angeles, but I don't live in the Hollywood part.

Paul seems to be understanding the assignment. I know no one is going to be pulling up to this wedding in a car this nice.

I walk up to the car and open the door. The interior is a sexy black leather. This is the most excellent car I've ever been in. It almost feels wrong to be sitting in a Porsche with Paul Stanley of KISS. I'm a security guard at an office with an awful dating history. I'm not a model or an actress.

“You look stunning.” Paul compliments me, sliding his sunglasses down his nose for a better look.

“Thank you.” I smile, “You look pretty good yourself.”

He's wearing a nice black double-breasted suit jacket, a black striped vest underneath it, and a white low-cut t-shirt under the vest, and he's showing off just a peak of his chest hair. Then he's wearing some nice black jeans. He looks perfect.

I think that wedding is about to be hit by a big surprise, and I can't fucking wait. That's what they fucking deserve.

———————————————

“Lorna.” My mother greets me coldly. “I didn't expect you'd come.”

If you can't tell, she took Vanessa’s side. It's not surprising. She's always been her favourite and could do no wrong. It was always my fault, even when she was in the wrong. This situation is no different.

She eyes up Paul. She wants me to introduce her to my date because she's too proud to introduce herself. Every single guy I've ever brought home, and there haven't been many, she's done this same thing, too. Meanwhile, with Vanessa, it’s always been a friendly smile and an introduction.

“I know that's why I came,” I tell her, “and this is Paul Stanley. Paul, this is my mother.”

“Are you two seeing each other?” She asks in a rather demanding tone. She sounds rather unimpressed. Good.

I don't know how to answer that. I want to say yes, to get her back because we are now that I took him to this wedding technically. But this is also the first time we've gone out if this even counts as going out. I don't want to overstep and say something untrue. Who knows how he's feeling about this? However, something about our conversation a few days ago tells me he’s hoping it is going in that direction. For whatever reason. I still can't figure out why he even went after me, to begin with.

I’m not against the idea. He's been nothing but a gentleman all night so far. Paul is an adorable, caring guy behind the Starchild persona. I don't know if I'm someone he'd want on his arm at the end of the day.

“Yes, and your daughter is a lovely woman,” Paul answers for me, putting his hand on the small of my back and pulling me closer.

“Oh. Isn’t he a little old to look like a teenage degenerate?” My mother asks me, being a snotty cunt as per-usual. I know she's referring to the fact Paul has long hair.

“Isn't Jack a little young to be balding?” I fire back without thinking. His hair is thinner than a piece of paper. At least Paul still has all his hair and is older than Jack.

“You need to check your attitude, Lorna!” my mother gasps, scolding me and holding her hand to slap me. Like she always did to punish me as a kid.

I'm just going to take it like a grown women. I've been hit by her so many times it doesn't even hurt anymore.

“I wouldn't hit her if I were you,” Paul warns her, his voice level and calm.

My mother stops dead in her tracks and looks utterly shocked. I'm just as amazed as her. No one has ever actually stood up for me before. I'm not used to that; my mother isn't used to being told no.

“I want to hit my daughter for being disrespectful, and I will.” My mother gasped, horrified someone told her no, that someone stood up for me.

“Not while I'm here.” Paul insists.

“You’ve always been a spiteful girl; of course, you brought a little guard dog. Just don't ruin this day for your sister.” my mother spits at me, sounding disgusted.

Then, before I can retaliate, she turns and stomps off. I make sure to flip the bird her way real quick. That's what she deserves after that interaction.

I watch her walk over to my sister, hug and kiss her. When only moments ago, she was going to slap me in the face. It fucking hurts. I don't know why I've never been good enough for her. I wish I could have been. I fucking do.

I shouldn't have come. I know being around my family fills me with both anger and hurt. Yet here I am, and I refuse to look like they are getting to me, so I leave early.

At least I'm not alone. Paul is in my corner, which is very sweet of him. He didn't have to defend me, but he did, proving him to be a good guy.

“What a lovely woman,” Paul says sarcastically, an unpleasant look on his face.

“Yeah.” I agree, “Thank you.”

“I wasn't going to let her hit you.” He tells me, sounding like it's just a no-brainer. “Any normal person would have reacted the same way.”

“Well, you say that, but Jack let her hit me in front of him once,” I tell him.

“He’s a jackass,” Paul says, “I mean, come on, he let you go.”

“He did me a favour.” I admit, “I could be the idiot marrying him.”

“Exactly.” He agrees. “This won't be their last marriage.”

“You think?” I ask curiously.

“It’s not a good sign when the couple meets through adultery. Then you have to factor in he's an asshole.” He explains, “I promise you, this marriage will end eventually.”

“I hope you’re right,” I say as we sit at the table. Naturally, my sister put me in one near the back. Not with the rest of my family.

“Hello everyone.” The maid of honour, Vanessa’s best friend since middle school, speaks into the mic at the front of the venue with the rest of the wedding party.

“I’m the maid of honour.” She introduces herself.

“This is a love story for the ages.” She continues, and I roll my eyes. This is going to be a long speech.

“When Vanessa met Jack on that fateful rainy day in October at the Oldstone Bar. They locked eyes, and even though Vanessa had never met him, she knew her destiny was to be with him. So she walked up to him, and their love story began, even though she had to deal with jealousy from her sister of all people they made it through.”

“What the fuck?!” I blurt out in utter shock at the lies from that woman's mouth.

Are they out here spinning it like I made the whole thing up? Like they never knew each other, and I was jealous and getting in the fucking way? When there is undeniable proof that Jack dated me and they had a fucking affair? His entire family met me as his girlfriend. We dated for two whole fucking years. If anyone was jealous, it was Vanessa; she broke us up.

I'm so angry right now I can't even think straight. All I can think about is walking up on that stage and telling everyone the truth. I know I shouldn't, but I can't let this fucking slide. I can't let them tell a fucking lie to everyone and get away with it. I'm done. I’m not holding my tongue any longer.

I stand up.

“WHAT A LOAD OF BULLSHIT!” I yell to catch everyone's attention.

Everyone gasps, and the room falls silent.

“You two are such fucking liars.” I ask, “Would you like to know how they met?”

“I was dating Jackass over there,” I say, pointing right at Jack’s stupid fucking balding head.

He looks as terrified as he should be.

“and then he goes and cheats with my bitch of a sister Vanessa. Who never so much as felt a drop of rumours. So if anyone in that situation was because it was her.”

“Lorna, please-” My father bags; he doesn't ever get involved. He spent my whole childhood just letting everyone treat me like shit.

“No.” I snap, standing firm, “You don't deserve me to stop; I'm done with all of you.”

“You two deserve each other,” I say, pointing towards my sister, who's crying crocodile tears and her pussy ass husband.

“I wish you a short and miserable marriage.” I pick up the champagne glass and cheer it towards them.

Then I start walking towards the door, everyone looking at me. I hold my head up high. I don't regret it. It had to be said, and I don't care if a single one of these fuckers talks to me again.

I take a deep breath once I'm outside. I don't even feel sad. I don't feel like I’m losing something, but I am walking away from them. From cutting them off. I probably should have done this years ago.

“I’m sorry you had to see that.” I apologize to Paul; I feel slightly embarrassed, so I just blew up in front of the frontman of KISS.

“I get it if you don't want to see me again.”

He didn't know me well and had to put up with all my family drama. He's been very nice about it, but he must think I'm insane now.

“Don’t apologize.” He says, “They had it coming.”

“Really? You don't think I'm crazy?” I ask, surprised.

“You’re the most normal one there.” He laughs, “I’d love to take you out again, maybe this time without your family.”

“I’d like that.” I smile at him, “And don't worry, I don't think I’ll be talking to them anymore.”

And I wholeheartedly mean every word of that. This wedding had a better ending than I could have thought. I did get my revenge.

[weirdoldstans]

Stan was starting to come to terms with the fact that Ford was just. Adorable. There was no other word for it, watching his normally deft, broad hands run gently over his stuffed unicorn with a manufacturing error that gave it five legs. Listening to Ford hum through speaking inflections around his bright pink pacifier while he bobbed the toy and clearly imagined it was talking. Stan knew this was some kind of sex therapy thing or whatever, Ford had said something about it when trying to explain why there was a crib in his house when he lived with just one colleague that was their same age, Stan wondered if it was weird he was more in awe of Ford playing with his toys than really aroused. Maybe Ford was waiting for him to make a move? Was that why he kept glancing at Stan before going back to playing? Would Ford be mad if he said he wasn't in the mood? Would he get sick of their whole new relationship?

Then Stan heard a low, distressed keening noise and his eyes snapped to his brother, who was wringing his hands and staring straight at Stan. Shit - of course he did something wrong, Ford was all happy and soft and adorable and Stan had gone and ruined it. For a second he thought maybe Ford would yell at him with that booming voice that sounded like their mother's father. But Ford stayed quiet, pacifier still in his mouth, bobbing up and down a little to the motions of his mouth. He wanted to keep it up - Stan was on thin ice but he hadn't fucked up yet.

He stood up. "Hey - I'm sorry Cupcake, I didn't mean to leave you wantin', you wanna come now?"

Ford's nose scrunched. Stan stopped. "No? Well what is it, Sweetheart?" He asked, and Ford started keening around his pacifier again - what did he want? Stan just didn't wanna fuck this up, he couldn't handle loosing Ford again, not after a decade alone, he needed to fix it. "What to you want, baby? I'll get you whatever you want, okay? Just tell me what you need, I'll do it."

But Ford didn't say a word, his distressed humming and whimpering continuing while he stared at Stan. Then his hands left their fidgeting close to his stomach to reach out. His hands half-closed and opened a few times.

"You're hungry? No - you want something? You want your other toy? Your journal? Dammit Ford, please - I'm trying." Stanley felt his heart battering his ribcage. He didn't know what to do, Ford gave him so many chances to figure it out but he just fucked it all up like he fucks up everything and Ford's probably so sick of him--

A small, fragile, trembling sob echoed through the room. Ford brought his hands back to himself to cover his face. Stanley had made his brother cry. Stanley had made his brother cry.

He hadn't made his brother cry since they were 17 and Stan made the worst mistake of his life. Ford was gonna kick Stan out and he would deserve it just as much as last time, he was horrible, Ford had shared this precious moment of peace with him and Stan ruined it. Ruined all of it.

Useless apologies fell from his mouth like water, like something even cheaper than that, he took a step forward not knowing what he even meant to do when Ford snatched up the hem of his shirt with both hands, and was looking up at him again with red-rimmed eyes, tears rolling down his cheeks. He tugged in Stan's shirt.

"You want it off? I can -" He swallowed his bile - he didn't want to, he just wanted to see Ford soft and happy like he was before, but he was a man, and it wasn't the first time he'd had to right a wrong this way. " - I can take it off, if - if you'll stop being upset."

Ford shook his head, more sobs hiccuping from his chest. He let go of Stan's shirt and made that gesture again, with the grabby hands. The closer angle made something in Stan click though.

"Please be right please be right please be right..." He muttered to himself while he bent down and grabbed Ford under the armpits, lifting him up as high as he could. Ford's legs immediately scrunched up as if he never wanted to touch the floor again, hands on Stan's shoulders and tears finally stopping. Stan nearly sobbed with relief, pulling his baby towards him and hugging him, holding him so he didn't have to keep his own knees up. "I'm sorry, I'm stupid, you know I'm stupid, I'm sorry." He muttered into Ford's hair, and Ford's hands gripped into him tighter. He hugged back harder and Ford sighed in relief, head buried in Stan's shoulder and seeming content to stay there, hiding from the world in Stan's arms.

Stanley sighed. "I love you, Princess, you know that, right? I mess up but I love you, okay?"

Ford hummed around the plastic digging into Stan's clavicle.

Stan looked down at him. The little sliver of his face that Stan could see looked content - soft and adorable, tears drying on his cheeks. Stanley was in awe. His twin, who just seconds ago had been fucking bawling, was just...lying there, on Stan. Appreciating Stanley's strong grip on him like a warm weighted blanket. Stan started gently swaying from side to side, watching his boneless baby melt further into him with a content sigh.

Stan kept swaying them both, letting himself calm down while feeling Ford's chest rise and fall against his. He kissed Ford's hair. "Daddy's gotcha." He mumbled, and Ford smiled just slightly. Stan would figure it out - he wanted to see Ford's soft, content little smile for the rest of his days if he could.

(TL:DR Stanley thinks the best idea to deal with an overwhelmed baby Ford is to yell questions at him and panic. He's still learning)

WAHHH MY BOYSSS

ohhh ford bb...the feeling of Needing Something and being unable to articulate it...stan being so so scared of fucking things up between them...aaaaa

THANK YOU!!