Oneshots- Book 1

Still

This is a Stanley x Reader.

You shut the shower door, stepping onto the small bathmat. The water collected from your recent shower saturated it, and as you stepped on it the water leaked from it, spilling said water out onto the tile floor. You didn't pay it much attention as you dried yourself off, draping the towel around your shoulders so you could dry off your hair, and donned a bathrobe. It was fuzzy, newly warm from the dryer heat, just how you liked it. The satisfying heat filled you as you stepped out the bathroom and into the bedroom, where Stanley was, counting his money on his bed. A warm smile crossed his face at the sight of you, and he paused counting, setting the sizeable stack of money onto the mattress. Approaching you, he placed his hands on your shoulders, sliding them down your arms to take both your hands. Fingers interlaced, he pulled you into his chest. You buried your face there and the hands holding yours were now running up and down your back, tracing your figure.

Stan always admired your body for what it was, often lovingly touching and stroking your figure, complimenting you as he did so. No compliment escaped his lips. Tonight the silence had been overwhelming, but neither of you dared to break it in fear that it would disturb the peace. You and Stanley had been yearning for a night such as this one; owning a tourist trap often took a toll on the man, especially when aware of the reason why he forced himself to keep it running. You yourself had been occupied with online school, which was becoming increasingly difficult. The difficulties with achieving a bachelor's degree were inevitable, but you only had realized the toll it took on you after you had experienced them. Not to mention your job as a bartender often frustrated you. Gravity Falls bar patrons were suprisingly disrespectful, especially when they knew you were dating Stan Pines. As a result, the drunk patrons often teased you on the matter, and it merited you much more emotional turmoil than you bargained for. A sniffle escaped you at the thought.

"You okay?" Stanley had broken the silence. His gaze met yours. "I thought I heard cryin'."

"It's fine, Stan," you reassured him, but your voice wavered as you did so. It wasn't long until your bottom lip quivered and tears escaped your eyes.

"That doesn't look fine to me," Stan said stubbornly. "Tell me what's on your mind."

You sighed, the urge to cry now fading. Even though you and Stan called yourselves a "couple" for quite some time now, you were always reluctant to tell Stan about your insecurities, and how your job would often inflame them. Your fingers curled into his old wifebeater.

"It's my job," you uttered quietly. "The usuals came around and they started teasing me again."

Stan's eyebrows turned up in worry, and the wrinkles on his face set in, contrasting the youthful features he still had. It was clear that Stanley had reflected these same insecurities.

"You know I'm not good with words, but uh, don't sweat this. Those guys at the bar are blind idiots if they don't see the good in you."

"What about you? They often tease me about dating an older man." He sighs, completely aware.

"Age difference ain't so bad. So what if you're datin' someone a little older? I thought it was about if you were really into a person or not, not if they meet your age quota. I mean, you obviously have taste in men datin' someone like me." He gestured to himself.

You laugh, and pull yourself back into Stanley. "I'm assuming this means you're alright now?"

"Yes," you respond plainly. His oversized hands continued their journey down your back. The compliments previously absent before your small conversation had made themselves present.

"I'm sorry those guys tease you, though. But I guess the joke's on them."

"And why would that be?"

"Well, I get to show off a babe like you on my arm and they get to sit and watch me. Probably the reason they're at that bar."

You blushed, accepting the compliment. "Thanks, Stan."

"No problem." His grip on you became tighter, and you embraced him as well, trying to match the tightness. You couldn't. Eventually silence blanketed you two again. It settled comfortably in the old bedroom, and you closed your eyes, taking in the overpowering scent of cheap cologne. The scent had Stanley's name written all over it.

"I love you," he said eventually, as one of the hands on your back crawled up to card through your hair. This declaration was a rarity with Stan. He hadn't often expressed himself to you in plain terms- something you could only assume was some sort of psychological component on Stan's part- and it was nice to hear those words for a change. But then your insecurites led to a craving doubt.

"Are you sure?"

Stanley almost scoffed. "'Course I'm sure. Ain't no doubt about it." He grabbed both your hands, leaning in to kiss your forehead. "What did I do to deserve somethin' like this?"

The question wasn't in need of an answer; Stanley didn't want one right now. He just wanted to enjoy the time he had with you, this peaceful night that broke free from your usual hectic schedules. A terrible life of rejection and hardships led up to this relationship. It was at that thought that it suddenly didn't seem so bad. It was worth it. You were worth it.