#stanley angst

[y0urd0ll13]

Stan Angst Imagine

Pairing: Stanley Pines x Reader Warnings: angst, public break up, Stan being mean :( Word Count: 494 A/N: I'M SORRY IT HAD TO BE DONE Y'ALL WERE GETTING TOO COMFORTABLE

The dim light of the bar cast long shadows across Stanleys' face as he sat across from you, his expression hardened by the weight of the conversation neither of you wanted to have. You could tell he was trying to keep his temper in check, but the tension in his jaw and the way he clenched his fists on the table betrayed him.

“Stanley, we can figure this out,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady despite the anxiety gnawing at you. “I know things haven’t been easy, but we’ve gotten through worse before.”

He let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “This isn’t about things being easy,” he snapped, his voice rough and edged with frustration. “This is about you not understanding when enough is enough!”

You flinched at the harshness in his tone. “What do you mean?”

Stanley leaned forward, his eyes dark and intense. “You keep pushing, asking me to be someone I’m not! I’m trying to keep things together here, but it’s like you don’t get it. I’m not some perfect guy who’s gonna settle down and live happily ever after. I’m a screw-up, always have been.”

Your heart twisted at his words, but you refused to let him shut you out. “You’re not a screw-up, Stan. You’ve made mistakes, sure, but so has everyone. That doesn’t mean we can’t make this work.”

His expression hardened further, the walls he’d built around himself rising higher. “You’re not listening!” he nearly shouted, slamming his fist on the table. The sound echoed through the nearly empty bar, drawing a few wary glances from the other patrons. “I’m telling you this ain't gonna work, and you’re just sitting there trying to pretend like it’s all fine!”

You felt the sting of tears behind your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. “I love you, Stan,” you whispered, desperation creeping into your voice. “Why can’t that be enough?”

Stanley closed his eyes for a moment, exhaling sharply before meeting your gaze again. “Because it’s not enough,” he said, his voice softer but no less firm. “Love doesn’t fix everything, and it sure as hell doesn’t fix me. I can’t give you what you want, and the longer we keep this going, the worse it’s gonna get.”

His words hung heavy in the air, each one like a nail in the coffin of your relationship. You wanted to argue, to tell him he was wrong, but deep down, you could see the truth in his eyes. This was tearing him apart for much longer than he'd let you know and he was convinced this was the only way things could be.

“So, that’s it?” you asked, your voice trembling. “You’re just gonna walk away?”

Stanley sighed, the anger draining from his expression, leaving only a deep, weary sadness behind. “Yeah,” he said. "I fuckin' am.”

He stood up, not even hesitating for a moment before turning and walking out of the bar.

[wondermilka]

Kill Shot

Stanley Snyder x reader

Angst | Gun Violence | Near-dear experience | Blood and Injury

Before the world turned to stone, Y/N and Stanley Snyder were two sides of the same coin—one sharp and methodical, the other a quiet spark of warmth that managed to break its way into the elite sniper's steel-forged heart.

They weren’t lovers. Hell, Stan barely knew what to do with feelings outside of tactical evaluations. But Y/N? They were different. Clever. Brave. Always challenging him with that smile and a teasing joke that lingered long after they were gone. They were friends, or so he told himself. Just friends.

Even if he watched their six like a man possessed.

Even if he’d memorized the exact pitch of their laugh.

Even if he dreamed about a future where they’d both come back alive.

Then the world shattered into stone.

The forest was quiet—too quiet.

Stanley Snyder was a ghost in the trees, his sniper rifle ready in hand. His scope fixed on the boat floating above the river, he had the perfect angle on his target: Senku Ishigami.

His finger tensed.

“Three seconds to impact,” he muttered into the comms.

But Xeno’s voice crackled in his earpiece, cold and absolute. “Don’t miss. We end this now.”

Stanley's eye narrowed, breath slow and even. One squeeze, and the mission would be done.

And then—

Movement.

Too fast. Too close.

A blur of familiar color threw itself between Senku and the bullet’s path.

The gun kicked back. The shot rang out.

Stanley's heart stopped.

“…Y/N?”

The bullet hit you in the shoulder, and blood poured out fast, soaking your chest as everything around you seemed to stop.

Stanley was frozen. Breath held. Vision narrowing.

“Target hit,” came the garbled voice in his ear.

But it wasn’t the target

“Y/N, what the hell are you doing there?” he hissed, as if you could hear him. As if screaming across the distance could pull the bullet back.

He watched as Senku and Gen scrambled to drag you away, their limp body leaving a dark trail in wooden boards.

The sniper's hands shook.

Not from the kill—he’d killed before.

Not from the mission—he’d lived through worse.

But because this time, it was you

You faded in and out of consciousness, pain blooming like fire beneath their skin.

“You’re gonna be okay,” Senku said, his voice tight, strained, and completely unconvincing.

You tried to speak. Your mouth tasted like iron.

Night fell.

Stanley sat in the dark, gun at his side, heart in his throat.

He should feel like he did the right thing. Xeno would praise him. The threat was neutralized. But all he could see was you—eyes wide in surprise, not fear. Like you chose to take the hit. Like you knew.

“Why?” he murmured into the darkness. “Why would you do something so damn stupid?”

He knew why.

Because you always tried to save everyone. Even him.

When word came back that you were alive—but barely—Stanley didn’t know if he should feel relief or dread.

He wasn’t there when you woke. Couldn’t be. Wouldn’t be.

Because if he saw you—bandaged, pale, hurt because of him—he might break in ways he’d spent a lifetime avoiding.

You never said it, but he knew.

And now, it was too late to say it back.

@wondermilka2025

[coffee-obsessed-freak]

Stanley as like the fae kid that was supposed to be swapped with Ford but their mom saw Stanley and was like, "My kid now" and fought tooth and nail to keep BOTH of them.

The twins growing up excluded and estranged from the rest of the community but Ford gets treated better by school staff because he's the "brainiac" of the two.

Ford may be book smart, but Stan is NATURE SMART. He sees the little tingles of magic in the air, can smell the earth and it's inhabitants, can will nature to do one thing or another for him- he always has flowers to give to his mother, hand-grown by him somewhere in secret that even his twin brother doesn't know about. He's always got that calling that tells him that he should walk barefoot in the dirt, call to the birds in birdsong (he thinks to himself that it isn't possible, but instinct tells him otherwise), speak to the plants and trees tenderly, gently. Because they hear him, and they know him.

He's loved (as loved as he can be, at least), but he is lost. He doesn't feel like he should be there, that he should even stay there. He ignores this, but that feeling persists even after he's thrown out of the house. It persists when he's in the city, when he's on the run all the time from everyone. The only time the hurt is soothed is when one time, he lays down on the dirt ground underneath a tree because he has no money to pay for a hotel room, and it's the safest he's ever felt.

So imagine he gets called to Gravity Falls by his brother and- oh. Oh.

The trees, the critters, the creatures. They welcome him, they speak to him, they approach him- not in that angry way people do sometimes, but also not in the way people will sometimes look at him with a certain level of dazed relaxation brought about by his fae nature. No, they look at him like he was one of them- like he's home.

And something inside of him sings because this is right, this feels right. He's home, like he'd never been before.