#also I WANT STANLEY SO BAD WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME

[im-trying-my-best-yall]

all i can think off is those fuckass old men and that fuck ass triangle

[lemongogo]

more

[scoringeffects]

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[jinxthequeergirl]

The Ol Switcharoo (pt2)

Stan pines x reader /ford pines x reader

Summary: Your family vacation lasted longer than expected. When you return home to Stanford, you realize quickly something wrong.

Warning: NONE

Hey! Just some housekeeping before you read on

☆Thanks for all the love ya'll it means bunches

☆this part is shorter do to me wanting to pace this better, but I hope yall enjoy none the less!

☆a few of ya'll asked to be tagged so I'm starting a tag list if you'd like to be included don't hesitate to ask

☆additionally I did have a Playlist for this specific series and if ya'll would like me to post the songs for it also lemme know

Enjoy!

~~~~~☆~~~~~

"STANLEY HELP!"

Stan felt himself freeze up, his heart race and mind go blank, why couldn't he think? Why couldn't he move?

He watched in horror as his brother floated up backwards through the air into the gaping hole in space and time.

"Do something!"

"What...what do i do!?" He asked meekly, looking around for something to help.he watched as parts of his brother slowly disappeared, and as he reached into his coat pocket and tossed something at him. "Hide my research...CALLL Y/N ANYTHING-"

Stan shielded his eyes as a bright white light filled the room and knocked him back onto the floor. The room was suddenly quiet.

"Ford!?...Ford! Come back!" He wasted no time to get back up and bang on the machine, hoping it would start back up like an old appliance. "Please!"

He raced to the lever a few feet away, desperately pulling and yanking at it, but it didn't budge.

"Stanford!?...Ford!? Are you home yet!?" The small coo of an unfamiliar voice snapped Stan from his nightmare.

"Hello!?" The voice echoed out again. He quickly got up, reaching for his only form of security. A baseball bat.

The voice had gone silent, but he could still hear someone moving he took a long pause, then opened the door swinging his bad.

"FORD WAIT! WAIT, IT'S ME! ITS Y/N!!"

Y/n?

He stopped swinging the bat and stared down at you.

"Call y/n! Anything-"

"Y/n?"

"Yes, it's me, Ford! I haven't been gone that long have i?"

He cleared. "No not at all we have some catching up to do."

You could tell there was something ford...well stan (you'd have to get used to the sudden name change) wanted to tell you while you sat across from him. Like he wanted to give you bad news. But he seemed to be thinking of the right way to put it.

"So..stan...what made you want to change from Ford to stan? Did your family have that much of an impact on you?" You tried to joke to lighten the tension that seemed to linger in the air.

"Well...something like that...listen y/n-"

"Are you OK? You seem...different you seem nervous...more nervous then when I left.." You placed your hand over top of his and offered a reasuring smile.

"I..."

stan didn't know you...he had no right to lie to you. But Ford seemed to trust you and judging from the photo on his desk in the basement, how fondly he seemed to write about you in the journal...the scrapped drawings of you in the garbage you meant a whole lot more to him then stan could understand right now, you must have felt the same way about his brother.

He remembered how worried his brother had been in making sure he understood you were absolutely under no circumstances to not touch the journals or anything pertaining to it again.

"My closest friend y/n and I have been working on this project for months now...I should have listened to her but I didn't...I need you to get rid of this journal she can't be near any of this when she returns."

"Did something happen with the portal?...with that...creature? And what happened to your hands!" You said now, pulling both hands into yours to examine them.

Besides, you already seemed so worried. He couldn't be the one to break the news to you. Not now.

Besides, he had a plan.

Sort of.

So he did what he did best.

Lied.

"Well...uh while you were away, I had a little accident. I had to get surgery...yea surgery, and the accident you know was from the portal...so I said, Forget the whole thing! "

He Tried to say it in a way that would convince even himself.

"Stanford, what do you mean? What happened? Are you just going to give up on everything we worked for?"

"I have to, I just need some time."

Neither of you noticed at first that you were holding hands as you spoke. Stan was the first to notice the closeness. It was the first time in what felt like years that anyone had shown him this kind of affection, let alone the kindness you were demonstrating with your concern.

"I don't know what happened while I was away or when you even had time for something to go wrong or why you would even start working again without me!" He noticed the slight annoyance building up and squeezed your hand.

And you took a breath. "But I understand and I won't pretend to know what happened and if you aren't ready to tell me I can respect that...things got a little rocky between us before I left and I'm really just hoping things can go back to the way they used to be with us. If a longer break and time is what you need... then I am 100% behind your decision."

He felt a wave of relief wash over him at your words. Maybe it wasn't your words but the kind-hearted look in your eyes, or maybe it was the way you still held his hands in yours.

You'd be the first two admit two things about your current situation.

One, Nostalgia was a funny thing. You knew when something was off about your bestfriend, the man infront of you was was a changed man, while his story didn't add up he looked shaken and defeated...after all this was the man you trusted with half your life. And you wouldn't lie, you had clung so desperately to the memories of college and spring through winter, it was that glimmer of hope and a mix of Nostalgia for your good times together that made you believe him.

And two, You always knew better then to trust your heart you and Ford would joke about the idea of following your heart and not your brain, how silly a concept it was that the organ that pumped blood through your body had such a pull on your decision making it made your thought process stop.

Yet here you where.

Following your heart.

"How about a few drinks and I can tell you about my trip?" You offered standing and being the first to break the lock between your hands. "And I can tell you about the plans I have for this place!"

"Plans?"

"Sure! I mean, we aren't doing our science junk anymore, so we need to make money somehow, right?"

You set down two glasses.

"Ok?"

You sat down, you listened to him explain how he had already done a few tours displaying whatever you had already had laying around and how people where eating it up.

"Stanford you've never been one for the gimmicky tricks, you've always cared more about the real deal...WE'VE been about the real deal...why lie to people?"

"Trust me y/n do a tour with me tomorrow try to show the people a real life monster and whatchamacallit and put it up against my made up creature."

You laughed. This wasn't what you had expected Stanford pines to spend his break away from work doing. It was out of character for him. But refreshing somehow.

Just like that, the seasons changed, and it was spring again

You learned quickly people didn't like the truth.

Real monsters and ghouls seemed to only upset or bother people so you and stan collaborated a way to make attractions that seemed real enough but also gimmicky enough that tourists would eventually laugh at it.

You learned pretty quickly that you were not only a pretty crafty person but an excellent storyteller.

You and Stanford seemed to almost pick up where you left off bonding and cracking jokes. It was like he was more confident than when you left him, more relaxed and full of life. You two fit right back into place with eachother with out missing a beat.

It's exactly what you'd been missing.

Soon, you were renovating half the house to be a showroom and giftshop, and soon after you were selling and wearing t shirts, you began putting up a sign. By the following summer, you were basically an operational business.

The mystery shack felt more like a brain child of you and Stanford and you cared for it like such.

It was something fun.

Something that didn't seem to be running Stanford down like the science stuff did. You could see a genuine smile on his face as he showed some local kid the corni-corn.

It was silly. You couldn't remember the last time you'd done something silly and adventurous.

It felt good.

"Another day another dollar y/n my dear." Stan said, flipping the open sign to close and placing his little red fez cap on top of your head.

"Soon enough, we'll have people from all over the place coming to get a piece of the mystery shack." He said, wrapping his arm around your shoulders, leading you back to the section of the Mystery shack that was still your shared home.

"Yea, we have a real Walt Disney start-up story, don't we stanford." He laughed loudly before suddenly getting serious.

"Listen. I wanted to say thank you for sticking with me through this. It means a lot."

"Of course, stanford." You reached up and planted a small peck on his cheeks. "We've been through everything together. I'm not going to stop now."

You could see stans face flush slightly as you stretched and yawned. "Anyways goodnight stanford."

"Uh yea...goodnight..." You heard him mumble as he touched his cheek where you kissed him.

Things where looking up.

~~~~~☆~~~~~

Tag list!:

@fanficcrow

@slay-thou-pookie

[darlingdaisyfarm]

───୨ৎ praise that old man, girl!

a/n: i adore Stanley Pines and apparently im not alone because the amount of asks i got for nsfw with this man?? who am i to deny the people what they want?? also one anon asked for public sex with Stanley sooo here you go angel!

tags: nsfw, smut, vaginal and oral sex (f receiving), age gap, dirty talk, older man/younger woman, degradation + praise, size kink, dumbification, public sex, rough sex, breeding kink

You hadn’t exactly walked into the Mystery Shack with dreams of employment. Stan had hired you on the spot, half-serious when he said he couldn’t afford to be picky. “you got a pulse? can count to ten? good, you’re in,” while shoving a broom into your hands.

You’d been working here for a while now and Stanley Pines had somehow, against all reason, taken a liking to you. You weren’t like the other employees, you were sarcastic and always ready with a quick comeback. It didn’t take long for Stan to notice and he loved the fact that you didn’t take his shit. He loved how you could dish it out just as good as he could.

You genuinely liked your work. The old place had its charm and Stan, despite his grumpy act, was actually funny in his own way.

You were sharp, quick with the same kind of deadpan humor Stan wielded like a weapon. when tourists asked the weirdest and dumbest questions as “how does this yeti paw feel so real?”, you’d shrug and go, “oh, Mr. Pines wrestled the guy for it last spring! you should’ve seen him in the ring.”

And somehow, your nonsense never grated on him.

He’d grumble about you “driving him crazy,” but the truth was, he admired how you handled people, how you could spin up a lie on the spot and sell it with a sly smirk. Even when you worked him up, you had a knack for knowing how to make him laugh before he could stay mad.

Like the time you’d swapped the “do not touch” signs in the gift shop with ones reading “please steal this.” When Stan stormed out of his office, you barely flinched. “don’t blame me. Soos did it,” you’d said again and he’d folded his arms, sighing.

“Kid, you’re gonna give me an ulcer.”

“Then you’ll get to take a vacation, Mr. Pines.”

You had a way of making him feel younger, somehow. Not just the old man with a bad back and a million regrets. Around you, he felt like the guy who still had a chance to make someone smile. And god, he loved that.

Because, god, you talk back, crack jokes, get in his face with that stupid grin of yours. And he knows you know how to get under his skin. It’s annoying and hilarious at the same time.

You’re a disaster of a worker. He’ll admit that to anyone, but for some reason, Stan forgives you. every time. “who did this? who messed up the brochures?” and you always say the same thing “Soos.”

And fuck, he adores it, the way you lie so easily and confidently. He's not mad, but charmed by it. And maybe a little turned on too, but he’ll never admit that out loud.

“You know, i should fire you, right?”

“Yeah, but you won’t, cause i’m too cute, Mr. Pines.”

Stan had wanted to stay mad, but how could he? Every time you messed up, he found a way to let it slide, not because you were good at covering your tracks, but because you always knew just what to say, how to make him forget the shit you’d done. You made it all worth it.

The pick-up lines started a few weeks in. At first, they were awful, so bad that you’d nearly die of secondhand embarrassment. “you must be tired, ‘cause you’ve been running through my mind all day, doll,” he'd say with a lazy wink. and, of course, you’d always have something ready: “you should probably take a nap then, Mr. Mystery, you’re getting old.”

The first time Stanley tried to flirt with you, he didn’t know how it’d feel. He was always smooth, always had a line ready, but it always went wrong with you. “you know, i must be a snowflake ‘cause i’m falling for you.” but before he could even get the whole line out, you shot back, “snowflakes melt. Is that really how you want to end up?”

He’d blink, caught off guard, then chuckle. “smartass.”

But Stan, the bastard, he loved that about you.

He loved how you never pretended to be anything you weren’t. No frilly nonsense or sugar-coating, just honest humor that reminded him of his own shitty jokes. You didn’t back down, never tiptoed around him, and he couldn’t even be mad when you lied about the mess-ups.

His flirts were always the same, predictable, corny, but somehow, Stan delivered them with the precision of a seasoned performer. He would laugh at your attempts to flirt back what made you want to punch him and kiss him all at once. “you’re cute when you’re trying to be a romantic,” you say as you lean against the counter with a teasing grin. “but i’m still gonna need a drink to believe you.”

Stanley grew bolder though. “if I were a few years younger. . .”

“You’d still be a pervert?”

“Nah, just a smooth talker, toots,” he’d grin, trailing his fingers over a stack of papers as you walked past, brown eyes never leaving you

The more you two exchanged these ridiculous lines, the more the tension built. The fake flirting, the dumb compliments, it was a game to both of you and neither of you could stop playing.

The shack is empty, just for now. It's an early morning in Gravity Falls, the aroma of coffee that Stan insisted on brewing too strong fills the air. He was at the counter, organising some brochures for the tours, his usual tourist-trap grin nowhere to be found yet.

Tourists haven’t arrived yet.

You were running a little late today, again. Not that Stanley really cared, but he always pretended to. The man was predictable like that. By now, you’d learned that his bark was worse than his bite, though sometimes, you didn’t mind the idea of getting a little bitten.

You walk into the Shack with coffee in one hand and bag slung over your shoulder, the creak of the floorboards greeting you. Stan was leaning against the counter when you came, scribbling something on his clipboard, his back turned to you. And that’s when you saw it.

He wasn’t wearing his girdle and it was impossible not to notice the soft swell of his stomach beneath his shirt.

Fuck. You swallow hard, trying to act normal, but there’s no stopping the heat pooling low in your belly. Mr. Pines, all thick and broad, strong arms, messy morning hair, his belly curving under his chest, that's just too much

And while anyone else might have held back, might’ve thought better of sneaking up on their boss, you didn’t hesitate. The moment you saw him, your lips curled into a smirk.

He hasn’t noticed you yet.

Stepping closer, your let your hands slide over his clothes until your palms rested against the warm curve of his belly. He jumps immediately, his hand jerking across the paper, leaving a thick, jagged line of ink.

“What the— hey! what’re you doin’, kid?!”

“Just admiring my boss?” you grin wider, leaning into him.

Another grumpy “pfft. yeah, right.” comes your way when Stan moves to brush your hands away, but you just dig your fingers in harder, letting your breasts press against his back.

“You’ve been hiding this from me all this time? What a shame.”

His face burns instantly, bright red flushing up his neck. “dammit, don’t go grabbin’ me like that! i’m too old for—”

“Oh, come on,” you cut him off, crowding him against the counter. “you’re not too anything. in fact,” your fingers dip just slightly below his beltline, teasing. “i think you’re perfect just the way you are.”

“Perfect? hah, are you outta your damn mind? Look at me! I’m no spring chicken, alright? i’ve got—”

“Got what, Mr. Pines?” you interrupt. “nice body?” your nails scrape lightly against your boss, earning a shaky exhale from him. “i like it. a lot.”

“Cut it out, kid, this ain’t the kinda body women go crazy for. You’re wastin’ your time”

You frown. “says who?”

He huffs in embarrassment. “C’mon, you've seen it. I'm too old and- and uh, rough around the edges?”

“Damn, exactly what i like,” his whole body stiffens under your touch. “big strong hands, broad chest and this belly, i want all of it, Mr. Pines.”

“You got a filthy mouth, y’know.”

“Oh, i had a good teacher.” you giggle, feeling him already getting hard. “you ever been touched like this, Mr. Pines?”

Stan exhales hard, irritated and flustered. “‘course I have, don’t talk like I’m some goddamn virgin.”

“Thats not what i meant.” your nails scrape, dragging slow over his belly, over the dips and curves.

He tries to change the tactics then. “listen, sweetie, i’m too old for this shit, alright? you- you deserve some young, pretty guy who—“

“Who what? who doesn’t look half as good as you? who can’t make me laugh the way you do? who doesn’t make me want to do this? i like it thick, broad, strong. You could just throw me around and have your way with me, Mr. Pines.”

Stanley fucking stops breathing. Hes hesitating because he doesn’t want to admit he’s just as fucking hungry for this as you are.

He runs a hand over his face, trying and failing to keep his composure. “You- you’re crazy, y’know that?” but you always knew how to get under his skin.

“Admit it, you’d miss me if i wasn’t here to keep you on your toes.” your fingertips graze his bulge once more and that's it. Stan’s breath stutters in his throat.

“Hot belgian waffles, you better be serious, sweetheart.” he’s already turning, crowding you against the counter, gripping your waist, your hips, your ass.

“Why wouldn’t i be?” you gasp after you say the last word when he palms your tits, kneads them roughly.

“You wanna be fucked like that? like a real man oughta do it?” he leans closer to your face. You nod too eagerly and Stan doesn’t waste a second “we better make this quick,” while his fingers already yanking at your clothes, dragging you onto the counter, pressing his mouth to yours.

Quick. Ha.

Stan kisses like he’s trying to eat you alive, pushing his tongue into your mouth. You moan, grinding against him, feeling the hard length of his cock pressing into your stomach

You should have known better. Should’ve known better than to touch him like that, to let your fingers linger on the soft curve of his belly as he stood there, all unbuttoned and exposed. But you didn’t. You couldn’t. Because the moment your hands landed there, the pull was too strong, and you knew that if you didn’t take it now, you’d burn up inside.

“You sure you want this, baby? ‘cause once i start, i’m not stoppin.” you nod, gasping for breath, and that’s all he needs. “good, i’ve been holding back long enough.” he gropes you, touches you everywhere, his hands roaming over your back, squeezing your ass.

“Fuck, these are perfect,” your bra is barely on you before he’s palming your tits, squeezing rough, thumbing your nipples, watching them peak.

He licks his lips, then leans down and latches on. Wet, sucking, pulling noises fill the Shack. You arch, whimper, push into his mouth and he groans. “needy little thing, ain’t ya?” he switches breasts, drags his tongue over the swell, teeth scraping before sucking your nipple into his mouth, rolling it, flicking it.

Stanley Pines, despite his gruff exterior, is a sweaty mess in front of you. A man that had given up, probably, on ever being seen as sexy. That’s what made it so deliciously easy to shatter him. To break that cold shell. Because he didn’t see it, did he? He didn’t see how much his body, his age, even his wrinkles, didn’t matter to you. You just want him to feel it. You want him to feel desired, so badly.

“Fucking hell, yer driving me insane, toots.”

You laugh breathlessly. “don’t be so dramatic, old man. You’re tougher than you look.”

“Oh, you’re gonna pay for that one,” he growls as he pushes you back against the counter, gripping your thighs.

His mouth is on you again, kissing down your neck, biting, his tongue leaving hot scorching wet trails that fill your stomach with butterflies. You grind against him, feeling the press of his cock through his pants.

“You want this, huh? want me to fuck you right here, where anyone could walk in?”

“Yes, i need you, Mr. Pines.” your hands grip his shoulders, pulling him closer.

Stanley presses his thick fingers against your underwear, circling your throbbing clit through your panties, drawing soft sounds from your lips.

“Already so wet. Hell, you’re gonna take me so good, aren’t ya? this tight little pussy’s gonna feel so fuckin’ good around my cock.”

You moan, your head falling back, your body arching against him as he works you with his fingers faster, harder.

“Please, please, please, need you!” then, out of the blue, or maybe because you're too lost to even care so you'd mumble everything that comes out of your mouth, you quietly admit. “Mr. Pines, f-fuck, ive touched myself to the thought of you—”

Stanley looks at you. “say that again.”

“I've thought about you, i fingered myself imagining it was your cock.” you say quietly, looking at him with little hearts in your puppy eyes.

“Jesus christ, you filthy little thing.”

“Stan—”

“Mr. Pines.” fuck. the way he corrects you, heat coils in your stomach, between your legs. “You wanna get fucked good, you use the right name.”

“M-Mr. Pines—fuck, please—” his fingers press harder, rubbing slow, teasing circles over your clothed clit.

“Soaked. And i ain’t even touched you yet.” you whine, pressing into his hands, your hips twitching. And that bastard laughs. “poor thing, you really need it, huh? sweetie, you’re lucky i’m not makin’ you beg for it.” yet, he forgot to add.

You’re about to retort, but then his fingers slide your panties to the side, spreading your folds, dragging through your wet slit.

“Fuck, baby, dripping all over my fingers.”

“N-need you—”

“Aw, yeah? that so?” he pushes a finger in your pussy so fucking slow, savouring the way your little cunt takes his thick digit, already imagining how perfect it'd be with his cock instead. “tight angel, fuck, so tight.” Stan manhandles you roughly, spreading your legs with his hands, kneeling in front of you, about to devour you whole. You feel his hot breath against your core and when he leans in and his tongue finally licks a long, slow stripe through your folds, you swear you see stars.

“Taste even better than i thought,” he groans, voice muffled against your pussy. His big hands grip your thighs, holding you open as he buries his face between your legs, licking and sucking like a man starved.

“Mr. Pines—oh my g-god—” Stanley keeps grunting and moaning, the vibration sending shocks through your body.

“Fuck, keep sayin’ my name like that. Can’t get enough of you, doll.” his warm tongue flicks your swollen clit and he slides two fingers into you, curling them, scissoring. Your hips buck against his face, but he holds you down with one arm across your stomach. “Stay still, princess, let me take care of you.”

You’re already close and he knows it, his fingers pumping into you faster, his mouth relentless on your clit. You fall over the edge with a cry, your thighs trembling as he works you through it, fingers still moving, tongue still teasing, until you’re begging him to stop from overstimulation, tugging his hair. Stanley pulls back, lips and chin glistening and grins like the filthy bastard he is. “cant believe i’ve been missin’ out on this.”

He stands, towering over you and you reach for him, fumbling with his belt. When the metal buckle clinks loudly in the quiet of the Shack, Stanley impatiently shoves his pants down to free himself.

Your gaze drops and your eyes widen. Jesus christ.

“Like what you see?”

“I’d be stupid not to,” you grin, reaching out to wrap your fingers around him, making him curse under his breath, his hips jerking into your hand as he grabs your wrist, guiding you to pump his hard length slowly.

But you two don't have much time so he holds your panties aside with one hand, lining himself up with the other and with a single thrust, Stan buries himself inside you, stretching you so perfectly it makes your vision blur.

“Fuck,” his hands grip your hips so hard you were sure there will be bruises. “you’re so fuckin’ tight and warm. Goddamn, sweetheart.”

Your response breaks off into a whimper as he starts moving, slow at first to let you get used, his hips rolling into yours smoothly.

“That’s it, take it, baby, all of me.” you let out a soft moan, looking down where you both connected and he grins, pressing his hand against your stomach, where the outline of him bulged beneath your skin. “look at that, i’m so fuckin’ deep, i can feel myself here. You feel it, baby? feel me stretchin’ ya open?”

You nod frantically, your head spinning with every relentless thrust as he stretches you in ways you didn’t think possible. You cry out, your nails raking down his back, your body arching against him as he sets a brutal pace, driving into you over and over again.

“Such a pretty little thing, lettin' an old bastard like me ruin ya.”

You can only nod, your needy voice lost to the pleasure as youre getting fucked that good, right here in the Shack, where anyone could walk in.

He’s watching you, watching your pussy stretch around his fat cock, watching the way you tremble. His big hands grip your thighs, spreading you wider, forcing you to take all of him.

“Bet no one’s ever fucked you like this before, huh?” he slams into you again, making the counter creak beneath you. Using his strong hands he keeps you in place as his cock drives in and out of your dripping, swollen cunt.

“C'mon, answer me, baby,” he growls, his hand sliding up to grab your jaw, forcing your glazed-over eyes to meet his. His cock buries deep, hitting that spot inside you that makes your legs tremble. ”didn’t ask for silence. you ever been fucked like this before?”

Your eyes are closed as you shake your head, whimpering. “n-no.”

“No, what?”

"N-no one’s ever fucked me like this, Mr. Pines—”

“Good girl, use your words,” Stan grips your chin and forces you to meet his gaze. “tell me how much you love this cock.”

“S-so much,” you manage to choke out between pathetic whines and mewls, your brain turning into useless mess. “i love it, i love you, Mr. Pines, don’t stop!” tears pricking the corners of your eyes.

“Poor thing, all those boys before me and none of ‘em knew how to stretch this perfect cunt open right.” he shifts his hips, grindings his cock against your walls, making you sob. “bet they didn’t even know how to fuck you proper, huh? didn’t know how to make ya beg?”

You shake your head and gasp, clinging to him.

His hand slides down your body, rough fingers rubbing over your swollen, sensitive clit. “owwh, they never even made ya cum, did they, sweetheart?”

“No, they didn’t, Mr. Pines.”

“Fuckin’ shame. all those useless boys, never knew what they were missin’.” his thumb circles your clit. “but don't worry, this pussy’s mine now, ya hear me? No one else’s. I’m the only one who can fuck ya like this, make ya feel this good.”

“Mr. Pines, ple-please. . .’

“Please what, sugar?” he pants, fucking you so deep you swear you feel him rearranging your insides.

You sob, tears spilling from your pretty eyes. “p-please, make me cum—” Stan doesn’t let up, not even for a second. His cock is buried so deep inside you that you can barely breathe and think, barely do anything but moan and take it like the filthy little thing you are.

“Aw, baby, you gonna cum already? just from my cock stretchin’ ya open like this?” you nod, your body tightening around him. “fuck, that’s right, sweetheart, squeeze me just like that. Never thought i’d get to ruin somethin’ so perfect.” his pace picks up, his cock pounding into you so hard you’re sure the counter’s going to break.

You were supposed to keep it quick. just a little pre-tour fuck as you both said.

But thirty minutes turned into sixty and sixty turned into absolute depravity.

The counter was first, but then Stan couldn’t stop. His cock is buried deep inside your soaked, needy cunt as his hands hold you while he thrusts into you.

"Fuckin’ christ, doll, this pussy’s gonna be the death of me."

You had your legs around his waist, arms locked around his neck, Stanley fucking into you so deep you felt like you’d pass out. But then he lifted you up, didn’t even bother pulling out, just carried you like you weighed nothing, still fucking up into you, and took you across the shack like a man possessed.

“Mr. Pines!” and “so good!” were the only words you knew.

“Thought we were keepin’ this quick, huh?” he grunts. “then why the fuck can’t i stop?”

You can’t even answer because your mouth is too busy moaning, gasping, babbling absolute nonsense while he splits you open, every inch pushing against your soft, sensitive walls, stuffing your tight pussy full.

You arch your back, sobbing, because you need it fast again, rough again, animalistic again. And he fucking gives it to you, by grabbing your thighs, folding you in half and absolutely destroying you.

“Fuckin’ filthy girl, letting an old bastard like me ruin this tight little pussy. Even dreamed about this, ugh, layin’ awake at night, fingers buried in that needy little cunt, wishin’ it was me.”

What can you say except loud “yesyesyes!” gasps? However, Stanley is satisfied with that.

“Yeah? bet you’re never gonna want anyone else fuckin’ you again.”

He doesn’t stop. Every display case. Every fake cryptid setup. Even the damn vending machine.

“You're so fuckin’ wet, doll, i could slide into this little cunt with no effort at all.”

Fake exhibits? fucked over them. That fake monster cage? Bent over it. That dusty-ass animatronic Stan managed to steal? yeah, he fucked you right in front of it, hands gripping your ass, hips slamming into yours so hard the damn thing started moving

Stan literally punched it to shut it up.

But did he stop? no.

“Shut the hell up, buddy,” he muttered to the machine, before shoving his cock back inside you and making you scream.

but the final round?

Staff room.

Both of you panting, sweaty, while he takes you from behind, balls slapping against your throbbing clit, the slick sound of skin on skin echoing through the empty Shack.

Or, well, not so empty anymore, because suddenly you hear the honk of a tourist bus outside.

Stan’s head snaps up. “oh, you gotta be fuckin’ kidding me—”

His eyes dart to the stupid clock on the wall and he actually freezes for a second.

“We— we were supposed to open, like���shit, twenty minutes ago.”

“So? keep going.” you say lazily under him.

“Oh, you’re gonna get me in trouble.” but does he stop? does he fucking stop?

No, no he does not. Instead, he fucks you harder.

“I'm gonna make this quick, baby, gonna fill you up real nice, then i gotta—fuck—gotta get to work—“

But then— “uh, Mr. Mystery?”

fuck.

Stan’s body locks up and you both freeze. The voice is right outside the door. Stanley lets out the deepest, most exhausted sigh. “Uh, yeah?”

The tourist hums. “sooo i was wondering, when does the tour start? we’ve been waiting outside for a while.”

Stan closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “yeah, yeah, uh, give me five minutes, kid, i got, uh, got a bad back today, y'know? just need a second to—uhhh—” you clench around him, tight, so fucking tight and his words cut off in a groan.

He glares at you. you just smirk.

“You okay in there, Mr. Mystery?”

Stan forces his voice steady. “yeah, yeah, just—” he grits his teeth. “just need a minute to stretch it out.” he snaps his hips forward, stuffing his cock back into your cunt, deep and slow, forcing you to feel every thick, throbbing inch

You whimper, just to fuck with him because this old man is so funny when annoyed.

“Fuckin’ hell, stop that.” he growls under his breath at you.

But the tourist won’t leave.

“So, uh, what’s the official policy on taking pictures of the fake exhibits?”

Stan’s eye twitches, his hips jerk forward involuntarily and you let out a choked gasp.

The tourist pauses.

“Mr. Mystery? are you sure you're okay?”

Stan immediately shoves a hand over your mouth. “Told you, just back’s actin’ up, kid.”

The tourist keeps talking.

“What do you think the likelihood is of alien activity in oregon? because personally, i think—”

You clench around him again. Stan chokes on a groan, his cock throbbing inside you as he tries to keep his voice normal.

“Listen, kid, why don’t you, uh, go look at the gift shop or somethin’, huh?”

“Oh, but i wanted to ask about—”

Stan loses it

“NOT NOW, KID. TOUR STARTS IN TEN MINUTES. LEAVE ME THE HELL ALONE.”

“Ohh. . . Okay?” fucking finally, you hear footsteps and door creaking, that idiot leaving

Stanley slumps forward, forehead against your shoulder.

“Poor Mr. Mystery,” you tease, moving your hips. “just trying to do his job, but this damn girl won’t stop teasing him—”

“Ohhh, you thought you were so fuckin’ cute, huh?” the deep rasp of his voice sends shivers down your spine. His chest is pressed against your back, his weight holding you down while his cock still stuffed inside your ruined cunt. “moanin’ all pretty while i was tryna talk? teasin’ me in front of that dumbass tourist. Makin’ those fuckin’ sounds on purpose. Thought i wouldn’t do somethin’ about it?”

You yelp when his hand grips your hair, yanking your head back just enough to whisper against your ear. “you wanna act like a dumb little slut? then i’m gonna fuck you like one.” after that, Stan pulls out slowly, torturously just to slam back in.

You cry out. No, the sound you make would be better described as pathetic loud whine.

But Stan slaps a hand over your mouth, pressing you into the couch. “uh-uh, pretty, you don’t get to be loud now. you lost that privilege.”

His cock is so deep, stretching your cunt open, filling you completely. Every thrust is hard, brutal, messy, wet. Your pussy clenches around him, sucking him in, greedy for more as you whimper into his big palm. The couch creaks under you, the whole room still eerily silent except for the filthy, wet sounds of him using you.

“Aw, what’s wrong, baby? thought you liked teasin’ me. now you can’t even take my cock?” as you nearly fall from the fast rhythm. Stan laughs against your ear. “thought you wanted me to fuckin’ ruin you, huh? turn this sloppy little cunt into my personal fuckhole?”

You can't even moan as Stan snaps his hips up, hitting so deep it knocks the breath from your lungs.

“What’s the matter, princess? feelin’ a little too full?” his belly presses against your back, his size overwhelming you, his weight pinning you down, making sure you can’t run from him as he grabs your waist, pulls you back onto him, forces you to take every inch. “ this little cunt’s gonna take every last drop, huh? ‘cause that’s what you are, ain’tcha?”

His fingers grip your jaw, turning your head so he can look in your glassy eyes.

“Say it, sweetie. Tell me what you are.”

Your brows knit together. “m’ your dumb little slut, Mr. Pines. . .m’ made to take your cock—” words come out barely coherent through the lewd slap of skin-on-skin filling the room.

Damn right. His hand slides down, finding your clit, rubbing it fast. Your body jerks, overstimulated.

“Too much?” his voice is mocking. “too fuckin’ bad, baby. Shoulda thought of that before you started actin’ like a brat.”

You’re already close again, what is it now, your sixth orgasm? Eighth? You shake too hard in his hands as your cunt spasms around his cock.

“Gonna fill you up, doll. make you fuckin’ mine. you want that? lemme hear you beg.”

”P-please. . . ple, mhm. . .hhng . .” your words muffled against his palm.

“Please what?”

“Please—please breed my messy cunt, Mr. Pines—please, please—”

“Holy shit, baby, you want me to breed this little pussy? want me to fill you so full you’ll be drippin’ down your thighs all day?”

You nod frantically and Stanley feels you smile widely against his skin what makes him laugh. Such a dumb slut you are.

“Greedy little thing. y'know i gotta work today, right?” his cock throbs inside you, stuffing you so full you can feel him in your stomach. ”but fuck- fuck, baby, can’t help it.” his hips snap forward, burying himself completely as he cums, making you feel every pulse, every throbbing rope of his hot seed spilling inside you, flooding your pussy.

Your own orgasm hits so hard your vision whites out, your cunt clenching tight, squeezing him, milking him dry.

“Oh, that's it, baby, there it is. Good little slut.” you collapse, trembling, fucked-out and absolutely ruined.

Stan stays inside you, catching his breath, watching as his cum spills out, dripping down your thighs. He leans down, kisses your neck. “gonna clean you up, sweetheart.”

You blink up at him through tired eyes, dizzy. “with what?”

He smirks. “my fuckin’ tongue.” uh oh, you guess Mystery Shack is gonna open late today because even though Stanley Pines has a job to do, first he’s gotta make sure his messy girl is properly taken care of.

[lovecla]

IF YOU LOVE ME, LET ME KNOW | jack hughes.

chapter six:

<last chapter> <next chapter>

➴ warnings: none!!

➴ word count: 4.1k

➴ author’s note: thought it’d be great to give u guys jack’s pov please don’t kill me—or jack. also wanna say thank you to each one of you who take the time to read this series and give me your thoughts abt it. i cannot thank you enough. pls be patient with jacky, he’s just a boy :p nice reading yall!!!

liked by charlieputh, troyesivan, billboard and 3,899,092 others

sophiamontenegro 'rip to my feelings' is out now 🪄 i want to start this by saying thank you to everyone who helped me make this dream of mine come true.

all of the songs here mean the world to me, and i truly hope they help to heal some of you, like they healed me. please, don't let anyone make you feel like you don't deserve good things. you do, all of us do.

thank you grace, thank you john, thank you hannah, a special thank you to charlieputh and a huge thank you to all of you.

View all 8,270 comments

charlieputh You’re a genius and it was my pleasure 💙 congratulations, Soph!

morgan.grace I love you so much I might turn into a puddle. Soph, you’re one of the strongest, sweetest people I’ve ever met and I’m so grateful to call you my best friend. I watched you put so much effort and energy into this, and i am proud. Happy RTMF day 🪦

billboard I am crying, you’re crying, all of us are crying.

user1 i knew this was going to hurt but DAMN Girl what the hell

user2 it’s been hours and I’m still crying because of this goddamn music video. And i HATE charlie puth

user3 user2 NO GIRL BC SAME?? it’s so SAD

user4 Harris Dickinson if i fucking catch you on the streets you’re DONE

user5 off topic but do you guys think any of these songs were written for jack hughes…

user6 user5 honestly no,, soph said this album has been in the making for one year and apparently they just broke up last week?

_quinnhughes Congrats, Soph 👍

sophiamontenegro _quinnhughes thank u, quinny

user43 sophiamontenegro _quinnhughes CHAT WHAT DOES THIS MEAN???

— ♡

“HUGHES, the hell was wrong with you today?” Keefe’s voice sounded harsh and angry.

Even though there were two Hughes in the team, everyone knew who the coach was referring to.

“It’s just not a good day,” Jack mumbled, removing his uniform and not bothering to look up.

The locker room was dead silent, so everyone heard Keefe’s scoff. “Not a good day? More like not a good week,” he stepped closer, hands on his hips. “You’ve been off for the entire week and let me tell you something, son, we’re not making it to the Finals with you playing like you did tonight.”

Jack wanted to talk back so bad but deep down he knew Coach was right. He had been playing like shit, ever since that night at your house.

You. Just thinking about you made Jack feel like straight up shit. Something that never happened before.

He is handsome, he has thousands of fans. People paid to watch him play, people wore his jersey proudly. He could have any girl he wanted but still. Everything changed at that dinner, six months ago, when he saw you performing up close for the second time.

At that moment, he was mesmerized by you. Back then, he thought he was just horny and in the need of a good fuck but looking back now he knows that it wasn’t just that. It was something bigger than himself, yet something he couldn’t name.

“I get it, Coach,” Jack muttered, putting on his suit.

“I hope you do, kid, otherwise, you can just say goodbye to your NHL career and the Stanley Cup.” Coach barked before getting out of the locker room.

Ignoring the stares he was getting, Jack moved on autopilot, like he’d been doing the entire week, shoving his things inside his duffel bag and frowning.

“Cap, wanna go out and grab some drinks? I wanna get wasted!” Someone, Jack didn’t care to know who, shouted, talking to Nico.

“‘Can’t today, man,” Nico answered, duffel bag already on his shoulder. “I’m going to a concert tonight.”

That caught Jack’s attention, pulling him back from his thoughts.

“Concert?” He asked, looking at how everyone went quiet and stared at Nico. “Whose concert?”

“Well, you see…” Nico stuttered and somehow, even if he hadn’t said anything, Jack knew exactly whose concert it was. “Just. A singer?”

“Yeah, no shit is a singer, Hischier, I thought we went to concerts to watch electricians doing their shit,” Jack bited back, the frown just bigger now. “Whose concert, Cap?” He said the word like he was mocking Nico and even though he wanted to take that back, he didn’t. Nico was an amazing person and it wasn’t his fault you didn’t want anything to do with Jack anymore.

“Hum, well—”

“For fuck’s sake, man, just spit it out,” Bastian said, rolling his eyes. “We’re going to Soph’s concert. Launching party, whatever.”

“We?” Jack’s eyes doubled in size. “Who else is going?”

“She invited the entire team,” Mercer answered, and Jack could swear he was one step away from passing out. “And Zegras.”

“Yeah, the entire team minus you!” Zegras shouted, clearly not reading the room. None of the players said anything about your and Jack’s situationship-break-up but Trevor made it clear he was happy with the situation. “Zegras is out in the hunt again, baby, ‘gonna give Soph the real D!”

Jack didn’t even notice he moved until he felt a heavy hand on his chest, looking down and realising it was Nico’s hand and he was now toe to toe with Trevor.

“Watch the shit you say, Zegras. I’m not fucking with you.” Jack spoke slowly, eyes not leaving Zegras’.

“Like you’re going to do anything, Hughes. You lost the prize, now it’s time for her to know what a real man is.”

Jack stepped foward again, only to be stopped by Nico’s hand.

“She’s not a fucking prize and this is not a fucking game, asshole,” Jack said through his teeth, ready to punch Trevor right there and now.

“How old are you two?” Hischier hissed, separating Jack and Trevor like a dad would do. “Trevor, shut the fuck up and don’t talk about Soph like that. And you,” he looked and Zegras before looking at Jack again. “You can’t and you won’t do shit. You and Sophia aren’t a thing anymore and there’s no one to blame but yourself. Suck it up, Hughes.”

Jack wanted to punch all of them in their fucking faces. It wasn’t his fault! He wasn’t the one who published the article and he wasn’t the one who sent that fucking picture of him and Ava leaving that party.

So what if she was his ex? That was in the past. He didn’t even remember her name, for fuck’s sake. She meant nothing to him while you—

“Whatever,” Trevor shrugged, before leaving the room.

“Hischier,” Jack called before Nico left. He turned back and stared at Jack, eyes tired. Jack felt bad for acting like that and giving even more trouble to Nico but Trevor was a fucking assface. “I need to go to that concert.”

“Unless you have an invitation or a ticket, I can’t take you there, man.” He bit his lips. “I’m sorry, but I won’t do that to Soph.”

Jack hated how Nico was clearly choosing sides and he also hated how he said her name and how everyone seemed very comfortable with calling you Soph but he pretended that he didn’t care.

“I’m not going to talk to her, I just…” his lips formed a straight line. He wasn’t sure of what he wanted exactly, but he needed to see you. Ever since your album had been released, he had been playing it nonstop, trying to memorize every breath you took, every line you sang, every beat you produced. He just needed to see you. “I want to see her.”

“Man, you know I can’t do that. Grace will kill me.”

“I’ll deal with her, Hischier, I swear,” in that moment, Jack was glad everyone else had already left, otherwise it’d be humiliating.

Although he noticed, with shock, that he wouldn’t mind begging in front of people if he got the chance to see you.

Nico ran his hands through his hair, muttering something in German before nodding with his head once.

“Fine, but I swear to God that if you upset Grace or Soph or worse, both,” he got closer to Jack’s body, looking like he did when he was on the ice. Terrifying. “I’ll personally make sure you won’t do that ever again.”

Gulping, Jack nodded once, before following Nico.

— ♡

THE line outside the venue was gigantic, making the men inside the van yell and whistle.

Much to Jack’s dismay, all of the Devils who were your fans had been invited to your concert— except him, of course. Which he thought was really, really shitty, by the way— and they were all excited, wearing shirts with your face on it and holding banners with your name.

Jack had to wear an all black outfit, with a cap hiding his hair and sunglasses. He thought he looked ridiculous but unfortunately, Nico was right: you couldn’t see him. He knew that if you did you’d be upset and the last thing he wanted was to ruin your night and concert. So yeah, hiding himself it is.

They left the van, entering the building from the back entrance, not wanting to cause a commotion out there in the front. Jack had been told this was just a small concert but the place looked packed with people.

“Okay, so,” Nico started, wearing his Captain belt once again. “Grace will be here in a second, and she will give us the VIP necklaces so we can go to our sets,” he turned around, facing Jack. “I honestly don’t know what to do with you. Grace will probably kick you out but at least I did my part.”

Jack just nodded, already thinking of millions excuses he could say to Grace so she would say yes.

True to Nico’s words, Grace showed up not even a minute later, wearing a red, tight dress and heavy makeup. She looked beautiful.

“Hi, fellas!” She walked in, smiling brightly. “Nice seeing you all, Soph will be happy with you being here and— what the fuck are doing here?” Her smile was gone, and now the only thing left was a scowl on her face.

Jack smiled awkwardly.

“Grace, listen, he asked me to bring him here because he wanted to see Soph—” Nico started, only to be interrupted by Grace’s harsh words.

“I don’t give a single fuck, Nico, what the hell!” She was starting to leash out on Hischier so Jack knew he had to say something.

“She’s not going to see me, I promise,” he replied.

Grace laughed. “Of course she isn’t going to see you because you’re going to leave!”

“Grace, come on,” Jack muttered, ready to beg to another person just to see you. Fucking shit. “I can sit in the back, there’s like a thousand people outside. She won’t see me.”

“Baby,” everyone looked at Nico as he approached Grace. Jack frowned. Since when were they together? “I told him that if he did anything bad I’d punch the shit out of him myself. He will behave.”

“I’m not a dog—”

“Fine,” Grace sighed, loudly, already looking like she regretted saying yes. “Nico I swear that if Sophia sees him or if someone takes any pictures of him here, I’ll snatch your dick out of your body.”

All of the men there made an ouch sound, faces amused and terrified. Nico only nodded, after giving Jack the scariest look ever.

Grace gave them their badges and asked for another one for Jack. Everyone there was running around and shouting things, probably all worried about everything being perfect, and Jack found himself smiling because you were surrounded by people who cared about you and your work.

Turns out that sitting in the back really meant sitting in the back, because Grace gave Jack a really shitty seat that despite being small as fuck, had a really good view of the stage, even if it’d be impossible for you to spot him.

Jack’s hands were sweaty and his heart was racing in his chest. The place was packed with all different types of people, from children to adults, and some grandparents here and there.

He was proud. He remembered how excited you were for this album, for this little concert, and watching how you’ve managed to ace all of that, made him smile under his hand.

The rest of his teammates were sitting in the VIP section, really close to the stage, and hell if Hughes didn’t envy them. But he knew this was for the best.

Thirty minutes after he sat down, the lights dimmed and only the stage was on. The screams were so fucking loud and if Jack wasn’t already used to people screaming his ears off during games, he’d probably have a fit right there.

“Ladies and gentlemen, Sophia Montenegro.”

Nothing could ever prepared Jack for the sight of you on that stage. It’d been two weeks since you last saw each other and the last time was awful, his heart hurting every time he remembered the sight of you crying and remembering he was the reason why.

But watching as you stood on top of some kind of platform, wearing a black, glittery body suit, with heels and black, see through socks. Your hair was styled in a way that drove him absolutely crazy, and now he wasn’t so sure that coming to this concert was a good idea after all.

“One year, ten thousand bad moments

But it was dressed up in heated emotion

And I tried to look for the best in the worst

But like, fuck me, that caused a commotion.”

Your voice was perfect, of course it was. Somehow, you knew how to sing live even better than the recorded songs, and your stage presence was out of this world. Jack looked at you as you moved around, singing and dancing and waving at people and interacting with the band, not knowing what to do with the weight on his chest.

He was happy to see you, he really was, happier than he’d felt in this entire week, but fuck if he wasn’t hurt. Watching you from afar was even worse than not watching you at all, because he was reminded again and again that he lost you.

Even if he still thinks it wasn’t exactly his fault.

The crowd was loud, people were dancing here and there and Jack could swear the girl in front of him was crying.

“Oh, you're so vicious

Love me, then pretend you didn't

Crush my heart and wreck my image

Why you gotta be so, so, so

Oh, you're so vicious”

You were sitting in the middle of the stage, microphone in your right hand, singing with your whole heart. Anyone could see how alive you felt whenever you sang and honestly, it was beautiful to witness.

The song continued, and every second Jack was taken aback by how beautiful you were. So fucking beautiful. The most beautiful woman he had ever seen, inside and out, full of life and happiness and joy.

He only noticed that the song had ended when he heard people cheering louder than they were before, and he started to pay attention again.

There you stood, in the middle of the stage, trying to even your breath. You were smiling so hard, cheek to cheek, eyes shining so bright even Jack in his shitty ass seat could see it.

“Hi, guys,” you were out of breath but your voice still sounded like honey to Hughes’ ears, and he had missed the sweetness. So. Much. “Oh my god, there’s so many of you in here, what the hell.”

People laughed, and Jack found himself smiling.

“Hi, I’m Sophia,” you said, shyly, like the people there hadn’t paid to see you. “Thank you for being here, guys. It’s been a while since I last saw you guys face to face. Last time was in Coachella, back in April, right?”

People shouted many things, you smiled.

“So a week ago I released my fifth album, rip to my feelings,” more cheering. “I know the title is corny but I couldn’t find better wording. This album, and I’ve said this countless times, means the world to me,”

“Fuck Harris Dickinson!” Someone shouted and everyone started laughing, including you.

“Yeah, yeah,” you agreed. “I hope you like the show. I’ve also heard that we have some special guests tonight…”

Jack’s heart stopped. For some idiotic reason, he thought you’d say his name. Until he reminded himself that you and him were no longer a thing and you didn’t even know he was there.

“Please, please, please, make some noise for my favorite hockey team, the New Jersey Devils!”

The camera focused on the fifteen men sitting on the VIP section, who got out of their seats and started shouting, while showing off their merch, making the other people cheer too.

Jack knew he shouldn’t, but he felt jealous all the same. He should be there, cheering for you and kissing you in front of all of them. Maybe punching Zegras in the face while he was at it too.

“Thank you for coming, guys,” you smiled again, before you started singing the next song.

Jack was mesmerised with you for the next hour and a half. How you danced, how you sang, how you twirled around, how you looked so fucking gorgeous in that tight outfit. How your eyes shined, how your body was perfect, and how he wanted nothing more than you.

The concert went well, like everyone knew it would, you making yourself comfortable, and at home: talking with your fans, taking pictures with them, handing the mic to some of them, who sang awfully in Jack’s humble opinion. Even if the majority of the songs were sad and soul crushing, you made sure people enjoyed themselves.

You were a true sight.

“Now, this is going to be the last song,” some sad oooh’s were heard and you smiled, nodding with your head. “I know, I know, I’m sad too but you all have to go home and these people here,” you pointed at the band behind you. “Also have to go home. But,” you raised your finger, moving your body until you were sitting on the edge of the stage. Some of your fans shouted. “I have one more song for you. This one isn’t in the album because I wrote this recently, but I still want to show it to you guys.”

More cheers, more shouts, more people crying.

“This one’s called Bad for Business and will be available on all streaming platforms by midnight.” Jack watched as you smiled, making him raise and eyebrow. He didn’t know about this one.

“He's good for my heart but he's bad for business

Tears me apart when he grants my wishes

All of my friends think I've gone crazy

But they don't know me like my baby

We look good in photographs

I like the way you like to laugh at dirty jokes

I know they'll always land

Used to get work on time

But now you're taking up my nights

Never been so glad to be so tired

Ooh, I'm mad for you

It's sad but true and I know it

Ahh, you're on my mind

You stole my life and it's showin’…”

Jack couldn’t take his eyes off the stage, eating up every word. He knew this song was about him. It was as clear as day, and maybe he was just being cocky but he didn’t care. It meant that he still had a chance.

He's good (good), it's bad (bad)

The best I've ever had (best I've ever had)

And he's so nice, it's sad (it's sad)

He ruined all my plans

And he just makes me so crazy

I know everyone sees

That he'll be the death of me

He still had a chance. He could still try because it was clear: you were still in love with him. Why else would you sing this? Why else would you write something like this?

He got up, he had seen enough. He left the venue with his head low, trying to walk without being noticed. He knew exactly what he had to do, and even if it sucked, it was the right thing.

—- ♡

“I really hope there is a reason why you’re calling me in the middle of the night, Jack,” Quinn sounded tired but. He always did. “A good one, that is,”

“I need some advice,” Jack looked at his brother through the screen, noticing the eye bags and the tired eyes. Why the hell Quinn always looked like he had been hit by a train was unknown.

Quinn just hummed, signaling for him to continue speaking.

“It’s Soph.”

“Did something happen?”

Jack cringed. Maybe they did need to start paying attention to what happened online. “Yeah, well, someone took a picture of me leaving the Halloween party with that girl named Ava who’s apparently one of my exes and posted it online, making it look like we hooked up or whatever. Then, they talked shit about Soph and Soph kind of broke up with me after saying she was in love with me and basically calling it a mistake.”

Quinn stared at the camera for a good minute, and just when Jack was starting to think he’d fallen back asleep, he moved, caressing his face with his hand.

“The hell is going on in New Jersey.”

“That’s all you have to say?” Jack scoffed. “I didn’t call you for nothing. If I wanted whatever the hell this is I would’ve called Luke.”

“I mean, what did you expect to happen? One day your whore days would catch up on you. Everyone knew this.”

“Why does everyone keep calling me a whore? Is this how women feel?” Jack frowned.

“They call you that because you had a new girl every month. Every time you had a gala you’d take a new girl with you and of course people would talk about that.”

“Okay but I wasn’t dating any of them!” Jack raised his arms, forgetting that he was still holding his phone and dropping it. Picking it up, he continued. “So what if I had a new woman every month? The issue here is Sophia not wanting to be with me anymore!”

“I think that, before wanting to be with her, you have to know if you want a relationship at all,” Quinn said, calmly. “You’ve never had a girlfriend before, a serious one that is. A relationship is a commitment, especially when you’re dating someone as famous as Sophia.”

“I know that she’s famous, I don’t care about that—”

“It’s not about her being famous, jackass, it’s about people forgetting that she is more than that. She is more than the Sophia who sings and dances, she’s a person. That’s literally common sense.”

“I know that too,” Jack mumbled.

“Soph’s been through a lot with that son of a bitch who’s not even worth mentioning. I don’t know much, you probably know about it better than me, but what I know is enough to make me want to punch him with my stick.”

“Yeah,” Jack agreed. “I hate that fucking asshole. He cheated on her, lied, manipulated her and had the audacity to break up with her.”

“So, knowing all of that, how do you think she felt when she saw that picture?” Quinn asked, eyebrow arched. “The guy she’s in love with, holding hands with his ex.”

“I didn’t fuck her!” He raised his voice, tired of everyone saying the same. “I just took her home and went back to my place.”

“Yeah, but does Soph know that?”

Jack frowned. “Of course she does. I’ve told her multiple times that I was only seeing her. And Ava was drunk, I wouldn’t have done anything with her even if I wanted to.”

“Yes because it’s very credible that the guy who used to date a new girl every month now suddenly only dates a single girl. Jack, sometimes I feel like you just don’t think.”

“If I wanted someone to call me dumb—”

“You would’ve called Luke, I know. But right now, that’s what you need to hear,” Quinn sighed. “Look, I know it’s hard for you to understand but put yourself in her shoes. Just think.”

“Everyone keep saying this is my fault but I don’t see how I am the person in the wrong here. I didn’t publish the article, I didn’t fuck Ava—”

Quinn sighed loudly again, interrupting Jack and staring at the screen for a minute, again.

“What?”

“Sometimes I ask myself if we were raised by the same woman,” he shrugged. “Just imagine if Ma knew all of this. She’d probably yell at you.”

“Get to the point, Quinn,” Jack rolled his eyes.

“Look. I’ll try to make it simple,” he started. “Sophia is in love with you. She fell in love with you despite knowing that you have a long history of dating. But, she’s also hurt. And you made it all worse when you said the things I know you probably said.”

“I didn’t say anything that bad…”

“Oh, quit it, Jack. I know you,” Quinn smiled. “You probably made her cry too. That’s the drill. Anyways, you have to ask yourself how do you feel about Soph—”

“I love her.”

They both stayed quiet for at least five minutes. Quinn just staring at the screen like he was reading a newspaper article and Jack staring back at him, looking like he was about to explode.

He hadn’t stopped to think about what he truly felt for you. He knew he liked you, adored even, but he never thought of naming the things he felt whenever he thought about you.

But it was as clear as day. He loved you, he was in love with you.

“Well, then I think my job here is done.” Quinn finally said, breaking the silence.

“What?” Jack almost shouted. “What do you mean? You have to help me get her back!”

“I don’t have time for that and honestly neither do you,” he stated and, well, he was right. They were in the middle of the season, and that was their job. Jack needed to get a grip. “If I were you, though, I’d start by apologising and telling her that you didn’t have sex with Ava or anyone else for that matter.”

“Okay,” Jack breathed. “And then?”

“Figure it out yourself. You’re a big boy.”

Jack groaned, leaning back on the couch. “Fuuuck. This is so fucking shitty. I love her, and she loves me, why can’t we just be together?”

“You will, after you fix this mess.” Quinn yawned and nodded at you. “I’m gonna go back to sleep. You should too. You’ve been playing like shit lately.”

“Fuck you. Bye.”

“Bye.”

He hung up, throwing his phone on the pillow next to him.

How the hell was he going to fix this?

[piningforstan]

Memories

Summary: You’re relieved to see your husband alive, but you have yet to learn at what cost.

Pairings: Stanley Pines x F!Reader

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: it’s angsty, the Pines are sad and not okay, memory loss, brief mention of a miscarriage

A/N: If I was a better person and had more time I would totally write a fic about this. This oneshot initially had a happy ending but it seemed right to end it where I did. Let me know if you’d want to read a happy ending, though! (Also I apologize for any inaccuracies)

Couldn’t the apocalypse have happened when your joints didn’t protest at every movement? You thought disdainfully back to your youth, when every step wasn’t hindered by bursts of shooting pain. The rumination was cut short, however, when the front door of the shack swung open.

In your time with Stan, with the shack, it had taken many forms. Becoming a giant fighting robot hadn’t been in your plans but it formed a shelter of sorts for survivors, somewhere mostly untainted with bad memories.

Dipper burst into the used-to-be foyer, followed by Mabel.

You called out their names. You’d been left behind to preside over the Shack-bot and cater to the injured — there hadn’t been time to worry about your loved ones but now that you’re watching the twins run across the room to you, you realize that there had been a significant knot in your stomach that was now loosening with relief.

“You’re alive! You’re okay!” You swept them into an embrace, pressing their bodies to you. God, they were just children.

“Grauntie —” Dipper started.

“I’m fine. I’m fine.” You studied their round faces, the streaks of tears cutting through the dirt on their cheeks. Using a thumb, you did your best to wipe away Mabel’s but Dipper slipped away.

“Grauntie, we have to tell you something—”

“Where’s Stan? And Ford? Are they okay?”

“Yes, well,” Dipper started to stammer. Mabel erupted into tears, holding the oversized sleeves of her sweater to her eyes to absorb them.

You glanced between the two twins, heart hammering in your chest. The moment wad broken by the sound of footsteps. Stan stepped into the remnants of the Mystery Shack, steered with a gentle hand by Ford. An unimaginable amount of relief flooded you. Stan, of course, was always in the forefront of your mind, but you hadn’t allowed yourself to think of anything devastating happening.

You wouldn’t — couldn’t — live without him. You refused. So you simply believed that he was safe.

And now here he was, suit torn and battered but still as devastatingly handsome as the day you met him. The protests from Dipper and Mabel faded away much like those of your joints; Stan made you feel young, breathed life into an otherwise greying existence. You untangled yourself from the twins and shot for the front door where he stood.

Ford inserted himself between you, mouth moving, but you couldn’t hear a thing. You just needed to get to Stan. Needed to feel his arms around you, the smell of his cologne (he mostly just rubbed on magazine samples, but you didn’t care). You sidestepped Ford and launched yourself at Stan, tears already overspilling onto your cheeks.

He staggered back a bit, catching himself on the doorframe as you tightly embraced him. Unable to contain your joy you grabbed him by either side of his stubbled face and kissed him.

Only a few seconds passed before Stan’s large hands were entrapping your wrists, pulling you from him. His eyes darted back and forth, and he wore an uneasy smile.

“Well, uh, that’s one way to introduce yourself,” he said.

Later, in hindsight, you recognized the signal going off in the back of your mind that something was wrong. But in that moment you’re completely consumed with happiness and relief and that must just be one of his jokes you don’t understand. “I can think of others but they probably wouldn’t be socially acceptable.”

The uneasy smile faltered. He laughed but it’s brittle and not fully committed. “You’re bold, I like that.”

Stan’s gaze flickered to Ford, as if for assurance.

Ford’s expression was grim, jaw clenched. “I need to speak with you privately —”

“Come on, let’s get you patched up and grab a drink.” You linked your arm through Stan’s and marched him towards the kitchen. He obliged but seemed reluctant, which you chalked up to fatigue. “Here. I’ll get everything. You sit.”

You stopped at Stan’s hideous yellow chair that you were secretly fond of. He stared at it. Then you.

“Here?” He asked. You don’t miss the way that he examined the room like he’s seeing it for the first time, lingering over the empty fish tank and the giant fossilized skull.

“I promise I didn’t let anyone get their blood on it or anything,” you said. You’re yapping now. Why were you yapping? It’s like you’re standing on the edge of a cliff, aware of the danger but not wanting to yield to the warnings. “I knew you were coming back. I couldn’t get rid of you that easily, right?”

You waited for him to reply. Stan’s face spasmed, uncomfortable, his arms stiff at his sides. You couldn’t remember a time you had ever seen him like this, unsure and quiet and reserved. You opened your mouth to prompt him to sit once again — what are you doing, silly? — when Dipper, Mabel, and Ford slid into view. Their eyes were wide, panicked, bouncing from you to Stan.

Hysteria crept into your tone. “What’s with this guy? Where’s the man I married?”

“Married?” Stan echoed. This is the first thing you’ve said to actually get a reaction from him.

Ford said your name. “Why don’t you come with me and let Stan rest?”

“Is this a joke? What’s going on?”

Mabel, cheeks blotchy, blurted, “Stan lost his memory! He doesn’t remember us. Any of us.” She dissolved into tears again.

A wave of numbness crashed over you. “What?”

“I’ve been trying to tell you —” Ford stopped, recollected himself. He looks older than you remember him, like whatever happened had aged him faster than natural. “Stan sacrificed himself. To defeat Bill. He gave up all of his memories for…us.”

Stan looked entirely uncomfortable with this situation and all of the weeping.

“What?” You said again. You suddenly felt like a cassette tape that’d been unspooled, and now you’re trying desperately to collect the film, gathering it in your arms to shove back inside the shell.

“It was his idea. It was…the only way,” Ford said. Even his voice was strained with emotion.

You blinked. And blinked again.

“Stan is that true?” You wheeled to face him, still clinging to the hope that this is some elaborate prank. Your grasp on any sanity slipped as you looked at your husband of over thirty years and saw nothing reflected in his face.

There was none of his child-like exuberance. His impish smile, always teetering on the edge of saying something absurd or inappropriate. The softness in his eyes whenever you’re speaking to him. It was as if you were staring into a shallow puddle, no ripples at the surface, no amount of recognition to be stirred upon from the bottom.

Something inside you cracked.

“Stan?” You reached a hand out to touch him. He let you, but it was almost worse that way. It was a gesture of kindness and nothing more; he knew you were upset and he didn’t know why but he knew that he was partly the reason.

A glimpse of the kindness that he hid beneath his hardened exterior.

You recoiled. Someone might as well have wrenched your ribcage open. Snapped your sternum in half in order to access your muscle and viscera and, finally, your heart. It hurt so badly you feared that it might break too.

“He doesn’t remember any of it?”

“I’m afraid not,” Ford said.

Dipper and Mabel, so achingly identical in their heartbreak, stood on either side of Ford. There’s enough devastation in the room to suffocate you.

“Stanley,” you say then, softly, pleadingly. “We’re your family. Surely you remember your family.”

Surely you remember how we met. Falling in love. Getting married. The adventures that ensued. Rebuilding the portal. Losing your baby, your only baby, and reconciling that you never would have children. The excitement you shared upon the news of Dipper and Mabel staying with you, how much you had fallen in love with them in such a short time period. Surely you remember that.

“Well, uh, looks don’t lie,” he replied, gesturing towards Ford and the twins bookending him.

“Let him rest.” Ford wad by your side now. How did he get there?

Everything was blurred at the edges, distorted.

The next thing you knew you’re sitting outside, in one of the ancient lawn chairs you convinced Stan to buy secondhand. You wanted to be able to watch Dipper and Mabel play when they were outside. But the small clearing had been wrecked — hell, the town that you loved had been wrecked, half of it on fire, smoke funneling into the sky.

None of that mattered, though.

Stan didn’t remember you.

But he’s alive, a small voice in you pointed out. He was alive and physically well. He might not remember you but he was going to live another day. Even if that day did not involve you or your shared jokes or brief touches, the comfort of loving the same person for half your life.

You could handle that, you thought. It was enough just to know that he was alive and in the world.

Strangely, you didn’t cry. You sat and watched ashes fall, covering the ground and the picnic bench where Mabel had performed improvised soliloquies to your delight, on the bike that Dipper bought himself — smile nearly splitting his cheeks — in order to investigate his many conspiracies. Ash coated everything. It was comforting, somehow, restorative, replacing the disconcerting scenes of Weirdmagaddeon with a blank state.

You couldn’t face going into the Mystery Shack so you slept outside in the lawn chair. No one came to shuttle you inside, but when you woke up in the morning there was a blanket folded over you.

[zigrethsnotebook]

How do you manage to make even the most mundane things sound exciting?

Ford x Reader

words: 3,154

tags: sfw, hurt and comfort

a/n: this was the only note i made for myself before writing this: hnghnghng this is about moths now so yeah... enjoy:)

It's been a whole year. The twins are back from their sea adventure and the kids are staying with them for the summer again. You were on your way over to the shack. Stan had written you a letter, inviting you over. He said it'd be nice to catch up, tell you and the kids all about their time at sea and that way they wouldn't have to tell the stories twice.

The stories weren't the only thing you were excited for. Before they had left Stan had encouraged you to confess to Ford, insisting that his brother felt the same for you as you did for him. But when you told him he just went silent for way too long.

"Ford?" A nervous chuckle escaped you. "Please say something?" He looked into your eyes, his gaze blank and unreadable. "I'm sorry." The words felt like a dagger to your heart. "F-for what?" You at least wanted him to have the balls to say that he doesn't care for you. "I don't see a romantic relationship between us having a future. Especially with Stan and I going out to sea tomorrow. I'm sorry."

You just nodded, taking the words in. "...This didn’t ruin what we have, did it? Will we still be friends when you get back?" Your voice was small, afraid of his answer. "I'll always be your friend." A sigh of relief. The idea of him not being a part of your life had been the reason you didn’t want to confess to him in the first place. You only did it because Stan was so convincing that he reciprocated your feelings. Turns out you were both wrong.

You shook your head, breaking yourself out of the bad memory. After almost an entire year, you had come to terms with it. Now, you were just excited to see your friend again. Excited to have a normal conversation with him again.

Back in the shack the Family was preparing everything. The kids and Soos got the snacks and drinks ready while the Twins were busy starting the campfire. Stan watched as Ford poked around in the fire. He shook his head.

"I'll never understand it." Ford looked up at his brother. "I'll never understand how someone as smart as you could let go of the person who would have been the best thing in his life." Ford sighed. They had had this talk before.

It was pretty much the only thing they talked about the first week at sea. Stan would also bring it up anytime a night on the boat was too long and too quiet.

"We have nothing in common... That and our lifes are way too dangerous, I can't bring another person with me." He saw the disapproving look on Stan's face. "It's not like I have anything to offer. I've spent my whole life buried in books and research. I don't know how to be in a relationship."

Stan scoffed at that. "What are you talking about, Sixer? You're a catch! Times change, Nerds are the new Jocks. There's a reason I was the second choice for most of the babes we met." A bittersweet chuckle escaped Stan.

Ford sighed, focusing on the fire again. "It doesn't matter anyway. Even if I wanted to try again, I highly doubt that they're still single." Now that was something Stan couldn't counter. Mainly because it's something he hadn't even considered. You were so head-over-heels for Ford the last time you and Stan talked, it just didn’t seem likely that you'd go looking for someone else.

The kids and Soos came outside, carrying marshmallows, crackers, chocolate and Soda. Dipper was the first to sit down on one of the logs. "I can't wait to hear of all the creatures you found! It must have been awesome!"

"You bet!" Stan grinned at the boy. "But we won't start with the stories yet, someone is still missing." Ford looked at his brother suspiciously. "What are you talking about, Stanley?" At the same time Mabel's eyes widened. "Are you saying we get to see-" She was cut off as Stan stood up and called out your name, announcing your arrival.

You smiled sheepishly and greeted everyone. The kids were super excited to see you again and Mabel ran over to hug you. You hadn't realized how much you missed them. When she let go of you she practically dragged you over to the campfire. Stan, who was still standing, hugged you as well.

"It's good to see ya again, toots." You chuckled. "I missed you, too, Stan." You broke the hug and turned to Ford who made no effort to get up or anything along those lines. Instead, you just waved at him, but gave him the same fond smile you had shown the others. "The same goes for you, Ford."

Behind you, Stan frowned at his brother, obviously disappointed at the lack of enthusiasm he showed you. He quickly put on a smile as he addressed you again. "Please, take a seat! We were just about to begin with our stories."

You sat down between Stan and Soos, who just greeted you with a simple "Hey dude". You two had become friends over the course of the last year.

Soon everyone had prepared a stick with a marshmallow and held it over the fire while Stan told the most extravagant stories of their travels. You were glued to his every word, his storytelling being how you two became friends in the first place.

You were so engrossed in the stories that you didn’t notice the way Ford looked at you. He adored you. The way the warm light of the fire illuminated your features perfectly. The way your eyes seemed to sparkle with pure joy as Stan talked about heroically fighting off some beasts. Hell, he loved you.

This wasn't news to him, of course. Ford had known this for over a year. In fact, when you confessed your feelings for him, he wanted to hug you, kiss you, propose to you on the spot. But he didn’t. Because he felt like he wasn't enough.

Ford felt like he didn’t deserve happiness after almost ending the world and he knew that he would achieve it if he let himself be with you.

Back then, after you had left, Ford had told Stan about the whole thing, who took him by the shoulders and shook him, asking him if he was insane. The next day, when they were about to leave, you had stopped by to say goodbye to Stan, but refused to speak to Ford, politely making up a reason why you had to leave again.

It had crushed him. Ford wanted to sprint after you, turn you around and kiss you all dramatically like in the movies. But he didn’t. Because he had hurt you already and didn’t dare to make it even worse.

Which, of course, had made it worse anyway. The way you had parted ways meant that you were left all alone with a broken heart. And you couldn't even talk to your best friend about it because he was on the same boat as Ford.

But now, as Ford looked at you again, he felt all the feelings he had been trying to bury beneath the ocean floor bubble back up again.

"And that is how Ford and I defeated the mighty Kraken!" Stan was standing, his hands raised to the sky in triumph. All of you cheered and clapped your hands. It was so good to hear his gruff voice and exaggerated stories again. Although, you were more inclined to believe him this time.

The evening went on with more stories, smores and lots of laughter. You were so relieved to have them back in your life again, all four of them. You had missed them more than you realized.

Eventually, it turned late and the kids began to get sleepy. The fire had also died down. In a joined effort you all cleaned the place back up, bringing the rest of the snacks and drink back inside the shack.

After putting more things on the kitchen table for Stan and the kids to put away you went outside again to see if there was anything else to get. Soos came your way and you held the door open for him as you stepped outside.

Ford was still there. "That's everything. Soos took the last of it." You nodded. "Neat." You were about to step back inside again when you felt Ford's energy shift to a more energetic one. He pointed to the porch light.

"Look at that! That's a Tyria jacobaeae! I haven't seen one of these in ages. A beautiful creature, just look at the markings on its wings, the bright red color..." Ford looked at the moth in awe and when you stepped closer you realized why.

The little black and red creature truly was stunning. But if Ford hadn't pointed it out then you never would have noticed it. "It is really pretty. But there is no way I'm gonna remember a latin name for anything." You chuckled lightly as you said it.

Ford hummed in acknowledgement. "Well, it is more commonly known as the Cinnabar Moth. Cinnabar, like the mineral, of course, because of its striking color. It wards off predators, letting them know that they're toxic."

You instinctively took a step back and Ford chuckled at your reaction. "There is nothing for you to worry about unless you plan to eat the little guy." You rubbed the back of your neck sheepishly. "Haha, no. Doesn't really fit my diet." Ford and you shared a laugh together.

Another, considerably larger, moth joined the other one at the lamp. This one was bright white and yellow with little black dots on its wings. Ford nodded knowingly as he spotted it. "Estigmene acrea. The Salt Marsh Moth. Very pretty, but did you know that these little guys aren't very well liked around here?"

Even though it was a rhetorical question you shook your head 'no' and sat down on the couch Stan kept on the porch, letting Ford lecture you. He quickly sat down next to you as he continued. "They feed on most crops which means that farmers have to be on the lookout for them around this time."

God, how you had missed this. Just hanging out with Ford, letting him tell you all about a subject he was passionate about was one of your favorite things in the world.

Your gaze shifted from the Moths in front of you to Ford's face as he kept on talking about the little creatures. You didn’t try to keep the look of adoration off your face as you watched him animatedly explain the differences in their wingspans.

Eventually, he noticed your staring and turned his eyes to you, stuttering his speech to a halt. You chuckled fondly. "How do you manage to make even the most mundane things sound exciting?" He laughed and rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.

"You just have to open your eyes and learn to find beauty in the mundane. That way you won't ever be bored again." As if on its own your body leaned towards him. You quickly stopped yourself. He rejected you once, you didn’t need to go through that again. Ford hadn't noticed.

You forced your eyes away from his and toward the moths again with a sigh. "The only times I haven't felt any boredom were the days I spent with you last year." A tight feeling settled in your chest as you spoke the words, but you couldn't stop yourself. "And today, of course."

You tried to keep your tone casual, your voice light. Ford felt an ache in his heart. He wanted you to never be bored again, show you the world through his eyes. Show you how he saw you.

"Surely you weren't bored every day of this past year, right? I bet you went on at least one interesting date?" He tried to keep his tone equally casual. Tried to keep the desperation out of his voice.

You snorted. "Yeah, right. Who'd wanna date me?" "I would." You froze. Surely you had misheard him? You turned to look at Ford again, his expression was... honest?

You frowned. "I'm not in the mood for jokes, Ford." You stood and turned, about to walk away. Ford grabbed your wrist, stopping you. "Who's laughing?" You pressed your eyes shut and stayed with your back to Ford, unable to look at him.

"I just got over you. Don't make me go through all of that again." Ford felt his heart shatter in his chest. "I am so sorry." He paused, trying to find the right words. "I was a selfish asshole. And you deserved so much better. You still deserve someone so much better than me."

Ford took a deep breath, still holding tightly onto your wrist. He couldn't let you go until you knew the truth. "I, on the other hand, don't deserve your forgiveness. Hell," A bitter laugh escaped him, "it took Stan a whole year to convince me that maybe I deserve to be happy sometimes at all, even though I almost caused the world to end."

He took a shaky breath, tears pricking at his eyes. But he wasn't done yet. "I spent the whole year regretting every word I said to you that day. Because... what I didn’t have the guts to tell you then is... I love you."

Ford stared at the back of your head, looking for any movement at all that could give away how you felt about his words. But you didn’t move for a moment, didn’t spare him a glance. Without a word, you flexed your arm and pulled hard, tearing your wrist from his grip.

You walked away from him and the shack without turning back. Ford was in shambles, his legs trembling and tears flowing freely. He wouldn't have been able to follow you.

Stan and the kids had watched the whole thing unfold from one of the windows, being attracted to the sudden noise like moths to the light. Now they stood shocked, with their jaws on the floor.

Back at home you threw your shoes and jacket in a corner before collapsing onto your bed. You were angry at Ford for treating you like that, playing with your emotions for over a year. Slowly, it settled in that Ford had just confessed his love to you.

After a year of thinking he didn’t want you that way, it left your emotions all over the place. Angry, sad and with a weird feeling of relief you cried yourself to sleep.

A soft knock to your window woke you up again. It was still dark outside. It was a big window that led to a balcony. You stepped in front of it and pulled the curtains back, revealing Ford. He looked like a kicked puppy, making it impossible for you to ignore him.

You opened the window and stepped outside to him. "What do you want, Ford?" He cringed at your harsh tone of voice. "I came to apologize... again. I know I hurt you. I know I behaved all wrong. And I'm sorry." He looked up into your eyes.

"I don't expect you to fall into my arms or anything like that. You're over me and that's fine. I won't try to win you back. I-I just wanted to be honest... but, maybe that made it worse again..." Ford shook his head, starting to pace around in front of you.

You took a deep breath. It was time to just let go of your anger and instead seize the moment while you had the chance. "Ford." He turned to look at you with big, hopeful eyes. "I'm not over you."

He took a step closer as you continued. "I thought I was. But everything that happened tonight... everything you said... I still love you." You locked eyes with him and you could see the relief flooding through him as he let out the breath he was holding.

Silence washed over the both of you, neither sure how to proceed. But the silence wasn't uncomfortable either.

The dull moonlight cast a blue hue over the both of you. You looked up at Ford's hair, admiring the way the light made it glow, when a little winged creature landed on his perfect hair. A smile crept on your face and you raised your eyebrow along with your hand to his hair.

Carefully, you held your hand out to the creature, offering your finger to sit on. Ford stayed quiet and you urged him not to move too much with one hand on his chest. The animal took your offer and when you felt every one of its six legs on your finger you brought your hand back down.

You held the little moth between you two. Its wings were light-blue with dark tips. Ford smiled at the creature. "Lomographa semiclarata or Bluish Spring Moth." He put one of his hands under yours, making you both hold it together.

"Did you know that in a more spiritual sense, moths often symbolize transformation and are generally considered as a good omen?" You looked up from the moth and smiled softly at him. "Is that so?" You let the hand you still held on his chest wander upwards to his neck.

Ford nodded lightly. "They represent positive conclusions." You let out a content breath, accidentally startling the moth into flight. Both of you followed the creature with your eyes. "...And sometimes death."

You laughed and lightly swatted him on the chest with your now free hand. "You better not die on me, Ford." He placed one of his hands on top of yours that was now on his chest and the other one on your waist, pulling you closer. "I wouldn't dare."

Ford slowly moved his face closer to yours, giving you plenty of time to back away in case you didn’t want what was about to happen. But why wouldn't you, this is the moment you spent an entire year dreaming about!

You let your eyes flutter shut and soon enough felt Ford's lips on yours. They were softer than you imagined, making you smile slightly into the kiss. You moved your lips against his in a way that felt just right. Like this was how it was always supposed to be.

Ford sighed into the kiss, finally relaxing and letting himself enjoy the moment. This was the kiss you would remember forever. Especially because he would immortalize it in his journal first thing tomorrow morning.

When you both parted you felt like you were floating. You rested your head on Ford's shoulder, just enjoying finally being able to hold him like this.

"Positive conclusion, indeed."

[lexumpysfunland]

a silly idea I had 👀

in a more medieval AU this time, imagine Stanley being sent by Aayla (curator) to slay the Dragon that Walter has turned into. of course, Stanley would not find the strength to do so as he understood how wrong it was since the poor Walter didn't actually do anything bad. turning against his own Kingdom since he loves Walter... only a cute little romance weeee

have some Dragon Wally I doodled earlier on my sketchbook

to give some info about Walter being a dragon, he started to be sick after a plague touched their kingdom, he tried to use other means to heal but it turned out to be a rather bad idea as he turned to be a Dragon that the Queen Aayla deemed a danger to the kingdom so she initially managed to banned him before disaster.

On his own, he managed to get a hold of this weird curse he had put on himself, but he had a growing hate toward the kingdom that had rejected him when he needed help... when he had to face Stanley, he too couldn't find the strength to fight him as it was the only one (with Sam (tk)) that was opposed to him being banned... and also because he was already attached to him.

I may doodle more of that if you guys are interested in this AU, so I'm in the middle of preparing Artfight and the road trip for next month I'll probably try to do some doodling in my free time so maybe it'll be about this au, maybe not if you don't want to haha, let me know what you guys think of it ^^

[the-universal-sun]

Stan regressing as a reaction to getting yelled at?

I’m going to do teen stan regressing because I think we need more of that! There is some cursing and slight mentions of violence, but not a lot and nothing bad! I also subscribe to the belief that Stan has dyslexia!

(Again, sorry for the late postings, life has been more hectic than I thought it’d be. But I’ll be posting a couple of asks a day!)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Ya’ damn knucklehead! How the hell do you fail a damn English test!? What? Ya can’t fucking read!?” Filbrick slams Stan’s wrinkled up English test, a bright red ‘D’ front on center, into Stan’s chest, knocking him back.

“Get outta my sight, I don’t even want to look at such an abject failure right now!” And with that, Filbrick storms out and down to the pawnshop. And Stan can feel that tale-tell fuzziness enter his head. The one that makes him feel all light and small. He doesn’t recall going to his room, but he must have, because the next thing he knows is that he’s closing his and Ford’s bedroom door with a soft “click”. The noise startles Ford, who spins quickly around in his desk chair. Stan distantly thinks that it’d be fun to spin around in the chair until he got dizzy and his stomach turned.

“Stanley! I heard Pa’ yelling! He didn’t hit you did he?” Ford must not notice Stan’s fuzziness. Stan isn’t looking at him, his face looking down at the floor, so he can’t blame him. He just shakes his head, shrugs, and walks slowly to his bed. Sometimes, when he feels fuzzy like this, his legs get all shaky and hard to walk on-like he’s a circus person walking on those really big stilts. He doesn’t hear what else Ford asks him, climbing into his bed and facing the wall. He wants to cry, but it’s almost like his stupid body won’t let him. Moses, he can’t even commit to being a baby.

“Stanley? A-are you alright? I heard dad yelling about your test. I’m sorry, I know you tried your best on that.” Stan did try his best. He can’t help it that sometimes the words don’t make sense, or they’re harder to read without his glasses-Pa’ wouldn’t buy him anymore after the last time they got broke after some meanie broke them. Sometimes it’s almost like the letters switch around on him. He doesn’t know why it happens, maybe everybody’s right and he is just stupid. He pulls his blanket tighter around him, burying his head in his pillow.

“Stan-what’s the matter? Why aren’t you talking to me? What’s wrong?” He still doesn’t answer Ford. He can’t answer Ford. He never a feels like speaking when his head goes all fuzzy like this. Ford doesn’t say anything for a while. Stan thinks that maybe he gave up, it makes sense that he would. Stan isn’t worth the effort, especially if he can’t act grown up. He’s pulled out of his thoughts when he sees his stuffed monkey-Mookie-place in front of him.

“Is it Mookie Time, bud? Is that what’s going on here?” Mookie Time was what they called it when Stan’s head went all out of sorts. Ford came up with it, Stan didn’t want to acknowledge it, but they needed something to call it, and they couldn’t find anything about what he’s going through in any of the library books.

Stan brings Mookie closer to him, rubbing his little ears against his lips, resisting the urge to chew on them. He just hums a bit as an answer to Ford’s question-he can never lie to Ford, his best friend and big brother. He sniffles, but still can’t cry. He feels Ford lean over him and swipe his hair back across his forehead, leaning down to tap their foreheads together. They just sit like that, Stan matching Ford’s breathing.

“Well, that’s okay, we can have Mookie Time. I’ll be on the look out for Ma’ and Pa’. And I’ll be here to take care of you, Lee, you’re my little brother, and I’m sorry I can’t protect you like you protect me.” Those words finally release Stan’s tears, his silent sobs wetting Mookie’s fabric. Ford sighs into the back of his head, pressing a kiss to it. He feels him get up, and his heart spikes, thinking Ford’s leaving him only for another blanket to be tucked around him and Ford laying his own body on Stan’s, trying to mimic the pressure of something heavier.

Stan can’t stop crying, but Ford’s soft touches and Mookie’s smiling face don’t make him feel as bad, so he doesn’t mind it so much. He’s glad Ford sticks around and cares for him, this would all be so much worse if he was alone. He loves his brother so much. He bumps his head up against Ford’s, earning a chuckle. Maybe when he’s feeling better, he can work on his “Lil’ Stanley” comics with Ford’s help.. Stan’s good at writing the stories, but Ford’s better at drawing. They always work well together, the best pair of Twins in all of Jersey.

[tinfoil-jones]

Gravity Falls: For Your Own Good, Ch. 11

Summary: A few years after moving to Gravity Falls and having his lab built, Stanford Pines happens upon his estranged twin brother, Stanley. He mentally prepared himself to be suffocated by his brothers neediness all over again - what he wasn't prepared for was Stanley walking right past him like he didn't even notice him.

Rating: M for language, violence, and adult implications

Preface: Dialogue only, but some actions will be annotated for clarity. Cross-Posted on AO3 Here

First - Prev - Next

CH. 11

“One paddle-paddle, two paddle-paddle-.”

“HEYYY! Miss me, little brother?”

“...What the f-”

“It’s ironic! You used to smother me, with your dependency and lack of originality. Now I’m smothering you, by keeping you in a cage. It’s poetic, in a way.”

“...What are you supposed to be?”

“It’s just me, Stanford Pines. I’m definitely your twin brother, and not a maniac who kidnapped you because I can’t admit when I’m wrong or accept that I push people away.”

“Naw, you’re not him.”

“I assure you-.”

“No. Whatever you are? You’re not the guy who's been keeping me down here. You’re something else.”

“Oh?”

“This some… Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde situation? You one of those hive mind aliens that possess people? Or…?”

“Sixer was right to not underestimate you, conman. Let’s just say I’m a friend.”

“I’ve heard that before, but I recognize another wiseguy when I see one. What do you really want?”

“Why are you in denial, Stanley?”

“Denial is my fourth best skill, actually. It’s right above hoeing, and right below theft.”

“...Ignoring that. Why do you keep insisting you’re not Stanley Pines?”

“Show me the proof, guy.”

“You and Stanford have the same face.”

“Some people are just like that.”

“You have no memory of having a family, but Fordsy here has a gap in his, a gap you could slot into so easily.”

“Lot’s of families ‘lose’ members to homelessness.”

“Sounding a little bitter there, conman. Got personal feelings about that?”

“People aren’t ‘lost’ to homelessness, they’re forgotten. For the comfort of everyone else; for people who love to wax poetically about how other people struggle, but don’t have the stomach to look at it with their own eyes.”

“Well, well, well, well, well-.”

“Buddy, you get a nickel every time you say that?”

“Funny. What’s also funny is your ‘deep insight’. You’re so mad about people like you being forgotten, and yet… You forgot you.”

“What’s your point?”

“Why are you afraid of remembering? Are you afraid that you’ll remember loving people who couldn’t be bothered to remember you?”

“You seem to think you know a lot about me. Why don’t you tell me?”

“I think you cling to this ‘hardcore vagabond with no past’ persona because it’s convenient for you. Because it’s less painful for you. I think you wanted something so bad at one point that it consumed you, and when you couldn’t have it, there wasn’t anything significant left of you.”

“Wow. That’s quite a theory. Wanna hear the one I have about you?”

“Hit me, conman.”

“Oh, I wish I could. My theory is that you’re a lonely, nosey, parasitic little bi-.”

*‘Ford’ presses the mute button*

“Sorry Stanley, but I’m getting the last laugh here- and you’re giving me the bird. No, two birds. The audience will never know if you’re actually doing that, or if I’m just saying that you are.”

(...)

“Hey, Doc?”

“Yes, Stanley?”

“You know how I normally don’t ask you questions about your life because you’re crazy and I’m here against my will?”

“...Are you about to ask me a question?”

“Did you make a Faustian bargain with some eldritch abomination?”

“...What?!”

“Or… Do you use cocaine? I’d believe either, but I can help you with that second one if that’s it; you see, the key to kicking the habit is-.”

“Stanley. Why are you asking this?”

“Because last night something possessed you and tried talking to me about my feelings. But it failed because I don’t have any. What was that?”

“...Nothing possessed me.”

“PhD, you are terrible at lying.”

“Nobody possessed me! You must have just been dreaming.”

“No, I don’t have dreams. I only have nightmares about being suffocated. Or the IRS. Or the IRS suffocating me.”

“...What?”

“Are you a Warlock?”

“A- a what?”

“There’s this game that dorks play - and there's elves, and wizards, and stuff. Warlocks are those guys who use magic, but they have to get it from otherworldly entities. Are you that? Is that what you are?”

“...You are talking about the tabletop roleplaying game, Dungeons, Dungeons and More Dungeons?”

“Yes.”

“You.. play that?”

“No. I never played it.”

“But you know the mechanics?”

“Some of it. Just the basic stuff. None of the actual- I don’t know, rules? Something something something D38; something something something THAC0.”

“How do you know?”

“I dunno, I don’t think too hard about it. Anyways,  so you’re a Warlock and you’re hiding it because your patron, boss, eldritch pimp, or whatever you wanna call it is gonna be mad at you? Is that what this is?”

“Stanley, please. Stuff like that is simply… fantasy.”

“Oh really? This is coming from the guy who has an anatomically accurate poster of a dissected fairy that you drew yourself.”

“...You can see that?”

“Why wouldn’t I? It’s right over there.”

“Stanley, you should not be able to see that. It’s too far away, and you’re not wearing glasses or contacts.”

“Doc, I don’t need glasses.”

“You have needed them our entire lives, just like I do. You have a bad habit of breaking them, or not wearing them because you think you won’t look cool.”

“Shows just how much you know. Are you gonna tell me what that thing last night was? Or are you going to keep changing the topic and hope that I get too distracted to follow up?”

“Nothing happened last night. I’m not a warlock. I can’t believe you lied to me all those years ago when you told me you ignored all of my long talks about the finer mechanics and lore surrounding DD&D. And you should need glasses.”

*Ford goes upstairs*

“Well, guess I have nothing better to do than to take a nap. I wonder how the IRS is going to suffocate me this time…”

To be continued…

[writing1raflesia]

Gravity falls x stealth transmasc reader

Context: Reader is a transitioned trans man who is trying to hide the fact that he is trans, but he is not very good at it.

★★★★★★★★★★★★

Stanford

Honestly he would take a while to notice, if he notice at all. He is too focused on his researches, dealing with his past with bill, saving his family, is not like he pays much attention to you. Even in the few moments where he is forced by his great niece to have a life out of his lab and he's alert for everything that might be wrong he doesn't seem to notice. He is a reserved person and takes some of your attitudes as being reserved as well. If you don't take your shirt of in a hot summer day is probably because you're shy or something, not to hide a scar, the lack of pictures of your youth might just be for the same reason as him, he never cared for pictures, it never crossed his mind that you might be hiding something, but if it does, oh boy prepare yourself, now this man is certain that you're a spy, works for bill, is a threat, something is wrong and he can think of all the wrong options!

Stanley

He's also one that doesn't find out on his on, I mean, he is surrounded by weird people and he himself hide some secrets, it's not his business right? Of course he is curious and you might be a spy from the government hiding the equipment, maybe the lack of pictures and how you sometimes mention some weird situations for a man to go through on your past migh be you getting your false background wrong from time to time...hm ok he might be obsessed on figuring out what you're hiding!

Mabel

She straight up start stalking you when she notice something was wrong and when you accidentally mentioned the feminine nickname you had on your childhood she started connecting the points. Watching you from afar with her binocular she notice the scar on your chest and realizes everything. She has an evidence panel with red strings, determinated to find out the truth, but when she finally does she start feeling bad about it, maybe you don't trust her enough to tell her? What kind of experiences made you want to hide that? Maybe is just not important for you? Well... Maybe one day she'll ask you about it, but not today

Dipper

Dipper is paranoic, the first time he notices something was wrong was in a hot day at the pool when you decided to swim with a shirt despite the hot weather, at first he ask you about it, thinking you might have some kind of insecurity or skin problems and couldn't get direct sun, but when you're answer is not satisfactory and it seems like you're avoiding the subject he start getting cautious about you, reading his journal to look for clues on what you might be or what could be making you act like this, when he doesn't find anything he start asking Mabel about it but she refuses to say anything. He must do some investigations and when he does so everything turns into a clue, the lack of pictures of your childhood, the way you avoid some subject and just seems ...odd... When he finally figured it out he feels dumb for not thinking about it earlier, just like Mabel he tries to think why you would hide such thing, maybe you think people would see you as less of a man for that? Well he understands this feeling, he will just let you be and avoids the topic if anyone question him, talking about it is your decision to make

★★★★★★★★★★★★

Author: thanks for reading!! This one was a request and I'm sorry if is not that good, I was a bit low creativity with that one. Any comments and feedbacks are welcome. Let me know if you want more characters or a transfem/NB version

[sixerstanley]

YESSSSS FORD WONDERING

Because Ford clings to what he knows when he's conflicted, he clings to the facts and the statistics and the statistics say being a homeless teenager is dangerous and potentially lethal, so he watches TV to see Stan's shadey commercials because that means he's alive and he's fine and he's making the most of that charisma Ford always admired and taking everything he can and leaving nothing left. But. The commercials are always coming from somewhere new, with a new name, and a different style, and it was easy to think it was just Stanley lying and cheating his way through adventures across the country but it wasn't easy to hear the worry in his Ma's voice whenever she said Stan only ever calls her from payphones and can never give her an address. But when he's between dimensions he has a lot of time to wonder about what he left behind, and he wonders why he as the weaker twin, running on fumes and half-dead, could knock his brother around. And he wonders why he sent his postcard to a motel. And he wonders why great successful Stan was still driving the old beater he'd cobbled together when he was 15. And he wonders if Stan had beaten the odds, or if the odds had beaten him. And he wonders if Stanley's still living like that, back in their dimension, or if that life killed him. He tries not to think about it, because he didn't think he'd ever know

anon im going to go crazy ur so smart and have wonderful ideas that HURT ME SO MUCH BUT IN A GOOD WAY. OUGH.

it literally drives me so so crazy. ford refuses to think about that stuff because he really, really doesn't want to acknowledge the horror stan had to face. plus, ford was dealing with a lot of shit too! albeit, he was dealing with it later, when he was dealing with bill + pushed into the portal, but ugh. i imagine when his thoughts would wander while he was really tired after pulling all-nighters at backupsmore, hed just shake himself out of it.

I think there's a part of him that finds comfort in the anger. And i don't mean that that means he's evil or a bad guy or anything--he's just human. He reminds himself that Stan wronged him and that knowing him, he's fine. he's fine. he's fine.

I feel like there's a stubbornness within ford that wants to stay angry. to stay mad. And he knows that if he found out or knew what stan actually had to go through, he wouldn't be as mad anymore, so he convinces himself that stan is fine

(also, this is making me think about a ghost! stan au that was swirling in my mind lmao, but ill make that a different post)

anyways i hope any of this made sense LMAO

[hyperfixiation-station]

Sorry, I meant Ghost in a fight/discussion with reader 😭 Still, I did love your take

CW: Fighting, emotional abuse, light swearing I am so sorry anon 😭😭 I am literally the dumbest person to have ever existed lmaooo Also apologies for length, I am moving and wanted to get you something cause I'm not sure when I'll be able to post again. To whoever asked, I am making a pt.2 so send me an ask if you want to be notified :)

As always, no beta, please lmk of any mistakes!!

A lot of ‘fights’ you guys have are one sided, where you concede quickly, not wanting to argue, and he just keeps going and going. He, like a lot of ND’s, gets a thrill from fighting, and he will pick fights about everything. You just disagree once with what he says and he goes off.

Fem!Reader: Anytime he is upset/angry with you/thinks you are disrespecting or ignoring him, he'll call you 'woman'. 

"I'm still talking woman!" "Watch your mouth woman" "Woman I am talking!" 

He does not love bomb. He does not come after arguing with you with flowers and chocolates and showering you with love to make up for it. 

Don’t get me wrong, this man does bring you flowers, just not to make you feel better after a fight. He’ll get you flowers for valentines day and your birthday and your anniversary and any time he feels like you deserve flowers, but he does not give them to you after fights. 

And you guys don’t fight too often. At least, not fights where he feels bad and has lingering guilt. Very rarely will he realize(or at least admit) That he was wrong, especially not in front of your kids, if you guys have them. However, if he does realize and admit he is wrong(typically after you sleep in a different room or don’t talk to him except for the bare minimum) he will apologize in private.

One very memorable fight for you was back in the early days of your relationship, just after you had started living together. He had left his gear just piled on the front table, and you had folded it and moved it to the bedroom so that it wasn’t cluttering up the front room. He came home and, well, freaked. He screamed at you, punched a hole through a door, and you still remember him telling you ‘Go to hell then woman” when you said you had just wanted the space to be clear. 

He gets pissed off about the stupidest stuff. Your guy's 10-year-old daughter bought a Stanley? He’s mocking him for the next 3 weeks about wanting to be popular. Your teenage-daughter wears ripped jeans to a concert? He’s telling everyone about how she must have bought them at half-price since so much cloth is missing. 

One interesting thing is that he respects fighting back, to an extent. You watched in borderline horror as your eldest got into a screaming match with him that lasted hours and ended with no victor. And yet, since that day, you’ve never seen Simon scream at them again. 

Hearing this, he sounds toxic, yeah? And he is, to an extent. But you stay with him because he knows he has issues, and he actively works on bettering himself. You’ve been with him for a decade now, and you can see so many differences in the way that he acts. He no longer screams and throws things and punches holes in the walls. He is more willing to admit when he is wrong, hell, there's even been a few times when he’s said sorry in front of your kids. 

You understand his trauma, you understand why he responds and acts the way he does, and most importantly He does too, and he is working on bettering himself for his family, because he loves you, and he hates that his explosive reactions hurt you and your kids.

I am going to make a pt. 2 to this so that I can go more in depth, but again, I’m moving and not sure when I will be able to post again so I wanted to at least give you something. lmk what ya'll think :)) ALSO: If you think I am mischaracterizing Ghost please let me know, and I will either explain my reasonings or you will change how I think of him. Either way, I would like to know yalls thoughts so please do not hesitate to say something

[sleepsentry]

Hey man, I just wanted to say, I adore how you portray Fiddleford and Standford's friendship. As some with autism, seeing this friendship portrayed like this was so refreshing. Especially since I'm on the Arospectrum, so seeing Standford just enjoying Fiddleford's touch and just wanting to be with him while he does stuf is just???, just fucking great portrayal man, I love this. Thank you so much for that

Thank you! :D

There friendship means a lot to me too! I like the idea that they can sit next to eachother doing their hobbies comfortably without a word for hours. ^^

And ford finally had a friend besides Stanley good for him.

It's also partially based on a few of the classmates who where kind to me during my awful school years.

I did get jokingly adopted by older girls. Haha

Also fidds seems like such a friendly character (besides the death robots)

I'm a little saddned by the more "sassy?" or cynical takes on his character, there isn't enough variety I guess. He's not sylvia from wander over yonder to me.

I can absolutely see why fidd suggesting ford abandon the portal and "settle down" would break Ford's heart. He's asking ford to be normal like fidd was able to be.

But considering fidds experiences you'd think he'd have quit earlier.

But he didn't because he wanted to trust his friend (and was getting paid haha)

I totally get what you mean by the "refreshing" part

I've grumbled about too much in the past but I get where you're coming from I think.

I felt obligated to describe it as brotherly and people still mistagged and ignored my interpretation for the more popular romantic ones.

I'd like to feel comfortable seeing fanart of them again without getting a pit of "You're wrong everyone says they're either kissing or quietly resentful or both" in my stomach ^^'

Also ford being a homewrecker isn't funny and leaves a bad taste in my mouth (serious or joking i don't like it at all)

I'm happy my take makes others happy though its soothing. :^]

Whilst I don't think they're "smiles while sighing softly and fondly" at eachother i do think they love eachother lots

They're very good friends unironically

I am also suspecting aro and autism in myself so who knows maybe thats a small influence

[gravityfallsthunderboltau]

Nick Scheuer Headcanons (GF OC) 1/?

Nick is 18 years old so 2 years older than Wendy but 4 years younger than Soos

(In my memory Soos is 22 and Wendy is 16 but if I'm wrong please tell me)

Nick is male and homosexual / polyamory . He doesn't lie that he is gay but somehow no one believes that he is gay because, according to others, he looks very "straight".

But Nick doesn't shout out that he's gay (like he doesn't make it his personality that he's gay) and when you ask him, he just tell honestly that he is.

Dipper thought for a long time that he had his eyes on Wendy but after talking to him he said he was gay and Wendy was just his friend in a platonic way.

Even if he is rather introverted, he can speak well with girls and boys etc.

Kind of has the “The (big) Brother” vibe, he doesn’t know why, he’s actually the youngest kid of four kids but he just gives off the vibe.

Especially to Dipper and Mabel (to Dipper only after he clarified that he isn't in love with Wendy) he's kind of a big brother.

Somehow also with Stanley because Nick has polydactyly like Ford and that's why Stanley somehow has a brotherly relationship with Nick. (Stanley feels bad that he put his trauma and feelings he had towards Ford onto Nick and is now trying to "save" Nick because he couldn't save Ford)

Nick doesn't know before that Stanley feels somehow guilty and feels bad when he somehow triggers a trigger from Stanley because Stanley doesn't explain to him why he reacts the way he reacts.

But after Stanford came back, Stanley explained this to Nick and Nick understood it and they both worked on their relationship so that Stanley doesn't just hang out with Nick because of his trauma but in a healthly way and Nick don't feel bad of his action to Stanley (I hope I explained what I mean by that well)

He had very severe acne between the ages of 13 and 16 but it got better until he was 18 but he still had mild acne.

He actually had natural curls because of his heredity but because he was in his rebel pre-teens he straightened his hair to death and now he has straight hair. He doesn't regret it.

His parents said that when he gets older he will regret it and miss his curls but he won't. He likes to have straight hair. It suits his style more.

And having natural red hair as a boy with curls was just too complicated for him with the polydactyly too.

Is the type of brother vibe who accepts friendship bracletes from his "younger siblings" and really holds it up like it's his greatest treasure. He rarely wears them but you know he really likes them.

When copying a piece of paper, manual or technical, he needs a ruler to stay on the line what he writes. (hopefully you know what I mean by that)

He doesn't like Gideon Gleeful. Since the first meeting, the things he did against Mabel and Stanley, he simply hated him and was amused at Weirdmageddon where Gideon would be locked in the cage by Bill Chiper.

No pity or anything. He was just happy to see Gideon suffering. But he never told anyone in the group.

His family is part of Ciphertology and when he found out he cut himself off from his family because he will not be associated with them or will not be part of the cult. He hates Silas Birchtree for make Ciphertology.

His aunt (on his mother's side) is obsessed with the cult and is the cult leader and refers to herself as the "Bill Chiper wife". She somehow sees Nick as a problem because he doesn't want to join the Cult (and that later in the story he becomes one of Bill Chiper's Boyfriends)

Is/Will be in a polyamory relationship with Bill Chiper and Stanford Pines

First lives with "Lazy" Susan Wentworth but then moved to the Mystery Shack where he lives in the room:

(This was part of the Gravity Falls concept art and is not mine↓)

After Ford is rescued, Nick offers him to sleep in his room, but even though everyone thinks Ford didn't accept the offer, Ford often sneaks into Nick's room at night and sleeps there.

Nick helps Ford with his nightmares and they often talk for hours about their similarities such as polydactyly and co.

Ford always thinks he's annoying when he talks for hours, but Nick doesn't mind because he likes hearing Ford's voice.

And Ford kind of likes Nick's physical touch and listening to him for so long.

But for a very long time then, Ford and Nick realized that they liked sleeping together and even started sharing a bed but didn't tell anyone in the family because they think they will be despised because of the age gap in their relationship.

Just like the relationship between Bill and Nick. Bill meets Nick in "Dreamscaperers" and their secret love-hate relationship begins there.

Even though Nick hates the Ciphertology Cult, he somehow loves Bill and Bill loves somehow Nick because he doesn't want to worship him as a Ciphertology follower.

Like "Alex Hirsch" / Dipper, Nick is used to chew on pencils - like that Picture

Is a snack machine child. Everywhere he sees a snack machine or drink machine he uses it and uses it almost every day if he can.

Can only cook very little, like microwollen spaghetti or sandwiches, but can bake more, like muffins and cakes.

More headcanons coming soon .....

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