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alastor-simp-page · 2 days ago

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Tell Me I'm Crazy

Stan Pines x OC (really just reader)

Trope: Enemies to Lovers, Con x Cop, ridiculous weird gravity falls stuff, etc.

Anyways, Stan Pines drives Officer Shepard insane and she does the same.

What little I’ve heard of Gravity Falls is that it's a sleepy town buried in Oregon state. All in all, an uneventful place with minimal crime, which is unfortunately what my job relies upon. So…as I tapped the steering wheel, speeding down an open road in Oregon country, I wondered: what is the point? Well, I know the point that Chief Thompson had drilled into my head for two straight hours. By the time, I’m sure he had even gotten to the meat of the information I probably, actually needed, I was slumped and done.

So, here I am with the beautiful yet same sights streaming by over and over again. Redwoods, the occasional animal scurrying along somewhere within the woods. The sights that I kept hearing Rachel blabbering about for some odd minutes have grown quickly dull. I should’ve expected it. Sleepy town, in the middle of nowhere, for a favor. A favor, yeah.

The favor being as much as I love them, Blubs and Durland going on honeymoon. Cute and all, the wedding was tedious as all weddings are. But you know, they’re happy. During the reception, the newly married grooms were already jabbering on about the next step in life: kids. Yikes. My car almost swerved across the solid yellow lines. Can’t do that, right? I rolled my eyes. I’m sure someone going about 200 miles would go speeding down on the dead road as I was crossing the line.

Police officer. Yup, that’s what I am. The big bad rule follower with a baton and a loaded gun. The said loaded gun had been thrown in the backseat amongst the bags.

I chew the inside of my cheek as the first sign of civilization peeks over the canopy of trees: a water tower. Some pathetic attempt at vandalism is sprayed on the tower and surely committed by some bored teenager in this boring town. I squint at the amatuer graffiti drawn in stark red. A mushroom? I shrugged it off and my tired eyes peel back to the road once again.

Gravity Falls. Blubs and Durland. Chief Thompson. Babysitting, that’s what this is. It isn’t unexpected. I’m young, inexperienced, called wide eyed by the seasoned smirking older officers.

And look I’m not trying to be, you know, whatever the word is…ah, attention seeking but goddamn! It is not easy being a woman in the police force. Cuz you know, you get pawed off all the jobs no one else wants to do.

My fingers tense on the steering wheel. Even that graduate, fresh out of police officer school, was on the drug bust. God, what even is his name again? John or Chad or something atypical of the new beloved newbie. I didn’t exactly get the same treatment in the office either. Fuck, was it two or three years ago? Cities of Angels they said. It’ll be swell, it’ll be progressive. So much for that.

Because what have I been doing for the past two years of my miserable life? Wasting it away at a desk. Which is, of course, part of being a police officer but even then, it’s not everything. It’s a part of it. Where’s the action? Sure as well not being given to me. And yes, I’ve heard the speech a few million times in person and in my head when I’m hurling the shampoo at the wall, but every police officer is valued. In their own and special way, that same patronizing smile gleams at me in the rearview memory. A memory of every face that’s told me I’ve seen too many police movies.

For fuck’s sake, I’m not a secretary. I went through the school same as everyone else and all I’m asking for is to do…something. Anything for crying out loud.

This is something. A nasty, petulant voice whispers unwelcomingly. It’s better than sitting at the desk. Another unwelcoming yet somewhat more cheerful, dreadfully cheerful voice chimes in. The collar of my shirt seems to be sticking to my shirt. Anger brews unhappily in my gut, spreading heat through my skin.

Then my unfocused eyes catch something. A flash of color in a bleak misty world. I give the break a gentle tap and slow the pace of my car. Welcome to Gravity Falls! The faded welcome sign shimmers under the grey sky. It’s something. It’s something to do. A little hope lifts my heart despite the mood that’s settled within me. Maybe this is my first step to being taken seriously? Maybe this is a test? I blink. It’s a chance. A chance to prove myself to the Chief. Even if it isn’t a test, I’m alone. No, no, not alone. I’m the order within this town to sort whatever disorder there is. No Durland, no Blubs to tell me no. I have power over this town? Is that what this is? Or are they simply expecting nothing too serious to happen?

I should’ve done more research. But maybe I know enough? Minimal crime rate, a few things here and there. It’s just hillbillies and nature lovers and tourists. How bad can it be? And if something were to happen, which is unlikely, it’ll be easy. Easy to handle and easy to bring back to the Chief on the silver platter. Something to spin into something bigger than it is and maybe, just maybe prove myself.

***

The office is almost too clean for a police station. However, it’s expected. Again, nothing happens in little old Gravity Falls. And of course, who would? The streets are clean, there seems to be an unusual amount of foot traffic (not the city type), and local businesses are bustling. It’s cute, adorable and endearing. As usual though, cute towns with little action usually get boring fast.

The police station parking lot was a little cramped for my taste but bearable. At least, it doesn’t seem like I have to deal with other employees. Although…there was a lone car parked in the corner of the lot. And no, it didn’t look anything like the old cars buried in the junk or “abandoned” in other words. No, it was one of those badly made cars that sputtered every second, the seats were worn and it was way too claustrophobic. And is it creepy to check out someone’s car? No. Police officer status here. There’s no rules against peering into someone’s car. Except you may be called a creep.

The only jail cell in the main office space looks rarely used. A few strange triangular symbols were scribbled on the brick wall. I leave it. I’m not a janitor, that’s for damn sure and it’s not technically my police station. I test out the chairs. Comfy enough. Extra spinny too which is a plus.

The only plus is that unfortunately there’s only a single door in the whole small station which is locked. Not suspicious, but again my curiousness nags at me. I jingle the door a few times but the door doesn’t budge. I try to throw my body weight against it and again, nothing. I give up after a short while. I don't even have any idea how long I'll be here. I’ll figure it all out eventually. And my guess is it’s a file room or cleaning closet. However a young starry eyed child cried out it’s a supernatural mystery lying behind it: a vampire in his coffin or a cauldron simmering with a potion. I shake the thought from my hand and walk off.

I poke around which is only natural. Annoying for the people who own this place, yes. But are they here? No. And unfortunately for me, there’s nothing much to poke around in. It seems the majority of the budget for the police station was spent elsewhere. Which I learn makes sense. The desks are covered in what appears to be origami??? The shelves where there should be law related books are stacked to the brim with an obsessive amount of snow globes. The books which are supposed to be placed on the shelf are stacked in a dusty corner. A clutter of what appears to be a collage of couple selfies are covering the crime board at the center of the office. Sheriff Blubs and Deputy Durland sharing sparse and sweet kisses.

My eye twitches. What do they even do?

The file room? Even in worse shape. Only about three file drawers are used and all of them are cases of roadkill??? Hell, at the beginning it seems the officers entertained murder mysteries involving the dead animals. Many remained unsolved (foreseeable). One was solved but went nowhere, of course, since how does that even hold up in court? No murders. No thievery. No arson. No nothing!

Either they aren’t doing their jobs or this may just be the most boringest town in the world. Which, of course, I’m stuck with for an unplanned period of time. I almost dialed the Chief’s number to figure out how long I have to stay here. I probably zoned out during that part. About four digits in, I snap my phone close. It’ll probably go to voicemail anyways.

I’m by no means an expert cleaner but I do try to make this office, somewhat, presentable. And by, presentable I mean, professional. Not some recreational passion project bullshit center. I find a ring of keys in the drawer of the desk in the office. A little pride flag is dangling from the master key for the police station. I smile down at it before attaching it to my belt alongside my tazer and firearm.

For a moment, my fingers linger over my weapons. Do I even need these? Despite my better efforts, I just tuck my jacket around them. I pin the sparkling sheriff star to my button up and take a seat. I spin for a bit, glancing up at the clock and then I lean back. My back cracks satisfyingly and I let out a little sigh. It had been a long drive. Sixteen hours in total with stops in between to nap in the car. I’ve done it more times than I’d like to.

I begin to drift off with even realizing it.

***

I wake up to the smell of coffee. It’s soft and tangible, and it smells heavenly. My eyes slowly wink open to the fluorescent lights staring down at me. Greg, makes a good coffee but damn, he must’ve stepped up his game. I let out a little yawn, stretching out my arms and straightening my back.

I blink, once then twice. Oh, shit, yeah. This isn’t the LA police department.. I’m in Gravity Falls. A groan slips past my lips but curiously enough the coffee smell persists. Was that smell before? A stale coffee smell would make sense but a fresh coffee smell? The smell drags me towards the source. I wander blindly, like a bear to honey through the thin halls.

And then a sound stops me dead in my tracks. Not a sound but a hum. “Keep smiling through…” I stand lingeringly outside the threshold, listening keenly. That smell. That hum. By the tone of the voice, it must be man. Deep yet slightly lilted.

An unease sets within me.

I’m supposed to be alone.

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