#gravity falls fanfic

[darlingdaisyfarm]

⋆｡𖦹 if you wanted to kill Bill, this might do it °⭒˚

somewhere in the woods, you take everything from Bill Cipher by loving Stanford Pines

tags: nsfw, smut, Ford Pines x fem reader, angst, fluff, vaginal & oral sex (m receiving), voyeurism, praise kink, when you hate your man’s toxic ex so much you use his statue as a bed frame, i wrote this to spite Bill Cipher

Ford has never been this weak in his life.

Above, somewhere in the tangled branches, birds chatter and sing, oblivious to what you're doing with your scientist. The leaves rustle from the wind as golden sun drips through the canopy. But down here, where you kneel in the warm dirt, Ford is loosing his smart mind.

It all started with your feigned surprise. “Stanford Pines, tell me, what does my dress have to do with topography?”

“Its not what- It’s-! Oh, hell.”

The woods are golden in the late afternoon light, it’s warm, honeyed summer and everything is moving through syrup.

“Oh, god,” he's already ruined, god bless him. ”this is- this is entirely unnecessary, we could’ve waited until we returned to— ahh—” says the man who got so distracted because he kept catching glimpses of your thighs every time the breeze lifted your dress.

You interrupt him, pressing your tongue to the sensitive tip of his cock and the sound is so pretty, so pathetic, that you moan softly against him just to hear it again.

He's never known a greater pleasure than your hands on him.

His head tilts back, exposing the cut of his throat, the sharp bob of his adam’s apple. Such a mess already, his chest rising too fast beneath his sweater. His six fingers twitch as he wants to grab your hair but doesn’t dare to, always so careful, so controlled.

Meanwhile you keep your hands on his thighs, pressing your nails into the fabric of his pants, and Ford jolts at the sensation, at the impossible warmth of your wet mouth around him. You squeeze him a little tighter, just to see how much he can take.

Ford bucks forward involuntarily, moaning so sweetly, so needy, and oh, god, you feel yourself getting wetter from just the sound of him.

He is shaking and his breath is uneven, back pressed against the rough bark of the tree, he grips at it helplessly, desperately trying to silence himself, but there’s no holding on, no steadying himself. Not when you’re doing this to him.

“S-Sweetheart—” he gasps, cracking on your name. “oh, you— you’re—” he wants to say something smart, something clever, of how you shouldn't be doing this here, but his mind is nothing but white noise and you know it, because when you take him deeper, let him hit the back of your throat just to hear him sob, he actually whimpers.

His hips jerk and he immediately grips the bark harder, forces himself to still. Poor Ford, trying so hard to be good. You press your nails deeper into him, warning him, slowing down to make him squirm, determined to make him louder.

Ford groans, lets his head thump against the tree. You’re torturing him. “dont t-tease. . .”

You’re taking your time, savoring this moment, savoring him, moving in slow, teasing strokes. When you pull off with a sloppy, wet sound and your breath fan over him, pressing a gentle kiss to the flushed tip, Ford looks down at you with question on his flushed face.

“So quiet.” you murmur, nuzzling against his length, feeling the heat of him against your skin, the soft press of his cock against your cheek.

Ford’s gives you an awkward tiny smile. “well, we are in the middle of a forest, darling, i-i can’t exactly—” he blinks, panting, glazed eyes locking onto yours, hoping you'll understand.

No, you dont. “but i want to hear you.” you lick a slow stripe up his length, and Ford bites his knuckles, because that's too sexy for a nerd like him. No one, no fucking one had ever done that to him. He tries to muffle the soft, helpless groan that escapes him, tries to stay quiet by biting at his own skin, fingers.

You stop immediately, frowning up at him.

He gasps in disappointment, blinking down at you, disoriented. “wh- but why did you—?”

You press your cheek to the side of his cock, again, pouting. “i told you, Ford,” look up at him through your lashes. “let me hear you.”

Stanford lets out a breathless mix of a laugh and a groan, tilting his head back against the tree in defeat, taking a deep breath. “darling, you're going to destroy me.” but you know that tone of his, he can't argue back, because he's ready to do anything for his beloved.

Satisfied with your victory, you take him into your mouth, feeling the way his thick cock twitches on your tongue, filling your mouth so perfectly. You work him slow, gripping his base with your free hand.

Ford whimpers, slapping one hand over his mouth before he remembers, remembers your request, remembers that you want to hear him.

He drops his hand, exhales sharply and finally moans. God, he's so beautiful like that, face contorted in pleasure, brows knit together, lips parting, whole body shakes under your touch. You, you, you, all because of you. He’s so damn gorgeous, so vulnerable like this and you can’t help but feel that ache, the deep ache of needing to please him, of wanting to worship him, all of him, your lovely scientist.

“My brilliant girl,” he groans, adoring. “oh, sweetheart, my love, my love, please—�� you hollow your cheeks, taking him deeper, swallowed him whole, greedily, as if he is the last thing you'd ever taste and Ford practically sobs. “feels good, can’t— i can’t! if you keep going, i won’t last.”

“So good for me, Ford,” you praise him, dragging your warm tongue along his length slowly. “so brilliant,” smiling, you wrap your hand around the base, pumping him lazily what makes Ford let out the most pathetic desperate sound imaginable. “so handsome,” and when you reach the sensitive spot just beneath the head, he nearly folds.

“Darling, oh, oh, oh—!” you hum against him, because you can feel the way he’s straining to hold himself back, to keep from just snapping his hips forward and fucking your mouth properly. Ford wants it, needs it, but he’s too embarrassed to admit it, he wants to pull you closer, wants to thrust deeper, but he also wants to let you do whatever you want to him.

He wants to stay like this forever

But Ford is Ford, always so polite, so careful, gentle, even like this. And you love him for it

“You can move,” you murmur sweetly as you take him back into your mouth.

Ford curses, exhales a trembling breath, but his hips roll forward hesitantly. Six fingered hands finally leave the tree, sliding into your hair, unsure, scared to hurt his lovely girl. He holds your head, guiding himself into your warm mouth, finally losing that last shred of restraint.

And you love it, love how helpless and horny he is, completely at your mercy, how his whole body shakes just from the feel of your mouth. His body overriding his poor, struggling self-control.

You relax into it, adjusting to his pace, letting him use your mouth to satisfy himself, letting him set the pace.

“Ohh, you feel. . . you feel so good, taking me so well!” Ford thrusts into your mouth again and he’s moaning, groaning, whimpering your name like it’s holy. Your hands slide down, one still pumping around the base. Then Ford chokes on his next breath when your fingers trace along his balls, tears in the corners of his eyes as he gazes down at you, completely undone.

“Ohh, oh— oh, love, oh, mhmm—” his knees nearly give out, Ford tenses, head tilting back, jaw slack, eyes squeezed shut, his thighs tremble, his stomach tightens and he knows, he knows, he knows that he's right at the edge. “oh, too much! I c-can’t—”

Slickness trails down your own thighs, you're dripping, feeling your own need building just from the taste of him, the sounds of him, the way he whispers your name like a prayer. You hum around him, swirling your tongue, taking him deeper, deeper until he’s hitting the back of your throat again. His fingers tighten in your hair. Good, you think, he's close. First sign of his impending orgasm. You know this man like the back of your hand

“You’re, nghh, you’re so good, so— so brilliant, my brilliant girl” you moan around him, because god, you love it when Ford calls you that. He feels the vibration from your muffled sounds. You look up at him through your lashes, cheeks hollowed around his cock and he absolutely crumbles when you roll his balls between your fingers again, massaging them gently.

Ford's gone, moaning so beautifully loud, choking on your name, shaking violently and then he’s coming hard, his whole body locks up, hips jerking as he holds your head firmly, roots of your hair start to hurt and your jaw aches already, but that's so hot when Ford gets a little bit rough like that.

He's loud, so loud, he can’t hold it back, can’t stop the sounds spilling from his lips, his always so calm voice pitches up, sounding so high and desperate. Ford babbles your name between gasps, begging without even realising as he cums in your mouth.

“Oh, f-fuck, fuck! mhmm, s-sweetheart, I— ohh— fuck, im cumming—“ his voice is hoarse while his body shaking.

And you take it all, let him ride it out as long as your lovely scientist needs, until hes shaking. His glasses are fogged up as sweat rolls down his forehead, his knees nearly buckle.

And above, somewhere high in the trees, a bird trills obliviously into the quiet.

You pull off him with the dirtiest sound ever, swallowing everything he gave you, licking your lips, and Ford watches you do it with glassy, half-lidded eyes. He sags back against the tree, panting like crazy, dazed.

You wipe the corner of your mouth with your thumb, smiling in satisfaction. God, your jaw feels so sore. . . but then your eyes widen a little when he cups your cheek, running his thumb over your swollen lips. His hands are still shaking. Ford looks at you in awe, dumbfounded, totally in love, obsessed, yours.

And that’s when he finally moves.

He grabs you, yanks you up, presses you against the tree. He’s kissing you instantly, tasting himself on your lips, moaning into your mouth while trembling hands hike up your dress. He slips his hand into your panties, feeling the evidence of your arousal, running slow circles over your swollen clit.

Ford groans, presses you tighter against the tree, and this time, he won’t stop until he’s completely buried inside you.

“Right now. I need you, right now.” his fingers tighten in the fabric of your dress, bunching it higher, exposing you completely. Turning you to face the tree, Ford lines himself up, running the head of his cock slowly through your soft folds, memorizing every reaction.

Your summer dress is hiked up around your waist, panties dangling at your ankles, and Ford is right behind you as he desperately adjusts himself between your legs, the thick head of him nudging against your entrance.

“Ford, please!” you squirm, pushing back against him desperately, arching into him.

He presses a kiss to your bare shoulder. Ford, your brilliant, nerdy man, so desperate to be inside you and you're nothing but a puddle beneath him. He’s in love with you, so deeply in love and he can’t hide it anymore, not when you’re like this, not when you’re giving him all of you, when you're being so good for him. He’s so turned on by the idea of having you out here, exposed, but he’s also so fucking in awe of you.

“I have you, sweetheart.”

And then he pushes in, as always he does it, so slow, careful and deliberate, feeling how your warmth welcomes him. You suck in a sharp breath, stretching around him, feeling every inch of his throbbing cock. You drop your frehead against the bark.

“Dear god, you feel— you feel so good, sweetheart, s-so warm, so tight, i— i c-can’t believe—” Ford is mumbling, drowning in how you feel. He kisses your shoulder, then the nape of your neck. “you take me so well, oh, sweetheart, i—” his hands rest on your hips, holding you steady. “ohh, ohh, oh— god—”

He sinks in deep, shuddering, burying himself to the hilt, feeling your pussy clenching around him. And for some time, he just stays there.

“Just like that, swee—” he can't even continue, just presses his forehead against your back and groans. You squeeze him, just to hear him choke on his next breath. “p-please, please— i need—”

“Ford, move.” after that, you feel him pulling back before thrusting back in what makes you both moan.

His pace starts slow and measured, but he's still breathing hard against your skin, whispering between ragged gasps. “youre so warm, taking me s-so deep. . . could stay like this forever, i— i swear, i—”

You arch against him, curling your fingers against the bark and he grips your waist tighter. You let out a gasp when he thrusts deeper, your body stretching to accommodate him.

Ford pushes in, pulls out, thrusts back in. Trying to stay in his senses, controlled, reverent. You may not see his face right now, but you're sure he looks beautiful as ever, trying so hard to stay composed but failing miserably as he makes love to you.

“Your pussy feels so good, god, you're so warm,” his hands slide up your waist, over your stomach, gripping, mapping, memorizing. His pace starts to pick up.

You whimper, pressing your hips back against him, and he chokes on a curse.

“Darling, d-do that again, please—”

You do. Ford holds your hips and starts moving faster, deeper.

The world spins.

“Deeper, Ford,” you cry out into the silence of the forest, needing more. “want you deeper.”

He snaps his hips forward roughly, loosing his control and oh oh, oh, oh. Fuck, a sharp, overwhelming pressure—

You gasp, tensing immediately, something feels wrong or maybe you just— Fuck! Ford pushes into you again and that pressure spreads through your body as you feel slight discomfort.

“Ford, too deep, wait. . .”

“I— are you okay? did I hurt you? i didn’t mean to, i got carried away, i—” he immediately adjusts, pulling back enough and stopping all his movements, but you're silent and it scares him. “sweetheart, talk to me, what do you need? do you want to stop?”

You shake your head. “No, no. Just- just go slower.” Ford trusts you so he pulls out and adjusts your pose a little bit, then sinks back in and changes the angle, gentler this time, smoothly, more careful. And fuck, it feels heavenly perfect now.

You giggle when you feel him pressing kisses to your neck, whispering apologies.

“Darling, is that better?”

You only nod eagerly, too breathless to answer.

“I don’t want to hurt you, i just want you to feel good, i just want to- to worship you, to love you.” you know he's honest because of the way his fingers dig into your skin, and you know he’s trying to hold back, he’s so afraid of hurting you, and you love him for it, so much. Ford buries his face into your hair, breathing you in. “oh, i love you, i love you so much.” you moan in response, easing into the pleasure again.

“F-Ford,” you turn your head and give him a passionate kiss, whispering “i love you too.” into his lips, gasping for breath between each word as he thrusts his cock into you.

You push back against him, moving together with him, your body demanding more, your hands gripping the tree even tighter as you take more of him.

“That’s it, baby,” you breathe, “youre fucking me so good.” and everything what surrounds you blurs. All this summer heat, the golden light, the trees, the birds, the leaves, the wind, it all melts away, until there is only him.

That praise means everything for him, the fact that you enjoy it too. Ford fucks you like you’re his religion, needing you like sinners need confession. The trees stand tall around you, the Oregon forest whispering with wind and distant birdsong. But none of it exists. All that exists is Ford behind you, losing himself, his cock is buried inside you, stretching you open, making you feel so full it’s dizzying, consuming your mind.

The contrast between you is dizzying.

You, flushed and breathless, dress hitched around your waist, panties now lost somewhere in the moss. and Ford, fully dressed, coat, the red of his turtleneck, the belt strapped tight across his chest, the dark fabric of his trousers straining as he presses against you.

He’s clothed like a man who’s spent his life preparing for war, layers upon layers, protection stitched into every seam and yet he’s undone by you

“You're still—” you gasp as he thrusts into you, “fully dressed.”

A choked laugh against your throat. “can't help myself,” Ford admits, ”you’re too pretty i couldn't wait.”

His coat brushes against your bare skin, the contrast of fabric and flesh making you shiver.

His boots firmly planted in the earth. Big. Heavy.

Your bare toes curling against moss, slipping against damp forest floor until you step on his boot. You don’t even mean to, just seeking more balance, more stability. But Ford let's you stand like that if it's more comfortable for his lovely girl.

His hands slide down your stomach and he pressed his fingers against your lower belly, grinding into you and you swear you can feel him in your lungs. Your legs start shaking.

“Can you feel it, sweetheart?” Ford's fingers press into your skin. “feel how deep i am inside you?” he moves deeper what makes your legs nearly give out, but Ford grips you tighter and holds you up. “i’ve got you, i’ve got you, sweetheart. You’re safe, let me hold you.”

Your pussy is wet, tight around him, and he can feel every flutter, every clench, every slick, pulsing squeeze. Ford drags his cock out of you what makes your brows knit together and then he thrusts back in, forcing loud gasps from your parted lips.

“Yes, just like that, yes!” tears slips down your cheeks like melted diamonds.

Ford touches you, smoothing over your belly, sliding up to cup your breasts through your dress. His cock is leaking with pre cum and throbbing inside you, the head rubbing against every sensitive sweet spot inside you, dragging against your walls in sensual thrusts.

Your pussy is soaking him whole, dripping down your thighs, making a mess of both of you, and he can feel it, he can hear it because of wet squelching sounds and it’s driving him insane.

“You're dripping, sweetheart, holy moses. Soaking me.” his long fingers delving between your thighs, pressing against your sensitive clit, pleasuring you even more and your velvety walls clench around him tighter as he rubs your little nub. “that's it, love, that's my brilliant girl, so smart, so perfect, so good for me.” he’s thrusting into you deeper now, more harder, but still careful, drinking in every sound you make, studying the science of your pleasure.

He's filling you with warmth as the pressure inside of you builds. You’re so close, so close you can taste it, can feel the climax just within reach. You push back harder against him, wanting it, needing it as you try to match his thrusts while his fingers work magic on your clit.

“I love you.”

“I love you, i love you, i love you!”

And the forest sings, the wind hums, the world tilts. The sun is honeyed, pooling over your skin.

You’re falling, falling, falling. And he’s falling with you.

The air is filled with heat and pine, damp with the scent of sweat and sex.

The forest is watching, breathing, alive.

But nothing else exists except the way he moves inside you.

“Does it feel good, darling?”

“Yes, yes, oh!” his fingers rub soft circles, matching the rhythm of his thrusts. “Ford, please, don’t stop. . .”

“Won't, i won’t, i could never.”

“Fuck, Ford, im—“ you can't even finish as your thighs start shaking, you’re so close, so close, so fucking close your brain can't work anymore.

“I know, sweetheart, i know, i can feel you, you squeezing me.” his fingers rub your clit harder, his cock fucks into you deeper and you fall apart completely, sobbing and writhing, cumming so hard you swear the whole fucking world disappears. Your pussy throbs, drenches his cock, soaking his thighs, soaking the ground.

Ford thrusts into you through it, desperate, obsessed with how hot you look. “darling, you’re so beautiful like this.” he can't stop pressing kisses to your shoulder, your spine, your neck, his hands smoothing over your stomach, your thighs, soothing you, loving you.

You’re trembling, absolutely ruined by the powerful orgasm your scientist gave you, gasping for air. You want it again, you want him again.

“Please, sweetheart,” his cock throbs inside you, he’s right there too. “please, can i— can i cum inside?”

“Yes, yes, please!”

“Thank you, thank you, sweetheart.” he slams his cock deep one more time and spills inside you, filling you up with his warm seed.

Ford holds you tight in his arms, whispering your name, thanking you, kissing you over and over, breathing hard, sweat damp at his hairline, glasses crooked. His body is so exhausted and overwhelmed.

“Sweetheart,” he's so kiss-drunk. “i think you’ve completely wrecked me.”

You smile softly, too dazed to say something in response, your eyes hazy, body still trembling around him.

But then, involuntarily, you turn your head. Your unfocused gaze falls on. . . oh.

Him.

The statue.

Bill. The golden demonic triangle, locked in stone, frozen in time, trapped in his own cursed monument with his single, etched eye.

Looks creepy, in a way. Like he's watching.

Your breath shudders as your whole body goes still

Ford notices immediately as he calls you by your name, asking what happened. You don’t answer, just tilt your head slightly, staring right back at the statue.

Ford follows your gaze and sees it too.

“. . . Oh.”

You look at Ford and he looks at you. Your fingers trace slow lines down his chest until you whisper.

“Put me against it.”

Ford stares at you, wide-eyed. “you, you want to—”

“Yes.”

“Sweetheart, what if he can—”

“Good.”

Ford sighs and you smile.

“Don’t you want to remind him that you’re mine now?”

And that’s how you end up with your back pressed against the stone surface of Bill’s statue with Ford between your legs. His gaze accidentally falls on the statue and his heart slams against his ribs.

Bill. Watching. Unblinking. Trapped. Helpless.

Bill, who once called him Fordsy, Sixer, IQ.

Bill, who once called him cute when he tried to fight back.

Bill, who once called him his perfect other half.

Bill, who was once the sun in his galaxy.

He's watching, so let him see.

Bill can’t move, can’t speak, can’t scream, but he can see. And he is fucking seething. Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.

THIS?

HIM?

His Fordsy, his fucking Sixer getting ruined by some desperate, pathetic little human? He hates you, hates the way you’re moaning, taking his Sixer’s cock like you fucking belong there, hates the way Ford’s holding you, worshipping you, whispering against your skin.

You are hypersensitive now, your body feels like a live wire, buzzing, overloaded with him. The way Ford's hands move over your skin, trying to understand how someone like him, six-fingered, battered, buried under too many regrets ended up with someone like you, soft and brilliant and wholly, painfully, his.

The coolness of the stone surface of Cipher's statue feels like cruel contrast to the heat between your legs.

Ford makes a quiet whimper before kissing you like he’s dying. Like he’s never known softness before, like he’s never known devotion before, like he’s never been worshiped before.

Your hands wander, relearning the shape of him, the texture of him. The scarred hands, the broad shoulders, the soft expanse of his stomach, the sharp ridges of his hipbones.

You can feel his heartbeat through his cock.

You drag your nails up his spine, feeling the way his whole body twitches, responds, obeys.

His brain is short-circuiting because he’s never had sex like this, he’s never been touched like this, he’s never been wanted like this.

“I should stop,” the scientist between your legs says. “i should sweetheart, this is madness.”

But he doesn’t move away, doesn’t pull out, doesn’t stop. Because he can’t. Or maybe because he doesn’t want to. Could it be both?

Bill remembers when it was him who could make Ford tremble, when it was his words, his touch, his power that made Sixer gasp. When it was him who was the center of Ford’s universe.

And now Ford is gripping your thighs, burying his face in your neck, whimpering into your skin.

Bill is fucking livid, watching HIS Sixer trembling, gasping, clinging to you like you are his entire existence. Watching Ford ruin himself for you. Watching Ford let himself be loved. Watching Ford beg to be yours.

And Bill can’t do a fucking thing about it.

Ford is losing his mind because it can't be real, too much, too good, too intense.

Bill hates the way Ford’s fingers slide into your mouth, pressing against your tongue, letting you suck, letting you worship his extra one.

“Good girl,” his Sixer says, watching the way your lips close around his digits as your tongue flicks against the calloused pads, your moan vibrate straight into his palm.

Bill remembers the first time Ford ever held out this hand to him.

"I was born strange. I am attracted to the strange. And the strange has always been attracted to me." Ford’s brilliance was always his curse.

Bill had taken his hand. And never let go.

Until now, until you.

His sixer, his brilliant, stubborn, impossible Sixer reduced to this? To a whimpering mess, buried deep in some lovesick human.

Bill wants to claw his way out of this stone. wants to take back what’s his. Bill would laugh if he could, would tear you away from him and remind Sixer exactly who he belongs to.

This is hell, no, this is worse than hell.

He was a god, infinite. And now he's a fucking rock, a statue, a prisoner, a powerless, speechless, helpless observer to. . . to what? to this shit?

“You’re mine,” you breathe into Ford's lips.

“Yes, yes, yours, I'm yours, always, always, always.”

Ford. His Ford.

No. No, NO, NO.

He is watching Ford give himself away, watching Ford worship you like you hung the fucking stars.

Stanford was his. HIS.

He was supposed to be the only one to drive Ford mad. He was supposed to be the one who made Ford weak, made him beg.

Ford had been so easy back then. So starved for validation, but desperate for knowledge and so beautifully eager to destroy himself in pursuit of something greater.

Bill had owned him.

“You’re mine.”

“Yours, all yours, my love.” Ford’s eyes are unfocused, hes so far gone, for you.

And you know it, Bill can fucking tell because you're looking at him, looking at the statue as you grip Ford tighter, protecting him from Bill.

“Mine.” and Ford, who, in Bill's opinion, has always been an obedient dog, damn nods.

This is a joke. This is an insult. This is a violation.

And yet, it is him that you and Ford are violating, his monument, his remains and his final resting place, his one trace left in this world.

“She knows. She knows what Ford and I were. That’s why she’s doing this, isn’t it? That’s why she’s dragging him down onto the cold stone, letting him touch her, making him forget everything but her. She wants to erase me, wants to make sure that when Ford thinks about what it felt like to kneel before me, to look up at me with awe and fear and longing in those stupid, stupid human eyes, all he will remember instead is this. She wants to overwrite it. Reprogram him. Take what was mine. I hate her. I hate her. I hate her. She is all human frailty, weak, pathetic, replaceable. She is mortal, temporary, fragile, finite. But my Ford brilliant. Ford is infinite. Ford is so much more. And yet, he isn’t even thinking of me, is he? He is looking at her. She has ruined him. He used to beg for me. Now that idiot is worshipping her. Losing himself inside her. Dedicating himself to her like a disciple, a zealot, a man willing to fall to his knees and destroy himself for devotion. That used to be for me. His hands. . . oh dear Euclydia, those hands— how many times did those same hands trace the surface of my pages, searching for truth, for knowledge, for validation? How many times did those fingers clutch at my edges, desperate, reaching for something no human was ever meant to touch. Now those same hands are on her. And I cannot stop it. I cannot do anything. I can only watch as she takes him further and further from me, until there is nothing left. Until the Stanford Pines I knew, the Stanford Pines I built, the Stanford Pines I made, the Stanford Pines I claimed is completely gone. Until I am nothing more than a forgotten scary whisper in his mind. Until I am just a rock in the woods, forced to witness the slow, meticulous erasure of my own existence. My body doesn't have mouth and I cannot even scream.”

Bill doesn’t love Ford. He doesn’t even know what love is. But he knows obsession and he knows hunger, and somewhere in that chaos, Ford became the center of it all.

Bill has never been helpless before, never been forced to endure something without intervention.

And worse, this is Stanford Pines. The only human who ever matched him, challenged him, fascinated him. Ford believed he could outthink a god, Bill knew that mortals only crumble faster under pressure.

Ford isn’t just being fucked. Ford isn’t just desperate and needy, begging for attention. Ford is in love. Being consumed by love, taken in a way that made him forget himself. Forget Bill.

Bill can’t stand it. This is cosmic-level sadism.

”I am a god, a destroyer of worlds. I have seen the rise and fall of civilisations. I have cracked open minds and turned them inside out. I have walked between dimensions and burned the laws of reality into my own design. Now I'm left to rot in this miserable meat-world. And i could have handled that, maybe. Could have tolerated the humiliation, the aching eternity of nothingness, if not for this. If not for Stanford Pines, of all people, of all creatures in the multiverse, of all sentient beings in all realities, here like this. Right in front of me, crying out in reverence for someone else. Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me! He's looking at her like she’s the fucking god in this equation. It’s not just that he’s on his knees for her in the same way he once was for me, it’s that he WANTS this. It's that he’s soft for her and not because he’s lost his mind and scared, not because he’s intoxicated by the thrill of the impossible, not because i have my hands in his brain turning the gears myself. But because he loves her. I should be touching him, i should be inside his head, mind, body. I should be the one pulling those noises out of his throat. This is the worst part. Not the betrayal. Not the humiliation. But the knowledge that he doesn't think about me anymore. Ford Pines is no longer mine, he does not dream of me, he does not scream my name, he does not shudder at my touch, he does not remember what it was like to belong to me, he has forgotten, he has replaced me and there is nothing i can do about it. Not now, not ever.”

I'm going insane.

He’s the smartest idiot I’ve ever met. And trust me, I’ve met a lot of idiots.

DO YOU KNOW WHAT IT’S LIKE TO BE GOD?

To see everything, to know everything, to hold eternity in your hands like a matchstick? To bend reality, break minds, carve new universes from the ribs of dying ones?

To whisper your name into the black holes of men’s hearts and have them answer you, hungry, desperate, willing?

I do. I did. Hahahahahhahaha! NOW I SEE!

This is what i did to you, isn’t it, Sixer? This is what i made you feel, when i left you alone, when i lied, when i called you a fool, when i told you that you needed me more than i ever needed you.

This is what it felt like, isn’t it? It hurted you?

“You’re the smartest person i’ve ever met.” Ford thought he could tame chaos and Bill thought he could devour genius. The tragedy is they both succeeded.

Sixer was always meant to fall into obsession, but it was supposed to be Bill’s name trembling off his lips, not yours.

Do you even understand what you’re touching?

Do you know what he was before you came along, sinking your little hands into him, sinking your little teeth into his throat, into his fucking soul?

Do you know what he could have been?

My Sixer was never meant to be this small, this weak, this human.

Do you know what i saw in him? POTENTIAL.

He was born wrong, born strange, born too smart for his body, too brilliant for his world. He was never meant to belong.

But i could give him something better. And oh, Sixer, my darling Sixer, my beautiful, tragic, broken Sixer, you knew it, didn’t you? You knew it the moment you met me because the first time you let me in, i felt you shudder. Not in fear, no. In recognition. As if finally, finally, finally you had found something as hungry as you.

“I need you, darling, need you so much, it’s terrifying.” aww, but Fordsy, you always did love things that scared you.

Cipher was the sun in his galaxy, but do you know what happens when a star collapses? It doesn’t just disappear, it becomes a black hole, it pulls everything in, crushes everything under its gravity. It becomes a point of no return.

And you, little parasite, LITTLE THIEF, you think you’ve won? Seriously? You’ve stolen him from me!

Ford builds to understand, but I destroy to prove. He may map the stars, but I decide where they fall

Ford defines matter, but I define meaning, my poor Sixer seeks the truth and i am what breaks it.

He draws the line between genius and madness. I blur it until he can’t find his way back.

I'm still here.

“He promised me knowledge, and I gave him my trust. He took both and left me drowning in questions I can never unask. I let him orbit my thoughts only to find I was a moon bound to a planet that devoured itself. I thought he was a guiding star, but he was a collapsing supernova, destroying everything in his wake and I still couldn’t look away.” torn pages from Ford’s journal say.

Ford will never admit it, but Bill gave him something he never had before, a reason to feel important. It’s not that Ford wants the universe. He just wants to matter in it. And Bill let him think he did.

Ford thought he hated the way Cipher talked, but it’s the silence that terrifies him because he knows he’s still there, waiting.

Bill carved himself into Ford’s life like a parasite, but Ford let him in like a lover.

And it's a mistake he'll never repeat again.

fuck it.

Ford doesn’t know what’s more overwhelming. The way your pussy clenches around him, fluttering, soaking his cock. Or the way you lean back against the cold, unmoving surface of Bill’s statue, lips parted, a wicked little smile curling at the edges.

You reach back, threading your fingers through his damp, silver-streaked hair and kiss him roughly, biting his lips, exploring his mouth with your tongue. You don't notice the way Ford's eyes flicker up to meet the empty, unblinking gaze of the stone triangle looming over you both. Ford’s stomach twists, his pulse stutters. His mind reels

You are on top of him now, your thighs are straddling his hips, knees pressing into the damp moss, hands cradling the sharp lines of his jaw. Ford's free hand grips your ass, squeezes tight, pulls you down harder.

You ruin him, it's too much, the way your pussy swallows him, velvet heat stretching around him, keeping him locked inside you. The way you grab his wrist, pull his hand to your mouth, and slip his fingers past your lips again.

Ford's hair is a mess, just like himself, his face is flushed, drenched in sweat, pupils so wide they swallow the soft brown of his eyes. Half-lidded and glassy, he looks at you, taking you in, drinking you in, your beauty.

Ford pushes the straps of your dress down, letting them slip from your shoulders, exposing your breasts to the golden, dappled light filtering through the canopy above. The sight is so beautiful, watching your breasts bounce as you fuck yourself dumb on his cock. Ford thinks he might never want to leave this moment, this place, this overwhelming, earth-shattering feeling of being inside you, of being part of you, of belonging to you.

“So good, so good,” you whisper, scratching your nails against his shoulders as he stretches you open. “hnngh, Ford, so big, you're so big, Ford, c-can feel you—”

His entire body locks up. “too deep? Sweetheart, do you need me to stop? Do you—”

Your hands fly up, cupping his face. “No, don’t you dare stop.” you sink down again, grinding onto him, taking him even deeper and Ford cries, his body can't process the pleasure of feeling you squeeze around him, taking him so perfectly, so fully

“Love, I—” you roll your hips, rubbing against him just right. “I— oh, god, oh fuck,” he’s always been articulate, always so good with words, so clever, so brilliant, but right now, he’s nothing but wrecked, broken syllables, hoarse moans, desperate gasps.

God, you love him so much.

His head tilts back against the Bill's statue, exposing his throat to you, mouth open, panting, eyes unfocused, completely pussy drunk.

“Baby,” you whisper, sliding your fingers into his hair, yanking him forward, forcing him to look at you. “stay with me.”

His silly gaze snaps to yours, pupils blown wide as he gives you the most genuine fucked out smile.

“Always, always, sweetheart, always.”

"Keep talking, please.”

“Can't,” he gasps. “can't—” he's gripping the swell of your ass, yanking you down, forcing you deeper, forcing you to take every inch of him, and god, he's buried so deep it makes your breath stutter.

Your walls tighten around him and Ford straight-up whimpers. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, pressing your forehead against his.

“Where’d all those big words go, hm?”

“You— you’re— ngh, y-you’re ruining me.”

You don't really notice how he slides a hand between your bodies and runs two fingers through the mess where you're stretched around him, rubbing your clit, then brings his fingers to his mouth. His lips close around them, licking the taste of you and he groans like he's been starving.

“You taste like heaven, my love.” Ford hugs you and buries his face in your throat, teeth scraping, lips sucking, marking you, branding you meanwhile his fingers slide back down, slipping between your folds, circling your clit gently and you fucking die from this kind of intimacy. Your whole body tenses.

“F-Ford!” he grips your waist tight, holding you in place and then he thrusts up, deeper, faster and harder, his cock slamming into you so perfectly it makes your vision blur. “Yes,” you sob, “yes, please, harder. I love you, more!”

His cock drags against your inner walls, grazing against every tender spot.

He isn’t just giving you his body, but his soul. And he’s never, ever taking it back. The smartest man in the universe, the man who has solved unfathomable cosmic mysteries, completely undone beneath you.

Your clit throbs as you cry out, digging your nails into his shoulders, holding yourself.

"Please," man beneath you gasps, "please, sweetheart, don't stop—" you ride him faster. You move together like you are the one. Your bodies fit like the phases of the moon, waxing and waning, perfect in every alignment.

The pressure builds and builds until it snaps, and you cry out. The heat coiled tighter and tighter in your belly, your breath coming in short, frantic bursts. Ford's fingers rub over your clit one last time and the oversensitivity makes you jerk and shake.

Ford thrusts up into you, his hands shaking on your waist and then he cums. Your head falls back, lips parted in a silent cry as your pussy grips him tight, milking him. His thrusts slowed as you feel every inch of him pulsing, his cum filling you to the brim you can feel it dripping already.

The world is quiet. The only sound is your breath, the exhausted gasps of two people who just destroyed each other in the best possible way.

Your legs are shaking too much to move, body boneless

Ford presses his forehead to your shoulder,

“Jesus christ.”

You laugh, dazed, punch-drunk, deliriously happy. Your tired. hand slips and you almost touch the statue, or to be exact, Bill's stone hand as it looms just inches away, and Ford’s eyes go wide.

”Don’t!” he shouts, grabbing your wrist.

You freeze. “Wha—”

“It’s a deal, you touch him, you’re making a deal and we’re not doing that. Not ever.” you look at the statue when realization dawns.

Later, when you’re both dressed and leaving the clearing, Ford glances back at the statue with blank expression

“He can’t hurt us,” he mutters, more to himself than to you. “not anymore.”

Stanford spent a lifetime chasing knowledge, mysteries, the secrets of the universe.

And now he's realising he should have been chasing you. It’s good that there’s still a lot of time left.

[socvincjpeg]

A BUNCH of doodles i did while reading one of my fav gf fics rn, then it becomes, it becomes, it becomes a problem by @i-love-you-go-away !! Heavily recommend it i'm completely hooked

[strawburry01]

She Blinded Me With Science

Summary: You and your college bestie Ford go hunt for the Mothman

AN: 2.6k words, there's some flirty friendship moments

Part 2

Hope you enjoy :)

“Forddddd!” you shouted as you slammed at his unfortunately closed dormitory door, “open up Pines I know you’re in there you haven’t left all day!” you continued as you kept knocking louder.

“For god's sake how do you know that?” his muffled voice came through the door.

“Your desk light has been on all night and all day you dork, I know you’re neurotic about turning that light off!” you huffed as you finally stopped knocking. You heard some shuffling of books and chair legs on the ground as Ford eventually opened the door a crack. For supposedly having the nicest dorms in the east coast, you and Ford were both guilty of turning your respective rooms into chaotic mixes of museum, library, archive, and photo studio, in your case. You could see the precarious stacks of textbooks and notebooks behind Ford’s bespeckled face. He looks like he didn’t sleep last night, evidenced by his glasses at a slant and his brown hair mussed up around his forehead.

“Can I…come in?” you asked as you attempted to poke your head in closer, which caused Ford to nearly shut the door in your face. The two of you had met in your first week of university, both sitting in the back of the Physics 101 class, noticing halfway through the class that you were both muttering the correct answers under your breath. Since that class, you had both been the closest of both study partners, and friends. With you being the charming talker, and Ford being the logical brains, you had both moved up the ranks in Backupsmore University. On a drunken night at the end of the first year you’d both revealed to each other that this was never your first choice. For Ford, his project to get taken in by West Tech was sabotaged, keeping him on the east coast. For you, your family couldn’t afford anything else. With 3 younger siblings you knew that your needs were met, but you also had to compromise on a lot of things- for the rest of the family. Ford kept a lot of his own family secretive, only mentioning in the middle of a spring break trip to Canada that he had an identical twin brother which nearly caused you to flip the kayak you were both in. But you were never one to push Ford too far out of his comfort zone. You recognized he was a private person, but also an incredibly bright and witty person. Someone you really liked hanging out with and spending time around. 

“No!” Ford said, “I mean uhm…what do you want?” he corrected himself, still keeping the door only open a sliver. You raised your eyebrow and leaned against the doorway yourself. He was hiding something, and poorly.

“Is there a girl in there Ford?” you whispered with a smirk, knowing there’s no shot in hell it would be the case. His face turned red as he shut the door and unchained the locks before swinging it open fully. You knew he rarely ever hung out with other people, aside from his Dungeons, Dungeons, and More Dungeons gaming group and fellow student Fiddleford. 

“No, no females in here, just a damn letter,” he sighed as he ran his hand through his hair as he turned, “it’s the grant letter,” he said as he pointed to it on his desk. You stepped in and sure enough, his desk was somehow cleared, most of the mess being moved to his bed now, with a white envelope addressed to him. 

Stanford Pines, Room 313, Backupsmore University.

“Well shit have you opened it?” you asked, standing besides him as you both stared at the envelope. He applied for a large grant for research months ago, and after tedious interview after interview, this could be it.

“No, I can’t bring myself to. It’s Schrodinger's envelope. Until I open it I could’ve won it or not. I can’t do it. I can’t face the certainty of opening it- either one,” he sighed as he pinched his glasses on his nose, going through the same logic he’d been grappling with for the past hours.

You slowly nodded. He wound himself up like this often. Paralyzed with choice. You personally were the type to make a choice and force it to be the right one- somehow make it correct or at least work out for you. Ford on the other hand needed to know that it was going to be the right one from the beginning. Once again, the logical one.

What had worked before though was you distracting him. Getting him out of his head. Or at least his room.

“Want to check out Point Pleasant? Been reports of some unusual behavior from there recently,” you mused, breaking the silence. You could practically hear the gears in his head turning. “My camcorder’s all charged, I just need your car,” you grinned at him. He couldn’t help but let out a chuckle as he sighed.

“Okay, okay, fine,” he said as he took one last look at the envelope before grabbing his coat and keys. You silently pumped your fist as you fished your camcorder out of your bag. It was covered in random stickers you’d gotten over the years of owning it, from fruit stickers, to band stickers.

There was another thing that brought you and Ford together. An affinity for the unexplained and weird. It had always piqued your interest since you were a child living in the forest, seeing things that practical textbook science couldn’t explain and going headfirst into the unknown. Ford grew to share your passion for this after getting his skepticism proved wrong after tagging along for a few of your drives out to cryptid and weirdness hotspots. Bigfoots, ghosts, aliens, fairies, you’d hear a rumor and you’d grab your camcorder to go check it out yourself. Ford himself realized that he’d been viewed as something different in his own life having six fingers on each hand. The way that you got so excited and enamored with weirdness though made him feel less self conscious about his own quirks. You thrived on the unexplainable, and it eventually began to rub off on him. He could explain most equations and experiments, but he loved the challenge of not knowing how to explain something, which he seemed to always find when he followed you. 

You slid into the familiar passenger seat of Ford’s red 1960 Popular 100E, which was a little car that suited his personality well. He began the engine as you instinctively began flicking through radio channels trying to find some good music. 

The sun was starting to set which was turning the sky a pinkish yellow hue. You turned your camcorder to the sky and started filming.

“Tonight I come to you with a breaking case joined again by my dearest companion Ford Pines,” you begin as you dramatically squirm in your seat to zoom in on Ford’s face who blushes and laughs, but doesn’t take his eyes off the road. He prided himself on his safe driving, which often bored you. “Let’s take a step back my friends into a time before humans, a time before these roads meant anything, a time of empty forest and beautiful lands untouched by buildings,” you continued as you turned back to the sunset, “imagine soaring above this beautiful area one day and then BAM!” you shouted, twisting back to Ford trying to catch him off guard. No luck though. “A billboard! A damn city has popped up in your turf! Where you were just chilling one day. Unbelievable,” you sighed as you turned back to the now darkening sky. “That my friends is the story of today’s search, the elusive and illustrious Mothman,” you said, which caused Ford to scoff,

“You’re kidding me Y/N, Mothman?”. You stopped your recording and put your camcorder back down. 

“You’ve already started driving, it's too late to turn back now,” you hummed as you went back to clicking through channels, “just trust me Ford I’ve never let you down,”. 

The two of you kept driving into the night, discussing recent classes and homework, and you trying to fill Ford in on recent gossip. The car rolled into Point Pleasant around 1:32 am, which is where you sat up again and turned on your screen. Slowly directing Ford down an overgrown path outside of town. Stopped by a closed gate warning to turn back you grinned maniacally as you jumped out the car practically before Ford could stop it. You climbed over the gate with Ford trailing behind you, muttering about tetanus and safety. 

“We start here, on an abandoned road,” you said as you panned around the forest “where this Mothman has been reported to be seen earlier this week,” you continued, “once again with my trusty partner Ford,” you added zooming in and out on Ford who was crouched down looking at the mud.

“Seems fresh,” he said as he pointed to a large claw prints on the ground, with what looked like a walking pattern of a human. Ford pulled out his notebook, which was a precariously put together collection of notes and drawings he started once he started going out on these adventures with you. You had your camcorder, and he had his notebook. It was a spiral notebook you’d gotten for him after getting tired of seeing him lose his sketches he’d done earlier on napkins, although the amount of wear and tear it got was already causing the spiral part of it to get stuck in some spots.

You zoomed in on the footprints and kept your camcorder down as you followed them farther and farther until you felt a strong gust of wind. You slowly brought your camcorder up to a tree in front of you, where a pair of glowing red eyes looked back down at you.

“Whoah,” you said softly as you marveled at the size of the creature in the tree as your saw the 7 foot feathered? furry? thing sitting in the branch, staring back down at you. You kept your camcorder and eyes on the creature, bewildered as you felt two familiar hands on your hips slowly pulling you back.

“Y/N we gotta go,” Ford whispered in your ear as he kept trying to scoot you back.

“Ford wait-” you protested as you tried to shoo him, which only tightened his hold and urgency.

“Y/N this thing does not play friendly,” he urged again, grabbing your head and forcing it to the pile of deer and other forest animal skeletons nearby that you had missed before. To seal the deal the two of you both heard the creak of the branch and flapping of wings as the Mothman jumped off the perch. 

Very quickly you grabbed Ford’s hand as the two of you began hauling ass back to his car, knowing it would supply a little bit of safety from the claws of the creature. Above there was a screech similar to a bird as you both dove into the car with you flopping on top of Ford as he started to fumble for his keys and scooting to the drivers seat. 

“A show folks! We have a show!” you shouted to the camcorder as you tried to get a view of the Mothman through the window, “we’ve discovered that our Mothman friend is NOT a vegetarian I fear!”. Ford frantically started the car and began reversing back the way the two of you had come. 

There was a loud thump onto the top of the car as you both looked at each other. It was on top of the car. Shit.

Ford continued trying to reverse down the overgrown trail as you resorted to honking the horn for him to try and get the Mothman off the top of the car. The car jolted as the Mothman jumped off the car, letting the both of you take a breath as you rejoined the paved road. 

“Damn that was crazy!” you said as Ford turned the car back into the road. He opened his mouth to respond but was interrupted by both of your screams as the behemoth of the Mothman slammed down onto the hood of the car, metal screeching beneath the claws as it gripped on. 

“YOU SPOKE TOO SOON!” Ford shouted as he attempted to honk the horn, which only seemed to peeve the creature off more as it attempted to hit the windshield. You fumbled with your camcorder once again trying to film this scene as Ford continued to let out a string of curses. 

“Try and throw him off!” you shouted as you grabbed the side of the wheel and yanked it right, very grateful nobody else was on the road. The Mothman certainly wasn’t expecting it as it lost its balance careening off the side before Ford narrowly dodged it to not run it over. He pressed the accelerator all the way down as he tried to put as much distance between the car and the temporarily stunned Mothman.

You were out of breath as you laid your head back onto the seat, taking in the avoided danger. Grateful it wasn’t any worse. The tinny of the radio was the only noise in the car as the two of you stared at the mangled hood of the car.

“Ford I’m-”

“I got the grant,” he said before you could apologize, “I got the full 100 thousand dollars,”. You punched his shoulder excitedly.

“STANFORD PINES!” you shouted as you continued to hit his arm which made him grin and look over at you, “HELL YEAH YOU DID!”. You were overjoyed for your friend. He was the hardest working student and person you knew and truly deserved the cash to make his dreams happen. “I can’t believe you opened it! You had me going! Why didn’t you tell me?” you asked as you settled back down. He shrugged,

“I don’t know- I couldn’t think of how to tell you. I opened it at midnight last night and I’ve been trying to think of how to since then-” he said, “You’ve done so much to help me get it and- I just needed to do it justice,” he sighed. 

You gripped his arm again and gently shook it,

“I’m so fucking happy for you Ford this is going to change everything!” you smiled, “what are you going to do with it all?” you asked.

He let out a sigh, “I want to do this. Full time,” he said, “There’s a place, in Oregon, over in the Pacific Northwest- there’s something supernatural happening there based on my research and I there’s some land available already,” he continued, “I want to make a lab, a honest research lab, to do this sort of cryptid, oddities, weirdness hunting full time,”. 

The car was silent as he sat with himself.

“Damn that was the first time I’ve really said it out loud,” he laughed nervously as he rubbed the back of his neck.

“I think that sounds great Ford,” you nodded with a smile as you continued to gently rub his arm to make him feel a little better.

“But I need you there,” he said, confidently, “You got me hooked on this stuff, and you have a real knack for it. It’s only right if you come with,”. 

“I would be honored, Ford are you kidding me!?” you said excitedly as you squeezed his hand quickly on the wheel.

“It’s going to be really messy, and I don’t know how I’m going to move everything, but I need you to be there with me to make this work,” he said with a firm nod.

“And I’ll be there,” you nodded back as you sat back into your seat, looking back out at the dark road. You couldn’t help but feel giddy at the future Ford had just invited you to.

[pix-writes]

for the nsfw request for Stan and Ford (which tbh is more like a question lol also be completely free to not answer in case you don't want to); what kind of noises do they make? or they don't make a noise at all? Thank you!!

No problem, thanks for asking!

Under cut as is 18+

STANLEY:

He seems like the kind of guy who would grunt and moan a little, he's not quiet but he's not loud either, as he wants to hear his partner's sounds most of all, but sometimes he can't be quiet either cause it just feels too good. (Also likes to hear the squeak or rattle of whatever furniture he's got you placed on/bent over when you get into it, has broken a worn out, shoddy table or two in his time!)

Knows from experience that a lot of partners like him to make some noise 😉 (say thank you to the ladies who taught him this). Though the very point where he does come, he's practically silent. Will pant and groan afterwards though.

Stan in everyday life is sorta what you get in bed too, just more unfiltered, he opens his mouth to say all sorts of dirty things and feedback about how good you're doing/feel and things he wants to do to you and praises you when you respond in the way he wants. Depends on the circumstances though, as if he's totally in the moment he doesn't run his mouth so much. Can also be more playful too, so at times he'll try to make his partner laugh or be totally cheesy (cue awfully obvious rp where he pretends you're some beautiful/handsome stranger), you might get a chuckle out of him as well. On the other hand, if you manage to rile him up enough, Stan will practically growl in your ear 🥴

If it's just him by himself though, he doesn't make too much sound at all, just moans a little, definitely has that depressing post nut clarity and feels a bit guilty for taking himself in hand.

STANFORD:

Tries to control his volume. Is not successful!

This guy is painfully touch starved and is making up for lost time once he's with a partner, so ends up being unable to censor all the sounds that come out of him from feeling someone else's touch. I'd say his volume is about medium, though, as he does have some self-control. However, once he starts to feel remotely close to orgasm, he will get increasingly more whiny. Increasingly desperate towards climax and starts begging you or saying things, it's so garbled though you don't even know if it's proper sentences or just nonsensical babble. Cannot contain his cries of pleasure when he finally does climax! 🤭 (Edge this man if you want but get soundproofing if you do, otherwise even the neighbours will be able to hear what you're getting up to!)

Doesn't talk too much during, mostly lost in it, will keep giving you necessary instruction or feedback, though. Mostly moans, groans and whines, praises you for how good you are/feel. Though, I think once he starts to get into a relationship and gain confidence/experience, will be more able to control his volume and will run his mouth more, if that's something you're into. Will pleasure you and not let you touch him so he can focus on talking you through it 🫠 gets a little cocky once he finds out that you like the sound of his deep voice (what have you unleashed upon yourself??!!!!)

Thinks that his self pleasure is about average but is probably below average, sees it more as relieving stress than for indulgence in fantasies, feels alienated by the way most men would talk about it as it doesn't fit his experiences at all (e.g. thinks most men exaggerate their drive and promiscuity... Probably not wrong, but I hc that Ford is on the ace spectrum somewhere, probably demi sexual, but doesn't know until the twins tell him about lgbt+ identities). Helps him to sleep, though didn't feel safe enough to do it much at all during his portal days, as he was often on the run. Is often intentionally quiet when doing it because he often is in places where the walls are thin or he needs to hear if he might be walked in on (because it's likely to happen; is happy that so far he's never been caught) still moans a lot when he comes though.

[uno-san]

Hiii! Could I rq reader who was Fords gf/so before he left and when he comes back he’s happy bc he realizes reader stayed in Gravity Falls the whole time and maybe even helped Stan fix the portal!

But then Bill comes and it’s totally up to u whether to make Bill like super jealous of reader or become just as obsessed with reader as he is with Ford idk.

Thank u!

Hello! Thanks so much for sending in a request. This is the first thing I've written in FOREVER, so I miiiiight have gotten carried away. Hope you and everybody else enjoys!

It always reminded you of the night sky. 

That, or what lied far beyond it. Beyond you, maybe. But never Stanford Pines. Who, in this very moment stood several yards from where you yourself were. The both of you had that strange, not-quite night sky wrapped around your forms. Yet instead of the endless expanse that space was known for, various journals, textbooks, and equations littered that space around you.

It would have been a marvelous sight if you didn’t know the purpose behind this all-too tailored world for Stanford. A trap meant to make him feel seen and applauded in ways you couldn’t quite match. A place for them to meet.

Beside Stanford was another figure. A three-sided one to be exact who had taken place near his shoulder, where he had been far longer than you could have ever known. But here he didn’t need to whisper his lies. Here, the two of them could simply converse and enjoy each other’s company. A wonderful plan to make Stanford feel known while also shutting you out from the light altogether.

Their laughter was uproarious.

“AHAHAHAHA! COME ON, SIXER, YOU DON’T MEAN THAT!”

A shrill voice cut through your observations. The devilish figure that it belonged to had placed his hands over his chest, or stomach, as if he were trying and failing to hold in his joy. His one eye was closed and curved to show a smile that his body didn’t have the means to actually do. His tie meanwhile spun in circles as if a toy had been wound up.

‘Sixer’ had his eyes lowered to the platform of which he stood. Tucked under his arm was one of his prized journals, where each of his six fingers drummed against its spine. He looked bashful under interrogation.

“What, not quite the term your ego would prefer, Bill?” Stanford finally shot back, his gaze raising to meet Bill’s while his eyebrow raised to pose a challenge.

“NOT AT ALL!��� 

The demon began to circle around Stanford, who’s whole body began to turn with a determination not to break eye contact again. As if he were afraid of losing sight of Bill. Or his attention. Seeing it reminded you of a puppy enamored with its owner. Its everything, really. You had been familiar with it at some point yourself. What felt like ages ago now.

“JUST SURPRISED, IS ALL. I MEAN, AAAAAAAAALL I’VE DONE IS EXPAND YOUR MIND TO THE UNIVERSE OUTSIDE YOUR PUNY WORLD, SHOW YOU NEW COLORS, AND GIVE YOU THE PERFECT COMEBACKS EVERY TIME YOU GET INTO AN ARGUMENT,” He humbly bragged, “BUT IS THAT ALL REALLY WORTH IT TO BE CALLED YOUR-”

MUSE.

Muse.

Muse.

Muse. Muse. Muse. Muse. Muse. Muse. Muse. Muse. Muse. Muse.

That damn word was going to be imprinted on your brain with how often it was quite literally repeating. Out Loud. High-pitched and nearly shattering your ear drums, a physical manifestation of the word appeared in the space to hurl itself in your direction; A move you’ve seen one too many times. You nimbly dodged off to the side without losing your footing like you had the first time this occurred. With both your feet planted firmly on the ground you whipped your head around to catch the end of the show.

The scene had frozen. Stanford’s expression was stuck in a form of denial, his cheeks tinted a rosy color that you used to make them turn. His brow was furrowed as if he were concerned. Or desperate to assure Bill that he truly was worth it all. Bill meanwhile had his arms folded behind his back while his half-lidded eye bore down on its prey like a benevolent mentor.

Bill’s pupil slowly slid in your direction.

“A BENEVOLENT MUSE, YOU MEAN.”

Bill Cipher became animated again. This time he no longer addressed the version of Stanford standing before him. His smug attention was all focused on you now. His small frame managed to tower over you in mere presence alone, even at the distance you two stood at.

Arms folded behind his back, there was a silence that followed while Bill inspected you. Perhaps waiting for you to give a response before he settled on his own. He feigned surprise.

“DIDN’T EXPECT TO CATCH YOU HERE. SIXER AND I WERE JUST HAVING A MOMENT ALONE,” Bill emphasized, his arm outstretching far past its supposed physical limit to wrap itself around Stanford’s still frame, “YOU KNOW, LIKE WE’VE BEEN HAVING FOR A WHILE. BEHIND YOUR BACK. IN FACT HE WAS JUST ABOUT TO GET TO COMPLIMENTING ME. SINCE I’M HIS MUSE. HIS SKY. STARS. WHATEVER.”

Muse.

Another manifestation hurled its way in your direction. You weren’t nearly as prepared and the edges of the word were sharp, slicing into your arm to draw what you assumed to be blood. With a wince you had to steady your balance before your glare shot back to the bastard in front of you.

He was a menace who you hadn’t realized you had been in competition with for years. And now, in a pissing contest with as the man you’re both fighting over like teenagers was lost in worlds unknown. The man you had loved and had been prepared to marry was gone now. Leaving you with his unfaithful ‘Muse’.

Oh, how you’ve come to hate the word.

It happened first when you had learned of the existence of an other-worldly being that had been secretly leading Stanford’s ambitions. Second was when you had discovered Ford’s hidden collection of idols and paintings. All squirreled away in a private chamber of his own viewing pleasure. That had been manageable.

But the fondness in his gaze when discussing their meetings made your heart ache. How he’d talk as if Bill Cipher was the sole purpose of everything now. His reason for continuing his research or facing adversity for his talents. Or the way he’d pause in the middle of a task to instead laugh at a memory of Bill from earlier, with his hands looking to busy themselves as a distraction.

All of that had hurt. But what made you hate the word most of all was its constant use to torture you. That the moment Bill had sensed your distaste for the term he had done nothing but plague your mind with it. Shoving it in your face as if he was a secret side woman in some stately affair.

Thus far this has been your nightly routine for several months now. Ever since Stanford Pines went missing from this world and so many others. With his brother, Stanley, being left behind with you to pick up the pieces to get back your lost loved one. And for some reason or other, Bill had set his sights on tormenting you.

Every night. Different visions of their bonded moments played in your mind while Bill sneered and poked fun at you for being fool enough to never notice the signs of your man slipping away. You never knew if what he showed you was true. You hoped not.

“THEY’RE REAL.”

You ignore him a moment to get back on two feet. Standing tall before him.

“Do you plan on taking me through your ‘Greatest Hits’ every night or are you going to fuck off already?” The venom in your tone caused interest to gleam in his eye. Most nights you try not to dignify his taunts with a response. But you were tired. Both mentally and physically thanks to late nights with Stanley to try to get the portal running again, or your lonely crying sessions blaming yourself for letting this go on for so long. You were exhausted.

“AW, DIDN’T THINK YOU’D GET SO CRANKY OVER A LITTLE FUN FORDSY AND I WERE HAVING! I’M SURE IT’S EASY TO GET INSECURE OVER THE IDEA OF YOUR MAN GETTING THE CHANCE TO VISIT A SUPERIOR BEING EVERY NIGHT BUT HE MENTIONED YOU ONCE OR TWICE. Y’KNOW, ABOUT HOW YOU’RE ‘SAFE’ AND ‘STABLE’.”

You knew he was just trying to get a rise out of you. Perhaps even deter you from working on that portal any further, ensuring that Stanford would remain lost to mystery forevermore. “Say what you want Bill but I know him better than what your mind creeping could ever do. You miscalculated by seeing only the parts that benefited you and that’s going to end up biting you in the ass. Because it doesn’t matter what you and Stanford had before. Whatever was there is GONE, and I know that Stanford will be coming to end you too.”

It was difficult to keep your voice steady to feign the confidence that you hadn’t had in a long time. You stood bravely in the face of Bill, who’s form only grew in size while you charged up your own argument. He was nearly towering over you now while his gaze remained steady on you. His expression was unreadable.

“WELL WELL WELL, I-”

He’s yapped for far too long.

“Maybe that’s the point to all of this,” You gestured to the spectacle put on pause, “You realize you fucked up. Pushed too hard. Or maybe you’re not even playing this for me. You’re just trying to convince yourself that Ford is still in the palm of your hand when in reality, he despises you. Wants you dead. That despite all the compliments and praises you keep showing me he still picked me over you.”

You weren’t sure if any of this was going to strike a chord. Especially with being in the dark as long as you had, there was nothing for you to fight with. The best you could do was treat him like the vindictive affair partner he was pretending to be. And it worked. Or it was the hint of a suggestion you made in saying you were chosen over him.

Bill’s form skyrocketed in size from its already heightened form, with the triangle now bending over you now to force you to nearly tilt your head all the way back just to make eye contact. His pupil was entirely black to reflect your new surroundings as the static image of Ford and their place of contact was suddenly whisked away. What used to be a bright yellow turned to blood-red bricks that you swore you could feel heat coming off of.

“STANFORD PINES FEARS ME,” Bill’s voice boomed, “AND THAT’S EXACTLY WHERE I WANT HIM. THINKING OF ME AND CHASING AFTER MY COATTAILS UNTIL THAT NERD COMES TO REASON. AND UNTIL THEN YOU-”

His fingers snapped. The ground beneath you disappeared and you felt weightlessness hit as you began to descend into a dark pit. “YOU WILL NEVER SEE HIM AGAIN!”

The vision of the gigantic demon began to fade away. His voice still boomed and echoed despite the void that they were shouted into. As your conscience begins to fade into its own form of nothing you close your eyes to instead repeat his words to yourself.

Never see him again.

__

The Mystery Shack above you groaned with disapproval. Its wood and structure creaked as it finally settled back on the ground, thankfully still supported by its own weight once gravity returned to normal. You were face first on the ground with your head still spinning from that hasty landing you made to resist any damage. With just one peek of an eye you could see that your vision was still hazy. Only a sickeningly familiar blue light kept the basement of the Shack from being in total darkness.

Darkened figures up ahead began to move. When you tried to join them you were quick to discover that your leg caught in debris. A quick examination told you that it wasn’t anything dangerous like active machinery, and the small tugs you gave to test your aching body showed that nothing was quite broken. Hurt, yes, but all intact.

Just like the house you could feel your bones settling back into place while creaking with resentment. You could only imagine how Stanley must have been feeling. Propping yourself up with one arm you then used your freehand to begin pulling away at the rubble on top of you, trying to carefully dismantle it piece by piece so that it wouldn’t collapse on top of you.

Having been so focused on your escape you had only caught the tail-end of what Stanley was telling dipper.

“The author of the Journals…”

Your head whipped around so fast it could have snapped, “My brother.”

As if on cue a figure cladded in a black cloak removed his mask with a six fingered hand, his silver hair whipping around him as he slowly revealed a face you thought you could have anticipated after having aged years with Stanley. The fact that they were twins did little to stop you from tearing up at the handsome visage that was your Stanford Pines.

The wrinkles in his face had deepened from the last you saw him. He was still chiseled with a hint of facial hair he might have shaved off recently while his posture and expression gave off a confidence you weren’t familiar with.

Stanley began to approach him with open arms, prepared to greet the brother he’s missed for years for longer than yours. Stanford didn’t match his sentiments. Instead his fist drew back to strike Stan who had flinched out of the way- But not before Stanford’s fist froze. Left hanging in the air as something else caught his attention. Past Stanley and Dipper. Through various piles of cement and broken wood.

You.

Neither of you moved. His eyes flickered back and forth in a manner that suggested he was examining you all the same. Taking in every detail of your graying form, of each new wrinkle that has marked your age like a tree. The intensity of his gaze made your heart stall for more reasons you could count.

Was that disappointment in his gaze? Or worse, indifference? The world had already been cruel in tearing you apart in the first place. How easy would it be to have Stanford simply forget you? To have moved on to grander and exciting things since his time away. After all, Bill Cipher had enticed him once before. YOU nearly lost him once before. Who’s to say you haven’t wasted your years chasing after a man who could no longer remember your face?

Tears began to gather. They soothed the sting of debris in the air to instead replace it with a dull ache in your heart. At this point you could have been crying over any number of things. You tried calling out his name but the words caught in your throat.

He shouted yours instead. Pushing passed his stunned brother and great nephew to run in your direction. Just as Stanford was a few feet away he suddenly dropped to his knees to slide the remaining distance. It was a physical endeavor you envied in this moment.

Already Stanford’s arms wrapped around your form, drawing you in close to his chest while he buried his face into your hair. You didn’t dare utter a sound of discomfort. Swallowing your tears you chose to focus on his warmth rather than the pain your body was in. How much studier his arms felt from the last time you were held in them, however long ago that was.

“M…My dear…” Stanford gasped, as if the term of endearment hadn’t been uttered in history before. His six fingers nearly dug into your body with his tight grasp. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, “This…This is real. Bill isn’t lying again. You’re here. You.”

From the corner of your vision you could see both Soos and Mabel staring in wonder. Their mouths were left hanging open while they slowly turned to each other to clasp hands together. Mabel began to mouth ‘they have a histooooory!!’

You opted to turn your face into Stanford’s chest to ignore all that as long as you could.

“All these years I’ve waited here for you, Stanford. Every year was spent fixing the portal, I-” Your eyes wandered to his twin, “-We’ve been fixing the portal. Stan and I together decided we weren’t going to stop until you were home safe.”

Stanford drew in a breath. The tension that coiled his posture was a familiar sign of his frustrations being withheld, and with the copious warnings in his Journals to not open the portal again you had a fairly safe guess as to what that tension was. Stanford managed to swallow it down as his hand cupped your cheek and directed your eyes to his.

The years have really gone by. For the both of you, you realized as you gazed into weary and worldly eyes. Did he see the same thing in you? Or has it occurred to him just how truly long it's been since the two of you were close like this. Since way before he was lost in the first place. To where Bill’s schemes began to put the first cracks in the foundations of your relationship.

From the distance the portal still glowed a blue hue, flickering every few moments as the machine began to lose its life at long last for what you pray is the last time. Both of you were left illuminated with blue. The beautiful sight of Stanford had been imprinted on your mind, nearly washing away the years of trauma the color had come to be associated with.

You could have sworn Stanford’s eyes were brimming with tears as well before they closed, the distance between you two gone as he leaned down to capture your quivering lips in a kiss. With it came the relief of a thirty-year grief. Not of a healed relationship but of a path to recovery and trust. You nearly grinned into the kiss. Stanford Pines chose you.

[brightdrawings]

Unexpected Meeting

"Hello to you too, Pa." Rosie said, her words were as bitter as her expression.

"Rosie I-"

"Cannit." She interrupted.

Stan, Dipper and Soos remained silent, the tension of the room too tense for any of them to make a move.

"Auntie Rosie is that-" Mabel looked between the disheveled man that stumbled through the broken portal and her usually gentle aunt.

"Not now sweetie, I've somethin' important to deal with right now." Rosie said, she gave Mabel as best of a calm smile as she could before turning back to Stanford, her expression falling the instant her eyes left Mabel.

"Please, darling, I know I was wrong I'm so-"

"Don't you try to apologise Mister." She spat. cutting down her father's words with her stare. "30 years. 30 long long years yer brother an' I toiled at this blasted machine trying to get you back. I told 'im it weren't worth it. I told 'im you got what you deserved. but he didn't listen. I couldn't watch Uncle Stan throw his life away workin' on this accursed portal. He didn' deserve that. but he was stubborn. Too bullheaded to listen to reason. Just like you."

"Rosie-"

"You hold your tongue. you don' get to call me that anymore. not after you ruined my life!" Rosie stamped her foot. her voice rang through the portal chamber.

Stanford held his tongue.

"Ya notice anyone missin' here Stanford? Anyone you promised to support through sickness and health? You didn't did you? Just like ya did back then too. I had ta watch pa lose his mind and become worse and worse till he couldn't recognise me no more. Do ya know what that's like? Goin' to visit a man who held me when i was afraid, only for him to chase me out of his shoe box shanty 'cause he don' recognise me?" Rosie cried. he glasses began to fog from her tears, her cheeks burned red as she spoke.

"I- i didn't know." Stanford said in a small voice. his shoulder hunched as He tried to meet his daughter's gaze, but she refused to grant him that luxury.

"Ya didn't know 'cause ya didn't wanna know! We were working swell. ya both had amazin' jobs but ya threw it all away and for what? so that some demon could promise you the moon and stars? Was Pa not enough? Was I not enough?" She choked out between tears.

She fell to her knees. tears flowing freely as a damn built over 40 years finally broke. after so long she had finally reunited with her father. she had wanted to be happy, she had wanted to rebuild what she lost. But seeing the face of the man who had thrown everything away dashed those dreams in an instant.

Stanford stood silently, his gaze cast down in shame. He reached his hand out to Rosie, but he could hardly recognise her. He watched as Stan walked up beside her and laid a hand on her shoulder to comfort her. She instantly pulled him down into a hug, crying into his shoulder. The sight of his daughter crying Stan's arms cut ford deep. it should have been him that was comforting her, not Stan. him and fiddleford. But he watched As the two children and the strange gopher walked to her side and embraced her in a family hug. Just like he and Fiddleford used to give her when she was awoke from a fearful dream.

Standing on the far side of the cold portal room. Stanford realized that despite escaping Bill's domain, he had yet to truly awake from his nightmare.

----

art by @stephreynaart

wrote this little piece after Steph showed off the above art in this post https://www.tumblr.com/stephreynaart/767722582172631040/au-for-my-au-aint-no-story-here-the-image-came and the words just started flowing. I hope you enjoy the angst as much as i did writing it!

[catsandbats13]

So i made fan art for my own fanfic lmao

This scene in Scaryoke Scars has been stuck in my head for ages so i had to doodle it to exorcise it from my brain

The “grabbing someone by their lapels to kiss them” trope has always had me in a chokehold so there’s no way I wasn’t going to include that in my Stan x reader fic

I’m still writing the third part of the Scaryoke Scars series, but the first two fics are finished and on ao3!

[selineram3421]

👁️

You're Off-key

Part 1

Prologue

Reader X Gravity Falls

Warnings ⚠

⚠ italics=thoughts, swear words, some or many book of bill spoils, blood, mentions of a concussion, minor panic attack, we pacing now lol, ugh Disney mention ⚠

Ow..

You woke up in pain and the sunlight hitting your eyes.

Everything hurt.

Like a lot.

Geez.. You thought with a groan. Why is everything so bright? What is this vividness? Disney?

Sitting up, you notice that you're still in the woods and it's around noon or at least in the afternoon. Rubbing the back of your head, you try to remember what happened.

I was in the woods..with spaghetti and..my best friend was going to take my picture. Ow-!

You hiss and you pull your hand away from your head, finding blood once getting a look at it.

"Oof ok, time to go get help.", you said to yourself and stood up.

Like any gamer out there, you checked your surroundings before checking your inventory. So far you were deep in the woods that looked oddly..cartoonish? And you had a backpack nearby with a water bottle, phone, and wallet inside.

Where's my flashlight? Wait, I had a flashlight? Also, where's by bestie?

Every time you thought about it your head would start hurting.

"Never mind that, I have to get moving before it gets dark out.", you sighed and began walking.

In all honesty, you did not know where you were going. Just picked a direction and decided that was good enough. Maybe you'll find civilization or maybe you're walking deeper into the woods. Who knows!

My brain is a little optimistic right now. You thought. Or maybe it's due to lack of sleep.. I was driving the whole time.

Then you started getting a little clumsy.

Tripping, swaying, falling flat on your face a few times, and overall just feeling drained. Also, you kept hearing maracas? Was that some kind of bird or something?

Ah, wait. Wasn't that the Hide Behind? You remembered about reading it in Journal 3 and that scene when Mabel says maraca owl. Maybe it is a maraca owl or maybe it's the tall thing that follows people.

Currently, you were laying on the ground because you fell..haha. AGAIN.

Thank Glob you landed on grass this time.

Ok. Do I or do I not take a nap? Probably not the best choice because I might have a concussion. Hm..the choices.

Deciding on one last try, you push yourself off the ground, take a quick sip of water, and continue on your journey! Nothing was gonna stop you now-!

Oh, a bird!

Then you ran into something, fell back and hit your head on the ground.

It was silly because it was kinda like a light switch.

You were awake and then you passed out,

Ha!

⯅

OW! How many times am I going to wake up in pain!?

"Great job Dipper! You killed someone!", a feminine voice said.

"They aren't dead! They just hit their head and passed oUt after they fell!", another voice says with a slight voice crack.

"Haha ha!", the girl laughs. "Your voice cracked."

Slowly waking up, you feel a type of rocking motion, like you're in a car or something.

A car!?

You sit up quickly. Too quickly and almost fall out of the golf cart but someone manages to pull you back to the seat.

"Whoa! Careful, you do not want to fall out of this thing when going almost full speed.", the female voice says next to you.

Looking over, you find a brown haired girl wearing a keyboard sweater.

"Hi! I'm Mabel! I have a pet pig named Waddles!!", she introduces herself loudly.

You feel your head hurt at her polite screeching.

"Ow. Hold on, give me a sec.", you say and rub your forehead.

"Uh.. Mabel? It's not a good idea to be loud around someone who just woke up after hitting their head.", the guy says, who you are assuming is driving the golf cart.

"Oops.", the girl, Mabel, smiles at you sheepishly. "My bad."

You wave her off.

"It's fine, I've dealt with worse.", you reassure.

"Let me start again.", she says and extends a hand for you to shake. "I'm Mabel and the one driving the golf cart is my twin brother, Dipper."

"STOP THE CART!"

The golf cart screeches to a stop and you hobbled your way out, beginning to pace back and forth.

Holyshitthisexplainsalot!That'swhyeverythingwassobrightandcartoonybecasuethisisfuckingDisneyshit!AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHH-!

"Uh..you ok there?", Mabel asks.

"Um? Maybe? I-", you begin but then panic about what to say next.

Shitshitshitshit! Think of something! Anything!

"I don't remember how I got into the woods..", you say and cringe.

Yeah! Nice job! Now you're suspicious! YA DOINKUS!

"O..k, so you hit your head harder than we thought.", Dipper speaks up. "Let's get you patched up and see what we can do from there, ok?"

Pros: Going with two of your favorite characters will lead to adventures. Cons: They might try to read your mind to see if you're a threat and might threaten you with some random weapons..

.....

"I guess I can go with you guys until I can go to the hospital or something.", you say and finally stop imprinting foot prints into the dirt.

"Cool!", Mabel cheers. "Let's go! I've got Mabel juice in the fridge and I wanna see if the new dinosaurs inside taste different!"

"That's not how that works.", her brother mumbles and puts the golf cart in drive.

Hopping back on, you notice your backpack was opened.

"Uh? Who raccooned into my pack?", you asked.

"Racooned?", the Pines driving asks.

"Dug through your stuff? That was Dip.", Mabel says, completely understanding what you meant.

"Oh, sorry.", Dipper pipes up. "That was to see your ID, nothing else. I mean, wouldn't you try to identify someone after they passed out randomly?"

He is kinda right.

"Understandable racooning.", you say and start to brain storm ideas for a plan on how to stay under the radar.

Ok, so I might have/most likely freed Bill and now I have to do something about it before he's running wild around Gravity Falls again...fun.

You sigh and just decide to sit back and enjoy the ride for now.

Jerk didn't let me keep the pictures.

The sun was starting to set, within a few minutes you saw the Mystery Shack in the distance.

23 1 12 11 9 14 20 15 20 8 5 16 9 14 5 19

~Seline, the person.

Part 2

Taglist@

@diffidentphantom @sleep-7372 @boredwithlifeatthispoint @mspurpl3 @+?

GF List🏞️ | YO-🎹

[cloudysarts]

Hi there!!

I want to say that your “Mabel’s muse” Au concept has absolutely called my attention, Bill mentions multiple times (Dipper and Mabel’s guide to mystery and fun and TBOB) how he likes Mabel’s personality and wanted her to be his ally…sooo the idea of an alternative time where he decided to approach her and where she trusts him and considers him as her friend is absolutely full of potential

I just think about how many stuff would change and how bill would be a little more genuine with her as he for once isn’t pretending to be an all-wise being and having to constantly rise the ego of Genius minds…instead he just has to party with a teenager whose idea of fun is quite similar to his…he doesn’t have to be the “supreme being” for once just a silly fella in order to earn Mabel’s trust

Also about how some episodes would have to take a completely different route:

maybe “Mindscapers” wouldn’t even take place…because I doubt that Mabel would trust a Bill if he went inside Stan’s head

Bill possessing her during the “sock opera”episode instead of dipper

Also don’t get me started on “the last Mabelcorn” episode. All the angst and horror that Ford would feel when he finds out about the whole friendship with bill situation reflecting himself on Mabel and probably Dipper being the one who search for the unicorn hair while ford tries to convince her that Bill isn’t trustworthy

I apologize for my rant but I seriously love your idea and sorry if it’s a bit confusing English isn’t my first language

I hope you have a nice day and thank you for reading this silly thing!!

first of all, your english is great!! second of all, i am SO sorry it took me so long to respond to this ask, it just made me so happy that i wanted to take my time to craft a response!!!!!! :DDDD (context: for people who don't know what my 'mabels muse' au is, you can check it out over here!)

you are practically SPOT ON with my ideas for this au!!!!!! but i'm gonna briefly run through all the things you brought up!!

first of all, yes, absolutely!!!! for bill, partner-ing up with mabel was a very nice change of pace. he likes stroking the ego's of genius', just for his own amusement, but he doesnt get the THRILL of just getting to PLAY very often!! he's a very childish being, at the end of the day. he enables mabel's selfishness, while getting to indulge his own, silly passions right alongside her!! and obviously, mabel LOVES being enabled <3 i imagine most of the dreams he gives her would make any normal persons eyes bleed

as for your episode ideas, you're mostly right!!! :) mindscaperers does, in fact, NOT happen in this au. in my head, i imagine gideon trying to summon him, only for an 'I.O.U' to appear where bill should be. he's busy hanging out with his favorite pre-teen!!! so gideon skips straight to his backup plan, aka, gideon rises ^^

for sock opera, i'm still on the fence a little bit. one of the reasons bill is hanging out with her at all in this au is because, unlike in the regular timeline, this bill actively wants stanford to be brought home. the reason mabel is important to him, is because he can see timelines where she presses the button in not what he seems, and keeps him from returning. in his mind, he has the greatest shot of success if mabel doesn't press it. in this au, she doesnt even hesitate to trust stan, because she has another, trustworthy voice in her head, yelling DON'T PRESS THE BUTTON. its 2v1! ANYWAY, the reason any of that matters for sock opera, is because he wouldnt have any need to possess anyone, because he has no interest in smashing the laptop! BUT.....i can see him doing it anyway. i figure, most likely, he gets mabel to (willingly) let him use her body, so that she can work on her sock opera while her body sleeps. i just imagine a bill-possessed mabel up at 3 am, covered in hot glue and googly eyes as he tries to work it out shjdkfhjsdkf. but......honestly, he probably destroys the laptop in the process :) just to fuck with dipper <3 not that dipper ever finds out its her. he has no idea that mabel was ever possessed/has no reason to suspect her, because at this point, he still doesnt think bill is real. that is....until the last mabelcorn.

IN the last mabelcorn, mabel reveals to ford that she does recognize bill, and that he lives in her brain! she says it really excitedly, at the table, while dipper kind of just rolls his eyes about it. to her, its vindicating, because it's the first time anyone has ever acknowledged bills existence. but to ford, its HORRIFYING, because he knows it isn't just a coincidence. he knows he has to do something, but he doesn't know what, right away. this is where our ideas differ a little bit, because i think that mabel still WOULD be the one retrieving the unicorn hair! ford just didnt tell her what the hair was for. ford sends her off, because he wants to brainstorm a way to get him out of her head, preferably without hurting her/her memories. he also plans to bill-proof dippers mind in the process, just in case mabel is too far gone already. the events here happen basically the same (with minor tweaks), but instead of dipper suspecting that ford is evil/bill-possessed, this is where he finally learns that bill is real at all. ford tells him about his backstory, and explains the REAL reason he sent mabel out to get the unicorn hair, etc etc. he loves mabel a lot, but hes not sure how to go about dealing with this situation yet. its not HER fault she trusted bill, but he knew that if he just tries to tell her hes evil, she wont believe him. shes known 'her muse' longer, and as of right now, he's never lead her wrong. just like what happened to him in the past...

i wonder how mabel would feel if she only heard the end of that conversation...

(more of this au here and here!)

[thekrazykook]

Here is some fanart(fanfanart?) Of the amazing fanfic 'Now What' by @fishymom-art. Please check it out!

While this is not a scene in NW, I had to draw how amazing the Chaos Besties dynamic is. AGHFNBJNKGB I LOVE THEM SO MUUUUUCH.

[typing-catastrophe]

You see me? - part one (stanford pines x hallucination!reader)

masterlist 1k words | warnings: none --------------------------------------------------

'This is new', he thought, looking straight ahead at something that he was sure he shouldn't be able to look at.

"Can you see me?", a beat of silence, "You can, can't you?" there was caution in your voice, almost as if you wouldn't let yourself believe it. "Please say something"

Ford kept quiet.

"Say something."

Nothing.

"SAY SOMETHING!"

Ford sighed, took off his glasses and massaged the bridge of his nose. The long hours and relentless work were starting to get to him. He put his glasses back on and turned back to his desk.

"No, no! Please!" you begged, panic rising in your voice.

'Perhaps not entirely new, but certainly concerning.' He couldn't recall if Bill ever did actively made him hallucinate when he was lucid, or if everything he experienced was already in the mindscape, but either way - what was happening in this very moment felt a bit too realistic for his liking.

What was happening, broken down to its very basics, was that a stranger stood in his study. And they simply had no way to be there. Apart from the fact that it was the middle of the night and the shack was closed, the way to his study was hidden and he did not hear the elevator move or open its doors. No one except for him should and could be here. No one was here when he came down here hours ago. There was no place they could've hidden. There was no possible scenario in which the situation at hand could've taken place. So the only option left, in his blurry mind, was that the last 30 to 40 years finally caught up to him and he was going insane.

At that moment he didn't even consider a paranormal explanation. Maybe because he believed the shack was sufficiently secured against all kinds of anomalies and supernatural occurrences. Or maybe because in the back of his mind, he always did ask himself when the time would finally come when his mind simply... snapped.

Years and years of stress, mind fuckery, all kinds of injuries and multiverse jumps must've left their mark on his psyche in some way after all.

But what did surprise him was the... well, normality of it. It was just a person. It would've made more sense to see Bill or any of the other things he saw in his frequent nightmares. Maybe the more severe ones would come later?

He propped open the new journal he had started recently and poured his thoughts onto the paper.

-

You could only watch in confusion and hurt when the man turned away and got back to whatever the hell it was he was doing all the time.

What had just happened? When he looked up from his work, his eyes landed on you. He didn't look through you like every other time and everyone else. This time was different! But why did he act like it wasn't? What was he doing? Why was he ignoring you?

Your newfound hope left you as abrupt as it had appeared. You felt so impossibly lonely again. Empty, distant, cold. Ever so cold with no source for the freezing feeling that seeped deep into your bones.

He could see you. You knew it.

This wasn't like the times when you were screaming and crying and pleading for him - for anyone - to hear you.

He. could. see. you.

And you knew it.

-

For a good minute, Ford stared straight ahead at the blank page. He desperately tried to form a coherent thought he could write down, but when he tried to get a hold of them, it felt like his metaphorical hands moved through fog, swirling eerie patterns into it, but never grasping anything solid.

The urge to let his head sink onto the table got stronger by the second, yet he resisted. He squeezed his eyes shut, took a deep inhale and straightened his back. He got this. He didn't need to sleep, not yet.

He stood up and stretched his arms over his head, stifling a yawn while doing so.

"Why are you ignoring me?" You had sat down on the floor a respectful distance away from him, legs pulled close to your chest, arms hugged tightly around them. Now you looked up at him with genuine hurt in your eyes.

You didn't know this man, and he didn't know you. The only circumstance that justified the sharp pang in your chest was the fact that he was the only one around actually being able to perceive you, yet for a reason unbeknownst to you, acted like he wasn't.

'Still there, hm?' he thought. He had hoped shifting his focus onto something else would help, but apparently, it did not. The figure was still present, still talking to him. He would like to take a proper look at it, but he was afraid that engaging with it would make the whole thing worse. You were not doing anything at the moment, and he'd rather keep it that way.

He yawned again, cursing himself for indulging in the weakness of his own body. It felt like it was betraying him, lulling him in and tempting him to lay down. But he knew what would inevitably follow. The pain, the torture, the guilt. He could not let that happen. Bill would not claim any more of his time and thought than absolutely necessary. He would not willingly leap into the open arms of whatever terror was already waiting for him.

"You should go to sleep. It's late. And you look tired." Ford almost scoffed at that.

All he needed was some good old, reliable coffee and he was as good as new. So he went upstairs, grabbed a new mug to set down next to all the other mugs on his desk and workbench, filled it to the brim with the dark, hot liquid and made his way underground again.

He was relieved to see that his hallucination apparently showed no interest in following him upstairs, but he was just as disappointed to see that it was still sitting in the same spot when he returned. He sat the mug down and with a defeated sigh lowered himself onto his chair.

It was going to be a long night.

-------------------------------------------------- thank you for reading <3 reblogs are appreciated masterlist a/n: holy shit i did it! i found the time, energy and motivation yaayy @cynamon-ancymon thought this might interest you ^^ if not just let me know and i remove the tag

[darlingdaisyfarm]

Stan Pines is the kind of man who can't just let you do anything without turning it into a compliment, like, every move you make, he's gotta say something. And it’s never normal. 

You could be bent over organising some random crap around the Mystery Shack and this man will make it sound like you’re posing for him. Because, yeah, you’re just trying to organize his disaster of a desk, sorting through all his crumpled receipts, ticket stubs, whatever the hell else he’s hoarded.

“Your doin’ god’s work, sugar,” and it’s not even subtle. You look over your shoulder, half expecting him to actually be paying attention to the pile of garbage you're dealing with, but no. He’s leaning against the counter, counting out cash from the register, but all you see is that smirk. The one that makes it very clear his mind ain’t on the paperwork.

“Sorting your trash is god’s work?” you quip back, rolling your eyes, but the way he’s watching you with that smirk of his, makes your cheeks flush a bit.

“You know what I mean,” Stan mutters and now he’s just full-on undressing you with his eyes, the cash in his hands forgotten. “ya ain’t gotta try so hard, baby, because ya could sit on your ass all day and I’d still think ya did somethin’ special.” and your face burns at that, but he sees it, of course, he does. Stan ain’t dumb, despite the act he puts on for tourists. He’s so much more clever than he looks, always has been. The moment he catches that excitement in your eyes, he’s grinning like he’s just won a damn lottery.

“You like that, huh? being told how good you are?”

You smirk back, trying to play it off, but your voice comes out a little breathier than you mean for it to. “all that for organizing receipts? maybe you should give me a raise.” 

Stan just laughs loudly. “yeah, sweetheart, you deserve the whole damn Shack.”

Or when, you’re just sitting at the counter, counting the cash from the register, going about your day and Stan? Well, Stan is “cleaning up,” which basically means he’s wiping the same spot for like five minutes straight while staring at you. You catch him, because he’s being too obvious with it. His eyes keep dipping to your lips every time you bite your pen and it’s distracting as hell.

“You’re too damn cute, y’know that?” he grumbles and it sounds like he’s mad about it, like you’ve done something wrong just by existing.

“You say that every day.” you shoot him a teasing smile, because yeah, this is the daily routine.

And Stan just sighs, smirking like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Yeah, and I’ll keep sayin’ it, sorry, baby, couldn’t shut up about ya if I tried.” 

Then there’s when you’re fixing up one of the old displays, just tightening bolts or whatever and Stan’s “supervising.” Except by “supervising,” I mean, he’s leaning against the wall, arms crossed, watching you work with that wide grin on his face, satisfied and clearly enjoying the view.

“Goddamn, honey,” he mutters. “you makin’ this place look good just by bein’ in it. Hm, maybe I should start charging you for the view.” 

You glance over your shoulder, raising your eyebrow, but smirking, because you know exactly what game he’s playing.

“What? I’d pay whatever ya want, sweetheart. You’re worth every penny.” 

Or you’re just in the kitchen, cutting up vegetables for dinner. The radio’s on low, the sun setting through the windows. Stan’s sitting at the table, pretending to read the newspaper, but every once in a while you catch him glancing over the edge, just watching you move around the kitchen. It’s quiet until he breaks it.

“You’re a sight for sore eyes, y’know that?” his voice is so soft, too sincere for Stanley Pines, but when you look over, he’s still got that damn smirk on his face.

You pause, knife in hand, and raise an eyebrow. “For chopping onions?”

He chuckles, leaning back in his chair, arms behind his head. “Nah, sugar, it’s just the way you’re movin’ around in there, i dunno how to explain it, but damn, you look good in my kitchen.”

You snort, shaking your head. “I’m literally cutting onions, Stan.”

“Yeah, still sexy. That’s all I’m sayin’.”

Then there’s the mornings. You’re in the bathroom, brushing your teeth, hair a mess, wearing one of Stan’s old shirts that hangs way too big on you and he's leaning in the doorway, watching you like it’s the most interesting thing he’s ever seen. You catch his reflection in the mirror, raising an eyebrow at him, but he just shrugs with this lazy grin, continuing to admire to you.

“Can’t help it, sweetie, you look cute when you’re all domestic.”

you’re just brushing your teeth, but somehow, this man makes it sound like you’re doing the sexiest damn thing in the world

[skeletboi]

Posted chapter one of my canon-compliant-as-possible Fiddauthor fic here if you're interested. (There is a bit of billford, because canon, but the main romance is fiddauthor) Next chapter should be up tonight or tomorrow.

I underestimated the amount of deep-diving I would have to do on top of my already excessive amount of deep-diving.

It's fine. Everything is fine.

First chapter is based off of this picture:

And of course the note on the back of it.

(From thisisnotawebsitedotcom, for those who don't know.)

Anyways. Enjoy. Or don't. Buy gold Byee.

[strawburry01]

With the gravity falls fandom reviving itself does anyone want nerdy college Ford x reader going on adventures together?

Okay it's here!

[emgrth]

At work I thought of a plutonic Bill Cipher x Reader fic idea. (Sorry if this has been done before I wouldn’t know)

It’s about 3-5 years after Weirdmaggedon, and The Axolotl decides to use a new form of experimental therapy on Bill. They send him down, stripped of all his powers, to Earth for an indefinite amount of time to be a “guardian” of sorts to a human. Only the chosen human can see and hear him.

The human is a young adult and has recently lost their parents and is living in their car. Bill thinks this is great, finally a vulnerable human to manipulate. But then they show that they won’t be pushed around easily. And yet they show him so much kindness and respect and Bill doesn’t understand how or why. Apparently, they’re supposed to reach a “mutual understanding and respect” or whatever. That stupid salamander doesn’t know anything.

By the end (however long that is), Bill is still a long way to go from being “fixed”, but he learns a good lesson about vulnerability and caring about someone besides yourself.

I also just think it’s funny for Bill to be attached to this mundane person against his will.

“Hey what flavor of gum you think I should get?”

“Oh my- JUST KILL SOMETHING ALREADY!”

“I’ll go with mint.”

But then slowly come to care about them, in his own weird way

“God that guy was so rude to me. Can you believe that?”

“I could turn him into a pile of beetles if I still had my powers. I think he deserves it”

And what would happen if they met the Pines family? Lots of fun to be had here

[uno-san]

Can i request a continuation of your first fic? Stan eventually admitting the Mr. Mystery who sent the flowers wasn’t a secret admirer but infact Mr. Mystery himself?

First of all, I am so honored to have a request for a continuation! Truly one of the highest compliments. And reading back on comments before, I should have made a second part long ago! I had so much fun writing this and thanks to all who have read my work. Part 1 can be found here. There's a small recap written in this part though so reading it isn't required :) Enjoy! Mr. Pines, Part 2 (Stanley Pines x Reader)

Nearing the end of summer was always a melancholic event. In which the busiest season of the year would descend back down to hell and allow the workload to dwindle off to a manageable amount at the Mystery Shack yet leave you with a sense of grief at another amazing summer gone. It wasn’t like that before.

Ever since becoming a full-fledged adult with a life and responsibilities, the seasons and months had a way of blending together as one week after the next you were simply looking forward to the next paycheck. It was torture. Arguably not a way of living at all.

Keyword being before.

Sure, you could do without the new occupational hazard of being killed by a mecha-suit made out of feral gnomes, mind-wiping cultists, and God knows what else. Yet despite all the life-threatening danger, you’ve never been more alive! Everyday holds the potential for a new adventure and memories to make with the friends that you never thought you had.

That was the sadness about summer ending, however. Soos would remain at the shack but your other dependable co-worker, Wendy, would be off focusing on school. The same for Dipper and Mabel, who would leave Gravity Falls and Mr. Pines- Ah.

Stanley. 

You were in the middle of sweeping the trampled wood floors of the Mystery Shack when the name made you stop in your tracks. It always did. Worse yet, it’d have you chew the inside of your cheek to stop them from heating up. It made you feel juvenile. Quickly your eyes swept across the shop and back as if you chanted his name three times. When there was no puff of smoke you let out a sigh of relief.

It was the start of summer where your more challenging trails began. That being Stanley Pines, the older man who was the owner of the Mystery Shack and your boss, who had given you permission to call him by his first name. Having done so, naturally, on a day where a secret admirer, or, ‘Mr. Mystery’ (Whom Stanley says he’ll sue for stealing his title) sent you a beautiful arrangement of flowers. God, you can still remember what a pain it was to lug the large vase back home. It was a wonder how Wendy was able to do it all herself without having a car to help.

To add to the confusion already surrounding that day when Stan hadn’t confessed to being the culprit, you were disappointed. Your shoulders slumped when Wendy had reasoned it had to be someone else. Instead of wanting to know who this secret admirer was you were instead interested in knowing when in the hell you developed a crush on the graying con man that was your boss. Not that there were tons of eligible bachelors in Gravity Falls but then they’d be in your age range! Or ones with no criminal record, strong arms, jokes, a handsome face that could draw you in at any moment to share a sweet kiss with-

Fingers snap in front of your face. The sharp sound caused you to jump in response and fumble with the broom to prevent it from falling.

“Hey, kid!”

Stanley’s hoarse voice rang out from beside you; your shoulders tensed while your newfound grip on the broom handle could have splintered it. He must have noticed the panic in your face as he quickly raised his hands as if to show he wasn’t armed.

“Oh, Mr. Stans, I-”

“Huh? I…don’t know if, what-” The perplexed expression he made killed you in a thousand ways before his head shook out the unnecessary thoughts, “NEVERMIND ALL THAT. Forget it. I just wanted to ask ya to get started on restocking the bumper sticker display, alright? Last time to peddle the stuff out while we have the most out-of-town folk. Can ya do that?”

You nod, “Of course! I’ll get started on it straight away, S-Stan.”

The smile you offered didn’t appear to reassure him any as he lingered a moment. His hands were firmly planted on his hips while he actually leaned down to inspect you. Drawing close enough into your space that you had to nearly arch your spine not to bump into the man. Under his gaze all you could do was swallow the thick lump of nervousness that always choked you when Stanley was near.

Suddenly he blinked. As if Stan had just realized how the distance between your two had closed without his notice. Awkwardly Stanley stepped back and coughed into his hand. Your overactive imagination could have sworn his cheeks were tinged pink, “Just, ah…checking to see ya didn’t have a heat stroke or nothing. You don’t, so, start drinking water before you start freaking out the tourists. Got it, kid?”

He didn’t wait for an answer. Instead stomping off to wrangle some poor soul into buying poorly-produced and expensive merchandise. You watched him from where you stood still, now overcome with a flurry of emotions from that blundered interaction. If a Gnome Mech wasn’t going to kill you then Stanley Pines sure as hell was.

With a shake of your head you did your best to gain control of yourself once more while the day threatened to drag on. On the way to the storage room you passed by Wendy. Who, as always, was laid back. She nodded towards you. You returned it without reveling in the silent approval of a teenager before you disappeared in the backroom to grab the needed box. Luckily it was light and allowed you to grab another heftier box full of other items that were in need of refilling and maintenance. It didn’t hurt to put a bit more effort into your job, after all.

Returning to the main room in front of the counter you could finally begin your work. It was almost therapeutic. Nobody bothering you. No immediate death threats or wild twins to wrangle in. Just you and a box of bumper stickers being neatly tucked away into different stacks.

You would have started humming to yourself if something hadn’t felt…off.

Something behind you had begun to radiate heat. Breathing down your neck and causing a nervous drop of sweat to run down your forehead. Slowly you began to turn around until a hot breath suddenly blew across your face, your eyes meeting with another pair with barely a head turn.

“OH, JESUS!”

The shock of it had you bring your arm back to slap the stack of bumper stickers across the cheek of someone not all too unfamiliar. Who you now recognized as Thompson yelped at the contact and went to quickly shield his face with a previously unnoticed bouquet of roses, “Dude, duuuuuuude, stop!” He cried out while his eyes were skewered shut with pain, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”

“I- What-” You dropped the merchandise in your hand as if they alone had somehow enticed you to assault a poor teenager, “No, I mean…Shit. I’m sorry, I guess?” In the midst of your guilt it was hard to pin the blame on anyone, “What in the actual hell were you doing-”

“What in the actual hell- HECK is going on over here?” Stanley’s voice cut through the confusion. His heavy footsteps nearly rattled the walls of the Mystery Shack as he came to inspect the commotion. Stanley’s eyes fell onto the scattered merchandise that caused his frown to be deeper set, eyebrows furrowed in a conflicting mix of emotions. 

“Alright, there better be a good explanation for all this racket. You’re distracting the customers- WHAT IS THAT?” His eyes grew impossibly wide as he gestured wildly to the bouquet.

You opened your mouth to reply before the bell attached to the front door rang to grab your attention. Stepping through was Lee, the taller blonde teen that you’ve seen attached to Wendy’s friend group, miraculously holding a bundle of roses in hand.

“He’s lying to you!” Lee shouted and clutched at his heart in either a romantic gesture or a heart attack, “I’m the one who bought it for you, not HE!”

“Lee,” Thompson began to what you could only describe as stage-whisper in his friend’s direction, “I didn’t get to my part yet, I got frickin hit!” His hand moved to reveal the slightly pink mark on his cheek.

Lee lost his composure, “Aw, really? Bro, that’s fucking hilarious. But like…c’mon, bro, you gotta do your part before Nate gets here.”

“Wait, Nate?” Your confusion deepened as they ignored you in favor of having a whispered back and forth, with Lee pushing Thompson forward who nearly collided into you with the shove. The look you gave him was of someone afraid of a bomb about to go off.

Thompson wiped the sweat off his brow before offering his flowers with the same hand, “I like, fricken LIKE you, dude! Just love your whole deal,” He confessed with cheeks as hot as the son while he practically had to spit the words out. His heavy breathing began to pick up. Opening his palm you noticed that there was smudged ink on it that he was now trying to read, “T-That’s why I bought you the flowers-”

“WHAAAAAAAT???” Stanley suddenly roared to life while his hands tightened into fists. In a tantrum similar to a child he marched up, glowing down at poor Thompson who’d gone stark white.

“He’s lying to you! I’m the one who bought it for you, not HE!” Lee repeated. Stepping forward he cast a concerned glance towards the statue that was once his friend to present his own bundle of flowers to you.

The pollen made you want to sneeze. Impressively Lee managed to ignore Stanley to continue addressing you, “It’s true, I’m Mr. Mystery. And it’s even truer that I’m into older, uh…” He looked you up and down, “Into older individuals.”

Your brows drew closer together in concern, “How old do you think I am?”

Lee bit his lip and raised his brows in what he must have thought was a seductive look, “Old enough, bro.”

Thankfully you didn’t have to respond to that as Stanley’s hand shot forward to grab at Lee’s flowers, tossing them to the ground as if he was spiking a football and causing petals to fly everywhere. Lee stared at his hand in shock before having his attention drawn to Stanley who had the both of them in his sights and looking ready to strike.

“I’m not going to take any kinda lying in my house! Neither you or dweebus here bought ‘em any flowers. You two dorks don’t have the kind of cash for that sorta gesture anyway!”

“Uh, we totally could,” Lee said in an offended tone, “Flowers are like, 8 bucks at the grocery store.”

“The ones delivered weren’t from no grocery store, it was a specialized boutique!” “How’d you know that? Huh?”

“Gardening. Is. My. HOBBY.” Stanley passionately replied through gritted teeth.

“No, it’s not.” Wendy answered, bored.

This was starting to give you a headache in more ways than one. Especially in the sense that the few customers in the shop were beginning to stare you down, no doubt finding this whole spectacle the biggest mystery of the day. It made you want to shrink away and disappear into nothing! Sure, you were just lamenting the end to an exciting summer but this wasn’t the type of bang you wanted it to go out on!

Turning towards Wendy you had prayed she would be of help to wrangle in her friends while Stanley and Lee argued in the background. To your disappointment Wendy was hardly paying attention. To both you and her actual job while she busily texted on her phone. You waved your hand out in front of her.

“Please, a little help?” You were nearly begging, “Think maybe all your friends hit their heads at the same time or something. I don’t even know how they knew about the whole flower thing- WHAT, THOMPSON?”

The nervous teen had managed to shuffle past his friend and your boss. Apparently he had given up reading his hand to instead have his phone pulled out. His eyes would flicker between you and the screen before he tried shoving his remaining flowers back into your face again as opposed to your conveniently open hands.

“Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate:

Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May-”

“NO. No. No, no, no, noooo!” Like a sheep being surrounded by wolves you staggered back. Your growing panic is now drawing the attention of Stan and Lee who managed to stop arguing long enough to see you turn tail and run, “I’m going home until whatever this is blows over!”

What you expected to be an awkward exit quickly turned to a horror show as Lee and Thompson actually pursued you.

“W-Wait! We didn’t get to the part about how there’s soooo many other bachelors after you!” One of them yelled.

“Yeah, and that waiting too long to snatch you up will result in losing your love fooooreeevveeer,” The other, for whatever reason, said this more towards Stan. “WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?” You shouted off behind you while carefully dodging between both aisles and customers alike.

Seeing as you had two stalkers on your tale Stanley raised a fist, “Hey! No harassing my, uh- favorite employee! Wendy, get my crossbow!”

“No.”

If they started arguing or not after that was none of your concern as you were apparently in a struggle for your life. If your heart wasn’t going to give out on you yet then the embarrassment would definitely get you by the time you get home. God, this was all starting to feel like a fever dream. Or maybe you DID die this summer and now you were in some sick limbo?

Whatever this was, it was clearly because of one thing. The incident with the flowers you received a couple months back, to be exact. After that day there had been no further gifts. How was it connected? Especially to Wendy’s friends of all people who you had the pleasure of not interacting with much at all this summer.

Perhaps they had been the ones to send the flowers in the first place? Attempting to draw you in further with a date to pull a prank on you. Trying to film your reaction for a video that they’d laugh about for ages to come and torment you with.

But no. That couldn’t be it.

Humiliation was certainly what they were achieving right now but if that had been the goal they would have pushed for it when the flowers had first been delivered. Give you a way to contact this ‘Mr. Mystery’. But they hadn’t. So what was the point of now?

You supposed this could haunt you later instead seeing as you had two hot pursuers on your tail. Both Lee and Thompson were still flinging compliments your way while Stanley struggled to catch up between having to clean up any spills along the way as well. Whenever you were able to catch a glance of him you’d shoot an apologetic look that he’d wave off.

It was another minute of dodging the two before you were able to loop your way back around to the front of the Mystery Shack, towards the parking lot and where your car was. To safety. A part of you was even willing to mow down a rowdy teen if you had too! But fate had other plans. The door swung open and you skidded to a halt; nearly crashing into the poor unsuspecting soul who-

It was Nate.

He saw you and grinned, slowly raising a damn bouquet of roses, “Heeeeey, just who I wanted to see! Wanna take a guess at who your secret admirer is? Hint, it’s me!”

Oh, come the fuck on.

Nate must have noticed a deranged look in your eye seeing as he took an awkward step back he clearly hadn’t planned on. From behind you could hear the heavy thudding of feet as Lee and Thompson had finally caught up. Great. You looked both ways. They had an expectant expression on their faces that you couldn’t make sense of.

“Alright, alright, break it up you hormonal goblins. Get BACK, I say!”

Stanley’s voice was like the calm in the storm. It gave you something to focus and center yourself on. You hadn’t even noticed him stepping closer to you before it was too late. Two strong hands clamped around the delicate curve of your waist while thick fingers tickled into your skin. The grasp had a shiver run up your spine. Then what started as a tender embrace quickly became a vice when you were lifted off of your feet.

You actually squeaked. In a display of strength you thought only adrenaline could achieve Stanley had hoisted you above his head and out of reach from your ‘admirers’. Like the tallest kid playing ‘keep away’ in the schoolyard. From below you could see the three teen’s jaws drop at the display while a nearby customer asked if this was part of the tour.

Stan must have heard it since a blush came to his cheeks a moment after yet he refused to release you, “We’ll, uh…just go for now. Break time and whatnot…WENDY, MAN THE STORE!” He shouted while beginning to push his way back towards the employee area of the shack. It wasn't until he was passing staring customers he coughed out a reluctant, “Stop watching and we’ll have a ‘buy two, get one full price’ sale.”

That disappeared the crowd quickly who were now buzzing with excitement at the prospect of a deal. Stanley began to walk you back. With no eyes on the two of you, Stan cautiously began to lower you down. Not to your feet, however. Instead you were brought back into his chest where you had more cushion to lay against. Despite the summer heat his body warmth only drew you in. Not to even get started on how hot your face already was from blushing for the last few minutes!

Stanley meanwhile had his eyes glued to the path ahead. Afraid that taking one glance in your direction would make him regret coming to your rescue at all and depriving himself the chance of seeing you blush longer. Though it was certainly a motivator to have a couple of guys flinging compliments your way so freely as well. God. Wasn’t he too old to be getting into a pissing contest with teens at this point?

Too old in general. Both with having a silly school crush on his employee and also trying to lug you around as if he was twenty years younger. Stan made it look easy but his back pain would be coming back with a vengeance tomorrow!

With your hand resting against his chest though it was hard to deny it was worth it.

Having led you towards the back office Stanley stepped in and used his back foot to kick the door shut behind you two, blocking the light from the shop to leave you in near darkness if it wasn’t for the rare ray of light peering from behind the closed blinds. Without the stark lighting the office was almost calming in contrast. That, or you loved hearing Stanley’s steady breathing more than you realized or the soft beating of his heart if you concentrated on your hand long enough.

Stan moved for the desk. It was crowded with various papers and trinkets he’d keep around to distract himself. At first you had thought he had been in search of something in particular until his hands shifted, with one suddenly slipping just under your butt to keep you hoisted up while the now free one began to clear a space for you.

Your entire posture stiffened once consumed with the realization that your boss was, to put it crudely, grabbing your ass. In spite of how rough they looked, his hands were tender. Mindful. Which judging from his expression you doubted he noticed where he placed his hand at all while tidying up his desk. You were grateful for the distraction. That way he couldn’t see the conflict in your eyes on whether you liked the contact or not after the day you had.

“Here we go…” His rumbling voice brought you back from the brink of a new meltdown as he settled you down onto the hard surface of the desk with your legs dangling over the edge. Yet his hands didn’t leave. Instead they attached back to around your waist with a feather light touch, as if the first hint of disapproval at the contact would knock them back. You showed no such sign, so they stayed.

“You, ah…all good, then?” Stanley seemed to have trouble meeting your eye, “From the dorks. I mean, they hang around Wendy all the time and get into shit, yeah, but they’re not dangerous or nothing. But if they had hurt ya-”

“I’m fine, Stanley,” You said with a soft and assuring tone, “Traumatized, maybe, but…Thank you for saving me.”

He nearly buckled at the ice-melting smile you gave him. For just a moment his fingers tapped against your skin as if they had been tempted to clasp around you tighter. They didn’t. Instead Stanley appeared to realize how close the two of you had gotten and shuffled out of the way, taking his body heat with him as he turned his back towards you to instead fixate his attention elsewhere in the room. Anywhere but you.

Stanley nodded after what seemed an eternity, “No problem. Besides, it’d be bad for the brand to have so many ‘Mr. Mystery’ running around! It’s protected IP!”

At that you found yourself chuckling, “Is this your way of saying you’re tired of hearing about the flowers?” Not that you’d blame him considering what a hot topic it was when it had first happened.

First, Mabel couldn't ignore any degree of romantic gesture without her wanting to be involved with it. Second, this was a small town with nothing to do on the good days. Toby Determined even tried to get an interview (How word got out was beyond you) and Stanley again had to come to your rescue by chasing him off with a broom. With today’s incident you began to worry that this would be a monthly chore for Stanley.

At the suggestion of Stanley getting irritated about anything involving you nearly made him jump to correct that assumption, “NO, I could listen to it aaaall day! Just not going to just stand around and let a couple of liars waltz in to take credit for it.” He said, “I mean, c’mon, they really think those flowers were from the grocery store? Please, I- whoever has way more class than that!”

You giggled at that, which was nice considering how embarrassed you were earlier. But Stan always did put you at ease with all the jokes or lax attitude he’d have to offer no matter the situation. What others found frustrating you found endearing.

“For all the class that he has, you’d think he’d have come forward by now, don’t you think?”

He gave you a look, “What do you mean?”

“Just that it’s been all summer since it’s happened. Not a word since,” You shrug and take your turn to stare somewhere else, “Sorry. I don’t mean to sound demanding or anything. But you gotta admit it’s rude to leave someone on edge like that, you know? Just makes me think they lost interest or something.”

Stanley didn’t reply. After seemingly going out of his way to avoid looking at you, you were all he could stare at now. His lips were drawn in a tight frown that settled unnaturally on his face. You were so used to his smiles. Now your boss had an odd expression of contemplation. The way his darkened eyes bore into you made you squirm where you sat, anxiously squeezing your legs together to try and keep your blush at bay.

It was an achievement that you were able to hold a normal conversation with him at all. After the shocking realization that you were disappointed that Stanley never took credit for the original gift, your time at the Mystery Shack had gotten far more difficult outside of the daily threat to your life. Especially when Mabel was like a bloodhound when it came to romance. And when there wasn’t any to be found you could be damn sure that she’d create your own, one way or the other. She was a menace.

“Kid, listen, I-”

“I guess I should-”

Your words quickly amalgamated until the two of you stopped to give the other an apologetic glance. Then silence again. Each prompting the other to continue their dialogue with a vague hand gesture. Both of your hesitancy grew with conflicted gazes.

“I-”

“I-” Stanley slapped his hand over his face to muffle his groan, “Oh, goddammit.”

You flinched at the frustration in his words, “Sorry, sorry! I was just trying to say I should go back to work if they’re all gone.”

Preparing to hop off of the desk you were instead met with Stanley’s large hands suddenly pinning yours to the desk before you could push off. His fingers nearly interlaced with yours. They were trembling. He was towering over you again to the point you had to arch your back to make room for him. Seeing this he released one of your hands to instead place his on the small of your back, supporting your posture.

Stanley’s face was now inches from yours. What little light that came into the room reflected off of his glasses and obscured his eyes. Could he have been taking in your flushed face and wide eyes? Or perhaps he was taking notice of your parted lips. You hoped it was that.

“I…I wasn’t swearing at ya. Just frustrated that I’m not being as smooth as I wanna be,” Stanley spoke in a tone far softer than you’ve ever experienced. With his voice rumbling in his chest it was like a soothing purr. He then swallowed what must have been a lump in his throat, “Listen, it was…It was me who-”

You captured him in a kiss. It was neither passionate or loving, but something new. It was potential. In this instance it was the best kiss you’ve ever had with chapped lips. Intended to be a quick peck you could still feel Stanley’s hands grasp you tighter as his entire posture grew stiff.

A second passes and you pull back, “I’m sorry, I should have let you finish,” You laughed, both at your overexcitement and his stunned expression, “I’ve been waiting to hear you say it. Keep going, please.”

Stanley didn’t respond right away as he instead simply stared at you. It was blatantly obvious when the reality of the situation began to hit him as his signature grin stretched across his face. How could an old man be so cute?

“So, uh-” He cleared his throat, “Guess I was saying that I’m the Mr. Mystery. Both at work and as your secret admirer, though I guess not that secret if you knew…Anyways I really like ya! You’ve got spunk, looks, smarts. I mean, how was I not supposed to send any sorta flowers- You get the point!”

This time he drew you in for a kiss. His was more brash and needy as if you’d change your mind at the last second. Using his grip on you he brought you closer until your bodies were pressed against each other and he slotted between your legs to fit. So intimately close yet born from the innocent need of wanting to be near you. This kiss lasted as long as you had air in your lungs.

The both of you parted from the kiss with a dopey smile.

“I didn’t necessarily know, by the way…” You mention after catching your breath, “Just realized how much I wanted it to be you after Wendy suggested it had been sent by someone else.”

Stan hummed in amusement while his hand began to rub up and down the curve of your back, “That so? Guess all that was just your way of getting to confess, eh? Gotta admit, that’s unexpected. But sneaky. I like it!”

“What?” You tilted your head in question, “You mean what happened with all of her friends? I was just starting to think that was you.”

He shook his head. The sweet mood was paused as the both of you had a confused look while playing the strange events over in your head. Stanley snapped you out of it by giving you a squeeze; with it a reminder of your new flourishing relationship with your boss Stanley Pines. You looked back up to see his grin return and a new twinkle in his eye.

“Ehh, we can figure that out some other time, toots,” He said with a wave of his hand to push the thoughts away, “Besides, we probably have a few minutes to uh, make up for lost time, if you get what I mean.” Stanley wiggled his eyebrows at you and made you giggle.

“Depends. Does this count as my break, Stanley?”

“It absolutely does.”

“What? C’mooooon, man.”

__ Outside of the Mystery Shack, hidden amongst the trees and brush, was the sharp glare of the sun reflecting off of glass. Binoculars, to be exact. Behind them being a young girl who wore a thick sweater in spite of the heat. She was biting down on her tongue in concentration as she scanned the building from one window to the next. Where could they be?

From beside her the bushes began to rustle. The noise attracted her attention and she turned in time to capture the magnified image of Wendy’s growing teen pimples as she stepped out from the woods. Mabel chose not to comment on this.

“Status report!” Mabel said in a tone far too commanding for a young girl like her to have. Regardless of this Wendy saluted.

“Mission happened, I guess,” Wendy gave a half-assed thumbs up, “The boys kind of went crazy in there so we didn’t get the romantic confession you dreamed of exactly. But they’re alone, at least?”

“Why, they went crazy under my order, lieutenant! Their goal was to be crazy in love,” She emphasized her words with a dramatic close of her first brought close to her chest, “And nooooow I’m trying to see the romantic confession but they have the blinds closed! Could you imagine trying to hide your love?! It’s inconvenient!!”

As if paranoid something would happen without her watchful eye Mabel returned to her vigilant duty of watching a closed window. Wendy meanwhile had her gaze darted away a moment as if struggling to find what to say. Eventually she rubbed the back of her neck and coughed to get her young friend’s attention,

“You know, it’s…probably a good thing the window is closed if your plan did work, Mabel. I don’t think you’d want to see what you think you’d be seeing.”

“What do you mean?”

“They’re prooobably swapping spit right now, Mabel.”

Instantly the binoculars clattered against the hard ground as Mabel nearly convulsed, “Eew, ew, EW! And that’s too much of a picture for Mabel!” Quickly she climbed out of her hiding spot in the bushes to begin following Wendy who was laughing, “I gotta go wash out my mind’s eye now!” "That's probably for the best. Let's just trust them to move that last step themselves, alright, cupid?"

Both girls were laughing now as they returned to the Mystery Shack while patting each other on the back for a job well-done.