#gravity falls reader insert

[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!

[dietpitt]

💚🎃Green Is Definitely Your Color🎃💚

Stan Pines x AFAB!Reader Explicit | 2.8k words Tags: Gender-Neutral Reader, Reader wears a dress, Halloween Costumes, Trick-or-Treating, Sexual Roleplay, Cunnilingus, Praise Kink, Voice Kink, Stan is a Leg Man, Body Worship, Marking Kink, Reader Plays Bride of Frankenstein

In which body paint and Stan's mouth save the day (but ruin a perfectly good costume).

{Read on AO3}

Author's Note: Originally posted 2020 on AO3, but I wanted to give it a proper tumblr post. I'm very proud of this one except I didn't know how to end it and it shows lol

Thankfully, there are only a few things you and your boyfriend don’t see eye-to-eye on. Stan takes his coffee black (old habit from the days of shoddy motels and a life on the run), while your own brew of choice is iced (lasts longer and doesn’t get cold since it already is). He thinks it’s perfectly reasonable to scare a baby every now and then, and proceed to laugh in their pudgy little tear-streaked face. You? You told him he’d be the one bawling if you ever caught him pulling that in your periphery again.

Tonight, though? Tonight is the perfect example of just how good you two are together. Because tonight, you weren’t scaring babies. Tonight, on Halloween, you were scaring kids. And that was worlds apart from wreaking havoc in the grocery store, which happened the majority of the remaining 363 days of the year.

Sure, Stan always goes all-out for his beloved Summerween, but October 31st is when his freak flag really flies. It makes sense--  Fall brings less tourists than usual, and shorter daylight hours means fewer parents letting their kids come out to the woods to trick or treat, making every opportunity for a scare count.

With the Mystery Shack trading its typical kitsch for spooky ephemera-- fully decked out in giant spiderwebs, ghoulish figures, and angry jack-o-lanterns-- it’ll truly be a dramatic sight to behold.

But, for all the elaborate planning, special effects to make the eyes pop out of his skull and the bolts on his neck to spark and smoke, Stan still manages to miss a few spots needing body paint. 

“Alright, alright, I think y’got it,” Franken-Stan fake-grumbles up at you from his seat in front of the full-length mirror.

“Will you relax? You’re gonna sweat, and I’ll have to do your makeup all over again,” you scold, though your painted lips curl into a fond grin despite yourself.

Though the kids will start coming any minute, you’re set on completing the finishing touches, if for no other reason than to keep Stan from further grumbling later.

… And most certainly not because you also love the opportunity to dote, holding him close in ways he’d otherwise be too shy about. Not at all.

“Are you going to wear your glasses?” You ask, getting his ears nice and green with the sponge brush.

He gives it some thought. “As much as it hurts the spook factor, I can’t really scare anybody if I fall on my face.”

Another, final once-over at your work and you’re satisfied, stepping back and raising your arms in the air triumphantly to steal yourself for your best mad-scientist cackle. “My creation! It’s aliiiive!” 

Stan laughs, quickly standing and caging you with his arms against the wall. “Damn right. Alive as ever.”

You shoo both him and the remark away, looking over your white “dress” (old sheet) to check for any green that may have made its way onto your costume. “I thought you were in a hurry, hmm? There’s no time for a touch-up. Now, be a good ‘husband’ and carry the train.”

Stan’s eyes roll as he lifts the gown, following your lead downstairs. “Yes, honey.”

Trying very carefully not to trip, Stan helps you down the stairs. “I still think it’s dumb that The Bride of Frankenstein doesn’t get a name, though. Sure, she’s in it for all of three minutes, but she gets the movie named after her and doesn’t even get a line?”

“Nah, she just screams,” Stan laughs, dropping your dress as you meet the front door. “Like it hurts to exist.” He swings the door open and the both of you speak in unison.

“She gets it.”

You share a small laughing fit at that, making your way outside into the crisp autumn air, giddy to begin the festivities. A few to last-minute adjustments and tech checks, and The Shack will be ready.

“Seriously though-- why can’t she be, like, Victoria or something?”

Over by the skeleton crawling out from under the porch, Stan snorts. “Victoria? Why?”

You shrug. “Why not?”

“Touche.”

It’s finally the tail-end of the second hour, and you’re in position behind the semi-trapdoor mechanism on the porch, hidden behind a dark and stormy castle standee. You’re high on the energy so far, after making some kids scream-squeal in delight. Although, you did manage to terrify a toddler on accident without even trying-- the poor thing burst into tears at the mere sight of you walking out normally from the porch.

Maybe it was the semi-realistic stitches on your flesh? Who knows. All that’s clear is you felt awful, but Stan was very clearly amused-- and jealous, you’d wager.

But now that it’s past bedtime for most little ones, it’s time to up the ante with some added special effects-- and the fast-approaching gaggle of baby teens seem to be the first that’ll enjoy them.

Always on top of it, Stan lets out a Frankenstein-like groan, marching further from the end of the porch, arms raised in cheesy classic style. The kids stop in their tracks as he clears his throat roughly to give the spiel he’s practiced all night, an extra ~spooky~ lilt to his otherwise mostly-normal voice:

“Foolish humans! You daaaare demand gifts, when your hubris created me from cursed flesh, and your hatred ensured my demise?!” He’s truly in his element as his neck bolts flicker for emphasis, making most of the middle schoolers jump and gasp.

The one at the front of the pack though, doesn’t budge, instead holding their pumpkin bucket out with an overall look of disinterest. “Yeah, duh. Trick-or-treat, old man. Hand over the candy.”

“Rude little shit,” you frown, not even needing to see Stan’s face to know he’s going to enjoy this particular scare very much.

“Hold it, kid, ” Stan sneers, continuing his introduction, “if you want anything good to eat, you’ll need to ask the most blood-curdling-- ”

You flip the switch for the fog machine, and bellows of grey creep in around the Shack--

“--The most SPINE-TINGLING, repulsive monster of us all--!”

You quickly step on the nearby button, and lightning flashes across the house as thunder sounds--

“ --MY WIFE! ”

At his signal, your spring forward, eyes crazed as a horrendous banshee screech leaves your throat and white tendrils wave in the wind.

The rude kid screams-- and while Stan bursts out laughing and you smile evilly, you miss them reflexively reach into their bucket, pull something out, and chuck it right at you before scampering away.

With a dull thud, the projectile lands on your head with a muffled thud, sending you off balance and toppling off the platform in a second. You hear Stan’s barks at the hoodlum, but soon he’s up the porch at your side, just as surprised as you are.

“The hell-- you alright, babe?”

Stan helps you up as you glance around for the offending object that’s left your head and the arm that broke your fall aching. “I-- what the fuck was that?!”

A large, off-white sphere rolls along a groove in the deck, moved by your shifted weight. It hits the edge of your shoe, and you pick it up to find it’s…

A popcorn ball.

A really fucking heavy, rock-hard popcorn ball.

With a splotch of white from your forehead smeared across it.

Stan’s bursts out laughing, though he doesn’t let his supposedly helpful grip on your waist go. “Who the hell gave that thing out?? They must’ve been saving it for last century-- ”

It’s funny. Like, really funny. Comedy freaking gold.

But your head hurts and you fell, and shit, your wig’s messed up…

Your own laughter breaks suddenly, and before you even know it you’re tearing up.

Franken-Stan blanches the soon as it hits him. “H-hey, sweetheart, I’m sorry-- are you alright?”

The comforting hands on your shoulder, the concern in his voice breaks the dam, tears spilling out despite your mind knowing better, and wanting to continue laughing it off like you should-- like you want to.

“I’m fine Stan, I’m fine, I-- I’m sorry, I don’t know why I’m crying, I really don’t,” you laugh, dabbing at your eyes with a bandage-covered hand. “That was too perfect.”

“Don’t apologize, that kid’s an asshole.”

“An asshole with a hell of a pitch,” You laugh, finally meeting Stan’s eye. 

“Wanna go inside? It’s gettin’ late anyway,”

“No! No, are you kidding? We just got started with the lightning! I’m fine, I promise--”

He raise an eyebrow skeptically.

“Really, I am. I’m the most horrifying creature of them all, right?”

“Hah! Sure are, sweet thing, sure are.”

“Then let’s get back to scaring. I’ll be ready to duck this time.” You laugh, elbowing Stan before getting back into place, and Stan follows.

11:27pm

There hasn’t been a kid in nearly 30 minutes, and with another hour under your belt, the pair of you are content to turn in for the night for some movies and the Halloween goodie bags left behind by scared trick-or-treaters.

Flopping down on the bed, your tired body practically sings. “Goddd, that kid really got me good.” The hands on your face muffle your words, but Stan gets the idea.

Taking pity on you, he pulls up the nearby chair and starts unlacing one of your boots for you. “Happens in the line of duty sometimes. Shoulda seen what one fairy princess threw at me one year-- actually, I don’t even wanna know what it was.” He jokes(?), tossing the shoe aside and beginning on the other.

“Knocked me down at the top of my game…” you mutter, twiddling with the end of a splayed-out strip of your garment.

“Hey,” Stan drops the other boot to the floor with a thud, quickly peeling off the striped sock that lay underneath. “Don’t forget, you scared the absolute shit out of that brat.”

You let out a hum, then chuckle. “Triggered his fight and flight.”

"Exactly,” he replies definitely, sling-shotting the second sock in the air. It lands on your chest, but you quickly toss it over to nowhere in particular.

“I don’t know if I can even get back up. Just let me die here,” you groan, only half-joking as the strenuous activities of the day catch up to you. “I’ll be a corpse for next Halloween.”

“Well, yer already halfway there in that getup,” Stan shrugs off the jacket of his costume and lets it fall on the chair. A glance across your form reminds him of the “bolts” attached to his neck, which he peels off with a wince. “And I’m not far behind ya.”

“I’ll be lucky if I look this good when I’m dead,” you laugh, adjusting to get more comfortable and fully prepared to just pass out, wig and all.

Stan’s eye catches on the bare skin of your leg that’s revealed when you shift, the stark white of your gown falling to the side as it bends at the knee and the other still hangs off the bed uselessly. He hums, appreciative of the sensual view of you before him: limbs draped out, black eye makeup smudged...

Your eyes fly open at the feeling of Stan’s large hand on your knee, and you’re met with a familiar mischievous grin on Stan’s still-green face. “Mmm, you’re already bewitching, babe.” 

That look always manages to send a pang through your gut. “Oh, stop it…”

This wasn’t exactly how you’d imagined the night ending, but don’t mind all that much if it’s headed where you think it’s headed.

“‘M serious,” Stan chuckles. “Yer right about The Bride too… never appreciated enough,” His thumb rubs a circle on the soft flesh on the inside of your knee, and you can’t help but sigh at the nice pressure. 

Your stomach nearly flips when he slides to his own knees, grip moving down your calf and lifting your leg to place a playful kiss to your ankle. His name falls from your lips in a whine, equal parts warning and pleading, for exactly what you can’t decide. You’re answered nonetheless by another peck just above the previous, then another with the slightest bit of teeth that makes you gasp and prop up onto your elbows.

The sight is absolutely ridiculous -- Frankenstein’s monster himself between your legs, smiling dumbly as he nips at the neglected one before he pushes excessive fabric up and off to reveal more of your form. “Stan, we-- oh my god--”

It’s when he pulls you forward on the bed that you see it: the splotches of deep green coloring the trail Stan is continuing up your thigh with a knowing look.

You laugh at first, starting to push him away so you can properly remove your dress, but he tuts, gripping your hips instead and curling an arm around your thigh, slinging it over his shoulder with an in-character groan: "You go nowhere.

You’re torn between teasing him about the fact that he’s really roleplaying as fucking Frankenstein right now, and the shudder that rolls through you as Stan noses your center through the cotton, saying: “Mine .”

“Oh,” is all you manage to say when his mouth meets between your thighs, teasing your folds through the fabric with a brazen tongue. You let yourself go then, leaning into the anticipation as after a moment Stan tugs the garment down and off, though it catches on your foot and is left dangling there uselessly.

“You’ll be screamin’ for me, don’t you worry,” he says, breath ghosting over your core before fully tucking in.

There’s no energy left in you to scream, but the needy whimpers and moans that escape as he ushers you up towards pleasure are melodic, a siren song that urges Stan to keep delving into your cunt, to hold your thighs open with a possessive grip.

“F-fuck,” you cry, reaching down and threading your fingers through his mop of black-sprayed hair between your legs. He groans mid-lap at your clit, and you gasp as his hands join in on the ministrations, caressing and petting from your hips to your stomach.

It’s when he starts sucking that you start to really writhe, tugging roughly at his locks to push him deeper. He slurps your arousal right up, the sound mortifying yet helping thrust you closer to the fast-approaching peak.

“C’mon, honey,” Stan says, thumb maintaining a rhythm on your clit. “Come for me, darling.”

The foreign pet name does it, sending a rolling orgasm that hits you in waves, crying out Stan’s name and other sweet nothings before going limp.

After a moment he sits back, more than proud as he wipes his mouth and watches you twitch and moan through the lingering pulses.

“Wow-- what was that all about?” You manage to pant out, made curious again as Stan stands suddenly, walking over to the mirror on the far-side of the room.

“Check it out,” he says, bringing the mirror to the edge of the bed and leaning against it with a self-satisfied grin.

Sitting up, your reflection stares back at you, wide-eyed and glowing-- with a prominent mess of green smeared along your skin, practically outlining each and every touch that made you come undone. A few complete hand prints are even visible, on the backs of your knees, on your hip-- even a comically clear outline against the stark white of your covered chest.

Your face burns hot as you can’t help but laugh in disbelief, both at what you see and the unexpected thrill of it; it’s delightful, and silly, and sexy, and overall just an image you think won’t leave your head for a while.

Stan chuckles at your reaction, pleased. “S’a good look on ya-- damn near electrifyin’ , some might say.”

“Come here,” you ask, arms out to beckon him forward. He does, and you don’t miss the prominent bulge in his trousers as he walks over.

Pulling him down by his shirt, you lock him into an appreciative kiss, raking your nails across his scalp and practically pulling him on top of you to continue the makeout, bed size be damned.

Needing air, you finally break away, glancing back at the mirror to see green now decorating your mouth and cheeks. “You’d missed a spot,” you inform Stan, pointing to the new addition to your face.

He hums, ducking down to nip at your neck and clavicle, painting them just the same. “Could think of a few more spots needin’ a touch-up,” he growls, rolling his hips.

Snaking your hand into the band of his pants, Stan lets out another groan at your touch and when you say lightly into his ear:

“Looks like you could use some white with that green, hmm?”

Happy Spooky Season!! 🎃💚🎃

[Masterlist]

dividers by @strangergraphics and @firefly-graphics

[penquinnpebbles]

Dysmorphio's Back At It Again! | Bill Cipher x Reader

Was feeling not so good today, but then I was inspired by a certain page in my Book of Bill! This is incredibly self-indulgent lmao

Synopsis: You don't like the way you look. Bill decides to cheer you up in his own weird way.

Content: can be read as platonic or romantic, established relationship (timeline is unclear but like assume he's just living with you or something), OOC Bill Cipher, talks of dysmorphia and self-deprecation, attempt at comfort, mostly lighthearted and silly, Bill's advice may not work for everyone!! but he does mean well (or is trying to anyways)

You feel like you're doing something wrong.

You stare at the mirror, eyes zoning in on every flaw. The more you look, the more things you find that makes your chest tighten. A zit there, some dry skin here...

Your hair is unflattering on your head, and your face shape reminds you of lumpy clay. Your lips are dry, and your eyes have bags that make it look sunken--like a skeleton or a corpse. Your body is awkward looking, and you're barely fashionable enough to pull it off.

Who are you kidding? Nothing looks good on you. The styles you try to copy off of Pinterest or any other site never end up working out: You never seem to look as good compared to the people in the picture.

...You don't get it. You thought that, by now, things would change. As a kid, you believed that you'd look better when you grew up. Nicer. More attractive. That was how puberty worked, right? You go through an awkward phase as your body grows, and when you become an adult, you'd be the stunning and most drop dead gorgeous looking person you dreamed of being.

Of course, you understand now that's not how it really works. Technically, yes, puberty is like that. But realistically, you're probably not going to turn into a super model. And that was fine with you.

Really, it was.

Until you saw your friends and can't help but think how lovely they look. Then you see the people around you and think that they look lovely, too.

Then you look at yourself.

And you can't help but think that 'lovely' is the last word you'd use.

You know that beauty is subjective. You know that your younger self's mentality of 'I'll instantly look amazing when I grow older!' is flawed, because good looks aren't something you can grow into.

But looking at everyone else, and how they all seem to grow into that 'good looking/attractive' person you imagined... Meanwhile, you feel like you're still stuck in the awkward phase.

You let out a quiet sigh.

You just want to see yourself and feel good about how you look. Is that too much to ask?

"Hey there, slick!"

You startle and let out a yelp, stumbling back. Bill laughs from his spot next to you.

"Wow, you're awfully jumpy! Too caught up in your self-deprecation spiral to even notice I'm here?" Bill summons his simple black cane and twirls it in his fingers, eye shining with mirth. "Be glad you evolved to be a predator species, kid. Being that distracted usually means you'd end up as someone's dinner!"

He cackles, and you calm down your racing heart.

"Anyways," Bill snaps his finger, cane disappearing. "I can't help but notice you staring blankly at yourself in the mirror for the past 2 minutes! You finally lost your mind after being around me for so long?"

You open your mouth to say something, before thinking better and closing it. Bill takes in your silence with a hum, eye raking over you.

"Ohh, I see what's going on. You don't like the way you look, huh?"

You turn to face him. Wow, it's like he read your mind. Though, knowing Bill, he probably did.

Bill only shakes his head. "Looks like Dysmorphio's back at it again!"

Your face twists into confusion. Dysmorphio? Bill catches your expression and his eye crinkles like he's smiling.

"He's from the mirror dimension," Bill clarifies. "And let me tell you, he's a real piece of work! He's the reason why people stay inside because 'your face looks weird today'." He does air quotation marks and rolls his eye, and scoffs. "Pretty stupid, if you ask me."

Bill's words make shame trickle in your gut, and you look away.

He falters at that.

"Hey, c'mon, I didn't mean that you're..." Bill trails off, hand outstretched and voice softening just a tiny bit.

Bill almost touches your shoulder before he stops himself, fingers curling into his palm. His eye looks to the side, contemplative... Then he steels himself with a familiar spark of confidence.

Bill grabs your collar-

"C'mere!"

-And drags you in front of the mirror. You let out a strangled noise at the sudden movement and try to find your footing when Bill lets go.

After you balanced yourself, Bill clears his throat.

"Alright, kid, there's no easy way to break this to you. I know it's not hard for creatures like Dysmorphio to get in your head- I mean, look at me! I got in easy peasy!" He leans forward, finger pointing at you. "But that doesn't mean you should ACTUALLY listen to him!"

You perk up at that, and Bill leans back casually, floating at your eye level.

"Here's the truth, slick. You are disgusting."

You deadpan.

"BUT!" He quickly adds, "Guess what? So is everyone else! If you think about it, you're ALL just a bunch of meat computers in a slowly deteriorating flesh prison. So why not FLAUNT it? Here-"

He grabs you by the shoulders and turns you to face the mirror.

"Repeat after me," Bill says. "And I mean actually repeat it. Don't just read my words, alright? Actually repeat after me, or I'm going to eat your hair while you sleep."

Bill clears his throat, looking at you in the mirror.

"I am a REPULSIVE BEAST OF UNFATHOMABLE WRETCHEDNESS!"

Bill waits for your response. You sigh and decide to humor him. His eye lights up when you do, and he continues.

"I FEED ON YOUR DISGUST!"

"I AM REPUGNANCE INCARNATE, AND SHAME CANNOT CLAIM ME. Don't forget that last bit, that one's important!"

You repeat his words as you look at yourself in the mirror. The sheer goofiness of it all makes you feel... Lighter.

"There!" Bill pats your shoulder, proud. "Doesn't that feel better?"

You nod.

"Good." Bill lets his hands fall to his sides. "Now HEADBUTT THE MIRROR TO SHOW HIM WHO'S BOSS!!!"

You give him a look. Bill huffs.

"No?" You shake your head in response. Bill crosses his arms. "Fine... I'll do it for you!"

He points a finger at the mirror and shoots out blue flame like a gun. The mirror shatters, glass shards flying everywhere as Bill laughs maniacally.

Thankfully, none of the shards hit you, considering an invisible shield comes up to protect you and Bill. You wonder whether or not you were safe because you happened to be near him, or if he included you on purpose.

The thought makes you smile.

Bill dusts off his hands, "Welp! There's your lesson for the day, slick. Beauty is overrated and fake, because EVERYONE is revolting! Try reveling in your own horrifying nature for a change. It's great, trust me!"

He slings an arm over your shoulder, eye shimmering in satisfaction.

"Embrace the weirdness! Be proud of your fleshy outer shell! And don't forget to DESTROY all mirrors to taunt Dysmorphio on how he TOTALLY FAILED to get to you!!!"

Bill starts laughing again, swaying you back and forth in his hold. You look down at the floor and spot your reflection on the several glass shards scattered around.

And you find that you like what you see.

Yeah yeah cheesy ahh ending or whatever IDC!!! /lh

This was honestly just written as a personal pick me up, because I was feeling down. And what better way to make urself feel better than to write about your blorbos!!

Also, first time writing for Bill Cipher!! Dont think I got his character quite right, but eh, I'll get better at writing him in the future.

It's also wrote this in the middle of the night, so it's barely proofread WAHHSHSA I hope you still enjoyed it, tho!!

[viceroywrites]

deja vu - part six (ford route)

planning out your road trip through the pacific northwest, you find yourself inexplicably drawn to the town of gravity falls.

little did you know that this town held more memories than you could have possibly imagined.

too bad you didn't remember any of them.

stan x fem!reader / ford x fem!reader

choose your own adventure / contains fluff and angst (w/ happy ending)

part five | part seven

interested in stan's route? click here for the masterlist

Gdl Gzkvh. Gdl Yilgsvih. Gsv gzkvh nzb wruuvi yfg ivtziwovhh, gsv gifgs droo yv ivevzovw.

tag list: @awitchersbard | @theilluminatidragonqueen | @jazzypop-op | @jonndoe | @chaimshelii | @starship606 | @swimmingrascalbatdragon n | @stanfordsbaby | @gxstiess | @skrunkle11 | @valinbean | @funkyenby | @therealgoofygoober69 | @theblueraven | @adrian920155 | @im-kinda-bored | @miarabanana | @leo4242564 | @soupieoopieisloopie | @marvelous-maniac | @opossumclown | @m4x-3dw | @nothingbutcloud | @reivelmin | @grimometry | @walmartjim | @reiofsuns2001 | @bunni-teeth81 | @satorisgirl | @pen900 | @creat0r-cat | @lackingoriginalthoughts | @fries11 | @sunniskyies | @policedeer | @sadslasher13 | @kittenlover614 | @margibees | @lunnybunny12 | @the-hufflebird-girl | @sawendel l | @shamrockfish | @atseoks l | @luckybatbones | @ryuyukawa | @mekkori | @bigbodycity | @kawaii1369 | @333brat333 | @styxxcrossing

With the car all packed up, you slide into the passenger side of the car, expecting Stan to take over the wheel like he did yesterday.

To your surprise, Ford slips into the driver’s seat.

“I thought you don’t usually drive?” You question.

“Well, Stanley wanted to catch up on some sleep still on the drive back so I offered.” Ford explains, the well-crafted lie flowing off his tongue as he buckles his seatbelt.

In reality, he asked Stan if he could drive instead for the opportunity to spend more quality time with you, being met with a thinly veiled threat if Ford scratched or dented the El Diablo while being handed the keys.

The drive back to the Mystery Shack was quite peaceful.

You rolled down the window a few inches, taking in the lush green scenery as the breeze hit your face, during the smooth drive. Ford glances in the rear view mirror, seeing Stan actually asleep, Dipper having his head buried in a book while Mabel looks through the photos she took on the camping trip, both of them having a pair of earbuds in, blasting their own respective music.

“Hey, Y/N, mind opening the glove compartment? Apparently that’s where Stan keeps his CDs.” Ford asks, hoping to fill the silence to drown out his brother’s snores.

You nod, reaching forward to open the glove box and pulling out the CD case underneath all the miscellaneous papers, scratched out lottery cards and… where those fake IDs? You decide to ignore it for now, grabbing the dusty case and thumbing through Stan’s collection.

“Anything catching your eye?” Ford asks after a notable amount of time of you still looking through the CDs.

“Hmm, nothing yet. Your brother really likes disco and jazz… as well as strangely enough, Icelandic pop music.” You hum, pulling out a BABBA CD.

“That actually might be mine.” Ford admits, rubbing the back of his neck, “I’m guessing you don’t remember that BABBA is one of my favorite groups.”

You glance between the CD and Ford, expecting the intellectual man before you to be listening to Holst, Chopin, Tchaikovsky or perhaps even Eurythmics.

“You listen to Icelandic pop group, BABBA?” You parrot the information back to Ford who simply nods in response, “I have every lyric memorized.”

“Prove it then.” You say, almost challenging him as you slide the disc into the car radio.

Ford takes on your challenge, singing along to the lyrics albeit slightly out of tune in his deep voice. You can’t help the wide grin that spreads across your cheeks, laughing as Ford’s attempts to hit the high notes of Disco Girl.

Mabel looks up from her camera after sorting through the photos to see the two of you smiling at one another as you both sing along. She quickly turns off her flash, learning her lesson from this morning and takes a quick photo before nudging her brother.

Dipper looks at his sister with slight annoyance as she breaks his concentration, but as he looks over you and Ford, he can’t help but smile at the sight of his great uncle happy.

However, he pauses, realizing the words Ford is singing through skilled lip-reading and he rips out his earbuds to confirm what he sees.

“Great Uncle Ford, you listen to BABBA too?!”

You both look back in alarm, Ford’s cheeks flushed in embarrassment before you giggle, reaching over to poke his cheek, “Guess a love of BABBA runs in the family.” - After arriving back at the Mystery Shack and getting some much needed rest via a much needed long nap, you emerge from your room, letting out a yawn. The sun shone through the triangle shaped window, its golden orange hue signaling that it was mid-day. Your feet carrying you to the kitchen to make yourself some coffee in preparation of the night to come.

The scent of coffee hits your nostrils, catching you off guard. It appears that someone in the Pines family had a similar idea.

Expecting either Stan or Ford to be around the corner, you’re even more surprised to see Dipper standing on top of a stool, drumming his fingers against the wood of the cabinets as he waits for the coffee to finish brewing.

“Didn’t realize you drank coffee, Dipper?” You commented, walking into the kitchen to make your presence known.

“Oh hey Y/N, how was your nap?” Dipper asks. A 38-sided die that shines in Dipper’s hand catches your attention before you turn it back to him.

“It was good, much needed.” You chuckle, “Mind if I pour myself a cup of coffee myself from the pot you’re brewing?”

“Oh…” Dipper looks down at the entire pot of coffee before looking up sheepishly, “I don’t actually drink coffee, Y/N. This is for Great Uncle Ford actually. We were in the middle of a Dungeons, Dungeons and More Dungeons game and he asked me to make him a pot to prepare for tonight.”

“The entire pot?”

“Yup.”

Somehow, this sounded like a habit that Ford developed in college from the memories you could recall of all the all-nighters you pulled with him.

“Mind if I join you downstairs to see if he’d at least let me have one cup?” You ask, grabbing two mugs from the cupboard for Ford and you.

“Sure, do you wanna join our game of Dungeons, Dungeons and More Dungeons?” Dipper says excitedly.

“I honestly can’t say I’ve ever played it…” Dipper’s expression slightly drops, deflating a bit, “But I’d love to watch and see if I can get the hang of it to join maybe another time.” You admit, anticipating a very complex game system based on the 38-sided die.

“Trust me, it’s not that complicated once you get past the initial mechanics!” Dipper attempts to reassure you, guiding you to a part of the Mystery Shack that was starting to become eerily familiar the moment Dipper pushed aside the vending machine to reveal a set of stairs that descend down to the basement.

The basement that Ford would be holed up in night after night working on the portal.

The basement that was the setting of your nightmare last night.

You freeze at the top of the steps, a lump in your throat. Dipper realizes that you are no longer right behind him midway down the steps. He looks up at you in confusion, carefully holding the coffee pot in his hands. “Is everything okay, Y/N?”

You almost drop the coffee mugs in your hands until Dipper’s voice snaps you out of your daze. “Y-yeah, just spaced out for a second.” Taking a deep inhale through your nostrils, you start walking down the stairs, meeting up with Dipper as you both descend the stairs together.

“Great Uncle Ford told me that you, Grunkle Stan, and him are going to the Museum of History tonight to hopefully find your memories.” Dipper mentions.

You stare down at him in surprise, wondering what else Ford has told him, “Did your Grunkle Ford mention anything else?”

“No, just that Mabel and I can’t tag along… we were hoping we’d be able to help you out.” Dipper explains, “We discovered where the memories of the citizens of Gravity Falls were kept last summer… we helped Old Man McGucket get his memories back.”

Despite your perplexity surrounding how two thirteen-year olds managed to help your old friend gain his memories back, you can’t help but feel flattered at Dipper’s offer to assist, “Well I appreciate you and your sister wanting to help me even though we just met a few days ago.”

Your hand reaches down to fix the lumberjack hat that was starting to tilt down to cover Dipper’s eyes, and Dipper gives you a gratuitous smile, “You mean a lot to Great Uncle Ford so of course, we wanna help.”

Speaking of Ford, his voice calls out to Dipper, his face buried in the newest edition of the Dungeons, Dungeons and More Dungeons rule book, “Dipper, come quickly! It looks like they brought back the Imposibeast but with a much better probability of defeating him!”

Dipper quickly dashes down the last few steps, and you follow behind him in amusement, “No way! I thought there was no way they were gonna bring him back when I saw the theories about it online.”

Ford looks up from the book, caught off guard as he sees you trailing behind Dipper who places the coffee pot on the desk and eagerly snatches it from his great uncle’s hands to take a look, “Y/N, I thought you were resting. We have a long night ahead of us.”

“Look, who’s talking.” You counter with a grin, placing the mugs down onto the desk. You glance down at it, having a brief flashback of the small of your back pressed up against the cool metal surface in your dream. Ford notices it immediately, standing up suddenly and placing a hand on your shoulder, “Are you sure you’re okay being down here?” He asks in a hushed tone, glancing over his shoulder to see Dipper still preoccupied.

You nod, placing your own hand on top of Ford’s and squeezing it gently, “I’ll be okay. I came down here to ask if I could have at least a cup of coffee from the pot.”

Your gaze flickers over to the two mugs, “Dipper mentioned you were gonna have the whole pot to yourself.”

Ford’s cheeks flush in embarrassment, reaching over to pour you a cup before pouring himself his own, “Yes, of course. I… uh… picked up the habit unfortunately during our college days.”

“I figured,” You grin at his flustered expression, finding it endearing. You take the warm mug from Ford’s hand, “Though it also wouldn’t surprise me if you were able to get through those all nighters through sheer will-power and a thirst of knowledge alone.”

Ford shakes his head, a deep chuckle escaping his lips, “Unfortunately, I have a human body that has its limitations of needing food, water and sleep to function properly. Though I always tried to test those limits.”

“Are you ready to play again, Great Uncle Ford?” Dipper asks, looking up from the rule book, “I wanna get a bit further along in the campaign we started a few weeks ago.”

“Of course, my boy.” Ford replies, taking a seat back on the floor. To his surprise, you join them on the floor, sitting between him and Dipper. “You don’t have to join us, Y/N.” There was a slight tinge of guilt in Ford’s voice, hoping you didn’t feel obligated to stay, especially knowing that you just had a nightmare within the confines of this basement.

You shake your head, “I already promised Dipper I’d stay and watch. Besides, it's better than trying to convince Stan to give up the TV. I passed him on the way to the kitchen and he’s glued to his seat, watching some historical drama.”

Dipper and Ford look at each other knowingly.

Stan was on another The Duchess Approves binge.

“Well, where did we leave off? Ah, yes! You enter the cave, lulled in by the soothing, melodic tones of a sweet song. But it’s a trap!” Ford begins to spin a tale, twirling the 38-sided die between his fingers with skill.

You watch in amusement for the next few hours, seeing the two excitedly play the game before you while you take sips from your coffee and refill Ford’s mug throughout their campaign.

While Dipper is taking his turn, Ford can’t help but relish in this moment, his heart skipping a beat at the sight of you watching intently when Dipper rolls his die, giving him a high five when he rolls a perfect 38.

Truth be told, this was a reflection of the life he had hoped you two would have at one point. Playing DDNMD with what Ford thought would be your child together.

He hoped that tonight would bring him as close to that dream as he could get after losing decades with you. - The hours flew by quickly, almost losing track of time if it weren’t for Stan descending down the stairs and telling the three of you that it was almost 10 PM.

You quickly rushed up to your room, a thankfully roomy storage room inside the Mystery Shack, to get ready. After a quick shower and changing into an all-black outfit to aid in your stealth for tonight’s journey, your fingers ran over the ink of your journal, looking through the pages of the dreams you had cataloged over the past twenty plus years.

Tonight was hopefully the night you would uncover the meaning behind them.

Slipping the journal into your black fanny pack that you are thankful you packed, you close the door of your room behind you, decked in all black attire. You pass by the living room on your way outside, seeing the peaceful scene of the twins watching Duck-tective with Soos and Melody in the living room before making your way to the front door of the Mystery Shack.

As you step out into the cool summer night, you see Stan and Ford already standing outside, their deep voices bickering. Both wearing all black attire with gloves. They practically matched aside from some clear stylistic differences in their tops - Ford wearing a black turtleneck and trench coat and Stan wearing a black t-shirt and black leather jacket.

“Am I interrupting something?” Your voice cuts through as you approach, causing the two to whip their heads around and fall quiet out of embarrassment.

“I was just telling Stanley that it would be much easier if we just bring a pair of bolt cutters, that should be enough to just cut off the lock.” Ford argues, holding up the bolt cutters.

“When you’re breaking and entering, you want to bring as little equipment as possible - otherwise, you might leave evidence at the scene!” Stan counters.

“Well, let’s ask Y/N what she thinks!” Ford says with an already triumphant tone to his voice, his hands on his hips, confident that you will take his side. The two look at you expectantly, seeking an answer to their argument.

Jeez, you wondered how these two resolved issues when it was just the two of them on a boat in the middle of the ocean.

“You did ask him to come along for his lock-picking skills, Ford.” You point out hesitantly to which Stan triumphantly pumps his arm in the air before exclaiming, “In your face, Poindexter!”

Ford sighs, about to protest, but one look from your eyes had his frustration melting away. He finally concedes, “Alright, I’ll put back the bolt cutters then.”

The three of you pile into El Diablo, the twins sitting in the front and you sitting in the back. The rest of the drive to the museum goes smoothly for the most part aside from the twins’ usual bickering and bantering.

After you arrive in front of the museum, Stan steps out to scope the area. You take this opportunity to pull out your journal, skimming through it. Ford can’t help his innate curiosity from piquing, “Is there a particular dream you’re hoping to get clarity on tonight?” You pause at the question, not answering right away before your fingers turn through the pages before landing on one page. You passed the journal over to Ford, and he took it from your hands, staring down at a symbol that Ford was familiar with.

The Cloaked Figure.

An X through an all-seeing eye.

The symbol of the Society of the Blind Eye.

“In what context does this symbol come up in dreams?” Ford asks. He knows that the only context that you probably have of this image is when your mind was erased.

“I’ve seen flashes of it here and there… The main dream I have with it involves a cloaked figure standing above me, it’s on their hood.” You share, seeing Ford’s expression turn ashen. You started to get concerned at his reaction, “Is everything okay? Do you know what this symbol means?”

Before Ford can respond, Stanley interrupts the two of you, “Hey, the coast is clear.” Ford swiftly changes the subject, slipping out of the car, “We should get going then, time is of the essence.”

You can’t help but feel slightly annoyed at Ford’s avoidance of the topic. You take a deep breath to collect yourself before following behind the twins, hoping that tonight would give you the answer if Ford wouldn’t.

You’re not sure whether to be concerned or impressed by Stan’s vast knowledge of lock-picking, but you’re grateful for it the moment the padlock comes loose, dropping onto Stan’s hand. “Great work, Stanley, that went much quicker than I had anticipated.” Ford says, pulling a flashlight to illuminate the dark museum as the three of you slip inside, shutting the door behind you.

Making your way through the museum, the figures and masks that adorn the walls and space looking creepier in the dim lighting, Ford searches for the room full of eyes that Dipper had mentioned to him during their encounter with the Society of the Blind Eye. “Hey Ford, Dipper mentioned to me that Mabel and him found Fiddleford’s memories down here. How did they even end up here?” You ask.

“Would you believe me if I were to tell you that Fiddleford started a cult?” Ford lets out a dry chuckle at the statement, glancing over his shoulder to see your look of disbelief. “You’re gonna need to elaborate on that one, Sixer.” Stan pointed out. “Honestly, at this point, I would have believed you if you told me that you and Stan were actually clones more than that.” You scoff, causing the brothers to laugh.

“When Fiddleford first invented the memory gun, I had warned him about the potential risks it could pose if it fell into the wrong hands. Unbeknownst to me, Fiddleford continued to use it to deal with his anxiety. After…” Ford paused, clearing his throat of the nervous lump that got stuck, “After the two of you left, Fiddleford created what he called the Society of the Blind Eye. Its sole purpose was to help the people of Gravity Falls cope with the weirdness they witnessed on a daily basis by forgetting. Below this museum is where they would erase their minds and store the memories after.”

You stop in your tracks, your brain seemingly buffering. Just when you thought things couldn't get stranger, there was always something that caught you off guard.

“Excuse me, one second.” You announce, walking away from Stan and Ford into another exhibit away from them.

Ford looks at Stan in confusion before both of them jump at the sound of you exclaiming.

“What the hell?!”

You walked back into the room, letting out a sigh after getting that out of your system, “Alright, let’s keep moving.”

Ford and Stan look at each other and Stan pats Ford’s shoulder sympathetically, “Better get used to that, I have a feeling that’s gonna happen a lot tonight.” - After following Stan and Ford down a pole that Ford had insisted lead to where the memories were stored, your eyes widened, taking in the sight of a room full of capsules with different names laid across the floor, and a statue of a figure in a cloak at the center of the room.

“Jeez, how many minds did that old hillbilly erase?” Stan comments, kicking aside a capsule that rolls across the floor.

“I highly doubt this was all Fiddleford’s doing. Apparently, when his mind was gone after multiple uses of the memory gun, someone took up his mantle and took the job quite seriously by the looks of it.” Ford crouched down to survey the different names on the gold tubes

“Well… where do we start?” You ask, still dumbfounded at the sheer amount of memories that seemed to have been erased.

Ford glances around the spacious room before giving an answer, “Divide and conquer is likely the best strategy. I’ll take this area over here. Stan, could you take the area on the other side of the room? Y/N, you can check the capsules that are next to that statue.”

With the directions given, the three of you split up, the sound of metal clanking against the floor with each tube tossed to the side amidst the sorting. Each new name that you read causes a pit in your stomach to form, becoming more and more hopeless about the possibility that your name would be found amongst the massive pile. Part of you wonders how many hours, days, potentially years of memories of people’s lives are lost within this room.

The hours spent searching drag along, time standing still underneath the museum. “How long have we been down here for?” Stan asks, making it halfway through a pile in the far corner of the room. Ford pulls back his sleeve to reveal a calculator watch the twins had gifted him for his birthday, “Approximately two hours, eight minutes, thirty-one seconds.”

“Should we just call it? There’s still a good chunk of the room left to sort through. We’ve already lost sleep over this.” You sigh, tossing another tube to the side.

Ford looks up from his own pile of capsules, seeing the defeated expression upon your face. He gets up and takes a seat next to you, “Listen, I didn’t drink a whole pot of coffee for us to give up halfway through the night. I’m ready to forge onward if that’s what you want but if you would like to call it, we absolutely can.”

Your eyes flick to Stan who gives a noncommittal shrug, “I’ve got the energy to keep going. I’m caught up on all my sleep during the day.”

“Alright… let’s keep going.” You say to Ford, giving him and Stan the green light to continue sorting through the piles. Ford decided to stick closer to you for a bit, helping you sort through the capsules at a much quicker pace before moving back to the other side of the room.

Reaching the end of his pile, Ford grabs the last capsule, turning it over. His eyes widened.

‘No, this can’t be…’ Ford thinks to himself.

Before he can process what he had seen, your voice cries out excitedly, “I found it!” In your hand, you hold up a capsule that reads ‘Y/N L/N Memories’

Ford’s mouth hangs open, ready to speak up. Seeing the look of relief and elation on your face, he decides against it. He puts the golden capsule in his hand into his deep trench coat pocket and rushes over to your side of the room at your announcement, “My god, it actually is here. I was starting to worry that my theory that it may be here was completely off base.” He mutters.

The two of you look down at the capsule and back up at each other. Your eyes are full of uncertainty, and his full of regret. Ford places his hand atop yours, both of you holding onto this small object that contains your memories of the man before you.

“I’m not sure what lies ahead in these memories… but words cannot express how truly sorry I am for everything that unravels moving forward.” Ford sighs, “I know you may not want comfort from the person who hurt you deeply, but if you need any clarity in what you see, I will give you those answers.”

You look down at the capsule before letting out a sigh, “Here goes nothing.”

Your hands place the capsule inside the holder, the screen flickering on the moment that it is inserted. You sit on the floor, knowing you’re in for a long viewing. Ford and Stan follow suit, sitting behind you as to go give you space.

Memories flicker onto the screen like a tape, playing back every single interaction you had with Ford.

Your first meeting in the library.

All-nighters you pulled together.

Reading under the trees in the quad, Ford’s head on your lap.

Tender kisses exchanged, his six fingers intertwined with yours, falling asleep in each other’s arms.

Ford carrying you on his back as you wear your graduation attire.

Ford watches on with a bittersweet smile. It had been so long since he had reminisced on these times so to see them so clearly laid out in front of him was comforting. He wonders how he ever let this go, how he let his need to be accepted by people who only sought to use him push away this wonderful person who accepted him in and out - you.

The memories from college that were still quite murky were becoming crystal clear, everything unraveling in front of you. You could almost feel the feelings of affection towards Ford come back, the butterflies in your stomach stirring.

They suddenly drop at the sight of an offer letter to the National Parks in your hands.

You were about to knock on Ford’s door before he suddenly burst out, grabbing you and spinning you around in excitement. “Ford, put me down! What’s with all the commotion?” You chuckle, still clutching the letter in your hand.

“Y/N, my grant proposal got accepted!” Ford shared the news excitedly. Your eyes widened, and you embraced him in response, “That’s amazing, Ford! I-” Ford cuts you off, “I’ve decided that I want to study anomalies, the oddities of the world like myself… There's a sleepy town in Oregon that is a hot spot for them!”

“Oregon…? That’s so far away from here… but I suppose we could do long distance while you’re doing your research.” You mutter, clutching the paper in your hands tighter.

“Well… we don’t have to.” Ford pauses, holding you by the shoulders, “I would love for you to accompany me on this journey. Oregon is chalk full of geological findings, I’m sure you could find work out there.”

“Right…” You trail off. You had to make a decision right here and now - pursue your dream job or follow the man that you loved to support him. You knew if you shared the news with Ford, he would insist on you taking the job.

“Is everything alright, my star?” Ford asks with a furrowed brow, seeing the conflicted look in your eyes.

“Yes… I’d love to join you in Oregon.” You say, crumpling up the offer letter.

Ford watches in awe, guilt washing over him. He was not aware that you had been offered your dream job right after finishing school. What was always a joyful memory from his perspective was a choice he unknowingly forced you to make - him or your dreams. He wonders in his excitement that he took away that moment for you to shine.

“Y/N, I’m so-” Ford is about to apologize but you look back at him, shaking your head.

“Not yet, Ford. Please save any apologies for now… we still have a ways to go.” You sigh, turning back to the screen.

Ford nods in understanding, looking up to see your drive up to Gravity Falls and him gifting you the sunstone. Seeing it shine just as brightly as you did underneath the sun.

Your first year in Gravity Falls flies by, showing your adventures with Ford hunting anomalies, several nights of attempting to get Ford to go to bed at a reasonable time that seemed routine, and Fiddleford’s arrival to help with the portal. S hortly after a clip of you, Fiddleford and Ford building a snowman in the front yard of the Mystery Shack, the beginning of your dream from the night prior plays on screen. Ford’s figure whips around revealing those vibrant yellow eyes and face-splitting grin characteristic of Bill’s possession.

“Y/N, maybe we should take a break. We can always skip over this.” Ford says in concern, seeing your shoulders tense up.

“No, let’s keep going.” You reply with a tightness in your throat.

“Kid, my brother has a point, you don’t have to sit through this another time. You already have this memory back.” Stan tries to interject, knowing from first hand experience how difficult it was for him to see his memories be played back before his eyes when he and Ford were reviewing the home videos from their childhood.

“It’s going to be painful. I know that. I know what I’m getting myself into.” You snap at the two before looking over at Ford, “Please… just let me keep going.”

Stan and Ford look at each other before backing off, allowing you to continue watching the memories that play out in front of you.

You wince as the screen plays out your nightmare before your eyes. Your hand clutches your necklace tight to your chest, almost wanting to rip it off as it feels constricting, your breath picking up in pace. Your body was stuck in freeze, unable to fight or fly your way out of the scene before you.

Ford watches the screen helplessly, watching Bill use his body like a puppet. Anger and sadness washes over him, wanting nothing more than to comfort you, but worrying that it may only make things worse. A war wages in Ford’s mind, wondering whether he should just bite the bullet and give you some form of comfort.

Just as a panic attack was starting to settle in, you felt the weight of Ford’s body pressed behind you. His arms wrap around you, embracing you from behind and helping to ground you. “Breathe, Y/N. You’re safe, Bill can’t harm you any longer. I’m sorry for letting him hurt you.”

You try to follow Ford’s gentle reminder to breathe. Your lungs expand, taking that first initial deep breath in. When you try to exhale, it comes out as a soft sob. You find Ford’s hand resting on the back of your head, pulling you into his chest. Shielding you from the sight as he watches Bill stand over you with a mocking grin, distorting Ford’s features in a way that almost looks like a caricature.

When the scene finally passes, Ford instructs Stan to pause the video. Ford continues to hold onto you tightly, almost as if you were going to slip through his fingertips. You peer up from Ford’s chest, flustered after calming down at how close you two are, “Um… Ford.”

Ford looks down at you, his thumb out of habit brushing away a tear that had formed at the edge of your eyes, “Yes?” You curse in your head, feeling those butterflies in your stomach pick back up at his affectionate gesture. You clear your throat, “You can let go now, Ford. I’m okay now.”

It dawns on Ford that he was practically squeezing you against his chest, and he quickly let go of his hold on you, “M-My apologies if I was too forward with providing comfort, you may not have been ready and I could have potentially made things worse-” You silence his apologies, pressing your finger to his lips, “Ford, it’s okay… thanks for helping me stay grounded.”

This action flusters Ford even more, his cheeks turning as red as his usual sweater. “O-Of course! Let’s take a break, I’m going to investigate if there is a way to take the memory display with us at the end of the night.” Ford quickly gets up from his spot next to you, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

You look around the room, trying to distract yourself from the image of Bill’s hand around your throat that still lingers at the forefront of your thoughts. Your mind is still racing at a million miles an hour, blurry images in your subconscious slowly coming into focus. Your shaky gaze ends up landing on the statue that towers before you, staring at the daunting symbol of the Society of the Blind Eye.

An X through an all-seeing eye.

Your pupils dilate as the symbol suddenly conjures up a memory that was shoved deep in the back of your head.

The symbol glaring back at you, etched atop a red hood that cloaked its wearer’s face. Staring down the barrel…. though it was more like a bulb… of the memory gun.

The cloaked figure’s hand trembling, the finger on the trigger slipping off every time it tries to pull it.

The constant shaking causes the hood to fall out of place, revealing the holder of the Memory Gun to be Fiddleford before a flash of light clouds your vision.

The sleep deprivation over the past few nights mixed with the overwhelm of all these memories flooding back, caused your body to begin to slump over, your vision blurring and making the room hazy.

‘Y/N!’

One pair of hands keep you up right to prevent you from falling over, while the other cups your cheeks, slapping them lightly to knock you out of your stupor.

“Come on, stay with me, Y/N.” Ford’s voice rasps. Feeling six fingers against your skin tells you that Ford is the one in front of you holding your face.

Your eyes flutter open to see Ford staring back at you with concern, “What did you see, Y/N?” Ford asks, having a gut feeling that another memory had resurfaced.

“I-It was Fiddleford… he was standing over me, pointing what looked like a gun at me. He had on that cloak.” You explained to the best of your ability the details of your flashback, pointing to the statue.

Ford’s expression turned grim, “Maybe it would be wise to end the evening here, we can pick back up where we left off tomorrow.” This was a memory that Ford had no part in, but felt an enormous sense of guilt over, “I… wasn’t there for that memory so perhaps we should give Fiddleford a call tomorrow.”

“Wait… I’m okay… please, let’s keep going.” You say shakily, your hand grasping his forearm. After that memory resurfaced of Fiddleford, you’re now more than ever desperate for answers. Desperate to make sense of the voices ringing in your head.

‘I don’t need you, I don’t need anyone!’

‘Stop being a distraction.’

‘You’re useless.’

‘I thought you of all people would understand what I’m up against!’

You knew at least one of them had to be Ford, and your mind was tired of playing a game of constant tug of war - leaning into those feelings of affection that were rising to the surface again or keeping your guard up due to the implied pain Ford had caused you all those years ago.

“Y/N, you almost fainted. I fear that if we continue onward, the amount of memories resurfacing may be too much for your subconscious to handle, causing a physical toll on you. Similar things occurred to Stanley when he was gaining his memories back.” Ford attempted to rationalize with you, looking to his brother for back-up.

“Kid, I usually don’t agree with my brother, but he has a point. I know we didn’t get that far but you gotta pace yourself. Otherwise, you’re not gonna have any energy for tomorrow to keep getting those memories back.” Stan chimes in.

Both brothers both had points that you couldn’t argue against - you were on a tight schedule and any days spent purely on recuperating from the overwhelm would be a day wasted. You also did get back the memory you wanted to understand the most - albeit with no context. You let out a sigh of surrender, “Ford, did you figure out if we can take the monitor with us?”

Ford blinks at your sudden question before nodding vigorously, “Yes, thankfully Fiddleford created it with portable capabilities from the looks of it.”

“Alright then, we can call it for tonight. You and I will have to make use of as much time as we have left so expect to be up early tomorrow, Ford.” You say, already concocting a schedule in your head, “Stan, thanks for tagging along tonight to help us break-in.”

“No problem! Glad I could put these skills to use again,” Stan says with a sense of pride.

A sense of relief rushes over Ford as you agree to end here for the evening. “Stanley, could you go and pull the car up so we can get the monitor out of here smoothly? Y/N, you can go with my brother to get some fresh air.”

You go along with the plan, ready to leave the eerie former meeting place of the Society of Blind Eye behind you as you follow Stan outside.

Ford is thankful that tonight went relatively smoothly, grabbing the monitor and picking it up with ease. He pulls the capsule out of the slot, moving to place it into his trench coat pocket.

Any sense of relief that Ford had felt quickly dissipates, dread flooding his system as he remembers the unknown contents of the capsule that he had found earlier.

‘Y/N L/N Memories 2.’

[gravityfallsreaderinsert]

Mr. and Mx. Mystery Master List

This is just a simple reader insert of the main series where you’re married to Stanley Pines! Don’t see many of these out there so I took matters into my own grubby hands!

Reader is Gender-Neutral

This story can also be read on Ao3 and Quotev.

Season 1:

Tourist Trapped

The Legend of the Gobblewonker

Headhunters (WIP)

The Hand That Rocks the Mabel (WIP)

The Inconveniencing (WIP)

Dipper vs. Manliness (WIP)

Double Dipper (WIP)

Irrational Treasure (WIP)

The Time Traveler's Pig (WIP)

Fight Fighters (WIP)

Little Dipper (WIP)

Summerween (WIP)

Boss Mabel (WIP)

Bottomless Pit! (WIP)

The Deep End (WIP)

Carpet Diem (WIP)

Boyz Crazy (WIP)

Land Before Swine (WIP)

Dreamscaperers (WIP)

Gideon Rises (WIP)

Season 2:

Scary-oke (WIP)

Into the Bunker (WIP)

The Golf War (WIP)

Sock Opera (WIP)

Soos and the Real Girl (WIP)

Little Gift Shop of Horrors (WIP)

Society of the Blind Eye (WIP)

Blendin's Game (WIP)

The Love God (WIP)

Northwest Mansion Mystery (WIP)

Not What They Seem (WIP)

A Tale of The Mystery Trio (WIP)

Dungeons, Dungeons & More Dungeons (WIP)

The Stanchurian Candidate (WIP)

The Last Mabelcorn (WIP)

Roadside Attraction (WIP)

Dipper and Mabel vs. the Future (WIP)

Weirdmageddon: Part 1 (WIP)

Weirdmageddon 2: Escape from Reality (WIP)

Weirdmageddon 3: Take Back The Falls (WIP)

[uno-san]

Informality (Reader-Insert Short)

You couldn't call what you two had a relationship. Not really. Stanford Pines was too busy with his mysterious work (That you pretend to not notice) to bother with any formal dating rituals. As for you, you simply weren't looking for anything long-term. Miraculously, these specific wants worked out great for you two.

As per the start of all your little meetings it had proved a brutal day of work at the Mystery Shack. Between angry customers and the flat out dumb ones, these were the days that tended to run you the most ragged. Yet instead of letting your frustrations pile up in the form of anger it was thanks to one knowing glance shared with a passing Stanford that you knew there were better places to put your frustrations.

The end of day came fast when you had the older man to look forward to. Plus the help of your coworkers, Soos and Wendy, the time it took to close up shop was far more streamlined than usual. Sure, the help of your boss would have been appreciated but you know the work you were paid for.

With a polite but dismissive goodbye to the other two you did your best to casually stroll back into the proper house portion of the Mystery Shack. Down the hallway where it lead into the living room you could see the faint blue light of the TV illuminating the darkened space. The tips of his shoes poked out as well. He was waiting. Dating or not, that did put a smile on your face.

Before making your appearance you tidied it up first. Running your fingers through your hair and smoothing out any wrinkles from the day out of your clothes; never the need to dress up but it sure as hell didn't hurt to look a smidge bit desirable. Though Stanford was hardly one to complain.

Taking a breath to steady your excitement you stepped into the cluttered living room, where your eyes met with Stanford's who sat on his normal chair. He had yet to dress down for the day. His jacket was left open while his shirt had a few buttons loose to show off just a peek of his graying chest hair; the gold chain adorning his neck glittered in the light. God, how could he make something tacky look so fucking hot?

Stanford was grinning towards you.

Shoot.

He'd caught you staring. His eyes were half-lidded and entirely focused on you. One hand propped his head up while the other began to pat his thighs, beckoning you closer. You complied without a word.

Before you settled onto his lap there was already laugher drumming in his chest, "Aw, tough day?" Stanford asked with a hint of mockery.

You rolled your eyes, "Oh, the toughest. Boss can be a real pain in my ass."

Stanford wriggled his brow at you, "Only if you let me tonight." His large hand wrapped around your thigh to carefully spin you around in his lap so you could be straddling him. Hardy any words were exchanged but you could have sworn you felt him perk up already.

The joke didn't get the laughter it deserved when instead your lips crashed into his. Not passionate but desperate to work out the frustrations of the day. That was the silent rule you two had established when you two had first began these casual 'meetings', to put it politely.

It was easy. Stanford didn't have to buy you flowers and you didn't have to pretend you found sports interesting. Win-win.

Stanford's hands snaked around towards the back of your body where they slipped just under your ass, a cheek in each of his palm that he used the new leverage to push your hips into his. Oh, he was definitely fired up to go. When you angled your hips just right to rub up against his growing tent you both made a noise of pleasure through your kiss. He groaned your name and you moaned his,

"Stanford..."

The kisses stopped. Your eyes were closed in anticipation of the barrage of hickeys to come to your neck but none came. Unsure if he was planning something underhand you peeped open an eye like a child trying to sneak a glimpse of a present. He was staring straight at you.

Ooookay?

His expression was undecipherable until he had caught wind of your confusion and it was replaced by a nervous grin. Promptly Stanford's hands were removed from your butt to instead rest on your thighs. You raised an eyebrow at this.

"Wooah, there. Full name? Thought we were keeping things casual, toots!" Stanford said with a short and almost forced laugh, "Told ya you didn't need to be formal with me. Stan is fine."

There was a grin on your face as you took this chance to play with his chest hair, "I didn't call you by your social security number or anything! Just thought that, dunno, it might be sexy to moan out your actual name," You then press a kiss to his jawline and breathily whispered, "Staaaaanford. Doesn't sound so bad, does it?"

His grip tightened on your waist. That made you smile. When he was silent you horribly misread the meaning behind it.

"Aw, didn't realize it'd get you all flustered. Is that why you don't want me calling you Stanford, because it'll make you freeze up all cute like that-"

"I said to call me Stan," He snapped back in a way that made you flinch.

Abruptly Stanford rose from the longue chair, taking you with him with a firm grasp around you. Letting out a squeal as this usually meant you were about to be pinned against a wall your feet instead were planted back on the ground. His hands didn't release you until he knew you were standing on your own accord.

When Stanford stood back to his full height he still had yet to say anything to your growing confusion. The nervousness from before was gone, replaced by...Anger? Grief? Maybe even guilt. All you knew that in the light of the TV behind you his wrinkles somehow looked deeper set on his face in this moment. The horndog you were so used to had turned back to the 60-something year old man that he really was.

"Sorry about this, toots," The nickname felt forced in an attempt to sooth your growing anxieties, "Back is killing me after today and still gotta...run some errands."

You step forward with your brows furrowed in worry. No doubt your eyes looked pathetic with regret when Stan looked upset at himself, "No, I'm sorry. I didn't realize it was actually a sore spot, I-" You took a breath to steady yourself, "I was just trying to tease you, Stan. I really am sorry."

He planted his hands on your shoulders to give them a comforting squeeze, "No, no! Trust me, it was real hot hearing you say Stanford's name- MY FULL NAME. My name."

There was something distressing in how he phrased that. You couldn't be sure of what it was. Especially when Stan finally turned away from you to start doing back up the buttons on his shirt; a true signifier that the night of planned release was canceled.

The perks of not dating meant that you two didn't have to even think about the emotional baggage of the other. Just pump and dump to summarize the extent of your outside of work relationship. But that didn't mean you were indifferent towards the guy. You'd be a monster to ignore him in this strange phase, whether you called him by his full name or not.

You reached out to comfort Stan but he raised a hand to stop you, "I'm fine, I'm fine," Stan grumbled, "Just...you know your way out by now. I'll catch ya sometime before the Shack opens tomorrow."

You'd been dismissed.

Stan was still fixing up his shirt when he turned to head out; not upstairs where you knew his room to be but the hallway. The same one you had traversed that led to the Mystery Shack. Just has he passed the threshold he stopped. Staring out over his shoulder he gave you a softer look. In his gaze was an apology.

"I mean it, toots. I'll catch ya tomorrow, and..." Stan's eyes darted off to the side, "And you didn't do anything wrong. I just have some real...real important work to catch up on."

"Like a passion project?" You tried to humorously add.

"Something like that, sure."

Stan's tone didn't match. Conflicted, you stared behind him until his back disappeared fully into the unlit portions of the house. Somehow you felt a total stranger to the home now in spite of his assurances. With a small huff of annoyance towards yourself you decide to get going.

Whether what he said was true or not, Stanford Pines was in for a busy night.

[imagination-phantom]

POV: You just got out of Stan’s car and you both are walking back up to the shack then you become distracted by the most distracting object imaginable. Stan’s ass in those white jeans. So you find yourself smiling an calling to him.

“Hey Stan … is that a mirror in your pocket because wow can I see myself in your pants.”

That joke was awful and he’s so proud.

[hamsternella]

PLEEEEASE a nsfw alphabet for Stanford??🥺

SORRY IT TOOK ME SO LONG

Stanford Pines NSFW Alphabet

A= Aftercare (what they're like after sex)

Despite the tiredness and embarrassment once the heat of the moment wears off, Ford goes to great lengths to wrap you in his arms and hold you tight against his chest, where you can hear his heartbeat. He likes to let you know how well you did, and how much he loves you. Caresses and kisses, as well as laughter and sweet whispers until falling asleep are never lacking.

B= Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Ford would always say his brain. He is a cool, methodical person who almost always finds a way to achieve great results. Thinking and ingenuity are like breathing to him. But of course in this case that's not the answer; considering that the last thing he can use is his brain when he has you in front of him. It is as if only his heart exists, beating wildly at the sight of the most beautiful and inexplicable thing he has been able to witness in his entire existence: you.

That being the case, he can't find any other part of himself that he likes enough. Maybe his hands, because he knows how much you love it when he touches you. And if it's you, it would be everything—Ford is unable to pick just one part of your body. If he had to, maybe it would be your waist; because he loves to grab you with both hands from that spot to keep you still, under or on top of him, and at whatever pace he can best get those sweet sounds out of you that fascinate him so much.

C= Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He cums a lot and hard. Preferably inside you or on your face; sometimes pushing a little with his fingers to fill your mouth with his cum. He loves it when you clean his hand with your tongue.

D= Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Ford would never tell you—there's a reason it's a secret. But do you still remember those times when you couldn't find your underwear, and suspiciously it was during the weekdays when Ford took care of the laundry, and oddly enough he took all the time in the world to iron and put the laundry away...? Yeah, well. I think you know what I mean. Don't mention to him how obvious it is that he's been stealing your underwear to masturbate with it. Don't tell him, really.

Also don't mention that you've actually felt him cling to you when you sleep; looking for more than just warmth at night. Don't tell him that you clearly feel him down there—hard and warm.

Or do. Who knows what might happen.

E= Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Technically no experience at all. Of course he had gotten to kiss other women, maybe a little touch with one or two, but that was many, many years ago; by now he hardly remembers anything at all. Besides he was very young; he used to think differently and be busier with his research. Now that the world is at peace and he can enjoy the calm and family life, it is more than obvious that the only thing he has to defend himself at the beginning of the relationship is all theoretical. It's not a terrible thing, of course. Ford is willing to experiment and learn with you.

F= Favorite position

There are still many positions to try and discover, but the most used —for comfort and practicality— are three par excellence.

Doggy, because nothing is nicer than being able to see you under him, with your ass and waist at his disposal to play to his heart's content.

Cowgirl/Cowboy, because even though he loves making love to you, Ford has to accept that at his age it's hard to stay steady all the time. Sometimes he needs a little help from you to avoid looking pathetic for getting tired after so much action—even if you tell him there's nothing pathetic about it. Besides, don't you look lovely on top of him, with your body shaking and your eyes glazed over? Best view of all.

Spooning, because Ford goes crazy holding you from behind, pushing his hips against your ass; with one of his hands working over your body and his lips on your neck, waking you up from a long night of deep sleep. This man is desperate to touch you.

G= Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Ford is quite serious during the moment, but this is because he is a very shy person about approaching you to begin with. Even if it comes to playing along with you he is the first and last to get embarrassed. An occasional nervous laugh; sometimes little choked sentences if he notices you looking at him too much, and that makes him lose his concentration. But in general he is someone very focused, who seeks not to lose the thread of the moment. His biggest fear is disappointing you.

H= Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

A lot of things happened and he hasn't had the time, nor the desire, to get down to work there. That being the case, I'd say hairy; but at least he's started to take the time to trim it down a bit and make it halfway nice for you. If it's something that would bother you, Ford is willing to trim it further—even all of it.

But yeah. Super hairy.

I= Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Ford takes care to be careful with everything he does or says, always seeking to satisfy the needs of your body and mind; every fantasy you have closely tied to everything he does to make you feel fulfilled. He is a dedicated man, with nimble hands and a sensitive heart. Sweet and witty words are never lacking, always driving you crazy in his arms and against his lips. Sensuality is never in short supply.

J= Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He's been starting to do it more often since he's been with you. Not a lot, because he prefers to do it with you; but once in a while never hurts if he can't get you out of his head. He needs at least something of yours to make him cum—your underwear or the warmth of your body. He needs you.

He cums fast and hard, with the piece of clothing against his face, inhaling intensely; or with a free hand on your body, against your skin.

K= Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Definitely role-playing and cockwarming.

L= Location (favorite places to do the do)

Private places, if possible. Ford doesn't want to risk the possibility of being seen by someone else. He loves to have you in the bedroom, or even in his study room. Any place where no one and nothing will interrupt you.

M= Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

To see you in his clothes, to hear your voice, to come on to him... to suddenly appear dressed for some sensual and perverse role-playing... My goodness, how you drive him crazy.

Ford is a simple guy: he sees his partner existing and making eyes at him, and suddenly he feels his body warm and ready to go.

N= No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Threesomes, because he can't accept the idea of seeing you with someone else, let alone seeing himself with someone other than you. Ford is also unwilling to degrade you or physically harm you; just as he does not find it attractive to allow the same to be done to him.

O= Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Ford loves to receive oral, but he prefers to give it. He loves to put his mouth down there, tasting you and pulling out sounds that haunt him in his best dreams. You are a delight. Even if he's inexperienced, he's so desperate to have you in his mouth that the guy learns in no time to meet your expectations. There's no way not to lose your mind when Ford is taking care of everything between your legs; with his hands holding you by the flesh of your thighs, with his fingers caressing your skin.

Imagine his face if you proposed sitting on it. Imagine that, I insist. It's the best.

P= Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Slow and sensual; deep and hard. Getting all the way in, Ford always gives a little push to press himself against you, hiding his face in the space of your neck. He will talk to you through this—be prepared for a couple of whimpers and muffled moans.

Q= Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He doesn't like them at all. He prefers to take his time with you. Although if you are very needy, then maybe he can find a way.

R= Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Ford loves to experiment! And with that always comes risk. But when it comes to sex, this all takes a different turn; and while he's willing to try new things and experiment with you, he'll always be against anything that might hurt you or make you both uncomfortable.

S= Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

The years and the various experiences out in the open have weathered Ford, and have made him a man with a lot of physical capacity to endure long hours without sleep and with a lot of work. Research work, of course; the physical stuff has always been for fighting or survival.

With this in mind, Ford is able to handle quite a bit of foreplay and sex itself, but he tires quickly after a second round—if the first one wasn't strong enough. Even if he feels he can't go on, he has no problem helping you by using his hands or mouth; as well as any other part of his body that comes in handy. Hopefully and maybe there will be another round if you manage to turn him on one more time.

T= Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Ford doesn't need toys. He only needs you. Now, if in a hypothetical case you would like to use one, he has no problem even designing his own to use with you. At first you tell him no, because it's easier to buy them; but after seeing some plans and listening to him talk so excitedly, seeing that he even starts to consider the idea of implementing other things when it comes to sex, you come to the conclusion that maybe it's not so bad.

Ford opts to use toys on you, not him. They don't get his attention that way.

U= Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Not so much, really. He thinks it's cute to see you being so desperate for him. But at the end of the day it's something that makes him desperate too. Ford couldn't stand to play with you like this for long; he needs to accede to your needs in order to satisfy his own.

V= Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Whimpers A LOT, and likes to moan loudly—but tries to drown them out, fearful that someone might hear them.

If the two of you are in a place where you can be sure not to be overheard, Ford sets out to talk to you during the act.

W= Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

He's unexpected and always manages to sweep you off your feet, but Ford is capable of the hottest dirty talk you can imagine. When you least expect it you have him with his lips on your ear, his hot breath on your skin, and his husky, deep voice of desire spitting out dirty, kinky phrases that keep you with your hands pushing against his chest; his fingers pressing against the skin of your neck, surprising you with how much this man can separate himself from the real world and let you drown in his darkest fantasies.

Ford prefers not to talk about it after everything calms down. It will take some time.

X= X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Not as long, but definitely fat. The tip is quite sensitive. Slightly curved downward.

Y= Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Since he discovered how fascinating your touch is, quite high. Although it's more what he desires than what he can get to do. If he gets careless, he comes quickly. It's fun to play on his desperation and make him wait; that might help him endure his neediness with you a little longer.

Z= Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Pretty fast; but he strives to see that you're okay after all, and that you're resting with him. His priority is you, after all.

[stanswifeirl]

DO YOU WANT TO WORK ON A GRAVITY FALLS DATING SIM??

Well, now you can!

Hi. Laura here, formally known as stan’s wife‼️ by the masses! I am working on a dating sim where you can romance either STANFORD, STANLEY, or BILL!

I am looking for artists, writers, musicians, and voice actors. Find the application link here!

I look forward to reading your applications!! Yaaaay!!

(Reblogs greatly appreciated!! Luv u guyz!)

[rangerbarbz]

Please

Author’s Note: Man, I am a busy bee. I apologize for how little I’ve been writing. I never catch a break, but I am so thankful for y’all. I hope the summer is treating you well!!!

“Please”

Summary: Ford lets out his frustrations on reader after a continuously failing experiment

You laid flat on you and Ford’s shared bed, stomach against the quilt that covered the mattress. Ford was downstairs finishing up an experiment while you were reading a chapter in your new book. The rest of the Pines family were on a daycation out of town leaving you and Ford by yourselves. It was nice to have this private time to spend with him. 

You flipped to the next page and shifted the weight of your head onto your other hand. It was no telling when Ford would emerge from the basement to join you. He had been down there for an hour now. At least you thought he had; you were pretty engrossed in this novel so who knows? You had changed into a tank top and shorts to make sure when he did get done with whatever he was working on, you’d be ready to fall asleep in his arms. Or so you thought. 

You heard Ford’s boots stomping down the hallway, your head perking up at the sound. You closed the book and placed it on the bed before standing up to approach the doorway. 

“Ford?” you called. Just as soon as you reached the door frame, he was there. His silver hair was tousled and his eyes looked more weary than usual. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you flush against his chest. He was wearing stained jeans and a taut, black t-shirt and smelled of his musky deodorant with a hint of moss. 

“Honey, are you okay?” you asked gently, letting him bury his face in your neck. His body was hunched over to make sure he was holding as much of you as possible. You rubbed your hands up and down his back soothingly as he started kissing your jawline.

Ford’s eyes met yours; they didn’t look tired anymore. They were fiery.

“I’m fine. It…It was just a hard day,” he explained quietly. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” You placed your hand on his cheek, letting him lean into the palm of your hand. 

“No, sweetheart. Not now.” He began kissing your wrist. “I just want you, please.” His words were mumbled against your skin. You felt your face get hot as he continued kissing down your arm, his eyes blissfully closed. 

You cupped his face to make him meet your gaze. “Take me then,” you whispered. Ford groaned in appreciation, his strong hands covering the sides of your face. He was kissing you with such a force that was uncharacteristic for him. His tongue flicked your lower lip, begging for a taste of yours. You let him deepen the kiss by opening your mouth and wrapping your arms around his neck. He was frantic trying to touch every inch of you. 

Ford suddenly broke the kiss. “I’m sorry. I forgot I had these damn boots on. Let me take them off before we get too far.” You nodded, unable to form actual words. He then bent down to start unlacing his shoes. However, his mouth was focused on something else. He began planting kisses from your knee, lips inching up your thigh. You let out a soft gasp; your fingers carding through his hair. His stubble was teasing the satin skin that was close to where you wanted him most. 

He suddenly stood up to place his lips on yours again. They never left even as he flung his boots and socks off making you giggle. You felt him smile against you. One arm then supported your back while the other snaked around your waist. You were gently laid on the bed as Ford kissed you passionately. 

He then lifted himself up, centimeters away from your face to look at you. His eyes were locked onto yours. After what felt like hours under his gaze, he leaned down to your ear. “I love kissing you,” he said in a low voice. He dragged your earlobe through his teeth, and your body shivered at the contact. His lips continued their journey down your neck, small moans escaping your mouth. Your legs had wrapped themselves around his torso.

He grunted against your chest, pulling down your tank top to expose your nipples to the cold air. His eyes darted hungrily across your breasts before tracing your areolas with his hot tongue. A sharp contrast to the temperature of the room. You cried out, once again holding his head in your hands. His right hand crept upwards to your other breast as he sucked your nipple into his mouth. 

“Ford, please,” you breathed, grinding against him to gain some sort of friction against your throbbing core. He was incredibly hard and straining against the zipper of his blue jeans. He groaned and bit your nipple to tease you back. You yelped a bit, face growing red from the sound you made. Ford didn’t seem to notice. Or, if he did, he didn’t mind. His hands grazed your waist down to your hips, thumbs rubbing circles into your soft flesh. 

“I couldn’t stop thinking about this.” Ford pulled down your silky shorts to expose your dripping cunt to him. He tossed the article of clothing to the floor, his attention never leaving you. His hands drifted up the sides of your thighs, pressing them around his head. He blew cold air against your sensitive clit; his eyes locked onto yours to see your reaction. You yelped and threw your head back which made Ford chuckle. 

“You’re so sexy like this,” he grumbled against your inner thigh. He peppered kisses up your leg. The tip of his tongue teased your opening slowly.

You gasped. “F-Fuck.” 

Ford’s lips wrapped around your clit and swirled his tongue gently. He lifted your right leg, putting it over his shoulder to give him better access. His once calculated licking began to turn sloppy as he dove into you. He slipped his big hands underneath you to cup your ass and pull your cunt closer to his mouth. He moaned into you while your hips grinded against his face. 

Just when you thought you were going to burst, his tongue slipped out of you. He gave your swollen labia a kiss. 

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I want to feel you around my fingers,” Ford admitted. He adored fingering you. You were almost positive it had something to do with the fact he had been made fun of his entire life for his hands. The hands he was once so insecure about were now able to evoke such pleasure from you. It made him feel powerful. 

His thumb grazed your throbbing clit as he slid one finger into you. His breath hitched in his throat at the feeling of your warm, wet entrance. You cried out how he filled you up so easily. Your nails dug into his shoulders; his finger began to pump in and out of you. 

Ford’s cheeks were tinged pink. He became so flustered seeing you write underneath him. “Oh, God,” he whimpered. “You feel so good…So beautiful.” He began to pump faster to hear more of your sweet moans. 

“Ford,” you breathed out. “Please, I’m so close.” He moved his other hand to your upper back, carefully lifting you up. 

“I know, baby. I know. I got you. Just let go, honey. Let me feel you,” Ford cooed. Your body did exactly what he said. You felt shivers run over your entire body; your cunt pulsating around his fingers. He hugged you against him, still fingering you but slowly now. Your head fell into the crook of his neck. You were breathing heavily, riding out your orgasm. 

“There you go. Atta girl.” He kissed your temple. “Do you think you got one more in you, honey?” You leaned back and looked at him, a grin on your face and a glazed over look in your eyes. 

“You betcha, Dr. Pines.” He smiled devilishly at you before standing up to swiftly remove his shirt. His pants and boxers were soon to go. You bit your lip as you watched him undress. He had such broad shoulders, toned muscles, and a painfully erect cock. 

You rolled over, showing your ass off to him. You looked back at him to see his mouth slightly agape, admiring your curves. To him, you were the most entrancing thing he’d seen in all his years. He kneeled on the bed behind you, running his hands over your smooth back. 

He caressed your ass before parting your flesh to expose your cunt once again. He breathed deeply, his cock teasing your entrance. He let your slick coat his tip before sliding into you completely.

Ford groaned, his head tipping back and eyelids fluttering. You whined at how he stretched you out. It hurt so good. He moved his hips slowly at first, letting you get accustomed to him. 

“H-how does it feel, sweetheart?” he asked shakily. 

“Harder, Ford. Fuck, I want to feel more of you,” you replied quietly. Ford sighed and laid his body against your back. 

“Don’t say things like that if you want me to last, Y/N,” Ford growled into your ear. His thrusts became sporadic, a bead of sweat dripping down his face. His hands reached around to hold onto your breasts. You could feel the build up of another orgasm already. 

“Ford.” Your voice had squeaked from the intensity of his thrusts. Everything felt so good it was overwhelming. 

“Where do you want me?” 

“Inside.” Ford let out a guttural noise at that. You then began to feel his dick twitch and that familiar warmness spread inside you. One of his fingers sneakily moved down to your clit, applying just enough pressure to bring you to climax. You screamed his name and pulsated around him. Your body collapsed onto the bed. He rested beside you. He held you flush against his chest; your breaths became synced together. 

“Let me clean you up, hon,” Ford whispered. He stood up and walked to the bathroom to retrieve a warm washcloth. “Roll over, sweetie.” You lazily flipped over with a grunt.

Ford giggled. “You’re so cute.” He started to clean up the evidence he had been there  from your inner thighs and folds. You gazed up at him lovingly. “There we go,” he said. “Good as new.” He placed the washcloth on the other side of him. 

He was smiling ear to ear down at you before placing a gentle kiss on your lips. “I’m going to run us a bath.” He kissed you again. “I love you.” 

“I love you, too.” And you meant it with every cell in your body. 

[hannathecartoonlover]

BRUH LITERALLY BECAME CLINGY WITH US IN THE BOOK BRUH YANDERE BEHAVIOR BRUH UH GIVE ME SPACE

SPOILERS!!!

Uuuuuuuuh by bitch bruh really started blaming Stan just for us second guessing his toxic shit from ford really rubbed off on this relationship one of the most toxic relationships I’ve been through lol bill we’re done!

[catsandbats13]

Scaryoke Scars

Chapter 3

SMUT WARNING

You felt his glasses press into your face as he kissed you slowly and deliberately, as if you had all the time in the world. Your hands left his wrists and you tangled them into his mussed hair, knocking his fez off in the process. He groaned slightly when he felt your fingers card through his gray locks, apparently he quite enjoyed that, you took a mental note about that for later.

His hands started to explore as the two of you continued locking lips, slowly running them down the sensitive skin on your neck. His touch there made you shiver with delight and anticipation, he’d barely touched you but you were already getting worked up. He traced your collarbone with his fingertips, following the contour of your body down to your shoulders before slipping his arms underneath yours and gripping your hips, with just enough pressure to let you know how badly he wanted this.

As you kept making out, Stan began backing you up until your backside hit the edge of the dining table. Once there, he wasted no time and used his brawny arms to lift your thighs and sit you down on the tabletop, not even breaking the kiss. You gasped at his brazenness but made no move to pull away, you were dying to see what he’d do next.

You were almost dizzy from the affection he was giving you, it was obvious it had been a while for him because his touch was ravenous and yearning. The kiss had quickly turned sloppy and you took the opportunity to slip your tongue into his mouth. His reaction was immediate, you felt him smile against your lips and return the gesture, pulling you even closer than before so you were chest to chest. It still wasn’t enough, so you wrapped your legs around his hips and ground against him, wanting him to know you were just as hungry for this as he was.

Stan pulled away for a moment, allowing you both to catch your breath, but kept his arms firmly wrapped around you. The two of you breathed and stared lustily at one another until he broke the silence.

“How far are you wanting to take this, doll?”

You smiled sweetly at him, touched that even in the midst of a heated make out session he still had the mind to check in with you.

“Stan, honey, watching you take down an army of zombies was the biggest turn on ever. I need you, I need all of you. Right here, right now.” You confessed breathlessly to his handsome face.

Even with your admission, he appeared unsure, averting his eyes and tilting his chin down in apparent uncertainty.

“It’s just, are you sure you want this? With me? I wouldn’t blame ya if you don’t, I know I’m no Prince Charming over here.”

You were taken aback by his insecurity, he’d always been so suave and confident, and you couldn’t understand what he meant about not being desirable. Did he really not know how attractive he is?

You used your hand to tilt his chin back up so you could look him in the eyes while you tell him what a catch he is.

“I don’t want Prince Charming, I want you, Stan Pines. And for the record, I think you’re stunningly handsome and sexy as hell, and there’s no one else I’d rather be with right now. You’re my hero after all.”

He seemed dumbstruck by your words, he blinked at you with his mouth agape, before swiftly recovering and plastering on that trademark lopsided grin and leaning in close to purr into your ear.

“Is that what you think about me? Do you wanna know what I think about you?”

Not trusting your voice at the moment you just nodded into his chest, eagerly awaiting his response.

As he spoke, you felt a strong hand start sneaking its way up under your shirt, stroking your skin and filling you with burning desire.

“I think you’re the prettiest gal I’ve ever seen, a total knockout.”

His fingertips traced the bottom edge of your bra, sending your heartbeat into overdrive.

“I think you’re smart as a whip, and too witty for your own good. You’re fierce, you’re not afraid to talk back to me and give me a piece of your mind.”

You felt his lips press to the juncture of your neck, his stubble rubbing pleasurably on your skin. He took a break from praising you to kiss his way up your throat, making you whimper at the sensation, your panties were drenched at this point, he was slowly driving you crazy in the best way possible.

“I also think that you’re brave as hell, you were ready to make a final stand in the gift shop to protect the kids, with nothing but your bare hands. That’s not something I’ll ever forget.”

He kissed you then, pouring his gratitude into the kiss as you practically melted in his arms.

When he finally pulled away, you took a moment to take in his appearance. His hair was a mess thanks to your wandering hands, his glasses were askew, you could see the side of his face was slightly bruised from the earlier fight and his lips were swollen and shining from your intense make out session.

You’d never seen anything so attractive in your life, was this really happening? You felt as though you were in a dream.

Soon you felt his warm hand slip into your bra, palming your breast as he resumed speaking.

“And you wanna know what else I think?” He murmured, lips ghosting your inflamed cheeks.

“What?” you asked, excited to hear his response.

“I think you’d look much better without this on,” he answered, slightly lifting the bottom of your shirt, a shameless expression on his face.

You didn’t bother holding back your delighted laughter at his remark, causing his smug grin to grow wider as he took in your amusement at his clever joke.

Not wanting to waste anymore time, you promptly grabbed the bottom of your t-shirt and pulled it over your head to toss across the kitchen, you’d find it later.

You were taken aback by the pure unadulterated lust on Stan’s face once your bust was exposed. But before he could resume feeling you up, you poked your index finger on his chest, holding him back slightly. He looked at you in puzzlement until you told him, “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”

“I guess it’s only fair,” he smirked back at you, straightening so he could quickly start to remove what was left of his suit jacket and shirt. You just sat back and enjoyed the show he was putting on for you, admiring his physique. The man was broad in all the right places, he had thick muscular arms that felt wonderful wrapped around you. His body was still relatively sculpted from his boxing years, though he had a bit of a gut, not that that made him any less sexy, you loved his tummy. As he stripped, you finally got a good look at his burly chest covered in a thick carpet of hair that you’d been sneaking glances at any time he wore a v-neck, which in your opinion, wasn’t often enough.

“D’ya like what you see?” He asked, his voice confident, but his question revealed an undercurrent of insecurity.

“Fuck yes,” you answered immediately, your eyes wide with want.

After that confirmation, Stan wasted no time grabbing ahold of you once more and smashing your lips together. Your hands went to his pecs, fingers raking through his coarse expanse of chest hair as his hands began to explore your top half as well, kneading your breasts tenderly through the fabric of your bra. You decided to take the initiative and reached behind your back to fiddle with the clasps until you succeeded, and let your bra fall to the floor, forgotten. Once you were fully exposed, Stan ceased his assault on your mouth and moved his attention lower, muttering praise as he repositioned.

“You’re so gorgeous, doll, how did I ever get so lucky?” you heard him mutter under his breath before dipping his head down and enveloping your nipple in his hot mouth, making you arch into his touch and stifling your moans with your hand.

Dear God, he’s good at this, you thought as you watched him worship you with his tongue, sucking on your hardened buds and making you keen and writhe in place, though his brawny arms locked around your hips kept you from moving too much.

“Stan, please!” You pleaded, hands flying to grip his hair as he swirled his tongue and lightly bit you, making you jolt in place. You weren’t even sure what you were begging for, all you could focus on was how good he was making you feel and you hadn’t even taken your pants off yet, though you were hoping that would come soon.

Finally, he lifted his head from your breast, a line of saliva trailing from his mouth to your now incredibly sensitive nipple. He licked his lips, then planted both hands on either side of your hips, caging you in as he leaned forward until your noses were almost touching.

“Please what? You gotta be specific, doll. I’ll give you what you want…if you ask nicely.”

His words sent a spike of arousal straight to your core, drenching your underwear even more. You hadn’t expected him to be such a tease. Normally you’d feel slightly embarrassed at the request but you were so turned on you answered right away.

“Please touch me, here…” you implored him, grabbing his wide, roughened hand and guiding it in between your legs where you wanted him most.

He groaned as his fingers met the damp fabric of your leggings and he felt just how affected you were by everything he’d done to you so far.

“Holy Moses, you’re soaked, sweetheart.” He gasped out while attentively rubbing your folds through the material, trying to find that sweet spot that would make you see stars. He watched your reactions closely as he explored, taking note of where he could touch to wring out those delightful sounds from you.

You were on cloud nine, head thrown back in euphoria and panting out soft gasps at his every manipulation. It was incredible, but you needed more, and you told him so in between whimpers.

Stan wasted no time, pulling his hand away to grab the waistline of your bottoms and start shimmying them down your legs, using his deft fingers to hook your panties and pull them off in one go. You shifted and lifted up slightly to expedite the process, eager to get rid of anything separating your bare skin from his. He impatiently pulled the offending fabric down your legs and over your ankles, tossing the garment behind him without a second glance.

Stan knelt down in front of you, using his hands to pry your thighs apart to reveal your wetness to him. He inhaled sharply as he got a good look at your dripping core, pupils blown wide with desire and an expression of pure lust on his gorgeous face. It was obvious he liked what he saw, you felt yourself blushing due to his intense stare but you couldn’t deny that his excitement made you feel sexy and adored.

Before you could make a joke about him seeing something he likes, he surged forward and buried his head between your legs and began ravenously devouring you. You had to suppress a yelp, the fervency of his motions taking you off guard, not that you were complaining. He was eating you out like a man starved, taking the occasional break to kiss and nip at your inner thighs. You held onto his head for dear life, fingers twisted into his graying strands. His tongue delved into your folds, licking and sucking every inch of you, making you shiver in ecstasy. You could feel that warm coil unwinding in the center of your being, it didn’t take long till you were almost at your peak.

“Oh Stan, I’m so close,” you managed to choke out.

“That’s it sweetheart, come for me,” you heard him say before he resumed lapping at your entrance, zeroing in on your clit with expert precision. That did it for you, you’d fantasized so long about hearing him say those words, but actually having him say it aloud in his gravelly voice sent you over the edge and you came hard. It was akin to a supernova at the center of your being, filling you to the brim with total euphoria. Stars filled your vision as you ground against his face, Stan not faltering in the slightest and prolonging your orgasm a ridiculous amount, making you tremble with aftershocks..

It wasn’t until you used your grip on his scalp to gently tug his head up out of your lap that he desisted, so intent was he on your pleasure.

“Y’alright, doll?” You heard him ask with a soft chuckle from above where you lay on the table, eyes closed, trying to catch your breath after the best head you’ve ever gotten. You opened your eyes to see Stan leaning over you, his stubbled mouth and jaw glistening with your slick. The look on his face was indecent, it seemed he had enjoyed going down on you as much as you had.

“Alright? I’m amazing! You’re amazing!” You praised him with a blissed out grin.

He laughed softly, reaching a hand out to absentmindedly caress your arm, ducking his head slightly in shyness.

“I’ve, uh, wanted to do that for a while now,” he admitted bashfully, rubbing the back of his neck with his other hand.

You sat up and took a hold of the hand on your arm and pulled it to your face, placing your cheek into his worn palm and nuzzling his hand affectionately.

“Well I’m glad you did. You’re welcome to do that anytime you like,” you told him honestly.

He looked at you with such tenderness as you pressed kisses into his hand, slowly and deliberately trailing down his arm, giving the gauze you’d wrapped around it earlier a soft peck as well, earning an amused chuckle from the man. Once your lips had reached his fuzzy, broad shoulder, you switched to his other hand and repeated the same affectionate process. He remained still, allowing you to move his limbs as you pleased and press kisses wherever you could reach. You wanted him to feel as loved as he made you feel.

You had something else on your mind too though. Stan had worshiped you, and now it was time to return the favour.

Once you were sure he’d been thoroughly covered in kisses, you gently put his hand aside and used your hands to lift your hips off of the table and slide down to plant your feet flat on the floor, standing bare chest to bare chest (well, more your face to his chest, given that he had some height on you) with the man you were sure you were falling in love with.

You leaned up, throwing your arms around his bulky neck to drag him down to your level and press your lips to his in a sensual, open mouthed kiss. He tasted like cheap cigars, Pitt cola and of you, his face still shining with the evidence of your passion.

Your front was pressed to his barrel chest, your nipples rubbing against the coarse hair there in the most delightful way as you French kissed exuberantly. You felt Stan’s hands wander to cup your ass cheeks and squeeze appreciatively, pulling you further into his embrace.

You had other intentions than just making out with him at the moment though. While Stan was distracted by your tongues entangling, you snuck your right arm down his hairy back, around and under his paunch to start fumbling for his zipper. It took a couple of tries but you managed to blindly snag it between your fingers and drag it down, giving you the freedom to slip your hand straight into his boxers. You felt him gasp into your mouth as your hand wrapped around his hardness and you carefully tugged his cock out of his underwear. He was girthy and just long enough that you knew he was going to hit all the right places inside of you. Now that you had a hold of him, you began to stroke him off while the two of you locked lips. Stan’s movements became more frenzied as you continued to pleasure him.

“Fucking hell, doll,” he groaned when the two of you paused to catch a breath, undeniably affected by your attention.

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” he murmured, ducking his head and nuzzling into your neck, his stubble tickling slightly.

“Think you can hold on a bit longer, handsome?” You purred back. You weren’t done with him yet, not by a long shot. You’d dreamed about getting your hands on him like this for so long, you were not about to waste the opportunity.

“I think I can manage,” he shot back breathlessly, biting you gently, then soothing it with an open mouthed kiss that morphed into what you knew would become a hickey.

The sensation of his love bite almost made you lose your composure for a second, but you quickly recovered and gave his erection a final tender squeeze before reluctantly pulling away from his embrace to mirror his previous actions and kneel in front of him.

“Y-you don’t have to if you don’t want-“ Stan started to stutter out but you shushed him and told him point blank, “Hey, I’ve fantasized about this forever, so let me have this please.”

“Yeah, okay,” he agreed feebly, melting like putty in your hands as you grasped his hard member once again, allowing him to tangle his hands in your hair. You loved the way his fingers felt tugging at your scalp, you hoped he was the type to guide your head the way he liked, you found it hot as hell when they took control like that.

You briefly savoured the moment, staring hungrily at his cock inches away from your lips. You could see the tip was dripping precum, there was no doubt he was enjoying your fondling, you couldn’t help but feel a burst of pride at the fact you were having such an effect on him.

Not wanting to keep him waiting any longer, you brought your mouth to the head of his dick, starting out with short and sweet kitten licks that made Stan’s hands tighten their grip on your hair, before you thought fuck it, and dragged your lips down his length and sucked. You were rewarded with Stan’s muffled swears and the feeling of his fingers trembling in ecstasy. He tasted mildly of sweat, but you didn’t mind, it just evoked the memory of his heroic battle and badassery from earlier that night. It turned you on immensely. You focused all your attention on using your mouth to get him off, noticing he seemed to really like it when you would bob your head slowly and deeply on his cock, so you put all your efforts into doing so while breathing steadily through your nose. You couldn’t get the entirety of him inside your mouth so you gripped the base of his member with one hand to stroke what you couldn’t reach and the other to massage his balls.

You’d never heard more beautiful sounds than the ones falling out of Stan’s mouth while you sucked him off. As if having read your thoughts from earlier, Stan gently began guiding your head up and down his length using his grip on your scalp. A muffled moan slipped out of you at the sensation of him taking control, though you could tell he was being careful not to thrust too hard.

You liked too that he didn’t hold back his reactions like some men might, he was letting you know just how much he enjoyed your touch, and it was doing wonders for your ego every time he let out another erotic sound.

After a particularly enthusiastic bob of your head, Stan let out a garbled yelp and gently pulled you off of him.

“If you keep that up sweetheart, I’m not going to last,” he admitted sheepishly.

You couldn’t help but grin at that, flattered you had such an effect on him.

“C’mere,” Stan said tenderly, putting a hand out to help you up from your position on the floor, which you gladly accepted. As soon as you were upright again, he pulled you close and kissed you soundly, cradling the back of your head with one hand and wrapping his other arm around your waist so he could dip you like you were dancing the tango. Your noise of surprise was muffled by his lips, you hadn’t expected him to literally sweep you off your feet but here you were, swooning in his arms.

Smooth bastard, you thought giddily, melting into the kiss.

When he eventually put you back on your feet, you were breathless and flustered.

“Have I still got it or what?” Stan said cockily, taking the opportunity to give you that crooked smile that you loved so much and winked at you.

You laughed softly, charmed by his antics.

“Stan?” You replied in a serious tone.

“Yeah?” He answered nervously.

“I need you inside of me like yesterday.”

His eyes darkened at your statement.

“You read my mind, doll.”

Wasting no time, the two of you moved back over to the kitchen table, exploring each other's mouths all the while. You blindly felt behind you for the tabletop to prop yourself up on its cool surface. Once you succeeded, you felt Stan’s warm hands reach around to hold your torso and guide your body to lay flat on the table. He reluctantly broke your kiss so he could hurriedly divest himself of his pants and boxers, revealing at last the entirety of his body to you.

You bit your lip as you admired him, thinking to yourself how lucky you are at the moment to be the one to see the man like this. You knew he had a hard time being vulnerable with those he cared about, so you understood just how special it was that he felt comfortable enough to bare himself to you. And as a bonus you got to ogle his hot bod.

As soon as his pants were kicked away to join the ever growing pile of clothes scattered on the kitchen floor, he positioned himself above you, arms cocooning you and his stomach a comforting weight pressed atop yours.

“You let me know if I do something you don’t like, okay?” He told you sincerely, warm brown eyes searching your expression for any trace of hesitancy.

“Of course,” you replied easily, touched that he still wanted to make sure you were comfortable. He really did have the biggest heart of anyone you knew.

You inhaled sharply as you felt him maneuver his erection to slide against your slit, sending a lightning bolt of pleasure through your body, and making you convulse beneath him. He did this a few more times, gathering your wetness along his shaft and bringing you higher and higher with every movement. You wanted to tell him to quit teasing and get to it already, but you found you couldn’t even form words in your throes of ecstasy. The only things coming out of your mouth were desperate whines that Stan had to stifle with an open mouthed kiss, lest you alert the rest of the house to your activities.

Just when you could take no more, Stan took pity on you and finally filled you up, taking your breath away. You were so wet from his foreplay and your previous orgasm that it only took one easy thrust and he was inside you. You both groaned in unison, sharing in each other's pleasure. It was more magical than any of your fantasies, you felt as though you were fusing into one being, you couldn’t tell where he ended and you began.

Ever the gentleman, Stan gave you a minute to adjust to his girth so as not to hurt you. You were grateful for his thoughtfulness even in the heat of the moment. He was the perfect size, decently thick and hitting all the right places deep inside of you.

It wasn’t long before you whispered for him to start moving, and he gladly complied, pulling almost all the way out before driving back in, sending ripples of heat throughout your body. He moved slowly at first, only starting to intensify his thrusts when you began moving your hips to meet his, chasing the blissful sensation.

To spur him on even more, you planted your lips on the hollow of his throat and began sucking and licking at the skin there, wanting to leave behind a mark as a nice little reminder. You got the impression that you’d found his secret weakness, cause he let out a particularly loud noise, halfway between a whimper and a moan, and his motions increased in tempo.

He had you squeezed tight to his body, you were completely pinned to the table by his weight and you loved it. It made you feel cherished and safe, like nothing bad could happen as long as you were in his arms. You also liked how big he was compared to you, he dwarfed you a good amount and the size difference was such a turn on. Just knowing he could pick you up and manhandle you got you worked up.

The sound of skin on skin filled the room now, the two of you caught up in the moment and each other. It was incredibly intimate, Stan slamming his hips into yours while you gazed into his deep brown eyes full of adoration and hung on for dear life. He was not holding back at all, driving into you with wild motions that had your eyes rolling back into your head and your nails digging into the meat of his back. You got the feeling he was the type to like being marked up, given his reactions to your affections.

You were quickly building to a crescendo, Stan was directly pounding your g spot now, leaving you a moaning mess. You could tell he was nearing his climax as well, he was ferally fucking you at this point, his grip on you almost bruising. His expression was lewd, jaw slack and eyes unfocused, completely blissed out. You were certain you looked the same.

“Stan!” You cried out in warning, you were right on the edge.

“Me too, sweetheart,” he said through gritted teeth.

“Where do you want me-“

“Inside! Please, I’m on the pill, I want you to fill me up!” You cut him off, you wanted it so badly, having him cum inside you was often the subject of your many fantasies about him.

Stan surged forward and captured your lips, your teeth briefly clashing with the force of his kiss. You kissed him back just as hard, your passion fueled by the euphoria rising inside of you.

It only took a few more forceful thrusts to send you to nirvana as you came hard on his thick cock. Your walls convulsing around him sent him over the edge as well as he flooded your insides with hot ropes of cum. You were shaking uncontrollably as he continued to fill you up, pleasure vibrating through every facet of your being. You were pretty sure you even blacked out for a second, it was so intense. Stan kissed you through it as you both shuddered with aftershocks, gently rocking your hips together and prolonging that achingly sweet sensation.

Almost getting eaten by zombies is so worth it if this is what happens afterwards, you thought as you came back down to earth.

You could feel some of Stan’s load leaking out of you as you both lie there, lazily kissing and enjoying the afterglow. Eventually he pulled away slightly and rested his forehead on yours, giving you the softest smile while he brushed your hair from your face with a sweep of his hand.

“How was that? Did I live up to your expectations?” He asked, only half kidding.

“Hmm…” you pretended to think about it for a second.

“I don’t know, guess we’ll have to do it again to be sure,” you replied jokingly, grinning at him in jest.

Stan breathed out a laugh at your little joke.

“I guess so, we gotta be sure after all,” he replied smoothly, playing along.

He pecked a final sweet kiss to the corner of your mouth before lifting himself off of you and sliding out of you carefully.

Link to chapter 4 below

[baxndaid]

rick sanchez x reader

headcannons or something idk i like old men read my stanford x readers here too x <- POLL AT THE END !!

- you’re probably a family friend, you come over every once in a while to supervise morty and summer while jerry and beth try to rekindle their failing marriage

- you do a horrible job because the kids always end up sneaking out with their grandpa to kill some god or something absurd like that

- your oblivious, rick isn’t necessarily cold towards you, just indifferent

- he would rather be elsewhere than in the living room talking to some random person that beth insists on having in her house

- one day you catch them sneaking out and probably hide inside of the trunk of ricks car(?) because curiosity killed the cat or something like that

- the cars system would probably inform him that he has an unexpected visitor and your caught red handed, now inside the passenger seat with morty and his grandfather

- awkward would not be enough to describe what that whole journey was

- rick would berate you for being so stupid, telling you that you had no survival skills getting into strangers cars like that

- morty sat in silence, disappointed that he couldn’t go to “boob world” or whatever he called it

- you see, you’re a professional glazer

- it’s not even unintentional like you’re genuinely super impressed by this guy what the fuck do you mean he’s fucked a planet?? crazy work me next

- he decides to keep you around to stroke his ego, it’s refreshing to have someone who’s not always busting his balls about morality and space laws

- and having someone as attractive as you worship him like a god sounded good to him

- after a while he’ll definitely enjoy your company but pretend he’s super cool and suave , pretending that he’s not excited to spend some time with you

- morty gets a little concerned at the fact that his grandpa has taken a liking to you, with with beth

- they know what he’s like, he’s brash and cold one minute, and a little normal the next

- they eventually give in though, they’ve never seen him so calm before, maybe you’ll change him and his chaotic ways

- (you can’t and you won’t)

- he’s super distant when he realises he might have genuine feelings for you, it’s not like him at all to feel all mushy

- truth is, he’s lonely, he’s sad, he’s afraid that things won’t work out, something bad happens to you etc, then he’s back to being lonely

- yeah he’ll probably be a little mean to you at first, to try and scare you off

- doesn’t work, so he gives up with the sass

- definitely builds you little trinkets and machines now and then

- you have no time to mow the lawn? he’s going to build self mowing grass for you (it’s a little sad)

- always stuck in traffic? he’s tinkered with your car and now whenever you drive by a traffic light it’ll always be green (so many casualties)

- too cold today? he’s going to discreetly push the sun a little closer to the earth, juuust a smidge

- he definitely butt dials you when he’s drunk only to cry on your lap until he sobers up and then pretends nothing happened, if he tells you anything particularly sensitive then your memories about it are going bye-bye

- it would take a lot for him to confess, for real

- normally though you’ll probably find a bunch of voice mails from him, he sounds rough and panicky, like he’s about to die in some stupid mission (you could always near morty crying in the background)

- he’ll tell you that he loves you, and that you make him forget about how much he hates himself

- forget about that though because in the very next voice mail he sounds normal again and is telling you to ignore what the last message said

- do not ignore it pls

- do something subtle but nice, like bake or cook him something, or buy him a new lab coat, anything

- he’ll probably get the hint soon

[darlingdaisyfarm]

mullet!Stan Pines headcanons

✦ it’s rare that you see him without a shirt, but one day you spot the burn scar tattoo you think? etched into his shoulder, something Stan never intended to have. he notices you looking and quickly covers. “ain’t nothin’ to look at, sweetheart” he laughs awkwardly, turning away

✦ now, whenever your hand brushes over it, even accidentally, though not really, because you’re so curious and want to know what is it, Stan freezes up and it takes him a second to relax again. he blinks, brows furrowed, face blank as he falls out of reality, like it brings him right back to that fight with his brother. you gently trace the scar and Stan lets you, though you can feel him fighting the wish to pull away. “just. . . don’t think about it too much, alright?” he’ll mumble, but you know that for Stan, this scar means more than he’ll ever admit.

✦ however one night Stanley finally tells you the full story. how it happened, the anger, the betrayal, the pain he never quite dealt with. he looks away, ashamed, preparing to be slapped and yelled at, but you gently tilt his face back toward you, brushing a thumb over the scar, tracing it without a word, letting him know it doesn’t change how you see him. when he wants to pull away, you stop him with a tender smile, whispering that he’s safe, that whatever happened, he’s not alone in it anymore

okay enough angst :)

✦ there’s a god somewhere blessing this man with a mullet and it’s only right that you get to take care of it. imagine him sitting there all gruff and complaining at first, like “i don’t need pampering,” but the second you get your hands in his hair he goes soft, eyes closed, practically melting. the tough guy act drops and he’s yours to play with. he’d mumble something like, “didn’t know ya liked my hair this much,” trying to sound casual, but he’s putty in your hands and he knows it. might even lean into you, letting you do whatever you want.

✦ so yeah, Stan will never admit It, but he loves being pampered. brush your fingers through his hair, scratch his back or rub his shoulders, and he’ll melt right there. “aw, c’mon, I don’t need all that mushy stuff,” he’ll grumble, but then he’ll lean right into your touch, closing his eyes, sighing as you work out the knots in his shoulders. “alright, alright, I take it back. keep doin’ that, I’m beggin’ ya.” and he’s yours — grumpy, needy mess, secretly loving every second.

✦ when it’s late and there’s an open bottle of whiskey between you, Stan got just enough liquor in him that his guard slips. he’s closer than usual, looking at you like you’re the only thing worth seeing and then out of nowhere, he speaks so damn quiet, “ain’t used to somebody like you.” he’s saying it to himself more than anything. and when you press him on it he brushes it off, acting all tough like he didn’t just spill his heart right there

✦ you’ll never hear it in so many words, but it’s there in all the little things he does. after a rough day or some dumb close call, he’ll look at you a little longer than usual, saying softly, “don’t know what i’d do without ya, y’know?” and yeah, then he’ll laugh it off, crack a joke to brush it away, because he’s so scared to show vulnerability but you still notice the truth in his eyes. he’s showing it even if he can’t say it out loud. it’s his way, in that unpolished, stubborn way of his, but damn, if it isn’t sweet.  

✦ sometimes, it all boils over and you two end up in a heated argument because he can be so damn stubborn, your voices raised, tempers flaring. but after it’s over, when the dust settles he’s not one to just let it go. Stan will not forgive himself if another person close to him leaves him. he’ll come back to you, eyes softer, whispering apologies under his breath, wanting to make things right, at least once. he pulls you close, his fingers brushing your cheek while he looks into it eyes just to make sure they aren’t red from tears.

✦ “i ain’t the best guy, ya know?” you want to reassure him that he’s more than just a messed-up past. when he looks at you, his eyes searching yours, it’s like he’s waiting for you to see through the bullshit. and god, when you reach for him, telling him he’s enough, you can practically feel him exhale, releasing that tight tension.

✦ at first, Stan hid his jealousy. well, what can you do, this man is used to hiding all his life. so before, when someone else got a little too close to you, Stan would hide his jealousy with “just didn’t like the way they were lookin’ at ya, thats all”

so later when you got much closer, he’s all kinds of possessive in the hottest way. someone brushes past you at the bar or shack? his grip on your waist tightens just a bit and he’s leaning in, “you keep yer distance.” actually Stan isnt just jealous, he needs to keep you close, to remind everyone that you’re his

✦ so now you know — this man is possessive, if he’s got you, he wants everybody to know it. he’ll leave little marks, love bites along your collarbone, your shoulders, neck, anywhere he can reach. he’ll smirk when he sees them later, running his thumb over the spot, all proud, whispering something like, “gotta let ‘em know who ya belong to.” so when he notices you wearing something that shows them off, that just sets him off all over again.

✦ sometimes, Stanley just gets quiet, he’ll pull you into this tight hug, burying his face against your neck. no words, no jokes, just him, needing you. maybe it’s after a long day, or some memory from the past got to him, but he won’t explain it, not yet. he’ll just hold you like he’s afraid of letting go, mumbling a half-hearted “don’t mind me”

✦ you’ll never know about it, but sometimes he’ll wake up early just to look at you, his hand resting on your side, thumb rubbing lazy circles on your hip. he’d mumble under his breath, half in awe, half still sleepy, “how the hell’d i get so lucky?” it’s this rare soft look he’ll snap out of the second you move in your sleep, pretending he wasn’t just watching you like you’re the best damn thing he’s ever seen.

✦ as cocky as Stan is, sometimes he’ll just lean back and wait, watching you with this smug lazy smirk, waiting for you to break first. he’ll spread his arms, eyebrows raised, saying “go on, sweetheart, show me what ya got.” and it’s not that he doesn’t want you, he’s just savouring the anticipation, the way you look when you finally grab his shirt and pull him close, wiping that smirk right off his face as he gives in, hands rough and needy on you

✦ there’s something about Stan getting down and dirty with his car that just makes him even hotter. he’ll be sprawled under the hood, greasy hands and all, and when you come by, he’ll flash that charming grin and you’ll find him making suggestive comments about how the car isn’t the only thing he’d love to get under

✦ you’ll be curled up together watching some old flick and the moment something emotional hits you’ll catch him sneaking a sniffle, clearing his throat like it’s nothing. “damn movies, always gettin’ me,” he’ll grumble, trying to cover it up, but when you tease him, he’ll roll his eyes. “oh please, sweetheart, I just. . . like a good story, okay?”

[gravityfallsreaderinsert]

Mr. and Mx. Mystery

S1E1 - Tourist Trapped

MasterList

The sun was shining in the clear blue sky as a family were having a fun day outside.

‘Ah, summer break-‘ Hank was grilling burgers for his family and his two kids Shmipper and Smabble were laughing and chasing one another, while the rest of the family sat at a picnic table. "You want cheese on that, hon?" Hank asked his wife, flipping a burger. "Sure, Hank."

‘A time for leisure, recreation, and takin' 'er easy... Unless you're me.’ 

A golf cart crashes through the "Welcome to Gravity Falls" sign with Dipper and Mabel screaming as they drove thorugh the woods. The ground shakes as something large makes it way pass trees, knocking them down. Mabel looks back toward the forest, "Aaaah!!! It's getting closer!" A giant hand tries to reach for the cart but missies as the cart files off a rock and lands as the kids swerve.

‘My name is Dipper. The girl about to puke is my sister Mabel. You may be wondering what we're doing in a golf cart fleeing from a creature of unimaginable horror.’

 "Look out!" Mabel screamed as Dipper turns the wheel to the left hard, almost knocking the cart over, leaving both them screaming.

'Rest assured, there's a perfectly logical explanation.'

'Let's rewind. It all began when our parents decided we could use some fresh air.' Mabel gets their pet cat taken out of her hands while a video game console gets taken out of her brothers. In replace they were both given packed bags and sunscreen on their noses.

“They shipped us up north to a sleepy town called Gravity Falls, Oregon, to stay at our great-uncle and auncle's place in the woods.”

Mabel begun to put up all kinds of boy band and cute posters on her side of the room. "This attic is amazing! Check out all my splinters!" Mabel holds out her hand which is covered in, all places that shouldn’t be, with splinters. Dipper walks backwards toward his bed as he gets a good look at the room they’ll staying in for the whole summer. As he does he gets jump scared by Gompers who's standing behind him, "Baaa!”

“And there's a goat on my bed."

Mabel walks over to them has she holds out her hand trying to be friendly toward the goat but he ended up chewing on her sweater sleeve, "Hey, friend. Oh! Yes, you can keep chewing on my sweater. Ha ha ha ha ha!"

'My sister tended to look on the bright side of things.'

"Yay! Grass," Mabel exclaimed as she rolled down the small hill, having the "time of her life".

A woodpecker starts to peck the top of Dipper's hat. Y/N makes a gently shooing motion to make the bird fly away without looking from their book.

‘But I was having a hard time getting used to our new surroundings, our great-auncle, (Y/N), was trying to make things better by trying to bond with us and to get me to see the brighter side of things.’ 

Dipper and Y/N were sitting under a tree together, Dipper writing in a journal and Y/N reading. Y/N lightly slapped the insides of the book with the back of their fingers.

"Ok, now I think you might enjoy this book, sweet pea.” Next thing Dipper knew, his great-uncle jumped behind the tree he and his auncle were sitting under on wearing a mask, "Boo!"

Both Dipper and Y/N scream at the top of their lungs, dropping the books in their hands as Dipper falls over.

"Aha ha ha ha!" Stan laugh as he takes the mask off.

 'And then was our great-uncle Stan.' Stan slaps his knee has he takes the mask off of his head.

'That guy.'

"Aha ha ha ha, ow!" Stan started hitting his chest from laughing so hard, then he doubled over in pain as his partner punched him in the stomach.

"Stop doing that!" Y/n picked Dipper up, fixing his hat and made sure he was ok.

"It was worth it."

'Our uncle and auncle had transformed their house into a tourist trap they called the Mystery Shack. The real mystery was why anyone came.'

A coward follows the Pines couple through out the museum, their arms linked together as Stan points to attractions with his 8-ball cane, "Ladies and gentlemen, behold! The Sascrotch!"

‘And guess who had to work there.’

“Oh," Mabel reaches to touch a giant eyeball, when Stan comes over to smack her hand away.

"No touching the merchandise!"

'It looked like it was gonna be the same boring routine all summer, until one fateful day...'

Dipper was wiping down some merchandise sweeping while his Graunkle was sweeping. His sister, Mabel, was too busy stalking her latest boy target behind selves of Stan and Y/N bobble head figures.

"He's looking at it. He's looking at it!"

The boy opened the note reading it out loud, "Uh...'Do you like me? Yes. Definitely. Absolutely?'” He started looking around, trying to find the source of where the note could have come from.

"I rigged it!" She uttered excitedly has she placed her hands on her cheeks.

Dipper stopped cleaning and rolled his eyes, “Mabel, I know you're going through your whole "boy crazy" phase, but I think you're kind of overdoing it with the "crazy" part."

Mabel turned towards her brother with a disbelieve look on her face and blows a raspberry, "What?! Come on, Dipper! This is our first summer away from home. It's my big chance to have an epic summer romance."

"I agree with Dipper on his, Hon, don’t you think you're moving too fast?" (Y/N) asked, "I mean...how many boy does make now?”

"I bet she doesn't even know, she flirts with every guy she meets!" Dipper said, shrugging.

Mabel is standing next to a boy in the mystery shack, fluttering her eyes, "My name is Mabel, but you can call me the girl of your dreams. I'm joking! Ha ha ha ha!" She exclaims pushing the boy into the greeting cards display knocking him and the stand over.

Mabel then pops up from behind a bench, that has a guy sitting with his turtle in his hands, "Oh, my gosh, you like turtles? I like turtles too. What is happening here?"

Inside the mattress store, a boy dressed as the mattress king is working, "Come one, come all, to the mattress prince's kingdom of savings!"

Mabel pops out from behind a set of colorful balloons and she whispers, Take me with you..." Causing the boy to run away screaming.

"Mock all you want, brother and Graunkle, but I got a good feeling about this summer. I wouldn't be surprised if the man of my dreams walked through that door right now." Mabel said confidently has she pointed toward the mystery shack exhibit door.

Stan walks through the door holding signs under his arm and a pitt cola in his hand. Using his other, he clutched his stomach as a burp gets caught in his throat, "Oh! Oh. Not good. Ow." 

Mabel looks at Stan in disgust, "Oh, why?!"

Dipper and Y/N laughed, high fiving each other as they do.

"All right, look alive, people. I need someone to go hammer up these signs in the spooky part of the forest." Stan said as he holds out the signs toward Y/N and the twins.

"Not it!" Dipper and Mabel say at the same time, behind them Soos raised his hand while he drilled a shelf with his other.

"Uh, also not it."

"Nobody asked you, Soos."

"I know, and I'm comfortable with that." He pulled out a chocolate bar and took a bite out of it.

Y/N can see Stan giving them a side eyed look, “No, Stan. I’m not doing the job that I told you to do!”

Stan rolls his eyes as he sighed in annoyance, he then turns towards the teenage red head, who’s relaxing on the job with her feet on the counter, reading a magazine. "Wendy! I need you to put up this sign!"

Wendy tries to reach for the signs from where she's sitting, with a bored expression on her face not looking up from her magazine, "I would, but I, ugh, can't, ugh, reach it, ugh..."

"I'd fire all of you if I could. All right, let's make it eeny-meeny-miney..." Stan then points his finger at Dipper, "You."

"Aw, what? Grunkle Stan, whenever I'm in those woods, I feel like I'm being watched."

"Ahh, this again." Stand begins to rub the corners of his eyes as Y/N gave him a light hit on his shoulder.

"I'm telling you, something weird is going on in this town. Just today, my mosquito bites spelled out "BEWARE." Stan and Y/N leaned in closer to Dipper’s arm, both squinting their eyes. After looking at it for a couple of seconds Stan leaned back up, looking at Dipper, confused.

"That says 'bewarb.’” As he said this, Y/N gently grabbed Dipper’s arm and examined the bites. “Do you believe me, Graunkle Y/N?” Y/N shook their head, letting go of his arm.

”Oh, Sorry. I was just seeing if that needed to have cream put in it. It’s looks bad, Sweet pea.” Dipper then lowers his arm in embarrassment and rubs the bites.

“Anyway, look, kid.” Stan voices, “The whole "monsters in the forest" thing is just local legend drummed up by guys like us to sell merch to guys like that," Stan pointed to a man sweating like there was no tomorrow laughing at a bobble head Stan doll in his hands. "So, quit being so paranoid!" He then threw the signs into Dipper's arms. Fumbling with them, Dipper looked up at his uncle in annoyance.

Watching Stan leave through employees only door, Y/N sighed. Crouching down to meet Dipper’s height, Y/N placed a hand on Dipper’s shoulder. Dipper didn't make eye-contact with them.

”Hey, don’t let Stan get under your skin, alright? If you say there’s something going on, maybe, you could look for evidence to rub in his mean face."

Dipper sighed and nodded his head, "Yeah...Yeah! Grunkle Stan might not know it but this town had some weird stuff going on and I'm gonna prove it!" Dipper grips the signs tighter has he marches out of the shack toward the woods. Y/N stood back up, cracking their back, "Oof! Stupid old body." Taking a look around they noticed that Mabel was no where to be found, signing again they crossed their arms over their chest and walking through the employee only door. In there, they found Stan in the kitchen finishing his Pitt soda.

"He's gonna found out about this place eventually, you do know that right?" Stan groaned, taking a long drink from the can. He waved his finger in 'no' motion, bringing the can down from his mouth. "You don't think I know that, toots? Boy seems too smart for his age," he leans on the kitchen table muttering the last part of his sentence under his breathe. "Almost like someone else we know."

Y/N slowing walked over to the table and leaned on it next to Stan, rubbing his back. "I know, that's why I think we should be honest with them. To protect them from all this crazy stuff this place has going on. If we keep lying-" Stan cuts Y/N off.

"If we keep lying, we can keep them away from it." Stan gets up and walks out the kitchen to go upstairs, you turn your gaze to your feet. Thinking about how you could tell the kids about everything in this town, but a part of you didn't. It felt too soon, so you decided to wait until maybe they trusted you and Stan a little more. You groaned in annoyance, rolling your eyes. Opening the freezer, you grabbed a popsicle walking out of the kitchen to sit on the couch outside.

Some time passed, but you don’t know how long as you were sitting there lost in thought, until the front door slammed next to you. It was Mabel and she looks excited as ever.

“Hey Graunkle! I’m going to see if I can find Dipper, ok bye!" Mabel screamed as she started running toward the woods, you didn't even get a chance to understand what she was saying. And you didn’t have to think about it because pulling up to the front of the shack was a tour bus, you stood up, crushing the stick of the popsicle in your mouth.

After Y/N and Stan finished the tour, you two went upstairs. You rubbed the back of your neck, "Hey, you're not like mad about earlier, right?" Stan chuckled under his breath, turning to face you.

"Why would I be mad at ya? You just care for those rascals." You smiled, you both turned toward the stairs having heard the twins return. You walked over to Stan as you wrapped an arm around his waist and he wrapped his around your shoulder, hip to hip. “Now, let’s go see what those two are up too.”

You gave him a hard kiss on his cheek, giggling. Stan laughed, “Ugh, gross.” You both walked done the stairs laughing. As you got closer, you could hear the twins talking about something. Then you see Mabel rush to the door as you and Stan stood at the door way of the living room.

”What you readin' there, slick?”

Dipper quickly hides the journal under the cushion he was sitting under and grabs the nearest thing he can find. ”Oh! I was just catchin' up on, uh… gold chains for old men magazine?”

“Dipper don't read that, it'll rotten you.” Stan playfully pushed Y/N, laughing. They both walked over to stand behind the love sofa. “What?! That’s a good issue and you like my gold chains!”

You wagged your finger at him, smirking, ”I don’t know who told you that lie.” Just as you said that Mabel came back but she was with someone. He was taller than her, wearing a back hoodie and his back was facing the room.

”Hey, family! Say hello to my new boyfriend!” Mabel presented him as he turned around. His hair was covering one of his eyes and he had some red substance dripping from his cheek. He waved his hand halfway up in a greeting. ”Sup?”

”Hey…” Dipper greeted him first then Stan and you both at the same time.

”How's it hangin'.” Stan threw up finger guns.

“Hello.” You lazily waved at him.

“We met at the cemetery. He's really deep.” She then placed an hand on his arm, squeezing it a bit. “Ooh! Little muscle there. That’s… what a surprise.” Dipper raised his eyebrows, examining this new guy his sister brought in, ”So, what's your name?”

Almost as if pains him to speak he answers the question, ”Uh Normal Man!”

“He means "Norman.” As Mabel corrects him, Y/N noticed the red substance on his check dripping to the floor.

“Are you bleeding, Norman? We could patch that cut up for you?” 

Norman’s eyes widened as he looks at the liquid on his face. ”It's jam.”

Mabel gasped has she lightly shoved him. “Oh! I love jam! Look at this!” She exclaimed moved her hands back and forth between them. Norman shrugged as he looked around, ”So, you wanna go hold hands or whatever?”

”Oh! Oh, my goodness. Don't wait up!” Mabel giggled, bouncing up and down. She then runs towards the door Norman shoot finger guns at the others in the room and followed Mabel, hitting the doorframe and other walls in the process.

Y/N looked around the room at the others, "Well, he was weird. Right?" You saw Dipper nodding his head slowly, gaze focused on where Norman stood.

"Yeah," Stan began, he than clapped his hands and started making his was to the gift shop, "Come on, angel cakes, we got a shack to run!" Y/N ruffled Dipper's hair through his hat and started making their way towards the door, before they opened it they turned to look at Dipper.

"Hey bud, you alright?" They didn't get an answer cause he was already making his way up the stairs. Y/N signed, made sure they looked presentable, fixing their suit and little butterfly pin, and went through the door.

~ TIME SKIP ~

Y/N was stocking inventory as Stan handled the last group of tourists, you hummed thinking to yourself on where the twins could be. Finishing up your task you walked over to where Stan was with the guest.

Stan holds up a swirly pattern on a stick, pulls the string and rotates into a continuous spiral, "Behold! The world's most distracting object!"

The group of tourist was amazed at the simple object, Y/N rolled their eyes at the crowd. Looking passed the all to look through the window seeing the twins and some kind of giant monster. You stood there, mouth agape, your gaze not leaving the the window. Y/N reached out to tap on Stan's shoulder.

"Just try to look away you can't! I can't even remember what I was talkin' about." You groaned and ran outside, seeing the kids about to get hit by a giant fist. You ran towards them and grabbed them. Resulting in you all rolling until you hit the wall of the shack. The twins landed safely but you rolled until you hit the wall with your back, knocking the air our of your lungs.

Dipper was able process what happened to them quickly, he shuffled over to Y/N. Shaking their shoulder, "Graunkle!? Are you ok?" Before you could catch your breath and answer, the monster, which you now see is made of tiny men, gets closer.

"It's the end of the line, kids and weird person that came out of nowhere. Mabel, marry us before we do something crazy!" The one sitting all the way at the top spoke out. The twins each take a side by you, Dipper holding your shoulder and Mabel holing your hand. Dipper turned his hard to look at his sister, "There's gotta be a way out of this!"

Mabel looked from you to her brother with a worried expression. She them closed her eyes and, sighed through her nose. Letting go of Y/N's hand, she stood up and walked towards the gnomes. "I gotta do it."

Dipper's eyes widen, he stood and walked over to his sister, "What?! Mabel, don't do this! Are you crazy?"

Mabel looks back with a determined look on her face, "Trust me." Dipper shook his head and threw his arms up.

"What?!"

"Dipper, just this once Trust me."

You grabbed Dipper by his shoulder, making him turn towards you, "Dipper, I don't know what the hell is going on, but your sister seems like she knows what to do..." Dipper looked back and forth between you, his sister and the pile of gnomes. Walking backward toward the wall, he nodded.

"All right, Jeff, I'll marry you."

"Hot dog! Help me down there, Jason!" Jeff starts to climb down using the other gnomes as a ladder. "Thanks. Andy, left foot, there we go, watch those fingers, Mike." When he makes it to stand in front of Mabel, he pulls out a diamond ring from his back pocket. "Ehh? Ehh?" Mabel's eyes flutter as she presents her hand towards Jeff, he then puts the ring on her finger and does a little jig. "Bada-Bing, bada-bam! Now let's get you back into the forest, honey!"

"You may now kiss the bride." Mabel says as she examined the ring on her finger.

"Well, uh, don't mind if I do." Before he could so anything, he gets sucked into the nozzle of a leaf blower that's Mabel picked up without him seeing.

"Aah! Hey, wait a minute! Ahh-aahh Whoa! Whoa! W-what's going on? Aah! Aaah!"

"That's for lying to me!" She then turned the know on the leaf blower, increasing the power. "That's for breaking my heart!"

"Ow! My face!"

"And this is for messing with my brother!" She then aims the leaf blower toward the gnome monster, Dipper coming to stand next to her. She turned to him, gesturing the leaf blower toward him.

"Wanna do the honors?" She asked Dipper, he came to her side grabbing half of the leaf blower, "On three."

"One, two, three!" They both counted, shifting the leaf blower from 'suck' to 'blow'. Blasting Jeff through the other gnomes and towards the forrest.

"I'll get you back for this!!!!!" He screams as he sails over the trees. Meanwhile the giant monster falls apart as the gnomes fall to the ground. They all start complaining until Mabel starts aiming the leaf blower at them, making them all run away.

"Anyone else wants some?" Mabel screams, the twins laugh for a bit until the turn around, hearing their Graunkle trying to get up. They both run to take one of your sides, helping you up. "Thanks, kids. I don't know you two got in a mess like this but I'm just glad its over."

Mabel rubs you back looking up at you, "Are you gonna be ok Y/N." You chuckled, ruffling both of their heads, "Just peachy, gonna need my pillow though. Are you two alright?" They looked at each other smiling then back up to you, nodded. You smiled and started making your way towards the gift shop door, looking behind you, you called out towards the twins. "You coming?"

Dipper was about to answer, but Mabel stopped him, "We'll be there soon, I gotta talk to Dip-stick real quick." You nodded once more, not having the strength to speak again and went inside.

Inside you found Stan who was counted some of the earnings for the day. Y/N walked over and place their hands on the counter.

"Whoa?! The hell happened to you?" You mouthed, 'I'll you later' as the twins came dragging themselves in. Y/N nodded their head towards the beaten up looking twins, eyeing Stan.

"Sheesh! You two get hit by a bus or somethin'?" Not paying Stan too much attention they continued towards the employee only door.

"Aha! Uh, hey! W-wouldn't you know it? Um, Y/N accidentally overstocked some inventory, so how's about each of you take one item from the gift shop on the house?"

Mabel spun around with a twinkle in her eyes, "Really?

"What's the catch?" Dipper asked as he folded his arms and raised his eyebrow, staring his Uncle down.

“The catch is do it before I change my mind. Now take something.” Stan exclaims has he elbows the cash register placing the money inside, rolling his eyes playfully at you as you laughed. You walked over to stand next to Stan, him taking one of your arms and helping you lean on him. You both watched the kids look around the ship. Dipper chose one of the merch hats, slipping it on his head and looked at himself in the mirror.

"Hmm. That oughta do the trick."

“And I will have a Grappling hook!” Digging into box Mabel pulls out the grappling hook and holds it over her head in excitement. “Yes!”

You smile and gently clap your hands, encouraging her, while Stan and Dipper look at her then each other in disbelief and confusion. As they look back at her again Stan ask, “Wouldn't you rather have a doll or something?”

She then proceeds to launch the hook toward the ceiling, the hook then wraps around a beam, pulling her up in the process, “Grappling hook!”

Stan shrugged, "Fair enough."

Y/N knocked on the attic door, waiting until the twins gave permission for them to enter. You opened the door, peeking inside, you notice Mabel jumping on her bed and Dipper with his knees up a book or something laying on them.

"You two ready for bed?" Dipper nodded as Mabel shouted a 'Yes', not stopping her jumping. You laughed, "Well, I hope you too had a good day today."

"It was awesome, Graunkle," Mabel yelled. She stopped jumping and began to aim her grappling hook all around the room, trying to see where to shoot. "Ok, just be careful with that, sweetie."

She nodded as you were about to close the door, Dipper called out to you.

"Wait, um, don't you want like... I don't know some kind of explanation after what happened today?" You chuckled, shaking you head.

"Dipper, I've lived in this weird town for many years. I don't really need one." The expression on his face lighten up, looking as happy as can be. "Well, if that's the case, maybe..." He stops him self looking over to his sister who's nodding at him.

"Maybe, we can show yo-" Before he could finish his sentence you all heard Stan calling out your name, you signed.

"Don't worry about him, I'll get to him later. Now, what were you saying, Dipper." You looked back at him, his expression full with concern. He looked down at his lap, "Never mind... It's nothing."

Y/N frowned looking at the ground, "Ok, sweeties, hope you have a goodnight." And with that you closed their room door.

As you started to make your way down the stairs you heard a crash and laughing come from the twins room. You straighten out your PJs, decided not to question what they were up too. Crossing the final step, you made it back downstairs into the living room. You started humming some tune you couldn't remember as you made your way to the vending machine. You hit the side a couple of times, making the door of it pop open, grabbing a bag of chips.

A light came from outside the gift shop, until the door opened reveling Stan carrying a lantern. "You better pay for that," He nudged Y/N joking. You rolled your eyes, as he typed on the vending machines keypad. The machine slides open like a door, Stan walked in with you following behind him.

Before you closed it behind you, you turned and looked around to making sure you were alone. Seeing that you both were, Y/N closed the machine with a soft click.

Episode 2 ->

[uno-san]

Got inspired by @single-eutanasia own post because I am unfortunately too attracted to this man for my own good