I've been cooking up an oc since end of January and I want to introduce
🥁🥁🥁
Estelle!! She's an oc x canon of Stanley and I have some information as well as some references and drawings I hope you like it as much as it was fun making parts of her
FUN FACTS :
Born in Switzerland ( explains her love for flowers specifically lotus flowers)
36 years old
Has two white tigers her dad gave as company : Dennis and Maggie (short for magnolia)
Her hair is to her ankles has gets straight when sad, surrounds around things and messy when angry, and has heart curls when happy
Smells like vanilla and strawberry extract and flour even after baking she likes making homemade jam and cooking that makes gordan Ramsay himself jealous
Love language is definitely making homemade things or acts of service
Has all of the twins gifts around the house and puts them where everyone can see with lots of pride making sure it's tidy and undusted "oh isn't this just darling? What's their parents phone number I'd like to say just how wonderful their children are!" :)
First met lazy Susan when going to gravity falls when ordering breakfast before meeting up with her moving truck (they've had a platonic mother and daughter dynamic ever since!)
Has a handful of hobbies to try keeping herself busy like cooking, chess, sewing and crocheting, some science equations or even just making random crafts for some of her favorite parts of town to thank them for their hospitality in town. But always goes outside and smile when seeing weird animals after her entire life of isolation she feels at peace when not in the house even if her cruel mother or too busy father wasn't there. (She makes sure to make any gnomes pie 🥧)
Works in psychology but she has a special place for dressing up or performing. And let's not forget singing oh how she adores singing. She bursts into song spins in her wardrobe full of more dresses than pants and sing for hours like a Disney princess would. She can sing like one too I can see her being without a doubt a soprano as on her first date with Stanley she sung an E6 for twenty seconds at the last note :0
But let's not forget WHY stanley loves her. Sure she has a heart of pearls, can do a lot of things, has a good job but I thought the most likely reason of all is her ability to drop everything and I mean EVERYTHING at the top of the hat to defend anyone to care about this with her dynamic with her twins is proof of this. She treats them like her own flesh and blood showering them with love and unlike support actually talking with them every day is. New things and made her entire house full of entertainment like a built in theater room, a ballroom, for Mabel an arts and crafts room, a studio room for her and waddles and a library just for dipper and more science books and empty notebooks to write in and some invisible ink she made. Don't think waddles is free from this treatment as Estelle gives his every day a recipe of potatoes and carrots which he devours every time (he has a robe and relaxer machine)
She see the twins as they're their own flesh and blood and sometimes sees them as a way of giving love she was starved of all these years. A fresh start even, and she wouldn't have it any other way. Before going in the room for the first time they spent the night at her house while the Stan twins were off at seas she's practicing introductions to say: "hey kiddos -is that cringe? Why do kids say that - no I'm being sidetracked I need to make an amazing interaction with these amazing kids! "
After a few minutes of practicing she barges in but immediately steps back anxious if that was the right thing to do while politely grasping her hands to her legs.
She looked at them like they were the shiniest of treasure that could never no matter how hard they tried could be dirty or wrong. But then she accidentally goes to nervous ranting mode. " There they are, good morning ! Who did you sleep? I tried putting extra heaters and stuffing in the pillows and blankets though I probably should have asked before waking you up . I'm sorry about the whole big cookies and warm caramel milk thing you seemed like you weren't having a good sleep and I want your stay to be as wonderful as possible ☹️ how can I make it up to you starlights?"
Thankfully for Estelle and her heart ( it works 24/7 with her anxiety) the twins seemed content and said good morning and they spent the day getting to know her and even made a nice breakfast of blueberry custard filmed crosaunts and some eggs as Estelle wrote down every food they like and don't like to remember for the future as she gives them the most loving smile. "I'm so happy you two exist." the twins were confused ASF but still smiled back deeply appreciating her effort to make them feel welcomed.
But God forbid you disrespect them or well ANY child in gravity falls because she refuses to see or allow any one or any child at that experience the horrors she has in the past.
Consider her entire amount of kindness for you gone as well as possibly your teeth if carrying an extra bottle of perfume mixed with paprika
Ready to use as pepper spray
( did I mention she uses a chainsaw to cut meat?)
Mind you she's strong enough to hold stan the twins and Ford with just one hand running AND WEARING HEALS
After all with years of no one but her self and thoughts and wealth it's only natural to get curious of things you see like when given unlimited things like tv time like her knowledge for atoms, sewing and mor and fighting was no exception. She found herself amazed by all the things you can do to protect yourself especially when protecting things and people you love the twins just happened to hit that category.
So she won't hesitate to lift you somewhere inconvenient or pick you up by the head to threaten you "I know you may think I'm quite the pushover the really I'm livid about this and usually I'd let it slide if it was me you were talking to but since you just insulted my two prides of joy, I'm going to stop talking my serotonin pills and come to your house in a few days when the happiness wears off. Now I like to believe I'm a sweetheart so much in fact I'll forget your little incident if you apologize to my great niece an nephew. But I'm you don't, and the pills wear off I'm not too sure what will happen but I can imagine it'll involve me giving you the exact same treatment with you tied up, cut up land line and your wife screaming and crying after she sees what I've done to your face and she can only sob in disbelief." αρσℓσgιzє ησω." She'd say on a threatening tone before turning back to the sweet personality like nothing happened patting the twins head and getting ice cream for them leaving the man who pissed his pants running away in shame. As his friend follows behind saying "I told you not to do it the woman is crazy I saw her throw an entire tree when she was upset.God you never listen!" as Estelle innocently laughs like she heard a joke. (she's a bit koo koo)
SHE DON'T PLAY ABOUT THOSE KIDS 😤
AHH GETTING SIDE TRACKED WE GOTTA TALK ABOUT STANLEY!! >:(. (Gosh me and my brain)
You're probably wondering where the couple first met. Well believe it or not it was Estelle's house. Yup you heard right, at her house in the middle of the night.
Estelle was peacefully sleeping when she heard a splash and some departing police sirens. She was warned when moving in the day before the town is known for weirdness. But nothing would have prepared her for a man drenched in the pool seemingly passed out as his fez hat was keeping his head from sinking. In a panic she let's him in practicing CPR as in a few seconds the man coughs up the chlorine water before looking at his surroundings.
Estelle sighs in relief that he wasn't dead and immediately goes to lift him up before the drenched man swats her hands away looking in confusion. " woah, woah who are you? Where am I?!" He answers in a gruff but slightly panicked tone. Estelle quickly puts up her hands showing sh means no harm looking down at the man in worry. "Oh no, I'm not here to hurt you I promise. You fell in my pool, you're in my living room. Are you alright, well besides being wet?" Stanley slightly loses his tone seeing she means no harm and talks more quietly but still gruffly "er yeah, I'm okay." he says while having his hand on the back of his neck.
"Well I won't ask any questions yet. You look exhausted. How about you take a shower while I find some fresh clothes? I have some left over pie in the oven and I can make some warm milk with caramel if you'd like. I don't want you all soaked. "
The man looks surprised at the kindness clearly not used to it as he tries putting on a brave font. "Oh thanks sweetheart but it's nothing I can't handle. Y' don't have to do that for me " he says with a toothy grin that's too wide to be genuine.
Estelle looks even more worried notices scars and that he's limping holding some small gifts in his back pocket but she doesn't question yet she wants him in a comfortable state. "Oh but please, I insist I want to you're clearly not in the state to go home like that!" She says in worry putting her hand on her shoulder.
The man then tries to decline the offer but Estelle isn't having it as she picks him up bridal style into the house upstairs to the bathroom. The man looks Appualed as he tries getting away "agh- damn woman, are you crazy?!" he says sounding more gruff and grumpy.
Estelle simply answers in a calm but caring tone. "I've took an oath when I first came here and that was the no one leaves without proper hospitality and you are not exception. I am taking you to take a shower then get a fresh cloth an towel. The soap and shampoo is next to the tub. And I am going to wash dry and tailor your clothes and take you home and you are getting a nice earned I'd that clear? "
The man opens his mouth to say more but quickly closes it seeing the woman is well set on her plan and hesitantly nods in defeat." ugh, yes ma'am. " he says with slight annoyance but deep down is appreciative if the gesture.
" Estelle. " the man raises his brow in confusion letting up and gruff" eh? " sound. " Estelle, my name is Estelle, Estelle Lovington."
The man's eyes slightly soften at the recognition of the woman's name and after a few seconds his brain tries mesmerizing her name. "Huh.. Pretty name."
"And you are Mr mystery?" Estelle says gently holding his cheek with one of her plush hands while she holds him to herself at the other.
The man raises his eye brow at the soft feeling and her gentleness towards him. It's clear he's not used to this which only makes her want to help more than before as she looks at him almost sad. "Eh? How do you know my stage name? - wait what's with your face? - AH!" He stops in his tracks as the woman gives him a bear hug while slightly sniffling. "I'm so sorry.. You don't deserve what's happening you shouldn't have to run from anything or be so dirty no one deserves this,please let me help you.." She says as she looks at him with a sad look on her red lips. The man looks like his brain took a dive off a 200 foot mountain as he looks up at her.
Almost as if a natural reaction she puts him down while apologizing and composing herself clearing her throat. " oh do forgive me.. It's just I really don't like people in bad situations.. But anyways, I'll be back to get a fresh rag and towel. Take your time!" she says with a kind smile while departing down the stairs while calling out the names " Dennis" and " Maggie" asking if they wanted some dessert as a few low purrs answer back.
A few minutes later, Estelle comes back with some bubble bath formula and some fresh clean clothes. "This is my daddy's old clothes but I'm sure her won't mind." she says with a hopeful smile while handing the man the clothes and bubble bath formula. "If you need anything I'll be right downstairs and I'll be ready to take you home." She says with a smile before departing.
After the confused and bewildered man finishes his long bath he looks downstairs to find the woman carefully tailoring his cheap suit. And by the smell she just finished washing it. He doesn't say anything closely analyzing her actions. She's wearing some red glasses with double molecule lenses while holding a sewing kit as she looks at the suit with a gentle smile like it was the most wonderful thing on earth. He didn't know what it was but her gentle aura, her kindness and understanding towards him and his safety had him in a trance as he looked at her face. She had rosy cheeks with freckles, big brown eyes with dark green pupils that looks scattered around like little scribbles and her long lashes , red lips and slight eyebags but not too noticeable. But the most noticeable thing of all, was her hair. Her orange hair that fell down to the the ends of the couch almost touching the ground. Only then did He notice some of her rollers fell out. He couldn't believe he barely looked at her till now.
" God Almighty.. She looks like she belongs on a museum and they still couldn't cherish her the way she deserves ." he says muttering not noticing what he said.
Somehow the woman doesn't notice the man's gawking nor that he even left the bathroom as she hums while finishing up the sewing of the suit getting up and calling out for the man in her transatlantic accent.
"Oh Mr. Mystery! I finished your suit! I'll just go upstairs and leave it on the balcony."
She walks towards the stairs with her hands carefully holding the suit like she's holding a child trying to make sure not to leave any wrinkles. She's slightly worried after not hearing anything for a while after the bath drain opened.
But she's quickly interrupted from her thoughts when seeing the man right next to her side looking right at her as she let's out a blood Curdiling scream as she closes her eyes holding the same needle used to sew his clothes as self defense.
"Ah! Woah woah easy toots, just me." the man says scared before laughing with a toothy smile.
Estelle slowly lowers the needle realizing it was a false alarm and looks slightly startled still "Goodness you given me quite the fright, Mr. mystery!" she says putting her hand to her heart before beginning to laugh. "Oh you're quite the sneaky one aren't you?" she continues as she snorts in her laughter. This only makes the man even more enamoured with her as he looks at her like he could never look away even if he wanted to. But of God that's the last thing he wants to do.
"Sir, are you alright? " she says with worry as she looks in his eyes. The man instantly backtracks from looking slightly embarrassed. "Oh nothin it's nothin." are ya ready to hit the road? " he says trying to look confident giving her that million dollar smile.
Estelle nods gently guiding him outside to a yellow beetles car with flowers on the sides an car lashes on the blinkers.
The man slightly chuckles as Estelle looks confused and somewhat hurt before the man quickly backsides his laughter.
"No, no, no, I'm not making fun of you it's just it reminds me of my great niece. The flowers,the lashes, it's her all over."
Estelle lets out a short and a smile seeming relieved he wasn't mocking her.
The car ride Is quiet but not awkward as the man gives a few jokes here and there as Estelle joyfully gives him matched positive energy.
About 20 minutes later they arrive to the mystery shack with the help of the man's directions. As the man thanks Estelle for everything Estelle interrupts holding his shoulder.
"Oh I'm sorry it's just.. After everything I still haven't gotten your name." she says looking in the man's eyes
After a few seconds of silence the man answers. "Stan. Stan pines." Estelle smiles and nods "stan pines.. I'll make sure to remember that." Stan smiles back at Estelle as they look at each other for a bit before Estelle speaks .
"Hey, I'm not doing anything tomorrow and the moving van shouldn't be here in two days, maybe I can stop by."
Stan looks a bit surprised but nods his head in agreement trying to look away in embarrassment.
After Estelle departs, Stan Is left inside the shack unable to get the woman off his mind but tries keeping the thoughts away. After changing to his old t shirt and boxers he lays in bed and puts on the television to keep his mind off the woman from tonight. But eventually he doses off dreaming of her smile and how her hair flows in a large flower field holding his face and he leans in for a kiss.
BRRRRRR!!!!
Stan groans at the sound of his alarm clock quick to shut it off before dragging himself out of bed to his vitamins. *sigh* " it's gonna be a long day.."
OMG DUCKING FINALLY I FINISHED THIS WEEKS AGO BUT LOST MOTIVATION AFTER I FORGOT TO SAVE AND HAD TO START ALL OVER I'LL DO A PART TWO OF THIS I HOPE YOU LOVE ESTELLE AS MUCH AS I DO BYEEE!!! 🦄🐛🪱🌲🧢⭐️🌈
Tags: Stan Pines x Reader, Gender Neutral Reader, Established Relationship, French Kissing, Groping, Pet Names, Teasing, Dry Humping, Neck Kissing, Dirty Talk, No use of y/n
Word Count: 1,642
“Quit it,” you grumbled, chasing his lips as he leaned back out of your reach.
“Quit what?” he was still grinning, pulling back to look up at you, those brown eyes shining with mischief and adoration in equal measures, skin around them wrinkled with age.
Moments shared with him were of wandering hands, whispers murmured against lips, and teasing kisses. But he never left you wanting for long.
“Come on,” you cajoled in a pretty voice, rubbing your hands up his chest, eliciting a deep rumble you felt beneath your palms. You couldn’t lean any farther without falling off the counter, so you tried to bring him to you, hands flattening against his back. “Quit being such a tease.”
“Who, me? ‘M not a tease. I just like ta’ take it nice ‘n slow, doll…”
You barked out a quiet laugh. “Yeah right.”
Read on Ao3
It was spring. The birds were singing, the flowers blooming, and the smell of cleaner pervaded nearly every corner of the Mystery Shack.
You were wearing old clothes: a baggy t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants with a hole on the inner thigh. It seemed like there was dust everywhere, so thick it took several swipes of your rags to get it all, and some of it you had to really scrub.
That didn’t make Stan any less attracted to you, or less obvious about it.
He was rambling around the house, doing his own thing; rearranging some of the attractions, you think he’d said. His ship had docked, and would remain there until the end of summer. You had him until then.
Every time you passed by, either to rinse your washcloth or grab some new cleaning tool, he made it a point to whistle or give you a ‘Heya, toots’ as your paths crossed. At one point, he leaned up against the wall to watch as you scrubbed at what looked to be green zombie blood on the floor, which had a rug thrown overtop of it.
When you’d glanced up at him, he had held his hands up, palms out, and said, “Don’t mind me, sugar. Just enjoying the show.”
Of course, you had just rolled your eyes and went back to work, though it did put a smile on your face you were doing your best to hide.
Ford was somewhere around here too, but you didn’t see him often outside of mealtimes. Always down in his lab, chronicling their adventures on the open seas. Eventually, he had seen the benefit of logging his findings into a computer—easy search ability, automatic alphabetization—ever since you had shown him the wonders of spreadsheets.
At present, you were tackling the kitchen. There was probably years worth of splattered pancake batter caked onto the tile beneath the cabinets. You shuffled as close to the counter as you could get, your hips pressed against it as you leaned over to scrub the walls with a wet cloth.
Not long after that, you felt someone crowding up against you from behind while you were bent completely over. Before you even glanced over your shoulder, you knew what you would see.
Wearing a self-satisfied smirk, Stan stood with his hips pressed to the curve of your backside, hands coming up to rest on your hips.
Unfortunately for him, Ford walked in right at that moment, as Stan was cozying up even closer.
“Oh!” he shouted out in surprise, turning his head and covering his eyes with the hand he wasn’t using to tote around that thick monster of a laptop. “Stanley, there are other people in this house who don’t want to see you indulge in such salacious nonsense.”
“Then go somewhere else,” Stan grunted before adding under his breath, “Damn puritan.”
Ford’s face turned red, but instead of getting into it right there, he turned around and marched off.
“That was mean, Stan,” you gently admonished him, trying to wriggle loose so you could turn around.
He obliged you by spinning you and grabbing you under the thighs, lifting you onto the counter.
“Ow!” your head hit the cabinets, but you laughed anyway as he gripped your calves to wrap them around his waist. “Stanley!”
“He’ll get over it,” Stan murmured as he leaned in close, and then Ford was the last thing on your mind as Stan’s warm lips pressed against yours.
It was no secret that Stanley Pines was good with his mouth. He could talk his way out of a pit by convincing the earth itself to move for him; God knows he had plenty of practice getting out of rough spots.
His silver tongue had other uses, too. Right now, that use was dragging across the seam of your lips, gently coaxing your mouth open. It dipped just barely inside, teasingly, making you clutch the front of his shirt in an attempt to drag him closer.
You felt him smile against your lips and whacked his shoulder with the back of your hand.
“Quit it,” you grumbled, chasing his lips as he leaned back out of your reach.
“Quit what?” he was still grinning, pulling back to look up at you, those brown eyes shining with mischief and adoration in equal measures, skin around them wrinkled with age.
Moments shared with him were of wandering hands, whispers murmured against lips, and teasing kisses. But he never left you wanting for long.
“Come on,” you cajoled in a pretty voice, rubbing your hands up his chest, eliciting a deep rumble you felt beneath your palms. You couldn’t lean any farther without falling off the counter, so you tried to bring him to you, hands flattening against his back. “Quit being such a tease.”
“Who, me? ‘M not a tease. I just like ta’ take it nice ‘n slow, doll…”
You barked out a quiet laugh. “Yeah right.” Then you cocked your head to the side, thoughtful. “Got any more of those petnames in you?”
“Hmm, let’s see… Sugar, honey, sweetheart…”
“Toots, doll,” you added helpfully, and he grinned, nudging his nose against yours.
“Those too. Hm… Nah, think I’m fresh out. You know all my tricks now.” He shrugged, hands still resting on your hips.
“Oh, I highly doubt that,” you grinned, eyes flitting down to his lips and back to his eyes as you attempted to look as enticing as possible.
It worked, and he finally leaned forward and kissed you once more, more hungrily now. His chin bumped against yours as he tilted his head, rooting around with his lips to deepen the kiss. You wrapped yourself around him to keep the rascal from pulling away again, heels digging into his lower back in a way that made him groan into your mouth, low and raspy.
“God, sweetheart,” he grunted, grip on your hips tightening. Stan used his hold to tug you against him, rolling into you, and you moaned, dragging your lips from his so they could trail across his stubbled jaw.
His head fell back, hands moving from your hips to grip your ass to hold you in place while he rutted against you. He was panting. “Shit. You feel so good, babydoll.”
“Stan,” you murmured, hands caressing the broad expanse of his back, thumbs trailing along his shoulder blades. The feeling of his erection grinding against you made a familiar heat pool low in your belly, eliciting a fluttering in your core.
A particularly hard grind made your thighs twitch on either side of him. You barely caught the cheeky grin before it was pressed against your neck, his hands on your thighs again.
Stan’s pace slowed, his hips jerking forward roughly and making you jolt again with oversensitivity.
“Stan,” you said, this time half a warning. He just chuckled, mouthing along your neck. His pace remained slow and rough. You could feel the clear outline of him against you through his boxers, and he grunted as he thrust forward.
“Come on,” he said through gritted teeth, gripping your thighs tighter. You hoped it would leave bruises matching his fingerprints for you to admire later. “Come on.”
“Don’t stop,” you breathed out, head falling forward to rest against his shoulder. You began rolling your hips to meet his, chasing your own pleasure as that coil in your stomach began to tighten, growing hotter and hotter. Your own breath was coming quickly now too, and his pace grew rapid.
You could feel him beginning to falter, so you dug your heels in deeper to keep him from pulling away, so you could use him to make that heat ramp up, higher.
“Shit,” Stan groaned, hips stuttering. He was barely hanging on now, breaths ragged, dragging through his throat. “Shit shit shit. Come on, babydoll. You gotta… hah…”
By now, he was desperately trying to hold back until you found your own release, face buried in your neck. “Fucking hell. I can’t—”
“Close,” you breathed, finally catching your breath enough to remember how to work your voice. “I’m so close, just— Just keep talking to me.”
“Love the way you feel,” he grunted, grip on your thighs almost painful now. He was moaning against your neck, his chest brushing yours with every thrust of his hips. The fabric between you both was almost embarrassingly damp now from the mix of your arousal and his. “All mine. Sixer’s just jealous. He wishes he had a hot piece of ass like this. Come on, baby, know you can do it for me.”
He punctuated his statement by letting one hand trail back to grab a handful of your behind, and one more rough thrust drew you over the edge, shuddering. You jolted now with every one of his movements, and finally he let out a strangled groan, hips giving a few last thrusts.
You were both covered in sweat now, with other bodily fluids pooling uncomfortably in your pants. Sighing, you glanced behind you at the kitchen tile, still splattered with pancake batter. Then you looked down at where his erection was softening, the wet patch on his boxers soaking a little into your own bottoms.
“Another mess for me to clean up,” you sighed, wriggling a little to signal that you wanted down. He moved back, grunting as your feet hit the ground.
“Didn’t hear you complaining a minute ago,” he said, hands wrapping around your waist and dragging you closer now that you were standing. He tilted his head towards you for a kiss, and you obliged before pulling away and heading for the exit.
“Yeah, well… guess this is a mess that was worth making,” you flashed him a grin over your shoulder before disappearing through the kitchen doorway, off to shower and change clothes.
I'm kind of scared to ask for a request because I already asked for one but could you do a platonic yandere stanley pines (just him) where basically the reader is kind of like mabel in a way personality wise but even more of a craft girl (draws ridiculously good with just crayon) and obsessed with glitter than mabel herself and a mix of dipper with his awkwardness and extremely introverted and quiet but still really polite and a sweetheart when comfortable but is very visibly depressed and reserved and is lonely a bunch and spends most the day maladaptive dreaming with music walking in circles (goes blank when caught) but ultimately needs friends that's where mabel and dipper come in the picture! But that's when Stanley gets slightly jealous but still recognizes the reader needs friends and tries being supportive but one day a bully is there when the reader and the twins are going in town after BEGGING to go out (I'm sorry if I'm asking for too much)
Laplace Angel
Yandere platonic stanley pines + Child reader
The Mystery Shack was never quiet, but you somehow found pockets of silence in it anyway. You’d been staying there for a few weeks now—Grunkle Stan had taken you in after some messy situation back home that nobody talked about anymore. You were grateful. Quietly, fiercely grateful. But gratitude didn’t chase away the heavy fog that clung to you most days.
You spent hours in the attic corner you’d claimed, headphones on, walking the same slow circle around the braided rug while music blasted loud enough to drown out the ache. Sometimes you’d blank out completely, eyes glassy, lips moving to lyrics only you could hear. When someone walked in you’d freeze mid-step like a startled deer, cheeks burning, mumbling apologies in that soft, polite voice of yours. Mabel thought it was “the cutest little stimmy dance ever.” Dipper just gave you understanding nods and offered you whatever journal page he was scribbling on so you could doodle instead.
Your doodles were ridiculous. Crayon only—bright, waxy, impossible lines that somehow looked better than half the “professional” art in the gift shop. Glitter followed you like a sparkly plague. It dusted your hoodies, your sneakers, the edges of every drawing you shyly handed to the twins. Mabel screamed with joy every single time and immediately glued your latest masterpiece to the “Wall of Awesomeness” she’d started next to her bed. Dipper taped one inside his journal for “reference.” Their excitement made something warm flicker in your chest, small and fragile and terrifying.
Stan noticed.
At first he just grunted and left snacks by your door—jerky, Pitt Cola, those weird chocolate-covered things he swore were “mystery flavor.” But the more you lit up around the twins, the more his eyes narrowed. Not in a mean way. In a *mine* way. Platonic, protective, slightly unhinged *mine*.
He’d hover in the doorway while you three watched movies, arms crossed, muttering, “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, kids. Just remember who buys the popcorn.” When Mabel dragged you into a glitter-bomb scrapbooking session, Stan would “casually” wander past every ten minutes, pretending to look for his fez. Once he caught you mid-daydream circle, blank-eyed and spinning. Instead of teasing, he’d cleared his throat and said, rough but gentle, “Hey, kid. Universe called. Says you still gotta eat lunch.”
He was trying. Really trying. Even when jealousy prickled under his skin like cheap sweater wool.
Because you *needed* them. He could see it. You were so lonely it hurt to look at sometimes—like a kicked puppy that still wagged its tail when someone glanced your way. So Stan swallowed the ugly little voice that whispered *they’re stealing my quiet kid* and forced himself to be supportive. He even drove you all into town when you finally, *finally* worked up the courage to ask.
“Please, Mr. Pines?” you’d mumbled, staring at your glittery sneakers. “Just for a little bit? I… I wanna try.”
Stan’s heart did something complicated. “Yeah, yeah, fine. But if anyone tries selling you ‘authentic’ Bigfoot hair, you walk away. That’s my grift.”
So there you were—walking between Mabel and Dipper down the main street of Gravity Falls, hoodie sleeves pulled over your hands, earbuds in but only one side so you could still hear them. Mabel was chattering about a new sweater idea involving your crayon art. Dipper was pointing out architectural oddities on the old buildings. You were smiling. Small, but real.
Then the bully showed up.
Some local teenager—tall, sneering, the kind of kid who’d probably been tormenting tourists since kindergarten. He shoulder-checked Dipper hard enough to make him stumble, then zeroed in on you when he saw your glitter-dusted sleeves and the way you immediately shrank inward.
“Aw, look at the little art freak,” he laughed. “What’re you, five? Drawing with crayons? And what’s with all the sparkly shit? You lose a fight with a craft store?”
Mabel’s fists clenched. Dipper stepped forward, already launching into some nervous fact-spiel about how creativity correlates with intelligence. You just froze, eyes dropping to the sidewalk, shoulders curling in like you could disappear if you made yourself small enough. The familiar blank haze started creeping in at the edges of your vision. Walking in circles sounded really good right now. Or hiding. Hiding would be better.
The bully reached out like he was going to flick glitter off your shoulder—
A meaty hand clamped down on his wrist.
“I wouldn’t,” Stan growled, voice low and dangerous in that classic con-man-who’s-done-time way. He’d been trailing behind the whole time, pretending to browse a window display while secretly keeping watch. “Touch my kid and I’ll shove that attitude so far down your throat you’ll be coughing up glitter for a week.”
The teenager tried to yank free. Stan didn’t let him. His grip was iron.
“These three? They’re with me. And around here, that means something. Now apologize to the sweetheart before I decide your face would look better as a hood ornament on the Mystery Cart.”
The bully stammered something that might have been “sorry” and scurried off when Stan finally released him.
You were still frozen. Stan turned to you, expression softening so fast it was almost whiplash. He crouched a little so he was closer to your eye level, careful not to crowd.
“Hey. Kid. You okay?” His voice was gruff but gentle—the same tone he used when he left snacks by your door. “That jerk doesn’t know a masterpiece when he sees one. Your crayon stuff? Way better than anything hanging in fancy museums. And the glitter? Signature style. Own it.”
Mabel tackled you in a side hug. Dipper gave your shoulder a light, awkward pat. You blinked hard, the fog receding a little.
Stan straightened up, rubbing the back of his neck. “Look… I know I’m not exactly Mr. Warm Fuzzy Feelings. But you got friends now. Those two knuckleheads,” he jerked a thumb at the twins, “and me. Especially me. Anyone gives you grief, you tell me. I got ways of making problems disappear. Legal ones. Mostly.”
He paused, then added quieter, just for you, “And if you need to walk in circles or blank out for a while… attic’s always open. Door stays unlocked. No judgment.”
You looked up at him—awkward, quiet, glitter still sparkling on your sleeves—and managed a tiny, genuine smile.
“Thanks, Mr. Pines.”
Stan’s ears went pink. He harrumphed and ruffled your hair, getting glitter on his hand and not even complaining.
“Yeah, yeah. C’mon, let’s get some ice cream. My treat. Just don’t tell Soos I said that.”
As the four of you continued down the street—Mabel already planning tomorrow’s group craft project, Dipper theorizing about the bully’s possible supernatural origins, Stan walking protectively close on your other side—you felt something loosen in your chest. The loneliness was still there. The fog still waited at the edges. But for the first time in a long while, you didn’t feel quite so alone in it.
And Stanley Pines, platonic yandere grunkle extraordinaire, kept one eye on the sidewalk ahead and the other on you.
Nobody was taking his quiet, glittery, crayon-wielding kid away from him. Not bullies. Not loneliness. Not even the universe itself.
a/n: i was thinking about this for a while and just HAD to write it!! Bill's a little freaky but ok. everyone kisses differently and i love how much that says about them :) maybe i'll do a part two tho idk if it'll be smth nsfw or no. also sorry if photos are random i just think it suits gravity falls aesthetic plus i was out of ideas (i want summer)
𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒏𝒍𝒆𝒚
Stan’s got a thing for forehead kisses, always has, always will. they’re effortless and easy. a quick press of his lips when he passes by, a habit more than anything. he’s a busy man, always moving, always going somewhere, but that doesn’t mean he won’t grab you, tilt your head up and press a warm kiss right to your forehead
it's a way of saying “i gotcha” without actually saying it. doesn’t matter if he’s in a rush, grumbling about tourists, wiping down the counter. he’ll keep you safe. he swears it.
big, warm hands cupping your face. his lips are warm, his stubble scratches against your skin but the moment you start to melt he’s gone.
he pulls back, smirks, winking at you
“gotta give the tourists their money’s worth, sweetheart.” you hear his voice through the walls of the Mystery Shack, always so confident as he launches into his usual con. “step right up, folks! come see the eighth wonder of the world!”
but, oh, don’t let that fool you. he’s a tease, and he knows it.
he’s got another favorite, too
your neck
he makes a game of it. a teasing peck when he leans in to tell you something. a slow, tender kiss at the curve of your throat when he’s feeling particularly smug, when he’s got you pinned between him and the kitchen counter, when he knows you’re hanging on to every little touch.
“heh. what’s that face for, baby? didn’t think id be so smooth, huh?”
he’s a biter, too, making you shiver. he needs to feel the way you react beneath his hands. he likes knowing he can fluster you. likes leaving you breathless, just for him.
and if he’s feeling real bold, his lips might stray lower, making a slow, lazy path along your collarbone. “what? somethin’ wrong? i think I’m right where i wanna be.”
𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒏𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒅
Ford kisses like a man who’s spent most of his life not kissing anyone, like someone who’s read about it, thought about it, imagined it, but never quite gotten the chance. but when he feels the warmth, the closeness, how intimate it is he can’t stop.
he kisses your hands first, always. fingertips, knuckles, the inside of your wrist where your pulse flutters
your shoulders come next. he’ll press his lips there absently while he’s working, when you’re standing beside him reading over his notes. sometimes, he forgets himself, murmuring a distracted “mm, love you” against your skin before his smart brain catches up with his mouth. and oh the way his ears burn when you point it out
also when he’s overwhelmed, when the world is too much, when his mind is too loud, he rests his forehead there, brushing his lips against the curve of your shoulder. he just wants to feel you close
but when he’s really feeling it, when he’s past overthinking and just wants you, it's your calves. he kneels. Ford takes his time, hands so big, shaking a little as he presses his thumb into muscle while tracing a slow path from your ankle up, up, up with his lips
“you never let me appreciate you properly.” he worships you. lets you feel it in every single careful, thorough kiss.
𝒃𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒄𝒊𝒑𝒉𝒆𝒓
Bill isn’t bound by flesh, but he's bound by desire
he loves mirrors. loves floating there behind you, his golden triangle form looming over you, all-seeing eye staring right into your soul. oh he loves the way you shudder when you see yourself in the reflection, when you see him, wrapping around you
thousands of long, dark limbs curl around your waist, a hand-like thing at your jaw, tilting your head to the side, exposing your skin to him. Bill's mouth appears where his eye should be and oh, that tongue. . .
“nervous, sweet thing? don’t be. i’ll take real good care of ya.”
his tongue is long. obscenely so. it drags over your throat, a slow, hot stroke that sends a jolt straight through you. you hear him laugh delightfully against your skin, because he knows exactly what he’s doing
“aww who’s my favorite little human, huh? who’s my delicious little slab of meat?”
kiss after kiss, mark after mark, he makes you watch. makes you see the way he devours you.
and he doesn’t stop at your neck, oh no, no, no. he follows your spine. mouth pressing open. dragging his long tongue against the curve of your back, your chest, your stomach
“every inch of you is mine. dont you forget that.”
𝒇𝒊𝒅𝒅𝒍𝒆𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒎𝒄𝒈𝒖𝒄𝒌𝒆𝒕
Fidds kisses every part of you that makes him smile.
“well, ain’t you the cutest lil’ thing!”
your cheeks. he just can’t help himself, he sees your face and boom! instant smooch. one cheek, then the other, peppering you with quick, excited little kisses
he giggles into kisses. always, always grinning. pecks to your cheek when he’s working, smooches to your temple when you bring him a snack, laughter between every single kiss because he can’t believe his luck.
“gotcha! hehehe, ya oughta see the look on yer face!”
your nose is next. he thinks it’s adorable. boop. peck. boop. peck
“who’s the cutest thing in the whole dang world? ohhhh, that’s right, it’s you!”
sometimes he’s so excited he forgets to aim and accidentally bumps his nose against yours, which only makes him laugh more
but the most special place, the sweetest is your eyelids.
he does it when you’re falling asleep, when you’re curling against him, feeling safe and warm. a press of lips to your closed eyes, so feather-light
“rest easy, darlin’. im right here.” and if he wakes up before you, if the morning sun is spilling golden across your skin, he does it again
because he loves you. because he just can’t help it
I hc that Stan and Ford would talk you through it 🥵🥵 but what are their styles?
hun im not sure i understood it right :( im so sorry if i did ur ask wrong. i feel ashamed if i misread it, but i think you meant like what they say + how they say it?? yes?
nsfw
answering ur question now, first of all i need to admit that i want both Stan and Ford crying and whimpering for me okay?? i want these old men to feel so fucking good that they’re literally just sobbing from overstimulation AAHHHBBHHHGGGGGG
okay now, so. yeah i think Stan literally cannot shut the fuck up. Ford can’t either, let’s be real. i mean they’re geminis guys. come on. /j
Stan is so nasty with his mouth it’s unreal. like this man will say anything when he’s hot and bothered and he’s NOT ashamed.
he’ll start all like “yeah, that’s it, you take it so good don’t you, sweetheart?” and escalate to shit like “you’re just beggin’ for me, huh? drippin’ down your thighs and grindin’ like a fuckin’ animal, wow. what would people say if they saw ya like this, baby?”
and you just know that at first he tries to keep it to grunts and growls, those low groany “nnnnhgh yeah shit just like that” noises but he can’t hold back for long. not when you start moaning his name or pulling on his hair and begging him to go faster and deeper so that’s when it all unravels <3 full moans. LOUD whimpers, like “oh fuck im gonna blow, just like that, sweetie, yeah keep squeezin’ me just like that..”
and his voice is so. so. raspy and hoarse and low and gravelly when he’s losing control ?? i physically can’t handle it. he’s literally panting against your mouth or neck or tits. red in the face and sweaty and overwhelmed and it’s so hot. i love him
okay and now Ford. Ford is such a different flavor but equally insane lmao. i think he gets really verbal once he feels safe with you, but before that, oh he’s struggling with how to even process it. he’s never really had anything resembling normal, loving sex in his life. so the moment he finally feels what it’s like, how good it can actually be, how soft and overwhelming it feels to be touched by someone who adores him, he’ll fall apart
he’s always trying to hide his sounds at first, kissing you to muffle his own whines or burying his face in your shoulder or stomach or crook of your neck, but that doesn’t stop them from slipping out. this man whimpers. don’t argue !! he whimpers. strangled, high, breathless whimpers when you’re touching him / riding him / sucking him off. whatever and he’s trying to keep it together but he’s sweating and blinking up at you all wide-eyed and red <333
honestly i think when Ford talks you through it, it’s mostly involuntary. his scientific brain is frying. cuz he’s genuinely overwhelmed and it just comes out, half of it muttered to HIMSELF for his own observations. like “so responsive, how can someone be so sensitive?” or “fascinating !! you’re tightening around me again, is it because i said that? or because this pose feels too good? am i deeper like this?” and the other half is little accidental confessions like “i want to make you feel good, want to make you fall apart on me. please, please keep going darling”
and then eventually, after a lot of shaking and gasping and digging his nails into your skin without realizing it, he’s just straight up crying into your neck or your hair or your mouth while he fucks you and it’s like “i didn’t know it could be this good, i didn’t know id ever get this close to anyone, please don’t stop, don’t stop” <3
"Free" Tour Tuesdays | Toxic Stan Pines x Fem Reader One Shot
[Based off S2 E6]
After hours were something you weren't necessarily sure of when it came to the Mystery Shack knowing most tourists don't really return after their first visit.
It was late, and something told you to take up on the offer from Stan, a local seller and owner of the Mystery Shack. He offered you his card during a one-on-one tour of the Shack, as well as a personal tour after hours.
But was it worth possible death knowing this "Shack" of his looks even more questionably terrifying during the day was the question.
You walk onto the grassy pavement, your phone's flashlight giving you leverage over how dark it is outside.
The Mystery Shack door opens and you're met with a lawful grin from Stan, inviting you forward with a lantern.
"Welcome, welcome. I see you've taken me up on my special offer...Good. Come in, come in.."
The door creaks open wider, as he holds it open for you, a slightly unnerving but inviting smile plastered on his face. Your eyes are met with so many intriguing things, from trinkets to freakish looking creatures in glass jars and large containers.
Interesting artifacts catch your eye, like googly eye glasses with eyes that actually move, poison that has 'GLU3' painted on it, cannibalistic socks, and even Waddles but you still haven't found anything you actually want to buy.
"How 'boutta zombie head?" He asks, a zombie head in his hand, held up by whatever hair was left on it's head.
"Um.., no thanks."
"Laced poprocks?"
"Absolutely not."
"C'mon dollface, there has to be something you wanna buy, I've showed you as much as I could from that skinned monster tail that still moves to that fuckin' loser who I covered in wax and turned into an artifact for playin' with my money. What, you want a watch or somethin'?.. You know what, don't answer that."
"What if I don't want to buy anything?"
"Well you can stop wasting my time for starters. And second, you never shoulda' showed up if you didn't want anything..." His voice trails off, a regretful, tempted look overlapping his cocky demeanor.
"...Stan, I'm not here to waste your time.. I miss you. And maybe you'll see this as an excuse to see you, I just..."
"Do you not understand how fucked up this is? Do you not understand that I can't have you sneaking around and poking in my business? Hell, I was surprised you even showed up." He chuckles, a concerned and cocky tone in his voice. He walks closer to you, his finger painfully pressed into the surface of your chest.
"You're one crazy motherfucker for cheating on me with my brother all those years ago, and then magically showing up here, you know that? Does that make you feel good? Coming back to see me after all these years, knowing I couldn't even get an apology from either of you?"
There was nothing you could even say to that, knowing he was right. His eyes cross yours with intent that lingers for a split second before he grabs you by the face, his fingers pressing into your skin. A cold, firm object brushes over your skin as it's forced under your shirt. Your eyes trail down to see a cocked pistol pushed up against your stomach. "Don't look at the gun, dollface, focus on me, and really understand what I'm about to say. 'Kay, sweetcheeks? "
His tone catches your attention, snapping your focus back towards him. "There isn't a single thing stopping me from pulling this trigger and letting you bleed out on the side of the road for playin' with my money, I could leave you for whatever the fuck lurks in those goddamn woods if I wanted to. So, stop wasting my time before we both end up unlucky."
He releases you from his grasp, causing your head to slightly jerk back while he pushes you backwards with his gun still pressed against you.
His lips quickly intertwine with yours, the musk of his body heat overwhelming you. He drags the cold metal across your skin, slowly moving it in between your legs as his tongue swirls in your mouth. He groans, his gun pushed up against you roughly through your clothes, as his dick twitches in his pants.
He breaks the kiss, you both struggling to catch your breath before he pushes his tongue into your mouth again, your moans overwhelming him. The kiss doesn't last long, as he pulls you down on top of him, dropping into his favorite chair while his TV show plays behind you.
With his dick hard and poking against you through his work pants, he quickly pulls your shirt over your head, tossing your shirt to the side. His hands trail over your tits and your body with the gun, before he starts to kiss your body down.
He flips you, your back now up against the chair as he gets on his knees, his hands continuing to rub you. He unbuttons your pants, placing the gun on the arm of the chair, and sliding your pants off. He spreads your legs, pulling your panties to the side with two fingers. Without a second thought, his mouth and tongue overlap at your clit, his mouth overstimulating that sensitive part that makes you ache.
You let out a soft moan, closing your legs shut, his hand cupping over your mouth as he works his mouth. Your hands tangle in his grey hair, tugging every time you feel his tongue flick faster over that sensitive area, causing you to let out a little whine. Your hand slips away, feeling the little warmth on the gun he sat down. As you watch him devour you, you press the gun to his head with one hand, grinding against his perfect mouth, panting as you feel pleasure and pain collide inside you.
He pauses, putting his hands up, "surrendering" as he unzips his pants, pressing his tip against your entrance. "All you had to do was ask, y'know" He chuckles, slipping himself inside, groaning, grabbing you by your ankles with one hand as he folds you. He pushes himself deeper inside you,gun pushed against his shoulder. He thrusts his hips slow and deep, loving every sound you make, watching you take every thick inch of him.
He changes positions, every inch going deeper than before as he holds you in the air, pushed up against the wall with your legs on his shoulders. You cover your mouth as he pumps you full, watching his pecs jump through his button up with every thrust, gun to his head.
"You loved it when I fucked you like this-- raw, deep..Do you know how long I've waited to fold you like this? Fuck, and the way you're clamping down on me, dollface.. My God...."
His eyes lock with yours, his facial expression vulnerable, despite him ruining every part of your insides. A rush of adrenaline overwhelms you, as you feel yourself come undone around him, collapsing in his arms.
He pulls out, placing you back into his chair, jerking himself off until he came on your stomach.
He soon carried you to his room afterwards, placing you on his bed as he intertwines his body with yours for as long as he could. You held each other, slowly drifting off to sleep.
You woke up tired the next morning, but happy knowing his large arm draped over your covered body, while he stupidly snored loudly in your ear.
Did that count as forgiveness? You never knew for sure.
I lowkey just wanna make out with him fr, just like stay up super late with him, watch some shitty tv in our underwear. Then lowering the volume to ask each other basic questions like: Did you pay that one bill off? How was your day? Do you wanna go to the store with me tomorrow? Can you take out the trash before you go to bed? Do you really love me? Can I kiss you?
And then the two of you do, and it’s short and sweet and cute at first. Goodnight kisses and peck, but the neither of you pull away and it turns into something nastier. Wet loud kissing sounds just bounce off the wall and the two of you are just humping each other because you love each other so much and you’re both just so damn horny and missed each other all week and-
Im so goddamn lonely.
godddd yes. yes to all of this. making out with Stan in nothing but your underwear. i really love writing about kisses. any kind of kisses, sloppy, lazy, messy or soft, light ones, whatever. and i really love that state where both people are just touching each other so sensually, like they’re just about to start making love. ugh i adore that kind of intimacy so much, so thank you for giving me the chance to write smth about kisses!!
nsfw-ish? i guess? one mention of Stanley as your husband
“did you pay that one bill?”
“yeah.”
“can you take the trash out later?”
“mhm.”
then you ask if he wants to go to the store tomorrow, and he shrugs, then presses a kiss to your shoulder and mumbles, “sure, babe. i just wanna be with you.”
“you still love me?”
“more than anything.”
and then there’s a pause. “can i kiss you?”
“yes please” you smile when you hear that little noise he makes when you lean in first, as if he wasn’t expecting it, even though he hoped.
those first few kisses are barely there. kisses that say “yes, i still love you” or “im always here for you” so soft and habitual. Stanley kisses your eyelids trying to keep the dreams away, kisses your cheek, it’s muscle memory at this point. he tilts your face up with one big palm, the roughness of it against your jaw making your breath hiccup a little, and he just stays there for a second, holding you like that because he knows you like the physical contact. and you do. god, you do.
you still haven’t gotten used to how big this man is. in every possible way. when he pulls you into his lap and lets you settle your weight down, it feels like falling into a sea you’d happily drown in. your thighs wrap around his big hips and your hands play with the edge of his tank top, fingers brushing up under the hem until you find that familiar warmth, that trail of hair, the golden chain sliding cold against your knuckles. your hands are roaming, and Stanley gasps softly when you tug a little at the waistband of his boxers. the tv’s still running but neither of you care.
biting at his lower lip just to hear him chuckle, that deep, hoarse, sleepy chuckle, and you giggle too. Stan answers by grabbing a fistful of your ass and rolling his hips up into you, what makes you gasp into his mouth. a little revenge.
and it’s slow. aching, even. but you continue playing with the edge of his gold chain.
Stanley keeps one arm around your waist, the other still cradling your cheek, and starts thrusting his hips again, slowly, moving, so that you end up grinding on him slow as molasses. his eyes are half-lidded, barely clinging to the tv, but you both know he’s not watching. not really.
you’re exhausted, but the idea of sleep is laughable. the warmth of the bed can’t compare to the heat of your husband, your Stanley, to the solid presence of his big body. and right as your eyes flutter shut against his shoulder, Stan moves again, dragging you along with him in the laziest, filthiest rhythm, the two of you are sleepily fucking through layers of cotton.
his hands trail down your back, warm and wide, teasing the edge of your underwear and slipping a few fingers beneath just enough to make you gasp again. and then he leans in, whispering against your lips, “i’m not even gonna take ‘em off to fuck you, baby.” you whimper and brace your hand on his shoulder like that’ll help you, but nothing could. his voice is a rasp against your mouth, from cigarettes or sleep, you don't know, probably both. Stanley groans when your hips catch just right, meeting his thrusts, you grind down again, feeling how hard he's getting, and his head tilts back to give you his throat, which you happily leave a kiss on.
you’re not even having sex yet, just humping, rolling your hips like teenagers because your bodies need to touch, saying i love you without even using words.
kisses. so many kisses. you press kisses to his ear, bite it when he breathes too hard, then move to his temple, then his forehead, murmuring between kisses, “i wanna make love to you so bad, Stanley, i love you, i need you, want to feel you, want you close” it makes him shiver, wrapping his arms around you so snug it feels like nothing bad could ever reach you again
and neither of you’s going to sleep anytime soon, because no bed could ever be as warm as his body beneath you.
ABSOLUTELY, YES. Stan will do that, he needs to feel you there physically, constantly. so if you’re dating this man, be prepared to always have his huge ass hands on your BODY. everywhere
on your shoulder when he’s guiding you through a crowd. your lower back when he’s telling some tourist story he made-up. your thigh under the table at greasy’s. holding your hand even when it’s hot out and your palms are sweaty (he says he likes it. weirdo). neck when he’s leaning in to whisper smth absolutely filthy that makes you blush in front of customer.
headcanon that Stan is always constantly checking that you’re there, not gone. he’s a man who’s lost too much to let go lightly<3 “stick close, sweetheart, don’t need some jabroni tryin’ to chat you up.” ,“’m not lettin’ you outta arm’s reach, just deal with it.” , “what, this botherin’ you? then move closer, c’mon.”
he'll squeeze your hip without breaking eye contact with the person he’s talking to. if you so much as giggle, he’ll murmur without missing a beat, “what, you gonna behave or do i gotta drag you behind that curtain over there and remind you who you belong to?”
AND FOR ALL FEM!READERS, IM SO FUCKING WEAK FOR THIS MAN SAYING “MY GIRL” IM SORRY
“you’re my girl. people should see that.” he’ll say it right there in public, too. even if you'll get shy, he’ll only pull you closer, throw his arm around you with that cocky grin of his, chucking, “what? can’t a guy hold his girl like she’s the best damn thing that ever happened to him?” that’s the truth, too. you are, and he wants everyone to know
Wonder what it would be like if you get in an argument with Stan and Ford? Nothing as bad as how they argue with each other ofc, but I feel that Stan would be a lot more passionate while Ford is more cold and stern (nothing crazy tho u ARE the love of their life ofc <33) later they'd apologize for making u upset bc they love u too much :(( And dipper + mabel heard the arguing and it reminds them of their parents and stan/Ford + reader knows they're getting a divorce and more comfort ensures!!
⊹₊ ݁. Ford & Stan during arguments & how they apologise .ᐟ
a/n: my writing here got out of control and exceeded 1k words, so yeahhh
tags: sfw, hurt/comfort, established relationship, domestic angst, divorce mention, mabel & dipper, even though i'm framing this as fic, it's still mostly my yapping, i'm so sorry :(
⸝⸝ Ford usually starts his arguments cold. he goes quiet first, distant, sharp with his tone but never yelling. and that probably pisses you off so badly, because when you argue with a person you expect at least some kind of reaction from him to prove that he cares about what is happening. but all what you get is him folding his arms, saying things “i don’t understand why this is escalating” or “you’re clearly emotional right now” which is just daggers. usually, you rarely quarrel, so there must be some serious reason here. maybe it was a comment about how he's been distracted lately or working too much again or leaving you out of things, but his pride gets in the way.
he sometimes forgets he's talking to someone he loves. he can be triggered, though, if his partner highlights some very sore personal thing for him, he might raise his voice without meaning to, trembling shout that stops you both in your tracks. and the moment he hears it echo back at him, you can see the regret in his eyes. he hates himself for letting it escalate. he hates being the reason you flinch or shut down.
it's worse if you try to walk away. because Ford loves you so much that it frightens him, he’s spent so much of his life losing things or ruining them, so he just malfunctions when he thinks he might be hurting the one person who actually stayed.
Ford’s apology takes longer, because he is very ashamed of everything that happened. and he is also ashamed that most likely, all of this was heard by one of the people closest to him, Dipper, who trusted him so much and told him about his fear.
when apologising, he’ll reach for your hand, and will always start a dialogue with your full name. “i let my fear speak for me and let my pride hurt you. i’m so sorry.”
he apologizes, sitting next to you with his forehead in his hands, quietly saying “i don’t know how to do this right. ive never had something this good before. and i don’t want to ruin it.” then his arms are around you and he won’t let go until he knows you understand that he loves you more than his ego and his fear
⸝⸝ Stan, on the other hand, argues loud and emotional. he doesn’t know how to hold things in, especially when it comes to people he loves and cares about.
he's is. . . he’s just mad in the moment and says shit in the wrong tone and doesn’t realise it’s hurting you until you go quiet. he already has a pretty rough and loud voice on his own so when he does raise it, he immediately hates himself for it, because it really sounds scary. he says something a little too harsh, making your voice go soft and sad, and suddenly he feels like a monster. unlike Ford, who will remain silent from shock in this situation, Stan wont be able to help but fill the silence.
“hey, no, no no, baby, i didn’t mean it like that, don’t— don’t look at me like that” meanwhile you’re there, blinking hard and trying not to cry in front of him and he just wants to die. he considers himself the most worthless, rotten and terrible person on earth for raising his voice at his sweetheart. you’re the best thing in his life, how could he ever let himself speak to you like that?
i mean, both of them would rather chew glass than see you cry. it's worse if you try to hide it, your voice gets soft or your expression falters but you try to pretend like nothing happened.
im sure Stan comes to you first. always. he calls himself names under his breath. and his best way to apologise is to hug you tightly, even squeeze you “i fucked up. i know i did. im sorry, im just— im so bad at this sometimes, but god, baby, i love you so much it makes me stupid, you see? i am a stupid guy who allowed himself to yell at his loved one. i shouldn't’ve said that. i didn’t mean it. you didn’t deserve that. you never do” he kisses your knuckles, your forehead, your shoulder, whatever you’ll let him reach, until he hears your breathing soften.
and maybe he'll even ask you to slap him, completely sure that he deserves it. maybe it'll help you take your frustration out on him? that's what Stanley thinks.
both of them love you too much to let a fight go unspoken. life taught them the hard way and showed them what happens when you're too proud to come and say you were wrong.
⸝⸝ that's what Dipper and Mabel overhear. they don’t mean to. but the tone and situation itself reminds them of their parents. of all the things that were never said but still tore everything apart.
so later, after things are quiet again, you find them curled up on the couch, clearly rattled. and you take a moment to talk to them individually, because despite the fact that they are twins, they’re different kids with different worries and reaction to such cases.
⸝⸝ with Dipper, you first need to get through to his mind and let him know right away that everything is fine. you explain how arguments don’t always mean things are breaking, that people can disagree and still love each other just as hard. that love isn’t perfect, but it’s something you work on every day. that you're okay, and so is Ford / Stan, and nothing is falling apart.
you sit quietly at the edge of the table, letting the silence hang between you for a minute. Ford’s not in the room, he left to cool down / think, whatever his version of guilt-mourning looks like, probably wishing he could shrink himself down and disappear.
“Dipper,” you say eventually, and your voice sounds a little tired, but kind. “you okay?”
he shrugs. “yeah,”
“that was scary, huh?”
he hesitates. and nods uncertainly. “i guess i just. . .” he coughs, then starts over. “you and Ford, you never fight like that. not like them. not like my parents, you know.” he rubs at his eyes, trying not to be seen crying, and your heart breaks just a little.
you slide off the table and kneel in front of him, taking both of his hands gently in yours.
“hey, hun. listen. what you heard wasn’t a breakup, i assure you it wasn’t the beginning of the end. it was, well, it was two people who love each other a lot, who got hurt and scared and said the wrong things. bur we fixed it. and we’re going to keep fixing it. that’s what love really looks like.”
Dipper doesn’t speak, just stares at your hands holding his, so you keep going.
“you know, your uncle’s used to people giving up on him when he gets it wrong. he’s terrified that ill be next. that’s why he got so cold, because he panicked. he's scared.”
Dipper’s voice is small, cautious. “you’re not going to leave him?”
you shake your head instantly. “absolutely not. he’s mine. and i’m his. we talk and we mess up. but we stay.”
Dipper takes a long, slow breath and then mutters, “he’s been better since you’ve been around.”
his words almost make you cry, but you pull yourself together and smile as you pull him into a hug, squeezing him tight even as he stiffens before eventually giving in and hugging you back.
“thank you for telling me,” you say into his shoulder. “you’re really brave.”
with Mabel, this poor kid starts the conversation first because she is so overcome with anxiety. she's just more emotional than her brother. you sit beside her, and she looks up at you with her big eyes and asks “are you gonna break up with him?”
you laugh a little, sad and sweet. “what? Mabel, sweetie, no, no, of course not. . . your uncle’s just, well, stubborn sometimes—“
“but you still love him, right?” she interrupts, suddenly sharp. “it's just, people always say stuff like that, like he's too stubborn and then they leave him and pretend like that’s why. but that’s not fair. my uncle is a good man, he's—“
you can't stand to see such frightened little eyes anymore so you pull her close and say, firmly “yes, i love him, honey. im not going anywhere. being stubborn doesn’t make someone unlovable.”
Mabel sniffles and murmurs into your shirt, “i know he’s really loud when he’s mad”
you smile a little, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “yeah. and i told him it hurt my feelings. and do you know what he did?”
she shakes her head.
“he cried a little. and then he told me im the best thing that’s ever happened to him.”
Mabel pulls back to look up at you, eyes still glassy, but her mouth curling into a bright smile. “did he really cry?”
you grin. “ugly cried. like, hands over his eyes, blubbering.”
and finally, you hear the sound you've missed so much, her laughter. the knot inside her chest lets go, and she snuggles into you, whispering. “okay. good. you better not leave him. he’s really bad at being alone.”
“don’t worry. im too stubborn to leave a man like that.”
Ford/Stan showering with reader, either nsfw or sfw (i honestly dont mind)
thank youuu
-🥮
hey my love!! yeah let’s wash this stinky old man. i’m talking about you, Ford...
nsfw
okay but i think... i think showering with Ford would be one of those things he pretends to be all casual about but then the second you’re both under the spray and your body is right there, wet and glistening, he turns into a goddamn mess.
he’d be trying to lather shampoo into his hair like nothing’s happening while his ears are red and his eyes keep darting to your chest. you’d have to coax him to slow down, like “Ford!! stop rinsing the same spot. just let me.” and then you’d take the bar of soap and press your hands to his back, his shoulders, your fingers slipping along scars and muscles. he’d go quiet, emotionally overwhelmed but trying not to show it.
but i think once you kiss him, putting your palms on his chest, mouths wet from the steam, OH GOD he’d lose the will to pretend it’s about being casual. his hands would slide low, so clingy, lips all over your throat, your jaw.
he leans back into you while you're rinsing him off and you feel him starting to breathe heavier, hmmm. Ford turns his head to look at you and his cheeks are already pink, but now it's not just from the hot water.
so you reach between his legs while he’s backed against the tile, oh!! he’d jerk so hard he knocks into the caddy. he’d try to stay composed, one hand braced on the wall, the other gripping your wrist, forcing you to move it faster, like please, please, don’t stop. he'd whisper messy shit, “your hand feels so good. want more, my love, please, please go faster” and he’d cum fast, red-faced, breathing uneven, never been touched like that before.
and STANNN oh this guy is more comfortable. the second you suggest showering together he’s already stripping like “say no more baby”
like.... he’s used to being filthy, covered in car grease / seawater / mystery shack dust lmao but it does mean smth to him to be cared for. and being naked next to someone who wants him like that only softens him, a lot. he’s funny about it, cracking jokes while you squirt shampoo into your palm, ducking under the spray so you can scrub his scalp for him, and he lets you, relaxed, leaning into your touch with his eyes closed and his hands resting on your hips, calloused thumbs stroking your sides oh my god i would have fainted right there.
IMAGINE !!! you rinse the soap down his back, your hands wander a little, and suddenly Stan's teeth clenched, grabbing your wrists and pushing you gently back against the wall, growling “you touchin’ me like that on purpose, sweetheart?” and you’re giggling until he reaches down between your legs and grabs his cock to start slowly rubbing it against you. he’s been waiting all day to touch his beloved. one hand on the wall, the other cupping your ass, water streaming down his back while your fingers stroke him slowly. he’s kissing your neck, telling you that after what happens in the bedroom you will have to return to the shower once again, if you can walk, of course.
he’d beg a little, too. “don’t stop, don’t fuckin’ stop baby. look at me while you do it, c’mon, lemme see that pretty face.” after finishing, he’d slump against you, panting and pressing kisses to your shoulder while whispering dirty praise, still a little breathless from it.
UGHHHH taking a shower together which later becomes foreplay because one of you is just too horny !!!! let's wash these disgusting old men <3
✧ Stan is the kinda guy who thinks emojis are a scam, but somehow, he figured out how to use the "thumbs up" and "money bag" emoji. so, expect a lot of those in your chats.
✧ his text tone is rough, a little misspelled, typed like he's yelling even when he isn’t. Half of his texts are in all caps, and he absolutely does not care about grammar. but he gets the point across, always.
✧ you’re getting messages at 3 am about some ‘brilliant’ scheme to make a quick buck. he’ll send, “LISTEN, doll, what if we made... GIANT… glitter-filled eggs for easter? Tourists'll go NUTS." you reply, half-asleep, with “Stan, ily but go to bed." and all you get back is a “🤬 YOU GOTTA THINK BIGGER!”
✧ Stan sends those weird chain messages he swears are from some “hotshot businessman” that’ll make you rich in a week. and when you don’t respond immediately, you get a: “Fine, Miss Doubtful, see you when I’m rolling in gold.”
✧ there are whole days where he just floods your phone with random, blurry photos of some new Mystery Shack "artifact" he found. It’s usually junk he picked up at a garage sale, like a “haunted” ashtray or some knock-off painting that’s “probably ancient.”
✧ If he’s feeling sappy (and tipsy): you might get a rare “thinking bout you, sweet thing” at 2 am. but if you try to call him on it the next day, he’ll just be like “Didn’t say that. You’re makin’ stuff up.”
✧ when he’s really riled up about something, though? then his messages are just. . . a stream of caps-lock curses, mixed with misspelled attempts to describe whatever nonsense he just got himself into. you just sit back and let him rant; he’ll cool off eventually.
✧ and the voice messages are something else. they sound like he’s talking through a fan half the time. one minute, he’s rambling about how tourists are “the dumbest suckers on the planet” and the next, he’s ranting about how “bigfoot definitely broke into the shack last night!"
types of messages Stan texts:
"So… whatcha wearin’? 😏"
“Hey doll, I just found a penny on the ground! Maybe today’s my lucky day… hint hint ;)"
"I’d say somethin’ romantic, but I think my brain just shorted out. You’re a little too cute for a guy like me."
"Just tried that new café downtown. Ordered coffee… tastes like they filtered it through someone’s laundry. You’d hate it. Wanna come mock it with me?"
"Not gonna lie, I miss that face of yours. So what’re we doin’ about it, huh?"
“Again missin’ that cute little smile of yours… maybe you could send me a pic to remind me?”
"Wanna help me scam the tourists today? I’ll split the loot with ya… maybe ;)”
"You wouldn’t believe what I caught Ford muttering in his sleep. Man’s like a walking encyclopedia, even when he’s unconscious."
“Got any plans later? Thought maybe we could… y’know… not have plans together."
˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ Ford Pines
✧ hehehehe he’s like an old-school emailer who’s just now getting the hang of messaging apps. texts in complete sentences, full punctuation, like he’s drafting a dissertation.
✧ He sends you whole paragraphs at random hours, talking about some discovery he’s made, like he’s reporting directly to NASA. you’re like, “Ford, it's just a weird-looking squirrel." and he's already typing another essay about its "possible interdimensional origins."
✧ once in a while, he’ll send you a message that says, “Are you awake?” at, like 3 am followed by a string of thoughtful yet completely bonkers hypotheses. you find it cute, though, his mind never stops, not even for a second.
✧ If he’s feeling bold, you might even get a “hypothetical” confession out of him: “Hypothetically, if one were to develop... strong emotional attachment to a certain person... how would one proceed?" You tease him about it the next day, and he gets flustered, “It was purely scientific curiosity."
✧ Ford isn’t big on emojis, but he likes the brain and alien ones, using them poetically. he’ll sign off texts with a single brain emoji, like it’s his version of a little goodbye wave.
✧ on really rare occasions, he’ll send a voice message. they’re always way too long, and it’s usually him whispering so he doesn’t wake Stan up. he goes on about cosmic rays or “gravity anomalies,” his voice dropping lower when he gets excited. you live for those moments
✧ and if he ever texts you a “good night,” you just know he’s been up thinking about it for hours, trying to figure out if it’s “appropriate.”
types of messages Ford texts:
“It’s been approximately 3 hours, 12 minutes, and 23 seconds since our last conversation… not that I’m counting or anything. Just… miss you."
sends a meme about science nerds “Us. But mostly me.”
“My hands ache from writing… though perhaps if it were writing about you, I wouldn’t mind.”
“Do you think about me too, or am I the only one utterly ruined by this… whatever this is?”
“I’ve been thinking about that book you lent me... 🤔 It’s honestly so much more interesting than I expected, thank you for recommending it."
"I don’t know how to work this... But I managed to send a meme! It’s not the worst thing I’ve done, I suppose?
“I did it. I fixed the telescope. Finally. Now we can actually look at the stars like we’ve talked about. :)"
"I hope you’re feeling okay today. I noticed you seemed a little stressed the other day. Don’t forget to take care of yourself. :) It’s important."
"If I could rearrange the periodic table, I’d put U and I together. :( Sorry, nerdy joke... :’D)”
ps - I CANT THEYRE SO CUTE BOTH I WANT TO SMASH THEM AGAINST THE WALL
lmao if someone wants, i can write some spicy types of chatting with them :)))
Spicy chatting with Stan and Ford? Consider this ask my vote for that ❤️💙
(Love your writing, I've lurked for a while and finally remembered to follow)
sexting Stan and Ford headcanons
2 part of this
also thank you so much <3 im so glad to know you enjoy my writing !
tagging : @nekovmancer
˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ Stan Pines
✧ he tries. god, does he try. but his texts are a combination of filthy and absolutely unhinged, it’s straight to “doll im sittin' here thinkin’ 'bout how good you’d look bent over my desk.”
✧ typically sends a blurry pic of his bare chest, captioned, “betcha wanna get your hands on this masterpiece, huh?" and you’re just staring at the picture like. . . gosh, Stan, who took this? did he set a fucking timer? he looks hot though
✧ so yeah Stanley sends you photos, usually unprompted and always blurry because he’s just an old man, dear, what did you except?? his clothes half-open, pants unzipped just enough to give you a peek of what’s underneath and next message is: “betcha wanna see the whole thing, huh? be a good girl and ask nice.”
✧ texts you in the middle of the day: “gonna bend you over the kitchen counter tonight babe. make you cum on my fingers before I even think about putting my cock in you. whaddaya think?”
✧ he loves it when you’re bold, you send him something like: “what if I sit on your face instead?” and he’s instantly typing back: “doll, don’t threaten me with a good time. ya know I’d keep ya there till your legs give out.”
✧ Stan worships your photos. you send him a quick pic of you in bed and he replies immediately: “FUCK look at you. LOOK at THAT body. im gonna make you regret sending me that when im back. you better be ready for this cock, doll, ‘cause im not holding back.”
✧ a huge tease tbh, he wants you to beg. “tell me what you want, sweetheart. you want me to spread those legs and eat you out until you’re shaking? or maybe you want this thick cock filling you up?“
✧ “you’re touching yourself right now, aren’t ya? cant stop thinkin bout me pounding into you, huh? go ahead, baby. lemme know how bad you want it.”
✧ he’s got no shame about jerking off while texting you, you say one dirty thing, and he’s already: “jesus fucking christ, you’re killin me here, doll. im so fuckin hard right now. If you were here, I’d have you on your knees, taking care of me like the good girl you are.”
✧ Stan’s aftercare starts in the texts. so after he’s talked you through your orgasm, his messages turn soft. “that’s my girl, bet you look real pretty all flushed and satisfied. get some rest, doll you’re gonna need it when I get home.”
✧ Stan LOVES it when you play hard to get. “cmon, baby, don’t leave me hangin’. I swear, I’ll make it worth your while when I get my hands on you again.” but when you finally cave and give him a little, just a little, taste of what you want, his reply is “yeah that’s better, let me see that pussy of yours. you know I can make you feel good. let me prove it.”
✧ as you have already understood, this man is shameless, and he knows he’s good at getting under your skin.
“been thinkin’ about that pretty little cunt of yours, doll. what’s it gonna take to get my face buried there tonight?
✧ if you send him something back, it’s over. he’s going to double down with something that makes your toes curl. “you don’t know how badly I wanna fuck that smart mouth of yours until you forget your own name.”
✧ the man is a sucker for dirty talk. he loves it when you tease him back, but he’s the most eloquent in his replies
✧ “If I was there right now, you wouldn’t be able to get a single word out. id have you moanin’ so loud they’d hear you down the street. you like the sound of that?”
✧ “you know I could really go for you in that tiny skirt of yours right now. make you bend over and fuck you while you’re still wearin’ it.” damn
✧ he’s a man of action. his texts are short and right to the point. “im gonna make you scream my name tonight, sweetheart. better be ready.”
✧ sends you something filthy right out of the blue. "you’re really makin' it hard for me to concentrate on work, baby. every time I close my eyes, all I can think about is the way you looked last night, riding me till you couldn’t walk.”
✧ if you send him a picture, especially if you’re in lingerie or something that shows just the right amount of skin, he goes wild. “WOAH, sweetheart. you’re gonna make me LOSE IT. I wanna tear that off you and fuck you right here RIGHTJ NOW.” the author's spelling has been preserved.
✧ a lot messages like: “tell me, doll, what color are those panties you got on right now?“
✧ but the minute you call him on his antics in person, he’s all cocky smirks and “ya can’t blame me for wantin’ to spoil my favorite girl, can ya?”
bonus
Stan: hey doll, you up?
You: it’s 1 AM Stan
Stan: exactly
Stan: perfect time to talk about what you’d look like on top of me
You: …smooth
Stan: c’mon don’t act all shy
Stan: you were thinkin’ it too. bet you’re wearin’ somethin’ cute right now, huh?
Stan: or nothin’. nothin’s good too! 👍👍👍
You: why are you always texting me at the most unholy hours?
Stan: unholy?? c’mon sweetheart i’m just here tryna spread a little late night joy
Stan: i was thinkin’ about you though
Stan: well. you. and about how that sweet little mouth of yours looked last night
You: oh my godd
Stan: what?! it’s the truth
Stan: bet you’d look even better right now
You: you’re horrible
Stan: and you’re fuckin’ gorgeous
Stan: now be a good girl and tell me what you’re wearin
You: literally in my pajamas Stan
Stan: cute
Stan: betcha look sweet all wrapped up in blankets… though you’d look sweeter wrapped around me instead
You: fuck
You: Stan!
Stan: what? i’m just bein’ honest. you want me to lie? fine! i’m thinkin’ about taxes. there. happy?
You: oh, shut up old man
Stan: nah i’d rather talk about how soft your thighs are. how they’d feel so good squeezin’ around my head. c’mon, sweetheart, gimme somethin’. don’t make me do all the heavy liftin’ here
You: only if you promise to return the favor
you smirk, biting your lip, already excited because god you love playing hard to get with this man. so you let the moment linger just long enough to make him squirm before snapping a photo, of course you were lying bout pajamas and Stan damn knew, he felt
you send the picture: lacy panties of your favourite colour barely covering anything, paired with an oversized sleep shirt that’s slipping off your shoulder
Stan: holy fuckin shit
Stan: you’re gonna make an old man’s heart give out
You: what, you don’t like it? :(
Stan: don’t like it? baby i’m gonna FRAME this picture and hang it on my wall
Stan: better yet i’m gonna print it out and carry it around so i can show off what’s mine
You: wtf that’s absurd
Stan: no what’s absurd is how hard i am right now. fuck, baby, you’re gorgeous. every inch of ya
You: your turn, old man
You: prove it
you don’t expect him to actually follow through, but then your phone buzzes
Stan: look at what you’re gonna get, babe. and it’s all yours
a photo. exactly what you imagined: poorly lit, shot from a slightly awkward angle, but still breathtaking and so damn hot. his cock is thick and heavy in his hand, flushed and glistening at the tip, veins are prominent, pulsing down the shaft, and his fingers, broad, calloused, strong, wrap around it like he’s ready to ruin you as he strokes himself
your mouth goes dry, you blink at the screen, your lip caught between your teeth. hell, you’ve seen him before, touched him, tasted him, but this photo is something else entirely. your fingers twitch like they want to reach through the phone because you’d crawl through the damn screen if you could
your fingers hover over the keys, trying to think of something clever to say, but the words won’t come. thighs clenching instinctively as you just stare at the screen.
You: okay, not bad, old man
Stan: NOT BAD?!
Stan: sweetheart, you’re lyin’ through your teeth. i know you’re sittin’ there soakin’ through those little lace panties of yours
You: please, you think one dick pic is enough to faze me
Stan: oh, is that right? big talk comin’ from someone who’s gonna be beggin’ for it by the end of this
You: you wish old man
Stan: nah I know. let me paint you a picture, sweetie
Stan: you, spread out under me, that pretty little pussy so wet i can hear it every time i slide in. your legs wrapped so tight around me like you’re scared i’m gonna pull away. and me, fillin’ you up so deep you can feel me in your fuckin’ throat
and there your smugness falters
You: oh god
You: Stan
Stan: what’s the matter?
Stan: cat got your tongue? betcha you’re soaked right now, huh? sittin’ there with that pretty little pussy all wet, wishin’ i was there to fill ya up
Stan: admit it, baby. your fingers aren’t even enough. you’re mine. every inch of you belongs to me and i’m gonna remind you of that the second i get my hands on ya
You: you’re not winning this old man
Stan: heh sweetheart, i already HAVE
your fingers fumble on the keyboard as you type, cheeks burning
You: please come
Stan: there you go, now that’s my girl
˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ Ford Pines
✧ he starts out so awkward it’s painful. you’ll send him something suggestive, and he’ll reply with: “Oh. Well. That’s… intriguing.” Intriguing, Ford? seriously?
✧ as we all know, Ford overthinks everything! it takes him forever to hit send because he’s convinced he’ll say something wrong and he’s so fucking nervous
✧ but as soon as he feels comfortable, he’s sending you long, well thought out messages full of science-y talk about how he wants to make you feel, because of course he’s analyzing you in a way. “I’ve been reading up on the physiological responses of the body during… how should I put this?… intimate interactions. Your body would likely respond most positively to the—” and then he gets really filthy without realizing it
✧ but Ford, dear sweet Ford, doesn’t always realize just how much of an effect his words have on you. if he’ll start spouting off his deep thoughts, you’ll send him, “Ford, I swear to god, if you don’t stop talking, I’m going to need to change my sheets.
✧ absolutely loves when you tease him, but he also knows how to turn it back on you. “Good girl, now tell me exactly what you’d like me to do to you, in vivid detail. I’m taking notes.”
✧ "I’d have you on your knees, darling. Holding you by the hair while I take you deep, slow. You’d love every second of it, wouldn’t you?"
✧ Ford LOVES playing the “I’m going to ruin you slowly” card. It gets under your skin every time. “You won’t be able to think about anything else when I’m done with you. I’ll have you begging for more.”
✧ you’ll send him a flirty text and two minutes later, he’s sent back an entire paragraph detailing how he’d peel your clothes off and worship you from head to toe
✧ as I said, he’s so damn descriptive, I mean bro literally wrote 3 journals, it’s easy for him. “I’d kiss my way down your stomach, slow enough to make you squirm. My fingers would trace your thighs, spreading you open so I could take my time tasting you, savoring every—” you’re already screaming into your pillow
✧ surprisingly filthy when he gets really needy and horny. long messages about exactly what he wants to do to you or what he wants you to do to him
✧ Ford is a huge fan of getting into your mind before he even thinks about touching you. he wants to know what makes you tick, what gets you wet, what turns you on mentally first
✧ he tries to stay composed, but the second you tease him, his composure shatters. you send him a pic, maybe just a peek of your thighs and he’s breathless: “What are you doing to me, darling? Do you have any idea how hard I am right now? I can’t stop imagining those legs wrapped around me while I’m making love to you, God help me.”
✧ “i would love to feel the warmth of your skin beneath my fingers as I slowly undress you. I’ll start by trailing kisses down your neck, your chest, until I reach the sweet spot between your thighs. Would you let me do that, darling?”
✧ embarrassingly vocal about how much he needs you. you’ll get texts like:
“I can’t concentrate on anything. I keep thinking about how tight and wet you felt around me last night. We need to make love again.” and then, seconds later:
“Please tell me you’re touching yourself right now. I need to know you’re thinking about me while you do it.”
✧ “God, I’d give anything to have my cock inside you right now.”
✧ If you send him a spicy picture, he just about short-circuits. “You’re exquisite. I need to see more.”
✧ “You don’t even realize the effect you have on me, do you? I’d ruin you in the most wonderful ways, darling.” you’re a puddle in seconds.
✧ Ford loves when you’re explicit with him. if you’ll text him something like: “I want your cock so deep I forget my own name,” you’ll get: “Careful what you wish for, darling. I’ll have you screaming it by the time I’m done with you.”
✧ If you ever send him something too really dirty, all your fantasies and wishes, expect him to stare at your text, blink for a second, then type back: “That’s... unexpected. But I’m very intrigued. You must have an incredible imagination.”
✧ sometimes Ford gets real quiet after a particularly hot conversation, nervous even. “I shouldn’t have sent that… I’m sorry if I…”
“Ford, don’t you dare apologize. I love it.”
bonus
Ford: Are you still awake, darling?
You: what do you think?
Ford: Well, considering you’re answering me, I’d say yes. I must say, you’ve been a distraction all day, sweetheart. I just keep replaying the way your skin felt under my hands the last time we touched… the sounds you made when I kissed you, your thighs.
You: sounds like you’re the distracted one, Doctor Pines
Ford: You’re the most beautiful distraction imaginable. Entirely your fault.
you smirk at the screen as an idea strikes
You: how’s this for distracting?
you send the picture: legs spread wide, your pussy glistening under soft light with two fingers pressing yourself open just enough to expose everything. you know Ford’s obsessive attention to detail, the way he adores every curve and line of you. oh god he’ll lose his mind over this
but. . .
Ford doesn’t reply immediately. one minute. two now. the anticipation builds and your stomach twists.
You: …
You: Ford?
You: oh my god, say something!
You: was it too much? too forward?
five agonising minutes later, your phone lights up.
Ford: Darling… You are beautiful. Utterly perfect. Forgive my silence, I needed a moment to… compose myself.
You: five minutes of silence isn’t exactly reassuring, Ford
Ford: I assure you, I was not silent in my head.
You: damn
You: thought I broke you there
Ford: You nearly did. It’s taking all my willpower to stay coherent.
You: old man ur making me blush
Ford: I’m sorry! I wouldn’t dream of embarrassing you, my dear. I’d rather make you tremble with pleasure.
You: you really like it that much?
Ford: I’m obsessed, love. Now, listen carefully. Take those fingers, sweetheart. Slowly. I want you to trace circles around your little clit, soft and teasing. No rushing.
and of course you obey
You: im so sensitive rn Ford
Ford: Good, honey. Yeah, nice and slow.
You: like this?
Ford: Exactly like that. Does it feel good, darling? Tell me.
You: so good im already so wet for you
Ford: Good. Now, slide one of those fingers inside. Don’t go too deep yet. Just enough to feel it.
You: fuck, Ford
You: feels amazin
Ford: That’s my girl. Now, add another. Stretch yourself out for me, darling. I want you to imagine it’s my fingers instead. Feel how I’d curl my fingers to touch you just right, all your sweet spots. Don’t stop until I tell you to.
You: :((
Ford: Sweetheart? What’s wrong?
You: it’s not the same
You: you’ve got six fingers, i can’t make it feel like you
Ford: Ah, my darling… that’s terribly unfair of me, isn’t it? You’re right. No one else can touch you the way I can. But I promise, when I’m there, I’ll make it up to you tenfold. For now, let’s keep going. I want you to use your fingers, sweetheart. Make yourself feel good for me, pleasure yourself. Please. Slide them deep and tell me how it feels.
hi hi! i’m Elizabeth, but you can also call me Beth or Liz. she/her
i mostly write x reader works. fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, smut. and sometimes stangst
i tend to write for a fem!reader when it comes to smut, though i also have gn!reader fics too
please don’t be rude. i really appreciate kindness and people being respectful. you’re always welcome to send me your headcanons, ideas, imagines or ramble about Ford, Stan, Fiddleford or Bill. i love hearing your thoughts and talking to you!
ask replies live under the #answered asks tag
anons taken: 🌻 🌊 🫶 🎩 🦭 🥀 🗣️ 🥮 🌙 🧸 🥞🛷
reblogs and comments are always appreciated. it's my free serotonin and i cherish them deeply <3
forgive the lowercase :( i write most of my fics on my phone. i try to fix things up for bigger fics sometimes. and sometimes i mess up grammar bc english isn’t my first language
MY FICS
★ STAN & FORD ANGST
what brothers are made of | the river splits but still runs home | to the past, with love (and glitter!) | happy birthday, Stanley. happy birthday, Mabel. | My Love Mine All Mine | me & the devil | follow you
★ STAN & FORD X READER
Stan & Ford react when you use your safeword or get hurt during intimacy | Stan & Ford react when you get hurt | how Stan & Ford give (and react to) hickeys | Stan & Ford breeding kink hcs | cockwarming blurbs | distracting them from work | Ford & Stan during arguments & how they apologise | Stan & Ford × scared of sex!reader hcs
★ STANFORD PINES X READER
not the disaster you think it is | jealous!Ford x you headcanons | princess treatment | the quiet between words | a body you come home to | mean dom Ford | tutoring with benefits | blueprints were never the option | breezeblocks | sfw & nsfw things Ford does | just the tip prompt | knowledge comes at a price | for academic purposes only
★ STANLEY PINES X READER
when the pervy old man meets his match | mullet!Stan headcanons | praise that old man, girl! | fem!Stanley x you | american dream | mullet!Stan x farmer's daughter!reader | lipstick | bleeding for it | to make a father | vegas!Stan x you
★ BILL CIPHER X READER
i asked the stars about you | twinkle twinkle little star
a/n: i was thinking about this for a while and just HAD to write it!! Bill's a little freaky but ok. everyone kisses differently and i love how much that says about them :) maybe i'll do a part two tho idk if it'll be smth nsfw or no. also sorry if photos are random i just think it suits gravity falls aesthetic plus i was out of ideas (i want summer)
𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒏𝒍𝒆𝒚
Stan’s got a thing for forehead kisses, always has, always will. they’re effortless and easy. a quick press of his lips when he passes by, a habit more than anything. he’s a busy man, always moving, always going somewhere, but that doesn’t mean he won’t grab you, tilt your head up and press a warm kiss right to your forehead
it's a way of saying “i gotcha” without actually saying it. doesn’t matter if he’s in a rush, grumbling about tourists, wiping down the counter. he’ll keep you safe. he swears it.
big, warm hands cupping your face. his lips are warm, his stubble scratches against your skin but the moment you start to melt he’s gone.
he pulls back, smirks, winking at you
“gotta give the tourists their money’s worth, sweetheart.” you hear his voice through the walls of the Mystery Shack, always so confident as he launches into his usual con. “step right up, folks! come see the eighth wonder of the world!”
but, oh, don’t let that fool you. he’s a tease, and he knows it.
he’s got another favorite, too
your neck
he makes a game of it. a teasing peck when he leans in to tell you something. a slow, tender kiss at the curve of your throat when he’s feeling particularly smug, when he’s got you pinned between him and the kitchen counter, when he knows you’re hanging on to every little touch.
“heh. what’s that face for, baby? didn’t think id be so smooth, huh?”
he’s a biter, too, making you shiver. he needs to feel the way you react beneath his hands. he likes knowing he can fluster you. likes leaving you breathless, just for him.
and if he’s feeling real bold, his lips might stray lower, making a slow, lazy path along your collarbone. “what? somethin’ wrong? i think I’m right where i wanna be.”
𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒏𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒅
Ford kisses like a man who’s spent most of his life not kissing anyone, like someone who’s read about it, thought about it, imagined it, but never quite gotten the chance. but when he feels the warmth, the closeness, how intimate it is he can’t stop.
he kisses your hands first, always. fingertips, knuckles, the inside of your wrist where your pulse flutters
your shoulders come next. he’ll press his lips there absently while he’s working, when you’re standing beside him reading over his notes. sometimes, he forgets himself, murmuring a distracted “mm, love you” against your skin before his smart brain catches up with his mouth. and oh the way his ears burn when you point it out
also when he’s overwhelmed, when the world is too much, when his mind is too loud, he rests his forehead there, brushing his lips against the curve of your shoulder. he just wants to feel you close
but when he’s really feeling it, when he’s past overthinking and just wants you, it's your calves. he kneels. Ford takes his time, hands so big, shaking a little as he presses his thumb into muscle while tracing a slow path from your ankle up, up, up with his lips
“you never let me appreciate you properly.” he worships you. lets you feel it in every single careful, thorough kiss.
𝒃𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒄𝒊𝒑𝒉𝒆𝒓
Bill isn’t bound by flesh, but he's bound by desire
he loves mirrors. loves floating there behind you, his golden triangle form looming over you, all-seeing eye staring right into your soul. oh he loves the way you shudder when you see yourself in the reflection, when you see him, wrapping around you
thousands of long, dark limbs curl around your waist, a hand-like thing at your jaw, tilting your head to the side, exposing your skin to him. Bill's mouth appears where his eye should be and oh, that tongue. . .
“nervous, sweet thing? don’t be. i’ll take real good care of ya.”
his tongue is long. obscenely so. it drags over your throat, a slow, hot stroke that sends a jolt straight through you. you hear him laugh delightfully against your skin, because he knows exactly what he’s doing
“aww who’s my favorite little human, huh? who’s my delicious little slab of meat?”
kiss after kiss, mark after mark, he makes you watch. makes you see the way he devours you.
and he doesn’t stop at your neck, oh no, no, no. he follows your spine. mouth pressing open. dragging his long tongue against the curve of your back, your chest, your stomach
“every inch of you is mine. dont you forget that.”
𝒇𝒊𝒅𝒅𝒍𝒆𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒎𝒄𝒈𝒖𝒄𝒌𝒆𝒕
Fidds kisses every part of you that makes him smile.
“well, ain’t you the cutest lil’ thing!”
your cheeks. he just can’t help himself, he sees your face and boom! instant smooch. one cheek, then the other, peppering you with quick, excited little kisses
he giggles into kisses. always, always grinning. pecks to your cheek when he’s working, smooches to your temple when you bring him a snack, laughter between every single kiss because he can’t believe his luck.
“gotcha! hehehe, ya oughta see the look on yer face!”
your nose is next. he thinks it’s adorable. boop. peck. boop. peck
“who’s the cutest thing in the whole dang world? ohhhh, that’s right, it’s you!”
sometimes he’s so excited he forgets to aim and accidentally bumps his nose against yours, which only makes him laugh more
but the most special place, the sweetest is your eyelids.
he does it when you’re falling asleep, when you’re curling against him, feeling safe and warm. a press of lips to your closed eyes, so feather-light
“rest easy, darlin’. im right here.” and if he wakes up before you, if the morning sun is spilling golden across your skin, he does it again
because he loves you. because he just can’t help it
The twins with a mother figure? Those kids are all around saving the world, someone needs to seriously worry about them and make a little fuss lol maybe the mother figure is Stanley or Stanford new wife? I just imagine the twins coming back next summer and boom new mother/aunt
Heartbreak, Heartbreak
Stanford x Reader / Dipper & Mable x Mother!Reader
✦ your stanfords wife whaatt?!
✦ i feel like this is one of my weaker works, i apologize
✦ 2,5k words
✦ fem reader
✦ gulp i hope i did ur request justice 😭
✦ mable goes "stop fighting!!" at some point
✦ requests r still deliciously open
꣑୧ Coming back to Gravity Falls was a dream come true for the twins. What they weren’t expecting was to see their Great Uncle Ford walk in the Mystery Shack hand in hand with you. Mable was the first to bombard you Grunkle with questions; which stemmed from “Oh my god, when did you guys meet?” to “Oh my god, oh my god, am I going to have Great Cousins? That sounds weird, doesn’t it?” Ford had to calm her down before she got too rowdy with their questions and overwhelm you.
꣑୧ Once Mable was calm enough to sit down in the same room with you, without bursting in her seat with excitement, was when Ford broke the news. “Mable, Dipper. This is my wife,” He said, wrapping his arms around you, his hand moving up and down your arm in a soothing manner. You introduced yourself to the twins who were more than happy to meet you.
꣑୧ “Did our Grunkle by some chance, manage to hypnotize you into dating him with a book?” Dipper asked with an analyzing stare. His lips were puckered, pointer finger and thumb on his chin, tapping it curiously. Not expecting a question as absurd as that, you let out a laugh. Shaking your head, you smiled at Dipper. “Not at all,” You respond, taking Ford’s hand with yours, intertwining your fingers together. “He just won me over with his nerdy charm.” You say, your eyes locked on Ford. A rush of blood swarmed Ford’s cheeks. A chorus of groans echoed in the shack. Stan appears behind the kids, resting his arms on the top of their chairs. “See, kids,” He motions over to you and Ford with a swipe of his hand. “This is what I had to deal with while you guys were gone.” With a sympathetic look, Mable rested her hand on his arm, shaking her head sorrowfully. “I’m so sorry, Grunkle Stan.”
꣑୧ After the initial shock wore off, Dipper and Mable began to grew skeptical of you. What if you were one of Bill’s goons disguising yourself as a human? And your goal was to take down their Grunkles and start Weirdmageddon 2?! Rushing up to their room in the attic, they pulled out their trusty 8-ball, the one they used the first day they arrived at Gravity Falls and when they were unsure if they were safe to stay with Grunkle Stan. They both sat down on the floor, 8-ball in Dipper’s hand. “Okay, magic 8-ball!” Mable boomed loudly with a weird amalgamation of a British and French accent. “Mable, keep it down.” Dipper shushed. “Oops,” Mable giggled. “Okay, magic 8-ball,” She whispered, her head uncomfortably close to the 8-ball. “Is Grunkle Ford’s wife evil?” With a rapid shake, Dipper and Mable peered into the ball. A pyramid accompanied with words appeared. “Don’t count on it.” The twins read out loud. “Huh…” Mable slowly nodded her head, eyes squinted in thought. “Well,” Dipper tossed the 8-ball behind him. “The magic 8-ball never lies.”
꣑୧ Getting along with the twins wasn’t hard. All you had to do was grab your car keys from your purse, jingle them as if they were a bell and wait. Few minutes later, you’d hear their feet stomping down the stairs and a flash of colors swarming the living room. “I heard keys jingle, I heard keys jingle!!” Mable’s eyes darted around the room in search of the keys and when her eyes landed on you, her eyes sparkled with joy and anticipation. “Are you taking us somewhere, Great Aunt [Name]?” You smiled, spinning the keys around your finger. “Depends,” You pretended to think for a moment, just to keep them on their toes. “Where would you guys like to go?” A laugh escapes you as Dipper and Mable attack you with where they want to go. “Alright, let me tell your Grunkle that I’m taking you guys out.” Digging through your purse, you fish out your phone. You turned it on and went to your contacts. With a tap, you dialed his number. He picked up almost immediately. “Yes, dear?” You could hear his pencil scribbling on a piece of paper. “I’m taking Dipper and Mable out for the day.” You tell him, mouthing to the kids to get in the car. They scampered out of the living room and to the hallway. You could hear the door open and their hushed voices as they made a beeline to your car. “Okay, be safe when you’re driving and call me whenever you can, okay?” You hummed in response. “Of course, I’ll keep you updated on the kids.” You say, walking out of the shack and to your car. “I want updates on how you feel too,” You could feel the love dripping from his tone. “I will, my love.” You blow a kiss into the phone, wishing Ford goodbye. He blows one back and the call ends. Entering the car, you look behind you to see the twins all buckled up and ready for their adventure. “You guys ready?” “Yeah!”
꣑୧ “So, Dipper, what’s with those dots on your arm?” You point at the four dots on his arm with a fry. Dipper looked down to his arm. His eyebrows rise in shock. “I-I completely forgot I had these,” Dipper’s thumbs the scars, an uneasy look on his face. Your heart stops in your chest. “I’m so sorry, Dipper. I didn’t mean to make–’ Dipper’s hands raise up to his chest, waving them side to side, dismissing your concerns. He assured you that your question didn’t make him uncomfortable. “No, no! It’s just…” He rubs the back of his neck anxiously. “He got possessed by a demon!” Mable blurts out, stuffing her face with a greasy burger. “Mable!” Dipper whines. “I’m sorry! I couldn’t handle you beating around the bush any longer.” She says with a mouthful of chewed up food. You leaned yourself back in the booth, trying to assess what Mable just said. “Dipper got possessed?” You repeated in a question. “Yeah, I kinda did.” Dipper said with a slight voice crack. “Can I know how?” Disbelief was thick in your tone. You didn’t know whether to laugh or walk away in shock. They don’t look like they’re telling a joke? The way Dipper has his head slightly hung low and a tiny frown on his face proved that. But Mable seems as jolly as ever. You fight with yourself, trying to make sense of what happened when Dipper spoke up. “Have you heard of the name Bill Cipher?” Shaking your head no, the twins dove straight into a very long story pertaining to Bill Cipher and how he tormented them throughout summer last year and ultimately led to the world almost ending. “Wow,” Was all that you could mutter. You never got your question about Dipper’s scar answered that day.
꣑୧ Laying in bed, you eyes drifted over to Ford who was brushing his teeth in the bathroom. “You wanna know something crazy the twins told me earlier today?” Ford spat out the toothpaste into the sink. “What did those knuckleheads tell you?” He said, cupping his hand under the running faucet and filling his hand up with water. “It was this really crazy story,” You started. Ford nodded, dunking the water in his mouth and sloshing it around. “They told me about this interdimensional demon named Bill Cipher?--” Ford spit out the water in shock, spraying it everywhere on the mirror. You sat up in surprise. “Ford?” You pushed the blankets off of you and walked over to Ford, your hand on his shoulder. “You okay?” With a forced, “mhm,” he wiped the dripping water from his lips with his forearm. “Y-yeah, no. I’m fine.” He waved you off, nodding his head vigorously, almost as if he was convincing himself that everything was fine. “Are you sure?” Concern laced your voice. Someone who’s fine wouldn’t spit out their water like that at the mention of…Bill Cipher? That’s when it clicked for you. “You have history with this demon as well, don’t you?” Ford groaned, running his hands down his face. “Those kids can’t keep their mouths shut, can they?” He mumbled to himself, his head turning to face you. “What else did they tell you?” That night, you spent it horrified with the tales he told you regarding the past summer and his time with Bill. “And you never told me this, why?” Ford nervously pushed his glasses up, his eyes looking everywhere but you. “Because I…” He trailed off. “I don’t know,” He stops for a moment, inhaling deeply before continuing. “I didn’t want to scare you off. My past...isn’t something I could easily tell you without having a second thought.” A frown pulls to your lips. “Were you ever going to tell me?” You ask, your voice frail and quiet. “Yes?” His tone was full of uncertainty. You didn’t know what to think. One side of you wanted to be mad at him for keeping all of this from you, but on the other hand you felt sympathetic. You knew this wasn’t an easy topic to discuss normally. And you could tell it took him a lot of courage to admit a side of him that he wasn’t fully ready to reveal. But you were deeply hurt that he kept such secrets from you for a long time. And considering how he responded to your question, you weren’t even sure he was going to tell you any time soon. “What are you thinking about?” Ford’s voice ripped you out from your thoughts, grounding you back to reality. “I’m thinking about how crazy all of this is. I didn’t know. The kids went through so much at a young age. A-and you act like it was nothing, they could’ve died Ford.” Your hand rested on the side of your forehead. “You also made a deal with a demon? I…” You let out a sigh. “I don’t know, Stanford.” Ford cringed at the use of his full name. “I can go, if you’d like me to.” You raised your hand up to stop him. “No, I don’t want you to go. I just need time to process this,” You offer him a weak smile. “That’s all I need right now my love, just time.”
꣑୧ “You what?!” Mable and Dipper both screech at the same time. “Yeesh, Ford. And I thought I was a screw-up.” Stan chuckled, elbowing Mable to see if that got a rise from her. It did not. “I thought I was protecting her from all of this madness!” Ford’s elbow rested on the dining room table, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. “Grunkle Stan tried doing the same thing, did you see how that almost ended for us?” Dipper said. “I know, I know.” Ford weakly muttered out. “Then, why did you keep such important details away from her?” Stan argued. “Because I was trying to protect her!” Ford yelled, slamming his hands on the table. That seemed to get a rise from Stan. “Well, maybe you weren’t trying hard enough! Now, look at what you did. You fucked everything up.” He shouted. “Oh!” Ford stood up from his chair. “That’s hilarious coming from you!” Scrambling up the table, Mable slammed her foot down, gaining the attention from Ford and Stan. “Fighting isn’t going to fix things, guys.” She said, “Ford had his reasons, like how you had your reasons for hiding Grunkle Ford from us, Grunkle Stan.” Ford adjusted his sweater, sitting back down on his chair. “Now, Grunkle Ford. What did she tell you?” She asked, turning over to Ford. “She told me that she needed time.” Sitting crossed-crossed, she nodded her head intently. “That’s good, right?” In return was silence. “Right, guys?” Both Dipper and Stan agreed. “Great! Now while we wait, can we apologize to each other for acting so mean and for swearing.” She directed a look to Stan who scoffed.
꣑୧ And wait they did. After a couple of days, Ford’s phone randomly started ringing. Rushing to pick it up, he lifted his phone to see you calling him. He gulped nervously, suddenly second guessing himself. Should he pick up the phone? If he does, what if it’s you telling him that you want a divorce? Or that you need a break, or that– “Grunkle Ford!” Dipper snapped his fingers in front of his face. “Answer!” He pointed to the phone. “I got it!” Mable sang out, swiping her finger to the right. There was a beat of silence. Mable and Dipper anxiously waited for at least you or him to speak. One of them was about to intrude, no longer able to withstand such silence when you spoke up. “My love?” Your voice was timid. Ford’s heart lunged to his throat. How he missed your voice. “Y-Yes?” He mentally punched himself for stuttering like a complete fool in front of you. “Can you open the door for me? It’s locked.” Without a second thought, Ford practically ran over to the door and whipped it open for you. The twins watched you and him silently talk to each other from a distance. After a few tearful words and hugs, they recoil in disgust when they see Ford swoop you in for a kiss. “Oh my eyes!” Mable dramatically exclaimed. “Gross.” Dipper made a face in disgust.
꣑୧ “I’m still mad at Ford for roping you kids into all that madness.” You tell the kids, mindlessly scrolling on your phone. “Dawww, don’t you worry about us.” Mable put a hand to her cheek bashfully. “We can handle it.” You found that hard to believe. “Is Gravity Falls still…crazy?” You whisper the last part, in case Bill Cipher is listening. You’ve only heard stories of him, but hearing what he has done rooted a new fear in you. “Kind of? There’s still weird things that happen here, but not as bad as last summer.” Dipper said, jotting down a few notes in his journal. “How come I’ve never seen anything weird?” You wondered. “Because you’re too busy making out with Grunkle Ford to notice anything!” Mable chirped, kicking her feet as she drew on colored piece of paper. That elicited a laugh from Dipper and a “What!” Ford walked in with an eyebrow raised and breakfast in hand. ”I heard I was mentioned in a conversation. Are you guys talking crap about me?” Ford places his food on the table and pulls back a chair. He sits right next to you and before he dives in on his breakfast, he gives you a quick kiss on the lips. “You wish!” Mable says, flipping her paper on its backside. “I do not.” Ford said quietly. “So, kids saving the world, huh? That has to count as some kind of child abuse.” You half said seriously, half said jokingly. Ford rolled his eyes. “What? Are you gonna arrest me?” You glared at him. “I might…”
#1YURILOVER🎀🦢✂️ @mabelpiness1fan - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
