Pairing: Stanley Pines x Gender Ambiguous Reader
Rating: Explicit
Tags: Gender-Neutral Reader-Insert, Masturbation, Semi-public masturbation, Fantasizing, Sexual Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Power Imbalance, Age Difference, Pet Names, Voice Kink, Belly Kink, Cigars, Smoking
Working minimum wage at a tourist trap at this stage in your life wasn't on your bingo card.
But then again, frantically trying to get off in the storage closet of said tourist trap wasn’t on there either.
You already had a crush on your stupid, sexy, geriatric boss. He was the only good thing about this gig– a bit of hard eye-candy to get you through the day. He was definitely entertaining, in a corny sort of way. He made you laugh, whether on purpose or not, and that almost made up for the lack of a proper break room.
Normally, you can keep it in your pants. But today, Mr. Mystery came into the gift shop as Stan Pines– only partly dressed in his getup.
The old man had his jacket and dress shirt undone, revealing his beater and medallion underneath. He didn’t have his girdle on yet, so his paunch hung out and over his belt tantalizingly.
He was nursing a hangover, you assumed, with how tired he seemed, dragging himself through the doorway with a groan. He’d had his glasses in hand, rubbing his eyes as he spoke, more rough than usual, as if that was possible.
“Remind me never to never pull an all-nighter again,” he huffed, rubbing the back of his fez-less head. His full head of hair and decent hairline is truly impressive for his age.
“Woke up on the wrong side of the bridge today?” you hid your ogling with one of your friendly jabs, tapping a Mystery Shack branded pen on the register where you sat.
His eyes shot to the vending machine, then to you in a glare. “Get to work,” he’d said, lacking his usual witty comeback.
“Aye aye, Captain,” you saluted, before dipping into the hidden drawer for the latest inventory list.
You saw Stan move from the corner of your eye, patting his suit in search of something, but finding it in his inner jacket pocket. He withdrew a thick cigar and a matchbook before tapping his pockets again, seemingly missing an item.
“Damn,” he cursed under his breath, coming up empty on his search. “Hey kid,” he said to get your attention.
“Hm?” You pretended to look up as if you weren’t already staring.
He nodded his head in your direction. “There a cigar cutter in there?”
“Oh, uh, let me see,” you open the drawer again and give it a scan, brushing various paperclips and pencils around in search of the item in question.
Impatient this morning, Stan let out a sigh, approaching the register to take a look for himself. He was by your side then, nudging his way into your space as he looked, roughly sweeping items around in a much more brutish way.
He stood with his chest at eye-level, the engraved medallion he always wears was on full display among the nestle of silver chest hair. It glistened in the fluorescent lights of the shop, sparkling, luring you like a magpie. He was close enough to smell his cologne, a bit overwhelming as he put on a bit too much in his haste to get ready.
“Ah-ha!” Stan said, finding the cutter in the back of the drawer behind the stapler. “Gotcha.”
He pulled back, immediately cutting the cigar and popping it in his mouth.
And oh God, he looks fuckin’ good with it caught between his teeth.
Looking for the matches again, Stan pat his pockets out of habit. You spied the matchbook on the ground and went for it, bending down and picking it up from Stan’s feet. He was watching you when you came back up, offering it out for him.
“Thanks, Doll,” Stan said around the cigar, his fingers brushing yours when he took the matches.
Doll.
The pet name echoes through your head now as your hand works, sounding so natural on his tongue with that gravely voice.
You picture in your mind the sight that followed and was the final spark in your kindled arousal: Stan striking the match and lighting the cigar expertly, giving it a couple puffs.
Your eyes were wide, and you were surely slack-jawed and drooling. Stan blew the smoke away from you both, looking you up and down as he did.
There was a pregnant pause, something hanging in the air as Stan silently took another drag as he sized you up.
“Get back to work,” he finally said, breaking the silence as he exhaled. “Think I pay ya t’stand around?” He shot over his shoulder as he turned and made his way to the back door.
“Y-yes. I mean no!” You scrambled, grabbing the inventory list and clipboard. “I’m gonna go– count some merch.”
“Congratulations,” Stan had waved you off, exiting the shop with a puff of smoke.
So here you are, shorts and underwear around your ankles, leaned desperately against a box of overpriced panther shirts as you crank it to the thought of your boss dicking you down.
It’s shameful, and that just turns you on even more. You have to bite your lip, stifling your moans as you picture that barrel chest and portly stomach pressing into your back as he takes you from behind.
Flashes of what brought you here flip through your mind like a Rolodex to ramp you to your peak.
That cologne, the smell of him, how it lingers in your nostrils. The way his lips wrapped around that cigar. His fucking chest hair, unruly and wild.
The thought of getting caught eggs you on too, adrenaline spiking in your veins.
What would he do?
He'd have to punish you. Use those thick, calloused hands on you to hold you down and teach you a lesson, right here in the gift shop.
You come to the thought of that gold chain smacking you in the face as he rams you, your knees pressed into your shoulders. You have to slap a hand over your mouth, caught off-guard by how hard your orgasm hits you over the head like you’re Wile E. Coyote.
And that was the first, but far from the last time you masturbated to Stan Pines.
Just wait until you see him in his boxers tomorrow.
AO3 if you prefer
For the weekly Mystery Shack discord prompt!
GN reader x Ford
SFW
Fluff/Angst
Stanford [Pre-portal]
While he’s away he always sends you letters and postcards.
Sometimes it’s every other day and sometimes you might not hear from him in weeks.
But his letters are never dull.
Always bursting with excitement over the things he’s seen and learned since moving to Gravity Falls.
He’ll send cute or cheesy postcards. You have a small collection you keep as keepsakes, as well as other strange things he deems worthy of sending you. You have a little glass jar of unicorn hair.
You enjoy his letters even if they end rambly and nonsensical as he gets taken away by how excited he is, it’s always nice to know he’s having a good time.
Sometimes, however, you do worry. The darker things he will speak about in his letters, how not everything is so magical and whimsical over in Gravity Falls. You always write back with worry, but he will always assure you he’s fine.
The sound of your letterbox piques your interest and you set down your cup of tea to investigate. You weren’t expecting anything in the mail? Sitting on your doormat is a chunky-looking envelope and you can’t help but smile knowing exactly who it’s from. You pick it up and realise it has some weight to it.
You open the envelope and pull out all the different things. A thick whad of written pages, a map of Gravity Falls that he’s put coloured dots on, no doubt to correspond to various parts of the letter, a page of handcrafted puzzles he thinks you’ll enjoy. He’s even drawn a few pictures for you, the anomalies he’s spotted and been able to study that he thinks you'd find cute or cool. Also in the bundle is a cute postcard of the sleepy town.
Stanford Pines loves to ramble, more so on paper.
You prepare yourself another drink as you get comfy in your armchair and start to read over the many things your long-distance boyfriend has sent you. His handwriting is always beautiful, even when he’s in a rush or writing so much that it almost falls off the bottom.
There were so many pages to get through and you loved every single one. His excitement was always palpable and as much as it made you miss him more, it made you happy to know he was thriving and doing what he wanted.
You reached the last page and you couldn’t help but grin. He wanted you to move out there and be with him now that he was mostly settled. You gripped the page and felt your heart beat faster. It would be a big move but it was to be with Ford. You also longed for the thrill of adventure and getting to explore the strange world of Gravity Falls together? You wanted that, wanted to be with him again.
You started to write back to him, saying you’d sort out things before coming to join him, you’d let him know when you were on your way so he could prepare. You posted the letter and couldn’t feel happier, the promise of a new start and the next level of your relationship with Ford.
–
As time passed, you grew worried about Stanford. It had been almost a month since you’d gotten a letter from him, since he’d invited you to join him. He wouldn’t pick up his phone, it was left to ring and ring and ring. The last time you’d tried it had sounded like someone had picked up and put it straight down.
You kept sending letters, hoping to hear something from Ford.
Every day you felt the unsettled feeling in your gut grow. Did something bad happen? Did he just not love you anymore? You were packed and ready to go, maybe if you showed up at his door, you’d finally have the answers you were desperately looking for.
That morning, a letter came. Small, flat, the envelope was crumpled and creased.
In a messy, large font, scribbled and scrawled, ink smeared across the paper, read ‘DON’T COME LOOKING FOR ME’
This scene in Scaryoke Scars has been stuck in my head for ages so i had to doodle it to exorcise it from my brain
The “grabbing someone by their lapels to kiss them” trope has always had me in a chokehold so there’s no way I wasn’t going to include that in my Stan x reader fic
I’m still writing the third part of the Scaryoke Scars series, but the first two fics are finished and on ao3!
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
Dysmorphio's Back At It Again! | Bill Cipher x Reader
Was feeling not so good today, but then I was inspired by a certain page in my Book of Bill! This is incredibly self-indulgent lmao
Synopsis: You don't like the way you look. Bill decides to cheer you up in his own weird way.
Content: can be read as platonic or romantic, established relationship (timeline is unclear but like assume he's just living with you or something), OOC Bill Cipher, talks of dysmorphia and self-deprecation, attempt at comfort, mostly lighthearted and silly, Bill's advice may not work for everyone!! but he does mean well (or is trying to anyways)
You feel like you're doing something wrong.
You stare at the mirror, eyes zoning in on every flaw. The more you look, the more things you find that makes your chest tighten. A zit there, some dry skin here...
Your hair is unflattering on your head, and your face shape reminds you of lumpy clay. Your lips are dry, and your eyes have bags that make it look sunken--like a skeleton or a corpse. Your body is awkward looking, and you're barely fashionable enough to pull it off.
Who are you kidding? Nothing looks good on you. The styles you try to copy off of Pinterest or any other site never end up working out: You never seem to look as good compared to the people in the picture.
...You don't get it. You thought that, by now, things would change. As a kid, you believed that you'd look better when you grew up. Nicer. More attractive. That was how puberty worked, right? You go through an awkward phase as your body grows, and when you become an adult, you'd be the stunning and most drop dead gorgeous looking person you dreamed of being.
Of course, you understand now that's not how it really works. Technically, yes, puberty is like that. But realistically, you're probably not going to turn into a super model. And that was fine with you.
Really, it was.
Until you saw your friends and can't help but think how lovely they look. Then you see the people around you and think that they look lovely, too.
Then you look at yourself.
And you can't help but think that 'lovely' is the last word you'd use.
You know that beauty is subjective. You know that your younger self's mentality of 'I'll instantly look amazing when I grow older!' is flawed, because good looks aren't something you can grow into.
But looking at everyone else, and how they all seem to grow into that 'good looking/attractive' person you imagined... Meanwhile, you feel like you're still stuck in the awkward phase.
You let out a quiet sigh.
You just want to see yourself and feel good about how you look. Is that too much to ask?
"Hey there, slick!"
You startle and let out a yelp, stumbling back. Bill laughs from his spot next to you.
"Wow, you're awfully jumpy! Too caught up in your self-deprecation spiral to even notice I'm here?" Bill summons his simple black cane and twirls it in his fingers, eye shining with mirth. "Be glad you evolved to be a predator species, kid. Being that distracted usually means you'd end up as someone's dinner!"
He cackles, and you calm down your racing heart.
"Anyways," Bill snaps his finger, cane disappearing. "I can't help but notice you staring blankly at yourself in the mirror for the past 2 minutes! You finally lost your mind after being around me for so long?"
You open your mouth to say something, before thinking better and closing it. Bill takes in your silence with a hum, eye raking over you.
"Ohh, I see what's going on. You don't like the way you look, huh?"
You turn to face him. Wow, it's like he read your mind. Though, knowing Bill, he probably did.
Bill only shakes his head. "Looks like Dysmorphio's back at it again!"
Your face twists into confusion. Dysmorphio? Bill catches your expression and his eye crinkles like he's smiling.
"He's from the mirror dimension," Bill clarifies. "And let me tell you, he's a real piece of work! He's the reason why people stay inside because 'your face looks weird today'." He does air quotation marks and rolls his eye, and scoffs. "Pretty stupid, if you ask me."
Bill's words make shame trickle in your gut, and you look away.
He falters at that.
"Hey, c'mon, I didn't mean that you're..." Bill trails off, hand outstretched and voice softening just a tiny bit.
Bill almost touches your shoulder before he stops himself, fingers curling into his palm. His eye looks to the side, contemplative... Then he steels himself with a familiar spark of confidence.
Bill grabs your collar-
"C'mere!"
-And drags you in front of the mirror. You let out a strangled noise at the sudden movement and try to find your footing when Bill lets go.
After you balanced yourself, Bill clears his throat.
"Alright, kid, there's no easy way to break this to you. I know it's not hard for creatures like Dysmorphio to get in your head- I mean, look at me! I got in easy peasy!" He leans forward, finger pointing at you. "But that doesn't mean you should ACTUALLY listen to him!"
You perk up at that, and Bill leans back casually, floating at your eye level.
"Here's the truth, slick. You are disgusting."
You deadpan.
"BUT!" He quickly adds, "Guess what? So is everyone else! If you think about it, you're ALL just a bunch of meat computers in a slowly deteriorating flesh prison. So why not FLAUNT it? Here-"
He grabs you by the shoulders and turns you to face the mirror.
"Repeat after me," Bill says. "And I mean actually repeat it. Don't just read my words, alright? Actually repeat after me, or I'm going to eat your hair while you sleep."
Bill clears his throat, looking at you in the mirror.
"I am a REPULSIVE BEAST OF UNFATHOMABLE WRETCHEDNESS!"
Bill waits for your response. You sigh and decide to humor him. His eye lights up when you do, and he continues.
"I FEED ON YOUR DISGUST!"
"I AM REPUGNANCE INCARNATE, AND SHAME CANNOT CLAIM ME. Don't forget that last bit, that one's important!"
You repeat his words as you look at yourself in the mirror. The sheer goofiness of it all makes you feel... Lighter.
"There!" Bill pats your shoulder, proud. "Doesn't that feel better?"
You nod.
"Good." Bill lets his hands fall to his sides. "Now HEADBUTT THE MIRROR TO SHOW HIM WHO'S BOSS!!!"
You give him a look. Bill huffs.
"No?" You shake your head in response. Bill crosses his arms. "Fine... I'll do it for you!"
He points a finger at the mirror and shoots out blue flame like a gun. The mirror shatters, glass shards flying everywhere as Bill laughs maniacally.
Thankfully, none of the shards hit you, considering an invisible shield comes up to protect you and Bill. You wonder whether or not you were safe because you happened to be near him, or if he included you on purpose.
The thought makes you smile.
Bill dusts off his hands, "Welp! There's your lesson for the day, slick. Beauty is overrated and fake, because EVERYONE is revolting! Try reveling in your own horrifying nature for a change. It's great, trust me!"
He slings an arm over your shoulder, eye shimmering in satisfaction.
"Embrace the weirdness! Be proud of your fleshy outer shell! And don't forget to DESTROY all mirrors to taunt Dysmorphio on how he TOTALLY FAILED to get to you!!!"
Bill starts laughing again, swaying you back and forth in his hold. You look down at the floor and spot your reflection on the several glass shards scattered around.
And you find that you like what you see.
Yeah yeah cheesy ahh ending or whatever IDC!!! /lh
This was honestly just written as a personal pick me up, because I was feeling down. And what better way to make urself feel better than to write about your blorbos!!
Also, first time writing for Bill Cipher!! Dont think I got his character quite right, but eh, I'll get better at writing him in the future.
It's also wrote this in the middle of the night, so it's barely proofread WAHHSHSA I hope you still enjoyed it, tho!!
With the car all packed up, you slide into the passenger side of the car, expecting Stan to take over the wheel like he did yesterday.
To your surprise, Ford slips into the driver’s seat.
“I thought you don’t usually drive?” You question.
“Well, Stanley wanted to catch up on some sleep still on the drive back so I offered.” Ford explains, the well-crafted lie flowing off his tongue as he buckles his seatbelt.
In reality, he asked Stan if he could drive instead for the opportunity to spend more quality time with you, being met with a thinly veiled threat if Ford scratched or dented the El Diablo while being handed the keys.
The drive back to the Mystery Shack was quite peaceful.
You rolled down the window a few inches, taking in the lush green scenery as the breeze hit your face, during the smooth drive. Ford glances in the rear view mirror, seeing Stan actually asleep, Dipper having his head buried in a book while Mabel looks through the photos she took on the camping trip, both of them having a pair of earbuds in, blasting their own respective music.
“Hey, Y/N, mind opening the glove compartment? Apparently that’s where Stan keeps his CDs.” Ford asks, hoping to fill the silence to drown out his brother’s snores.
You nod, reaching forward to open the glove box and pulling out the CD case underneath all the miscellaneous papers, scratched out lottery cards and… where those fake IDs? You decide to ignore it for now, grabbing the dusty case and thumbing through Stan’s collection.
“Anything catching your eye?” Ford asks after a notable amount of time of you still looking through the CDs.
“Hmm, nothing yet. Your brother really likes disco and jazz… as well as strangely enough, Icelandic pop music.” You hum, pulling out a BABBA CD.
“That actually might be mine.” Ford admits, rubbing the back of his neck, “I’m guessing you don’t remember that BABBA is one of my favorite groups.”
You glance between the CD and Ford, expecting the intellectual man before you to be listening to Holst, Chopin, Tchaikovsky or perhaps even Eurythmics.
“You listen to Icelandic pop group, BABBA?” You parrot the information back to Ford who simply nods in response, “I have every lyric memorized.”
“Prove it then.” You say, almost challenging him as you slide the disc into the car radio.
Ford takes on your challenge, singing along to the lyrics albeit slightly out of tune in his deep voice. You can’t help the wide grin that spreads across your cheeks, laughing as Ford’s attempts to hit the high notes of Disco Girl.
Mabel looks up from her camera after sorting through the photos to see the two of you smiling at one another as you both sing along. She quickly turns off her flash, learning her lesson from this morning and takes a quick photo before nudging her brother.
Dipper looks at his sister with slight annoyance as she breaks his concentration, but as he looks over you and Ford, he can’t help but smile at the sight of his great uncle happy.
However, he pauses, realizing the words Ford is singing through skilled lip-reading and he rips out his earbuds to confirm what he sees.
“Great Uncle Ford, you listen to BABBA too?!”
You both look back in alarm, Ford’s cheeks flushed in embarrassment before you giggle, reaching over to poke his cheek, “Guess a love of BABBA runs in the family.”
-
After arriving back at the Mystery Shack and getting some much needed rest via a much needed long nap, you emerge from your room, letting out a yawn. The sun shone through the triangle shaped window, its golden orange hue signaling that it was mid-day. Your feet carrying you to the kitchen to make yourself some coffee in preparation of the night to come.
The scent of coffee hits your nostrils, catching you off guard. It appears that someone in the Pines family had a similar idea.
Expecting either Stan or Ford to be around the corner, you’re even more surprised to see Dipper standing on top of a stool, drumming his fingers against the wood of the cabinets as he waits for the coffee to finish brewing.
“Didn’t realize you drank coffee, Dipper?” You commented, walking into the kitchen to make your presence known.
“Oh hey Y/N, how was your nap?” Dipper asks. A 38-sided die that shines in Dipper’s hand catches your attention before you turn it back to him.
“It was good, much needed.” You chuckle, “Mind if I pour myself a cup of coffee myself from the pot you’re brewing?”
“Oh…” Dipper looks down at the entire pot of coffee before looking up sheepishly, “I don’t actually drink coffee, Y/N. This is for Great Uncle Ford actually. We were in the middle of a Dungeons, Dungeons and More Dungeons game and he asked me to make him a pot to prepare for tonight.”
“The entire pot?”
“Yup.”
Somehow, this sounded like a habit that Ford developed in college from the memories you could recall of all the all-nighters you pulled with him.
“Mind if I join you downstairs to see if he’d at least let me have one cup?” You ask, grabbing two mugs from the cupboard for Ford and you.
“Sure, do you wanna join our game of Dungeons, Dungeons and More Dungeons?” Dipper says excitedly.
“I honestly can’t say I’ve ever played it…” Dipper’s expression slightly drops, deflating a bit, “But I’d love to watch and see if I can get the hang of it to join maybe another time.” You admit, anticipating a very complex game system based on the 38-sided die.
“Trust me, it’s not that complicated once you get past the initial mechanics!” Dipper attempts to reassure you, guiding you to a part of the Mystery Shack that was starting to become eerily familiar the moment Dipper pushed aside the vending machine to reveal a set of stairs that descend down to the basement.
The basement that Ford would be holed up in night after night working on the portal.
The basement that was the setting of your nightmare last night.
You freeze at the top of the steps, a lump in your throat. Dipper realizes that you are no longer right behind him midway down the steps. He looks up at you in confusion, carefully holding the coffee pot in his hands. “Is everything okay, Y/N?”
You almost drop the coffee mugs in your hands until Dipper’s voice snaps you out of your daze. “Y-yeah, just spaced out for a second.” Taking a deep inhale through your nostrils, you start walking down the stairs, meeting up with Dipper as you both descend the stairs together.
“Great Uncle Ford told me that you, Grunkle Stan, and him are going to the Museum of History tonight to hopefully find your memories.” Dipper mentions.
You stare down at him in surprise, wondering what else Ford has told him, “Did your Grunkle Ford mention anything else?”
“No, just that Mabel and I can’t tag along… we were hoping we’d be able to help you out.” Dipper explains, “We discovered where the memories of the citizens of Gravity Falls were kept last summer… we helped Old Man McGucket get his memories back.”
Despite your perplexity surrounding how two thirteen-year olds managed to help your old friend gain his memories back, you can’t help but feel flattered at Dipper’s offer to assist, “Well I appreciate you and your sister wanting to help me even though we just met a few days ago.”
Your hand reaches down to fix the lumberjack hat that was starting to tilt down to cover Dipper’s eyes, and Dipper gives you a gratuitous smile, “You mean a lot to Great Uncle Ford so of course, we wanna help.”
Speaking of Ford, his voice calls out to Dipper, his face buried in the newest edition of the Dungeons, Dungeons and More Dungeons rule book, “Dipper, come quickly! It looks like they brought back the Imposibeast but with a much better probability of defeating him!”
Dipper quickly dashes down the last few steps, and you follow behind him in amusement, “No way! I thought there was no way they were gonna bring him back when I saw the theories about it online.”
Ford looks up from the book, caught off guard as he sees you trailing behind Dipper who places the coffee pot on the desk and eagerly snatches it from his great uncle’s hands to take a look, “Y/N, I thought you were resting. We have a long night ahead of us.”
“Look, who’s talking.” You counter with a grin, placing the mugs down onto the desk. You glance down at it, having a brief flashback of the small of your back pressed up against the cool metal surface in your dream. Ford notices it immediately, standing up suddenly and placing a hand on your shoulder, “Are you sure you’re okay being down here?” He asks in a hushed tone, glancing over his shoulder to see Dipper still preoccupied.
You nod, placing your own hand on top of Ford’s and squeezing it gently, “I’ll be okay. I came down here to ask if I could have at least a cup of coffee from the pot.”
Your gaze flickers over to the two mugs, “Dipper mentioned you were gonna have the whole pot to yourself.”
Ford’s cheeks flush in embarrassment, reaching over to pour you a cup before pouring himself his own, “Yes, of course. I… uh… picked up the habit unfortunately during our college days.”
“I figured,” You grin at his flustered expression, finding it endearing. You take the warm mug from Ford’s hand, “Though it also wouldn’t surprise me if you were able to get through those all nighters through sheer will-power and a thirst of knowledge alone.”
Ford shakes his head, a deep chuckle escaping his lips, “Unfortunately, I have a human body that has its limitations of needing food, water and sleep to function properly. Though I always tried to test those limits.”
“Are you ready to play again, Great Uncle Ford?” Dipper asks, looking up from the rule book, “I wanna get a bit further along in the campaign we started a few weeks ago.”
“Of course, my boy.” Ford replies, taking a seat back on the floor. To his surprise, you join them on the floor, sitting between him and Dipper. “You don’t have to join us, Y/N.” There was a slight tinge of guilt in Ford’s voice, hoping you didn’t feel obligated to stay, especially knowing that you just had a nightmare within the confines of this basement.
You shake your head, “I already promised Dipper I’d stay and watch. Besides, it's better than trying to convince Stan to give up the TV. I passed him on the way to the kitchen and he’s glued to his seat, watching some historical drama.”
Dipper and Ford look at each other knowingly.
Stan was on another The Duchess Approves binge.
“Well, where did we leave off? Ah, yes! You enter the cave, lulled in by the soothing, melodic tones of a sweet song. But it’s a trap!” Ford begins to spin a tale, twirling
the 38-sided die between his fingers with skill.
You watch in amusement for the next few hours, seeing the two excitedly play the game before you while you take sips from your coffee and refill Ford’s mug throughout their campaign.
While Dipper is taking his turn, Ford can’t help but relish in this moment, his heart skipping a beat at the sight of you watching intently when Dipper rolls his die, giving him a high five when he rolls a perfect 38.
Truth be told, this was a reflection of the life he had hoped you two would have at one point. Playing DDNMD with what Ford thought would be your child together.
He hoped that tonight would bring him as close to that dream as he could get after losing decades with you.
-
The hours flew by quickly, almost losing track of time if it weren’t for Stan descending down the stairs and telling the three of you that it was almost 10 PM.
You quickly rushed up to your room, a thankfully roomy storage room inside the Mystery Shack, to get ready. After a quick shower and changing into an all-black outfit to aid in your stealth for tonight’s journey, your fingers ran over the ink of your journal, looking through the pages of the dreams you had cataloged over the past twenty plus years.
Tonight was hopefully the night you would uncover the meaning behind them.
Slipping the journal into your black fanny pack that you are thankful you packed, you close the door of your room behind you, decked in all black attire. You pass by the living room on your way outside, seeing the peaceful scene of the twins watching Duck-tective with Soos and Melody in the living room before making your way to the front door of the Mystery Shack.
As you step out into the cool summer night, you see Stan and Ford already standing outside, their deep voices bickering. Both wearing all black attire with gloves. They practically matched aside from some clear stylistic differences in their tops - Ford wearing a black turtleneck and trench coat and Stan wearing a black t-shirt and black leather jacket.
“Am I interrupting something?” Your voice cuts through as you approach, causing the two to whip their heads around and fall quiet out of embarrassment.
“I was just telling Stanley that it would be much easier if we just bring a pair of bolt cutters, that should be enough to just cut off the lock.” Ford argues, holding up the bolt cutters.
“When you’re breaking and entering, you want to bring as little equipment as possible - otherwise, you might leave evidence at the scene!” Stan counters.
“Well, let’s ask Y/N what she thinks!” Ford says with an already triumphant tone to his voice, his hands on his hips, confident that you will take his side. The two look at you expectantly, seeking an answer to their argument.
Jeez, you wondered how these two resolved issues when it was just the two of them on a boat in the middle of the ocean.
“You did ask him to come along for his lock-picking skills, Ford.” You point out hesitantly to which Stan triumphantly pumps his arm in the air before exclaiming, “In your face, Poindexter!”
Ford sighs, about to protest, but one look from your eyes had his frustration melting away. He finally concedes, “Alright, I’ll put back the bolt cutters then.”
The three of you pile into El Diablo, the twins sitting in the front and you sitting in the back. The rest of the drive to the museum goes smoothly for the most part aside from the twins’ usual bickering and bantering.
After you arrive in front of the museum, Stan steps out to scope the area. You take this opportunity to pull out your journal, skimming through it. Ford can’t help his innate curiosity from piquing, “Is there a particular dream you’re hoping to get clarity on tonight?” You pause at the question, not answering right away before your fingers turn through the pages before landing on one page. You passed the journal over to Ford, and he took it from your hands, staring down at a symbol that Ford was familiar with.
The Cloaked Figure.
An X through an all-seeing eye.
The symbol of the Society of the Blind Eye.
“In what context does this symbol come up in dreams?” Ford asks. He knows that the only context that you probably have of this image is when your mind was erased.
“I’ve seen flashes of it here and there… The main dream I have with it involves a cloaked figure standing above me, it’s on their hood.” You share, seeing Ford’s expression turn ashen. You started to get concerned at his reaction, “Is everything okay? Do you know what this symbol means?”
Before Ford can respond, Stanley interrupts the two of you, “Hey, the coast is clear.” Ford swiftly changes the subject, slipping out of the car, “We should get going then, time is of the essence.”
You can’t help but feel slightly annoyed at Ford’s avoidance of the topic. You take a deep breath to collect yourself before following behind the twins, hoping that tonight would give you the answer if Ford wouldn’t.
You’re not sure whether to be concerned or impressed by Stan’s vast knowledge of lock-picking, but you’re grateful for it the moment the padlock comes loose, dropping onto Stan’s hand. “Great work, Stanley, that went much quicker than I had anticipated.” Ford says, pulling a flashlight to illuminate the dark museum as the three of you slip inside, shutting the door behind you.
Making your way through the museum, the figures and masks that adorn the walls and space looking creepier in the dim lighting, Ford searches for the room full of eyes that Dipper had mentioned to him during their encounter with the Society of the Blind Eye. “Hey Ford, Dipper mentioned to me that Mabel and him found Fiddleford’s memories down here. How did they even end up here?” You ask.
“Would you believe me if I were to tell you that Fiddleford started a cult?” Ford lets out a dry chuckle at the statement, glancing over his shoulder to see your look of disbelief. “You’re gonna need to elaborate on that one, Sixer.” Stan pointed out. “Honestly, at this point, I would have believed you if you told me that you and Stan were actually clones more than that.” You scoff, causing the brothers to laugh.
“When Fiddleford first invented the memory gun, I had warned him about the potential risks it could pose if it fell into the wrong hands. Unbeknownst to me, Fiddleford continued to use it to deal with his anxiety. After…” Ford paused, clearing his throat of the nervous lump that got stuck, “After the two of you left, Fiddleford created what he called the Society of the Blind Eye. Its sole purpose was to help the people of Gravity Falls cope with the weirdness they witnessed on a daily basis by forgetting. Below this museum is where they would erase their minds and store the memories after.”
You stop in your tracks, your brain seemingly buffering. Just when you thought things couldn't get stranger, there was always something that caught you off guard.
“Excuse me, one second.” You announce, walking away from Stan and Ford into another exhibit away from them.
Ford looks at Stan in confusion before both of them jump at the sound of you exclaiming.
“What the hell?!”
You walked back into the room, letting out a sigh after getting that out of your system, “Alright, let’s keep moving.”
Ford and Stan look at each other and Stan pats Ford’s shoulder sympathetically, “Better get used to that, I have a feeling that’s gonna happen a lot tonight.”
-
After following Stan and Ford down a pole that Ford had insisted lead to where the memories were stored, your eyes widened, taking in the sight of a room full of capsules with different names laid across the floor, and a statue of a figure in a cloak at the center of the room.
“Jeez, how many minds did that old hillbilly erase?” Stan comments, kicking aside a capsule that rolls across the floor.
“I highly doubt this was all Fiddleford’s doing. Apparently, when his mind was gone after multiple uses of the memory gun, someone took up his mantle and took the job quite seriously by the looks of it.” Ford crouched down to survey the different names on the gold tubes
“Well… where do we start?” You ask, still dumbfounded at the sheer amount of memories that seemed to have been erased.
Ford glances around the spacious room before giving an answer, “Divide and conquer is likely the best strategy. I’ll take this area over here. Stan, could you take the area on the other side of the room? Y/N, you can check the capsules that are next to that statue.”
With the directions given, the three of you split up, the sound of metal clanking against the floor with each tube tossed to the side amidst the sorting. Each new name that you read causes a pit in your stomach to form, becoming more and more hopeless about the possibility that your name would be found amongst the massive pile. Part of you wonders how many hours, days, potentially years of memories of people’s lives are lost within this room.
The hours spent searching drag along, time standing still underneath the museum. “How long have we been down here for?” Stan asks, making it halfway through a pile in the far corner of the room. Ford pulls back his sleeve to reveal a calculator watch the twins had gifted him for his birthday, “Approximately two hours, eight minutes, thirty-one seconds.”
“Should we just call it? There’s still a good chunk of the room left to sort through. We’ve already lost sleep over this.” You sigh, tossing another tube to the side.
Ford looks up from his own pile of capsules, seeing the defeated expression upon your face. He gets up and takes a seat next to you, “Listen, I didn’t drink a whole pot of coffee for us to give up halfway through the night. I’m ready to forge onward if that’s what you want but if you would like to call it, we absolutely can.”
Your eyes flick to Stan who gives a noncommittal shrug, “I’ve got the energy to keep going. I’m caught up on all my sleep during the day.”
“Alright… let’s keep going.” You say to Ford, giving him and Stan the green light to continue sorting through the piles. Ford decided to stick closer to you for a bit, helping you sort through the capsules at a much quicker pace before moving back to the other side of the room.
Reaching the end of his pile, Ford grabs the last capsule, turning it over. His eyes widened.
‘No, this can’t be…’ Ford thinks to himself.
Before he can process what he had seen, your voice cries out excitedly, “I found it!” In your hand, you hold up a capsule that reads ‘Y/N L/N Memories’
Ford’s mouth hangs open, ready to speak up. Seeing the look of relief and elation on your face, he decides against it. He puts the golden capsule in his hand into his deep trench coat pocket and rushes over to your side of the room at your announcement, “My god, it actually is here. I was starting to worry that my theory that it may be here was completely off base.” He mutters.
The two of you look down at the capsule and back up at each other. Your eyes are full of uncertainty, and his full of regret. Ford places his hand atop yours, both of you holding onto this small object that contains your memories of the man before you.
“I’m not sure what lies ahead in these memories… but words cannot express how truly sorry I am for everything that unravels moving forward.” Ford sighs, “I know you may not want comfort from the person who hurt you deeply, but if you need any clarity in what you see, I will give you those answers.”
You look down at the capsule before letting out a sigh, “Here goes nothing.”
Your hands place the capsule inside the holder, the screen flickering on the moment that it is inserted. You sit on the floor, knowing you’re in for a long viewing. Ford and Stan follow suit, sitting behind you as to go give you space.
Memories flicker onto the screen like a tape, playing back every single interaction you had with Ford.
Your first meeting in the library.
All-nighters you pulled together.
Reading under the trees in the quad, Ford’s head on your lap.
Tender kisses exchanged, his six fingers intertwined with yours, falling asleep in each other’s arms.
Ford carrying you on his back as you wear your graduation attire.
Ford watches on with a bittersweet smile. It had been so long since he had reminisced on these times so to see them so clearly laid out in front of him was comforting. He wonders how he ever let this go, how he let his need to be accepted by people who only sought to use him push away this wonderful person who accepted him in and out - you.
The memories from college that were still quite murky were becoming crystal clear, everything unraveling in front of you. You could almost feel the feelings of affection towards Ford come back, the butterflies in your stomach stirring.
They suddenly drop at the sight of an offer letter to the National Parks in your hands.
You were about to knock on Ford’s door before he suddenly burst out, grabbing you and spinning you around in excitement. “Ford, put me down! What’s with all the commotion?” You chuckle, still clutching the letter in your hand.
“Y/N, my grant proposal got accepted!” Ford shared the news excitedly. Your eyes widened, and you embraced him in response, “That’s amazing, Ford! I-” Ford cuts you off, “I’ve decided that I want to study anomalies, the oddities of the world like myself… There's a sleepy town in Oregon that is a hot spot for them!”
“Oregon…? That’s so far away from here… but I suppose we could do long distance while you’re doing your research.” You mutter, clutching the paper in your hands tighter.
“Well… we don’t have to.” Ford pauses, holding you by the shoulders, “I would love for you to accompany me on this journey. Oregon is chalk full of geological findings, I’m sure you could find work out there.”
“Right…” You trail off. You had to make a decision right here and now - pursue your dream job or follow the man that you loved to support him. You knew if you shared the news with Ford, he would insist on you taking the job.
“Is everything alright, my star?” Ford asks with a furrowed brow, seeing the conflicted look in your eyes.
“Yes… I’d love to join you in Oregon.” You say, crumpling up the offer letter.
Ford watches in awe, guilt washing over him. He was not aware that you had been offered your dream job right after finishing school. What was always a joyful memory from his perspective was a choice he unknowingly forced you to make - him or your dreams. He wonders in his excitement that he took away that moment for you to shine.
“Y/N, I’m so-” Ford is about to apologize but you look back at him, shaking your head.
“Not yet, Ford. Please save any apologies for now… we still have a ways to go.” You sigh, turning back to the screen.
Ford nods in understanding, looking up to see your drive up to Gravity Falls and him gifting you the sunstone. Seeing it shine just as brightly as you did underneath the sun.
Your first year in Gravity Falls flies by, showing your adventures with Ford hunting anomalies, several nights of attempting to get Ford to go to bed at a reasonable time that seemed routine, and Fiddleford’s arrival to help with the portal.
S
hortly after a clip of you, Fiddleford and Ford building a snowman in the front yard of the Mystery Shack, the beginning of your dream from the night prior plays on screen. Ford’s figure whips around revealing those vibrant yellow eyes and face-splitting grin characteristic of Bill’s possession.
“Y/N, maybe we should take a break. We can always skip over this.” Ford says in concern, seeing your shoulders tense up.
“No, let’s keep going.” You reply with a tightness in your throat.
“Kid, my brother has a point, you don’t have to sit through this another time. You already have this memory back.” Stan tries to interject, knowing from first hand experience how difficult it was for him to see his memories be played back before his eyes when he and Ford were reviewing the home videos from their childhood.
“It’s going to be painful. I know that. I know what I’m getting myself into.” You snap at the two before looking over at Ford, “Please… just let me keep going.”
Stan and Ford look at each other before backing off, allowing you to continue watching the memories that play out in front of you.
You wince as the screen plays out your nightmare before your eyes. Your hand clutches your necklace tight to your chest, almost wanting to rip it off as it feels constricting, your breath picking up in pace. Your body was stuck in freeze, unable to fight or fly your way out of the scene before you.
Ford watches the screen helplessly, watching Bill use his body like a puppet. Anger and sadness washes over him, wanting nothing more than to comfort you, but worrying that it may only make things worse. A war wages in Ford’s mind, wondering whether he should just bite the bullet and give you some form of comfort.
Just as a panic attack was starting to settle in, you felt the weight of Ford’s body pressed behind you. His arms wrap around you, embracing you from behind and helping to ground you. “Breathe, Y/N. You’re safe, Bill can’t harm you any longer. I’m sorry for letting him hurt you.”
You try to follow Ford’s gentle reminder to breathe. Your lungs expand, taking that first initial deep breath in. When you try to exhale, it comes out as a soft sob. You find Ford’s hand resting on the back of your head, pulling you into his chest. Shielding you from the sight as he watches Bill stand over you with a mocking grin, distorting Ford’s features in a way that almost looks like a caricature.
When the scene finally passes, Ford instructs Stan to pause the video. Ford continues to hold onto you tightly, almost as if you were going to slip through his fingertips. You peer up from Ford’s chest, flustered after calming down at how close you two are, “Um… Ford.”
Ford looks down at you, his thumb out of habit brushing away a tear that had formed at the edge of your eyes, “Yes?” You curse in your head, feeling those butterflies in your stomach pick back up at his affectionate gesture. You clear your throat, “You can let go now, Ford. I’m okay now.”
It dawns on Ford that he was practically squeezing you against his chest, and he quickly let go of his hold on you, “M-My apologies if I was too forward with providing comfort, you may not have been ready and I could have potentially made things worse-” You silence his apologies, pressing your finger to his lips, “Ford, it’s okay… thanks for helping me stay grounded.”
This action flusters Ford even more, his cheeks turning as red as his usual sweater. “O-Of course! Let’s take a break, I’m going to investigate if there is a way to take the memory display with us at the end of the night.” Ford quickly gets up from his spot next to you, leaving you alone with your thoughts.
You look around the room, trying to distract yourself from the image of Bill’s hand around your throat that still lingers at the forefront of your thoughts. Your mind is still racing at a million miles an hour, blurry images in your subconscious slowly coming into focus. Your shaky gaze ends up landing on the statue that towers before you, staring at the daunting symbol of the Society of the Blind Eye.
An X through an all-seeing eye.
Your pupils dilate as the symbol suddenly conjures up a memory that was shoved deep in the back of your head.
The symbol glaring back at you, etched atop a red hood that cloaked its wearer’s face. Staring down the barrel…. though it was more like a bulb… of the memory gun.
The cloaked figure’s hand trembling, the finger on the trigger slipping off every time it tries to pull it.
The constant shaking causes the hood to fall out of place, revealing the holder of the Memory Gun to be Fiddleford before a flash of light clouds your vision.
The sleep deprivation over the past few nights mixed with the overwhelm of all these memories flooding back, caused your body to begin to slump over, your vision blurring and making the room hazy.
‘Y/N!’
One pair of hands keep you up right to prevent you from falling over, while the other cups your cheeks, slapping them lightly to knock you out of your stupor.
“Come on, stay with me, Y/N.” Ford’s voice rasps. Feeling six fingers against your skin tells you that Ford is the one in front of you holding your face.
Your eyes flutter open to see Ford staring back at you with concern, “What did you see, Y/N?” Ford asks, having a gut feeling that another memory had resurfaced.
“I-It was Fiddleford… he was standing over me, pointing what looked like a gun at me. He had on that cloak.” You explained to the best of your ability the details of your flashback, pointing to the statue.
Ford’s expression turned grim, “Maybe it would be wise to end the evening here, we can pick back up where we left off tomorrow.” This was a memory that Ford had no part in, but felt an enormous sense of guilt over, “I… wasn’t there for that memory so perhaps we should give Fiddleford a call tomorrow.”
“Wait… I’m okay… please, let’s keep going.” You say shakily, your hand grasping his forearm. After that memory resurfaced of Fiddleford, you’re now more than ever desperate for answers. Desperate to make sense of the voices ringing in your head.
‘I don’t need you, I don’t need anyone!’
‘Stop being a distraction.’
‘You’re useless.’
‘I thought you of all people would understand what I’m up against!’
You knew at least one of them had to be Ford, and your mind was tired of playing a game of constant tug of war - leaning into those feelings of affection that were rising to the surface again or keeping your guard up due to the implied pain Ford had caused you all those years ago.
“Y/N, you almost fainted. I fear that if we continue onward, the amount of memories resurfacing may be too much for your subconscious to handle, causing a physical toll on you. Similar things occurred to Stanley when he was gaining his memories back.” Ford attempted to rationalize with you, looking to his brother for back-up.
“Kid, I usually don’t agree with my brother, but he has a point. I know we didn’t get that far but you gotta pace yourself. Otherwise, you’re not gonna have any energy for tomorrow to keep getting those memories back.” Stan chimes in.
Both brothers both had points that you couldn’t argue against - you were on a tight schedule and any days spent purely on recuperating from the overwhelm would be a day wasted. You also did get back the memory you wanted to understand the most - albeit with no context. You let out a sigh of surrender, “Ford, did you figure out if we can take the monitor with us?”
Ford blinks at your sudden question before nodding vigorously, “Yes, thankfully Fiddleford created it with portable capabilities from the looks of it.”
“Alright then, we can call it for tonight. You and I will have to make use of as much time as we have left so expect to be up early tomorrow, Ford.” You say, already concocting a schedule in your head, “Stan, thanks for tagging along tonight to help us break-in.”
“No problem! Glad I could put these skills to use again,” Stan says with a sense of pride.
A sense of relief rushes over Ford as you agree to end here for the evening. “Stanley, could you go and pull the car up so we can get the monitor out of here smoothly? Y/N, you can go with my brother to get some fresh air.”
You go along with the plan, ready to leave the eerie former meeting place of the Society of Blind Eye behind you as you follow Stan outside.
Ford is thankful that tonight went relatively smoothly, grabbing the monitor and picking it up with ease. He pulls the capsule out of the slot, moving to place it into his trench coat pocket.
Any sense of relief that Ford had felt quickly dissipates, dread flooding his system as he remembers the unknown contents of the capsule that he had found earlier.
The sun was shining in the clear blue sky as a family were having a fun day outside.
‘Ah, summer break-‘ Hank was grilling burgers for his family and his two kids Shmipper and Smabble were laughing and chasing one another, while the rest of the family sat at a picnic table. "You want cheese on that, hon?" Hank asked his wife, flipping a burger. "Sure, Hank."
‘A time for leisure, recreation, and takin' 'er easy... Unless you're me.’
A golf cart crashes through the "Welcome to Gravity Falls" sign with Dipper and Mabel screaming as they drove thorugh the woods. The ground shakes as something large makes it way pass trees, knocking them down. Mabel looks back toward the forest, "Aaaah!!! It's getting closer!" A giant hand tries to reach for the cart but missies as the cart files off a rock and lands as the kids swerve.
‘My name is Dipper. The girl about to puke is my sister Mabel. You may be wondering what we're doing in a golf cart fleeing from a creature of unimaginable horror.’
"Look out!" Mabel screamed as Dipper turns the wheel to the left hard, almost knocking the cart over, leaving both them screaming.
'Rest assured, there's a perfectly logical explanation.'
'Let's rewind. It all began when our parents decided we could use some fresh air.' Mabel gets their pet cat taken out of her hands while a video game console gets taken out of her brothers. In replace they were both given packed bags and sunscreen on their noses.
“They shipped us up north to a sleepy town called Gravity Falls, Oregon, to stay at our great-uncle and auncle's place in the woods.”
Mabel begun to put up all kinds of boy band and cute posters on her side of the room. "This attic is amazing! Check out all my splinters!" Mabel holds out her hand which is covered in, all places that shouldn’t be, with splinters. Dipper walks backwards toward his bed as he gets a good look at the room they’ll staying in for the whole summer. As he does he gets jump scared by Gompers who's standing behind him, "Baaa!”
“And there's a goat on my bed."
Mabel walks over to them has she holds out her hand trying to be friendly toward the goat but he ended up chewing on her sweater sleeve, "Hey, friend. Oh! Yes, you can keep chewing on my sweater. Ha ha ha ha ha!"
'My sister tended to look on the bright side of things.'
"Yay! Grass," Mabel exclaimed as she rolled down the small hill, having the "time of her life".
A woodpecker starts to peck the top of Dipper's hat. Y/N makes a gently shooing motion to make the bird fly away without looking from their book.
‘But I was having a hard time getting used to our new surroundings, our great-auncle, (Y/N), was trying to make things better by trying to bond with us and to get me to see the brighter side of things.’
Dipper and Y/N were sitting under a tree together, Dipper writing in a journal and Y/N reading. Y/N lightly slapped the insides of the book with the back of their fingers.
"Ok, now I think you might enjoy this book, sweet pea.” Next thing Dipper knew, his great-uncle jumped behind the tree he and his auncle were sitting under on wearing a mask, "Boo!"
Both Dipper and Y/N scream at the top of their lungs, dropping the books in their hands as Dipper falls over.
"Aha ha ha ha!" Stan laugh as he takes the mask off.
'And then was our great-uncle Stan.' Stan slaps his knee has he takes the mask off of his head.
'That guy.'
"Aha ha ha ha, ow!" Stan started hitting his chest from laughing so hard, then he doubled over in pain as his partner punched him in the stomach.
"Stop doing that!" Y/n picked Dipper up, fixing his hat and made sure he was ok.
"It was worth it."
'Our uncle and auncle had transformed their house into a tourist trap they called the Mystery Shack. The real mystery was why anyone came.'
A coward follows the Pines couple through out the museum, their arms linked together as Stan points to attractions with his 8-ball cane, "Ladies and gentlemen, behold! The Sascrotch!"
‘And guess who had to work there.’
“Oh," Mabel reaches to touch a giant eyeball, when Stan comes over to smack her hand away.
"No touching the merchandise!"
'It looked like it was gonna be the same boring routine all summer, until one fateful day...'
Dipper was wiping down some merchandise sweeping while his Graunkle was sweeping. His sister, Mabel, was too busy stalking her latest boy target behind selves of Stan and Y/N bobble head figures.
"He's looking at it. He's looking at it!"
The boy opened the note reading it out loud, "Uh...'Do you like me? Yes. Definitely. Absolutely?'” He started looking around, trying to find the source of where the note could have come from.
"I rigged it!" She uttered excitedly has she placed her hands on her cheeks.
Dipper stopped cleaning and rolled his eyes, “Mabel, I know you're going through your whole "boy crazy" phase, but I think you're kind of overdoing it with the "crazy" part."
Mabel turned towards her brother with a disbelieve look on her face and blows a raspberry, "What?! Come on, Dipper! This is our first summer away from home. It's my big chance to have an epic summer romance."
"I agree with Dipper on his, Hon, don’t you think you're moving too fast?" (Y/N) asked, "I mean...how many boy does make now?”
"I bet she doesn't even know, she flirts with every guy she meets!" Dipper said, shrugging.
Mabel is standing next to a boy in the mystery shack, fluttering her eyes, "My name is Mabel, but you can call me the girl of your dreams. I'm joking! Ha ha ha ha!" She exclaims pushing the boy into the greeting cards display knocking him and the stand over.
Mabel then pops up from behind a bench, that has a guy sitting with his turtle in his hands, "Oh, my gosh, you like turtles? I like turtles too. What is happening here?"
Inside the mattress store, a boy dressed as the mattress king is working, "Come one, come all, to the mattress prince's kingdom of savings!"
Mabel pops out from behind a set of colorful balloons and she whispers, Take me with you..." Causing the boy to run away screaming.
"Mock all you want, brother and Graunkle, but I got a good feeling about this summer. I wouldn't be surprised if the man of my dreams walked through that door right now." Mabel said confidently has she pointed toward the mystery shack exhibit door.
Stan walks through the door holding signs under his arm and a pitt cola in his hand. Using his other, he clutched his stomach as a burp gets caught in his throat, "Oh! Oh. Not good. Ow."
Mabel looks at Stan in disgust, "Oh, why?!"
Dipper and Y/N laughed, high fiving each other as they do.
"All right, look alive, people. I need someone to go hammer up these signs in the spooky part of the forest." Stan said as he holds out the signs toward Y/N and the twins.
"Not it!" Dipper and Mabel say at the same time, behind them Soos raised his hand while he drilled a shelf with his other.
"Uh, also not it."
"Nobody asked you, Soos."
"I know, and I'm comfortable with that." He pulled out a chocolate bar and took a bite out of it.
Y/N can see Stan giving them a side eyed look, “No, Stan. I’m not doing the job that I told you to do!”
Stan rolls his eyes as he sighed in annoyance, he then turns towards the teenage red head, who’s relaxing on the job with her feet on the counter, reading a magazine. "Wendy! I need you to put up this sign!"
Wendy tries to reach for the signs from where she's sitting, with a bored expression on her face not looking up from her magazine, "I would, but I, ugh, can't, ugh, reach it, ugh..."
"I'd fire all of you if I could. All right, let's make it eeny-meeny-miney..." Stan then points his finger at Dipper, "You."
"Aw, what? Grunkle Stan, whenever I'm in those woods, I feel like I'm being watched."
"Ahh, this again." Stand begins to rub the corners of his eyes as Y/N gave him a light hit on his shoulder.
"I'm telling you, something weird is going on in this town. Just today, my mosquito bites spelled out "BEWARE." Stan and Y/N leaned in closer to Dipper’s arm, both squinting their eyes. After looking at it for a couple of seconds Stan leaned back up, looking at Dipper, confused.
"That says 'bewarb.’” As he said this, Y/N gently grabbed Dipper’s arm and examined the bites. “Do you believe me, Graunkle Y/N?” Y/N shook their head, letting go of his arm.
”Oh, Sorry. I was just seeing if that needed to have cream put in it. It’s looks bad, Sweet pea.” Dipper then lowers his arm in embarrassment and rubs the bites.
“Anyway, look, kid.” Stan voices, “The whole "monsters in the forest" thing is just local legend drummed up by guys like us to sell merch to guys like that," Stan pointed to a man sweating like there was no tomorrow laughing at a bobble head Stan doll in his hands. "So, quit being so paranoid!" He then threw the signs into Dipper's arms. Fumbling with them, Dipper looked up at his uncle in annoyance.
Watching Stan leave through employees only door, Y/N sighed. Crouching down to meet Dipper’s height, Y/N placed a hand on Dipper’s shoulder. Dipper didn't make eye-contact with them.
”Hey, don’t let Stan get under your skin, alright? If you say there’s something going on, maybe, you could look for evidence to rub in his mean face."
Dipper sighed and nodded his head, "Yeah...Yeah! Grunkle Stan might not know it but this town had some weird stuff going on and I'm gonna prove it!" Dipper grips the signs tighter has he marches out of the shack toward the woods. Y/N stood back up, cracking their back, "Oof! Stupid old body." Taking a look around they noticed that Mabel was no where to be found, signing again they crossed their arms over their chest and walking through the employee only door. In there, they found Stan in the kitchen finishing his Pitt soda.
"He's gonna found out about this place eventually, you do know that right?" Stan groaned, taking a long drink from the can. He waved his finger in 'no' motion, bringing the can down from his mouth. "You don't think I know that, toots? Boy seems too smart for his age," he leans on the kitchen table muttering the last part of his sentence under his breathe. "Almost like someone else we know."
Y/N slowing walked over to the table and leaned on it next to Stan, rubbing his back. "I know, that's why I think we should be honest with them. To protect them from all this crazy stuff this place has going on. If we keep lying-" Stan cuts Y/N off.
"If we keep lying, we can keep them away from it." Stan gets up and walks out the kitchen to go upstairs, you turn your gaze to your feet. Thinking about how you could tell the kids about everything in this town, but a part of you didn't. It felt too soon, so you decided to wait until maybe they trusted you and Stan a little more. You groaned in annoyance, rolling your eyes. Opening the freezer, you grabbed a popsicle walking out of the kitchen to sit on the couch outside.
Some time passed, but you don’t know how long as you were sitting there lost in thought, until the front door slammed next to you. It was Mabel and she looks excited as ever.
“Hey Graunkle! I’m going to see if I can find Dipper, ok bye!" Mabel screamed as she started running toward the woods, you didn't even get a chance to understand what she was saying. And you didn’t have to think about it because pulling up to the front of the shack was a tour bus, you stood up, crushing the stick of the popsicle in your mouth.
After Y/N and Stan finished the tour, you two went upstairs. You rubbed the back of your neck, "Hey, you're not like mad about earlier, right?" Stan chuckled under his breath, turning to face you.
"Why would I be mad at ya? You just care for those rascals." You smiled, you both turned toward the stairs having heard the twins return. You walked over to Stan as you wrapped an arm around his waist and he wrapped his around your shoulder, hip to hip. “Now, let’s go see what those two are up too.”
You gave him a hard kiss on his cheek, giggling. Stan laughed, “Ugh, gross.” You both walked done the stairs laughing. As you got closer, you could hear the twins talking about something. Then you see Mabel rush to the door as you and Stan stood at the door way of the living room.
”What you readin' there, slick?”
Dipper quickly hides the journal under the cushion he was sitting under and grabs the nearest thing he can find. ”Oh! I was just catchin' up on, uh… gold chains for old men magazine?”
“Dipper don't read that, it'll rotten you.” Stan playfully pushed Y/N, laughing. They both walked over to stand behind the love sofa. “What?! That’s a good issue and you like my gold chains!”
You wagged your finger at him, smirking, ”I don’t know who told you that lie.” Just as you said that Mabel came back but she was with someone. He was taller than her, wearing a back hoodie and his back was facing the room.
”Hey, family! Say hello to my new boyfriend!” Mabel presented him as he turned around. His hair was covering one of his eyes and he had some red substance dripping from his cheek. He waved his hand halfway up in a greeting. ”Sup?”
”Hey…” Dipper greeted him first then Stan and you both at the same time.
”How's it hangin'.” Stan threw up finger guns.
“Hello.” You lazily waved at him.
“We met at the cemetery. He's really deep.” She then placed an hand on his arm, squeezing it a bit. “Ooh! Little muscle there. That’s… what a surprise.” Dipper raised his eyebrows, examining this new guy his sister brought in, ”So, what's your name?”
Almost as if pains him to speak he answers the question, ”Uh Normal Man!”
“He means "Norman.” As Mabel corrects him, Y/N noticed the red substance on his check dripping to the floor.
“Are you bleeding, Norman? We could patch that cut up for you?”
Norman’s eyes widened as he looks at the liquid on his face. ”It's jam.”
Mabel gasped has she lightly shoved him. “Oh! I love jam! Look at this!” She exclaimed moved her hands back and forth between them. Norman shrugged as he looked around, ”So, you wanna go hold hands or whatever?”
”Oh! Oh, my goodness. Don't wait up!” Mabel giggled, bouncing up and down. She then runs towards the door Norman shoot finger guns at the others in the room and followed Mabel, hitting the doorframe and other walls in the process.
Y/N looked around the room at the others, "Well, he was weird. Right?" You saw Dipper nodding his head slowly, gaze focused on where Norman stood.
"Yeah," Stan began, he than clapped his hands and started making his was to the gift shop, "Come on, angel cakes, we got a shack to run!" Y/N ruffled Dipper's hair through his hat and started making their way towards the door, before they opened it they turned to look at Dipper.
"Hey bud, you alright?" They didn't get an answer cause he was already making his way up the stairs. Y/N signed, made sure they looked presentable, fixing their suit and little butterfly pin, and went through the door.
~ TIME SKIP ~
Y/N was stocking inventory as Stan handled the last group of tourists, you hummed thinking to yourself on where the twins could be. Finishing up your task you walked over to where Stan was with the guest.
Stan holds up a swirly pattern on a stick, pulls the string and rotates into a continuous spiral, "Behold! The world's most distracting object!"
The group of tourist was amazed at the simple object, Y/N rolled their eyes at the crowd. Looking passed the all to look through the window seeing the twins and some kind of giant monster. You stood there, mouth agape, your gaze not leaving the the window. Y/N reached out to tap on Stan's shoulder.
"Just try to look away you can't! I can't even remember what I was talkin' about." You groaned and ran outside, seeing the kids about to get hit by a giant fist. You ran towards them and grabbed them. Resulting in you all rolling until you hit the wall of the shack. The twins landed safely but you rolled until you hit the wall with your back, knocking the air our of your lungs.
Dipper was able process what happened to them quickly, he shuffled over to Y/N. Shaking their shoulder, "Graunkle!? Are you ok?" Before you could catch your breath and answer, the monster, which you now see is made of tiny men, gets closer.
"It's the end of the line, kids and weird person that came out of nowhere. Mabel, marry us before we do something crazy!" The one sitting all the way at the top spoke out. The twins each take a side by you, Dipper holding your shoulder and Mabel holing your hand. Dipper turned his hard to look at his sister, "There's gotta be a way out of this!"
Mabel looked from you to her brother with a worried expression. She them closed her eyes and, sighed through her nose. Letting go of Y/N's hand, she stood up and walked towards the gnomes. "I gotta do it."
Dipper's eyes widen, he stood and walked over to his sister, "What?! Mabel, don't do this! Are you crazy?"
Mabel looks back with a determined look on her face, "Trust me." Dipper shook his head and threw his arms up.
"What?!"
"Dipper, just this once Trust me."
You grabbed Dipper by his shoulder, making him turn towards you, "Dipper, I don't know what the hell is going on, but your sister seems like she knows what to do..." Dipper looked back and forth between you, his sister and the pile of gnomes. Walking backward toward the wall, he nodded.
"All right, Jeff, I'll marry you."
"Hot dog! Help me down there, Jason!" Jeff starts to climb down using the other gnomes as a ladder. "Thanks. Andy, left foot, there we go, watch those fingers, Mike." When he makes it to stand in front of Mabel, he pulls out a diamond ring from his back pocket. "Ehh? Ehh?" Mabel's eyes flutter as she presents her hand towards Jeff, he then puts the ring on her finger and does a little jig. "Bada-Bing, bada-bam! Now let's get you back into the forest, honey!"
"You may now kiss the bride." Mabel says as she examined the ring on her finger.
"Well, uh, don't mind if I do." Before he could so anything, he gets sucked into the nozzle of a leaf blower that's Mabel picked up without him seeing.
"That's for lying to me!" She then turned the know on the leaf blower, increasing the power. "That's for breaking my heart!"
"Ow! My face!"
"And this is for messing with my brother!" She then aims the leaf blower toward the gnome monster, Dipper coming to stand next to her. She turned to him, gesturing the leaf blower toward him.
"Wanna do the honors?" She asked Dipper, he came to her side grabbing half of the leaf blower, "On three."
"One, two, three!" They both counted, shifting the leaf blower from 'suck' to 'blow'. Blasting Jeff through the other gnomes and towards the forrest.
"I'll get you back for this!!!!!" He screams as he sails over the trees. Meanwhile the giant monster falls apart as the gnomes fall to the ground. They all start complaining until Mabel starts aiming the leaf blower at them, making them all run away.
"Anyone else wants some?" Mabel screams, the twins laugh for a bit until the turn around, hearing their Graunkle trying to get up. They both run to take one of your sides, helping you up. "Thanks, kids. I don't know you two got in a mess like this but I'm just glad its over."
Mabel rubs you back looking up at you, "Are you gonna be ok Y/N." You chuckled, ruffling both of their heads, "Just peachy, gonna need my pillow though. Are you two alright?" They looked at each other smiling then back up to you, nodded. You smiled and started making your way towards the gift shop door, looking behind you, you called out towards the twins. "You coming?"
Dipper was about to answer, but Mabel stopped him, "We'll be there soon, I gotta talk to Dip-stick real quick." You nodded once more, not having the strength to speak again and went inside.
Inside you found Stan who was counted some of the earnings for the day. Y/N walked over and place their hands on the counter.
"Whoa?! The hell happened to you?" You mouthed, 'I'll you later' as the twins came dragging themselves in. Y/N nodded their head towards the beaten up looking twins, eyeing Stan.
"Sheesh! You two get hit by a bus or somethin'?" Not paying Stan too much attention they continued towards the employee only door.
"Aha! Uh, hey! W-wouldn't you know it? Um, Y/N accidentally overstocked some inventory, so how's about each of you take one item from the gift shop on the house?"
Mabel spun around with a twinkle in her eyes, "Really?
"What's the catch?" Dipper asked as he folded his arms and raised his eyebrow, staring his Uncle down.
“The catch is do it before I change my mind. Now take something.” Stan exclaims has he elbows the cash register placing the money inside, rolling his eyes playfully at you as you laughed. You walked over to stand next to Stan, him taking one of your arms and helping you lean on him. You both watched the kids look around the ship. Dipper chose one of the merch hats, slipping it on his head and looked at himself in the mirror.
"Hmm. That oughta do the trick."
“And I will have a Grappling hook!” Digging into box Mabel pulls out the grappling hook and holds it over her head in excitement. “Yes!”
You smile and gently clap your hands, encouraging her, while Stan and Dipper look at her then each other in disbelief and confusion. As they look back at her again Stan ask, “Wouldn't you rather have a doll or something?”
She then proceeds to launch the hook toward the ceiling, the hook then wraps around a beam, pulling her up in the process, “Grappling hook!”
Stan shrugged, "Fair enough."
Y/N knocked on the attic door, waiting until the twins gave permission for them to enter. You opened the door, peeking inside, you notice Mabel jumping on her bed and Dipper with his knees up a book or something laying on them.
"You two ready for bed?" Dipper nodded as Mabel shouted a 'Yes', not stopping her jumping. You laughed, "Well, I hope you too had a good day today."
"It was awesome, Graunkle," Mabel yelled. She stopped jumping and began to aim her grappling hook all around the room, trying to see where to shoot. "Ok, just be careful with that, sweetie."
She nodded as you were about to close the door, Dipper called out to you.
"Wait, um, don't you want like... I don't know some kind of explanation after what happened today?" You chuckled, shaking you head.
"Dipper, I've lived in this weird town for many years. I don't really need one." The expression on his face lighten up, looking as happy as can be. "Well, if that's the case, maybe..." He stops him self looking over to his sister who's nodding at him.
"Maybe, we can show yo-" Before he could finish his sentence you all heard Stan calling out your name, you signed.
"Don't worry about him, I'll get to him later. Now, what were you saying, Dipper." You looked back at him, his expression full with concern. He looked down at his lap, "Never mind... It's nothing."
Y/N frowned looking at the ground, "Ok, sweeties, hope you have a goodnight." And with that you closed their room door.
As you started to make your way down the stairs you heard a crash and laughing come from the twins room. You straighten out your PJs, decided not to question what they were up too. Crossing the final step, you made it back downstairs into the living room. You started humming some tune you couldn't remember as you made your way to the vending machine. You hit the side a couple of times, making the door of it pop open, grabbing a bag of chips.
A light came from outside the gift shop, until the door opened reveling Stan carrying a lantern. "You better pay for that," He nudged Y/N joking. You rolled your eyes, as he typed on the vending machines keypad. The machine slides open like a door, Stan walked in with you following behind him.
Before you closed it behind you, you turned and looked around to making sure you were alone. Seeing that you both were, Y/N closed the machine with a soft click.
You couldn't call what you two had a relationship. Not really. Stanford Pines was too busy with his mysterious work (That you pretend to not notice) to bother with any formal dating rituals. As for you, you simply weren't looking for anything long-term. Miraculously, these specific wants worked out great for you two.
As per the start of all your little meetings it had proved a brutal day of work at the Mystery Shack. Between angry customers and the flat out dumb ones, these were the days that tended to run you the most ragged. Yet instead of letting your frustrations pile up in the form of anger it was thanks to one knowing glance shared with a passing Stanford that you knew there were better places to put your frustrations.
The end of day came fast when you had the older man to look forward to. Plus the help of your coworkers, Soos and Wendy, the time it took to close up shop was far more streamlined than usual. Sure, the help of your boss would have been appreciated but you know the work you were paid for.
With a polite but dismissive goodbye to the other two you did your best to casually stroll back into the proper house portion of the Mystery Shack. Down the hallway where it lead into the living room you could see the faint blue light of the TV illuminating the darkened space. The tips of his shoes poked out as well. He was waiting. Dating or not, that did put a smile on your face.
Before making your appearance you tidied it up first. Running your fingers through your hair and smoothing out any wrinkles from the day out of your clothes; never the need to dress up but it sure as hell didn't hurt to look a smidge bit desirable. Though Stanford was hardly one to complain.
Taking a breath to steady your excitement you stepped into the cluttered living room, where your eyes met with Stanford's who sat on his normal chair. He had yet to dress down for the day. His jacket was left open while his shirt had a few buttons loose to show off just a peek of his graying chest hair; the gold chain adorning his neck glittered in the light. God, how could he make something tacky look so fucking hot?
Stanford was grinning towards you.
Shoot.
He'd caught you staring. His eyes were half-lidded and entirely focused on you. One hand propped his head up while the other began to pat his thighs, beckoning you closer. You complied without a word.
Before you settled onto his lap there was already laugher drumming in his chest, "Aw, tough day?" Stanford asked with a hint of mockery.
You rolled your eyes, "Oh, the toughest. Boss can be a real pain in my ass."
Stanford wriggled his brow at you, "Only if you let me tonight." His large hand wrapped around your thigh to carefully spin you around in his lap so you could be straddling him. Hardy any words were exchanged but you could have sworn you felt him perk up already.
The joke didn't get the laughter it deserved when instead your lips crashed into his. Not passionate but desperate to work out the frustrations of the day. That was the silent rule you two had established when you two had first began these casual 'meetings', to put it politely.
It was easy. Stanford didn't have to buy you flowers and you didn't have to pretend you found sports interesting. Win-win.
Stanford's hands snaked around towards the back of your body where they slipped just under your ass, a cheek in each of his palm that he used the new leverage to push your hips into his. Oh, he was definitely fired up to go. When you angled your hips just right to rub up against his growing tent you both made a noise of pleasure through your kiss. He groaned your name and you moaned his,
"Stanford..."
The kisses stopped. Your eyes were closed in anticipation of the barrage of hickeys to come to your neck but none came. Unsure if he was planning something underhand you peeped open an eye like a child trying to sneak a glimpse of a present. He was staring straight at you.
Ooookay?
His expression was undecipherable until he had caught wind of your confusion and it was replaced by a nervous grin. Promptly Stanford's hands were removed from your butt to instead rest on your thighs. You raised an eyebrow at this.
"Wooah, there. Full name? Thought we were keeping things casual, toots!" Stanford said with a short and almost forced laugh, "Told ya you didn't need to be formal with me. Stan is fine."
There was a grin on your face as you took this chance to play with his chest hair, "I didn't call you by your social security number or anything! Just thought that, dunno, it might be sexy to moan out your actual name," You then press a kiss to his jawline and breathily whispered, "Staaaaanford. Doesn't sound so bad, does it?"
His grip tightened on your waist. That made you smile. When he was silent you horribly misread the meaning behind it.
"Aw, didn't realize it'd get you all flustered. Is that why you don't want me calling you Stanford, because it'll make you freeze up all cute like that-"
"I said to call me Stan," He snapped back in a way that made you flinch.
Abruptly Stanford rose from the longue chair, taking you with him with a firm grasp around you. Letting out a squeal as this usually meant you were about to be pinned against a wall your feet instead were planted back on the ground. His hands didn't release you until he knew you were standing on your own accord.
When Stanford stood back to his full height he still had yet to say anything to your growing confusion. The nervousness from before was gone, replaced by...Anger? Grief? Maybe even guilt. All you knew that in the light of the TV behind you his wrinkles somehow looked deeper set on his face in this moment. The horndog you were so used to had turned back to the 60-something year old man that he really was.
"Sorry about this, toots," The nickname felt forced in an attempt to sooth your growing anxieties, "Back is killing me after today and still gotta...run some errands."
You step forward with your brows furrowed in worry. No doubt your eyes looked pathetic with regret when Stan looked upset at himself, "No, I'm sorry. I didn't realize it was actually a sore spot, I-" You took a breath to steady yourself, "I was just trying to tease you, Stan. I really am sorry."
He planted his hands on your shoulders to give them a comforting squeeze, "No, no! Trust me, it was real hot hearing you say Stanford's name- MY FULL NAME. My name."
There was something distressing in how he phrased that. You couldn't be sure of what it was. Especially when Stan finally turned away from you to start doing back up the buttons on his shirt; a true signifier that the night of planned release was canceled.
The perks of not dating meant that you two didn't have to even think about the emotional baggage of the other. Just pump and dump to summarize the extent of your outside of work relationship. But that didn't mean you were indifferent towards the guy. You'd be a monster to ignore him in this strange phase, whether you called him by his full name or not.
You reached out to comfort Stan but he raised a hand to stop you, "I'm fine, I'm fine," Stan grumbled, "Just...you know your way out by now. I'll catch ya sometime before the Shack opens tomorrow."
You'd been dismissed.
Stan was still fixing up his shirt when he turned to head out; not upstairs where you knew his room to be but the hallway. The same one you had traversed that led to the Mystery Shack. Just has he passed the threshold he stopped. Staring out over his shoulder he gave you a softer look. In his gaze was an apology.
"I mean it, toots. I'll catch ya tomorrow, and..." Stan's eyes darted off to the side, "And you didn't do anything wrong. I just have some real...real important work to catch up on."
"Like a passion project?" You tried to humorously add.
"Something like that, sure."
Stan's tone didn't match. Conflicted, you stared behind him until his back disappeared fully into the unlit portions of the house. Somehow you felt a total stranger to the home now in spite of his assurances. With a small huff of annoyance towards yourself you decide to get going.
Whether what he said was true or not, Stanford Pines was in for a busy night.
