Latest Posts by cipherstarling - Page 4

I need my man to win

This blurb is back up! I didn't really like how it turned out at first, this is my first ever smut I hope it's alright ;;

A Gentler Soul [Stanford Pines X Reader] Spicy Blurb

Tags: NSFW, Suggestive, Minors DO NOT Interact

Just a poetic way of saying I want him lol

*✧･ﾟ: ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──*✧･ﾟ: ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──*✧･ﾟ: ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──✧*

Stanford Pines used to be a gentler soul. He could spend hours reading about cryptids and mycelium. He could name every moth in Gravity Falls in their Latin and numerous nicknames. On Wednesdays, he'd step out of his home and eagerly watch the sky turn dark- because that's when the local pixies came out to play and dance in a glittering display of light.

Now, he was a sharpened knife. All cuts and bruises, running through the dimensions without taking a second to admire oddities around him. He was  a man on the run, he had no time to marvel at how suns imploded and stars seemed to wink at him, in this vast, nonsensical hellscape called the Nightmare Realm.

He can't stop, he can't catch his breath, lest he stops breathing altogether.

You followed him wherever he ran.

It was survival, you told yourself.

It was science, sticking together was something humans did, Ford told you.

The silences in between the running and fighting told you otherwise.

When it grew dark and quit, in wherever ruins he deemed safe enough, that's when the air shifted.

Stanford Pines moved as if he was always running out of time.

But here, under the shade of a forgotten building, away from prying eyes and bounty hunters, he took his time. He looked at you like you were a new book he'd yet to read. His attention was like fire, burning through the layers of your clothes and the fragile. And like a candle, you melted for the flame of his gaze.

Six fingered hands dragged languidly over the flesh of your ribs, dipping low and stopping just at your abdomen. His knee slowly nudges your inner thigh, spreading your leg outward for access.

He'd worship the scars littering your chest and neck with his tongue, warm and wet as it devoured the salt of your skin.

But it would be kissing you that would truly undo him.

Feeling your soft lips was a different kind of rapture, your moans were poetry he intended to burn into his mind forever. He could worship you this way for several lifetimes, if he could.

At every moan, he'd whisper praises and reassurances- safety, in this desolate world made to consume humans like you. Ford wouldn't let that happen to you, not when he could taste you instead, damn the cruel world outside this room. He had you to himself, at least in this one, small eternity.

If you slipped a hand under his greying locks and whispered any sort of praise to him, he'd cave in and give you anything you want.

Trailing your fingers over the lines of his tattoos would earn you more of that pleasure. Like toppling a candle and letting the flames grow, he'll worship you and burn down your altar, until all that was left was him. He'd growl and grow rougher in his ministrations. Drag those nails from his wrist, to his biceps, then to his chest, and see what happens when a composed man cracks. Every desperate cry would be your only confession of his feelings, in a place unfit for sentimentality.

Come morning, he's reminded of how fragile you are. You'd be covered in circular bruises- counting six in each set.

His eyes would soften at the bashful look in your eye, hiding his marking underneath your clothes as you two prepare to venture out again. Time rests for no one, here. He needed to find a way home and bring you with him.

So he pulls up his mask, covers his silvery hair under a cowl. He wraps a warm hand over yours and makes sure you're never separated for too long.

Stanford Pines used to be a gentler soul, and he longed for the day he could be one again, with you.

To Sonder, Part 1 [Stanford Pines x Reader]

Tags: Fluff, Nerds in love, Strangers to lovers, Two idiots in love, Eventual Smut, Mutual Pining, Canon Divergence, Slow Burn

Premise: You're a curious librarian. You think Stanford hates you but he really doesn't, Stanford thinks you're friends but you secretly hate (and like) him.

*✧･ﾟ: ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──*✧･ﾟ: ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──*✧･ﾟ: ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──✧*

You've never wanted to spend time with a man so, so badly that you decided to learn complicated studies like quantum physics, cryptozoology, lepidopterology- and a bunch of different other -ologies you didn’t know even existed before meeting Stanford Filbrick Pines. Your brain is burning from the sudden onslaught of information.

So here you were, back aching from hours of crouching over your notebooks in the library. You ran out of paper a while ago, so you settled for writing on the back of your book- your boss would kill you if he ever found out. But who cares? Not like anyone buys anything from the forgotten cooking section of the Gravity Falls public library.  Black splotches peppered your hairline from where you stressfully combed through your hair with ink stained fingers. 

God, why did you have to have a crush on someone with a stupid, big brain? 

You learned very quickly that Stanford Pines doesn't care for small talk. All your "hello"s and "whatcha up to?"s were greeted with a stern echo of a greeting or a short response before silence draped between you like a heavy, wet blanket. Then, he'd walk away, leaving nothing but the faint scent of his cologne, which endearingly matched his surname. 

He always hugged a leather bound book close to his chest, you were sure he was the type to fall asleep thinking- cuddling papers of his own nonsensical (at least to you) ramblings and equations.

Stanford visited the library often, and you practically lived here. Like clockwork, he'd head straight to the science fiction section, then browse all the sciencey aisles the Gravity Falls public library had. 

Eventually, the universe had to lovingly pick on you for enjoying your quiet work in the library. 

It was late in the afternoon, summer was in full swing and everyone abandoned the library to go out camping or for barbecue. The front bell chimed pleasantly as it signaled your impending doom (read as: a socially embarrassing event with a hot nerdy guy that will keep you up for nights to come.) 

Of course, you were none the wiser to his presence, definitely, as you stalked through the magazine section. Reading a rousing volume of "Lawn-mowers and heart movers weekly digest". You needed to tidy up here, anyways.

The guy took a ridiculously long amount of time mumbling about two books. Should he get the one labelled 'Help! My boyfriend's an alien overlord with a colossal, cosmic, world ending ego' or pick up a special edition hard cover of Lord of the Rings? He mutters something about how book titles were getting stranger by the day. You thought the titles were gripping. 

His eyes were a dark brown, matching his tousled hair. He wore a tan coat that draped over broad shoulders, there was dirt and ink staining his sleeves. He glared at the synopsis written in the back of another book, as if it personally slighted him. The picture of a scholar, inquisitive and sharp-minded.

Finally, he decided to pick up all three books as he hastily fished for his wallet. As he left the aisles, you noticed a torn up piece of paper falling from his pocket. 

Without really thinking about it you picked it up.

A decision that would drastically change what the next few weeks of your life would look like.

This small, ink stained piece of paper would eventually lead you to a spiral of wondering what a 'gobblewonker' was and why you should worry about it when you hardly even make eye contact with regular people in the first place. Eye contact was for extroverts. 

This life-changing piece of paper was something Stanford scribbled down so hastily. Something that would eventually derail the path he was walking on. 

The universe smiled that day. Because this time, you entered the narrative and he was getting a happier story from now on. 

On the piece of paper was a simple sentence.

"Don't forget The Jellybeans."

It made you snort. 

His handwriting was loopy and pretty. There was a circle looping around the words, as if the fate of the world hinged on whether or not he’d remember The Jellybeans. The capitalization on 'The'  and 'Jellybeans' did you in, you giggled.

"Excuse me, you dropped this." You schooled your expression to something more neutral.

The man turned around, clutching his books tighter as he regarded you with a confused expression. Like a raccoon caught eating hot garbage at 4 in the morning. He had dark circles under his wide eyes.

His cheeks were flushed, his jawline was strong, and he smelled of aftershave, old books, pine, and something you can’t quite place.

"You smell mysterious." You mumbled, your thoughts escaped you and settled in the air between the two of you.

.... REALLY? BRAIN??

"Oh. Thank you..?" He said, with a voice so deep and smooth it rivalled the empty void in your brain where small talk and social charm usually resided.

"Ignore thaaaat, sorry. Here,"

You hastily waved the piece of paper at Stanford, who seemed abashed at the little note he wrote. He carefully folded it before tucking it deep into his pockets. You offered him a grin, he offered nothing back in response. Oookay..

"All good! I lost a few things here. So many aisles to lose your stuff in, y'know?"

You rambled, cheeks flushing as the man stared at you. The only response was his blinking and the way he glanced between you and the window to your right. Ah. He wanted to leave. You should probably peel your lips off your face and throw it in the nearest garbage compactor now.

"I didn't want you to lose something important too. I've ah... "Bean" there, done that."

The pun sealed your fate, the silence grew ever heavier at your fading, strained chuckle. The universe grimaced at your subpar sense of humor. 

You wished you had even a sliver of  literary grace that you saw in "Silver chains for silver foxes weekly" magazine you pretended to read earlier. You hoped that the ground underneath you opened up and decided to save you from the absolute nothing-burger of a reaction the man gave you. 

But then, he chuckled. 

It was like the world around you came into focus again after that small sound. 

You bit down on your traitorous tongue. Too flustered from the string of words that left your mouth to respond. 

The man chuckled into the palm of his six-fingered hand- six fingers? God, now even your eyes were betraying you. You decided not to comment on that and let the poor man go.

"Ah, yes. I suppose it is your job to pick up after guests. My apologies for littering, even if it was unintentional."

Damn. He spoke like a gothic horror novelist and sounded smoother than the surface of your brain. 

"Haha! Yeah. Um, are you ready to go?"

"Yes, I'll take these."

The check out was fast and quiet. You tried not to look too interested in his selections.

"Mothman, Man, Myth, or Modern MLM Legend?"

"Trigonometry: A Mathematical Tango for Try-hards in their Thirties!"

"Quintessential Quotes for the Quantum Quizzical Individual"

And a bunch of what seems to be heavy books on engineering. Is he a professor of some kind? 

You tell him his total and force yourself to move on from the moment. So, Mr. Mystery handed you his money and left with a stiff nod and a strained smile.

The night was a blur as you closed up, you really just wanted to check in with a guest, do your job, and maybe make some small talk. No one ever visits the library this time of the year. Plus, he seemed nice. 

You spent your day off wallowing and being especially nice to the raccoons that tried to sneak a bite out of your garbage bin.

Then, the next day came and you clocked in for work. Your boss is officially on vacation starting today and that already threw you off. 

Something about the world felt off today. 

You woke up from a nightmare about a triangle with limbs tap-dancing through a field of weird flowers. You shoveled stale, lumpy oatmeal into your mouth. You could have sworn your food was trying to spell out your doom. But you ate the ‘M’ so all it spelled was ‘DOO’ 

You somehow slammed your finger in between the till drawers this morning, you had to clean dried pitt cola in the children's aisle, and Manly Dan came in asking about books for Lumberjacks. 

"I NEED BOOKS THAT HAVE A HARD-WOOD, MASCULINE COVER," he then proceeded to yell about how these books were definitely real. 

They were, in fact, not real and you had to narrowly dodge the splinters from the chair he threw over his shoulder in a rage. 

You could understand his passion, in a way. The pages of a book were once trees after all. He was but a simple lumberjack looking for something he can cut down with the enthusiasm of a chainsaw.

But worst of all, Lazy Susan gave you decaf today and you didn't realize 'til you walked all the way back to work.

So yes, Murphy's law is in full swing today and you were its (un)lucky victim!

Halfway through your shift, you saw him again. 

Mr. Mystery. 

Everyone knew who he was, the only guy who didn't grow up in Gravity Falls. The weirdo who only came up to buy groceries every couple months and to collect his mail. You were half-convinced he survived off wild mushrooms and pure academia. 

Today, however, he didn't come to browse or buy a new book. 

Instead, you watched as he ascended the spiral steps to the second floor and disappeared to a familiar part of the building. He grinned at the ornate wooden table sitting in the nicest corner of the library, pulling up a plush chair to sit on.

Oh no.

He slung a messenger bag over a chair and started unpacking papers, old tomes, and a worn out journal onto the space. 

No.

That was YOUR space.

For years, no one really bothered to spend time in the library. Hell, no one even noticed the second floor. It was just you, your boss, and the annoying family of moths that made a home in the dusty philosophy section. 

Alright, he may be cute and polite, but that was YOUR spot for years now. 

You looked forward to taking your break and fixing your dissociated gaze at the window overlooking the beautifully boring sight of Gleeful's Auto Sale. 

But today, everything about your routine changed. Even this. 

An irrational fury simmered in you. You fumbled being friendly with him the other day and he didn't even TRY to talk to you. Now, he took your favorite dissociation spot!

But you were too tired to kick him out. 

Instead, you settled for second best. Nodding shortly at him when he caught your stare. You crossed the room and settled onto an armchair adjacent to his- your- alcove. 

And for a time, things were... okay-ish.

Gravity Falls was quiet, with only birdsong and the occasional turn of a page filling the air. For a moment, you could relax. 

But then, came the scritch-scratching.

You glanced over at the man, past your book. He was leaning over his journal, pen scribbling away at a suddenly maddened pace- as if he was going to die if he didn't jot his thoughts down at that very second. 

A new wave of irritation washed over you. 

But then, he stopped. A satisfied little grin bloomed on his face. When he didn't look so severe, he looked... handsome. You could admit that much.

You thought you could forgive the man for his annoying habits. But then, the furious, loud writing would start up and end so suddenly. You can never predict when he'd be stricken with a feverish sort of inspiration for whatever it was he was writing. 

You breathed a sigh of relief as he stood up to go to the bathroom. 

You were sure you'd hear the sounds of his pen scratching at paper in your dreams tonight. 

You got up to fix yourself a drink from the breakroom, but your eyes wandered over the scattered papers on the table.

A mess of equations, half-finished sentences, and... drawings. 

Your eyes widened at the detailed and beautiful sketches laying on the table.  You can't help but look at one page in particular. On a torn up piece of paper was a drawing of a moth. It looked fantastical in nature, swirly patterns painted its forewings and at the edges were flames. Every scale on its wings was sketched with precision and care. You eagerly admired its details like a moth to a flame. Maybe it was something from a book he read.

A few minutes later, you came up with tea.

Feeling a little bad for snooping, you decided to fix the man a cup of tea. You didn't know if he even liked tea, but you did feel bad for being irrationally annoyed at the clueless man. 

He was back in his chair when you went up. You carefully set down the warm beverage in front of him, he startled at your quiet presence. 

"Oh, sorry! I just wanted to ask if you wanted a drink? It's just lavender tea." 

One of your favorite tea strains, he should be thankful you let him sit at your spot and drink your tea. Gods, why was he cute? Why can't you be more rude to him and scare him away?

"No."

The word came out clipped and fast. The man was in the middle of a hastily scribbled equation, barely registering your words. You could hear a pin drop- you HOPED a pin dropped and it would be sharp, in the middle of the piece of paper he was glaring at.

"Oh, okay." came your light, totally un-hurt answer.

"Wait, sorry. That's not what I mean- I'm tackling a particular... difficult study right now."

You smiled tightly and moved to take away the cup. But he stops you with a vigorous wave of his hand.

"Please, forgive me. I actually DO want tea. I'm out of sorts today, I... I appreciate your gesture of goodwill."

"Oh," you breathed. 

Curse this man and his eloquent words. The absolute nerve of him! You tried to do something nice dammit, you're paid to do that for good business. Why can't he make this easy on you?

"It's okay! I get it. You look like you're reading something really complicated." You offer him a small smile.

Once again, he answers your words with a strained smile of his own before mumbling a thank you. He took the tea into his six-fingered hands - hey, so you weren't seeing wrong last time! 

Unwilling to let the conversation die just yet, you decide to try and pick his brain. 

"I like your drawing." 

A warm rosy red colored his cheeks and ears. 

“Oh.. I’m sorry…? I didn’t mean for you to see my mess-”

You laughed.

“Sorry? What are you talking about? That’s a really cool moth sketch.” 

His eyes guiltily turned to the paper you pointed at. He almost sagged in relief as he pulled it forward. 

"Ah... the Igneous Tinea."

"Igni-what?"

"A fire moth!" 

His eyes brightened as he turned the page towards you. In the small amount of time you went to make tea, it seemed that the man filled the  rest of the paper with writing and notes. 

Upon closer inspection, the creature looked a lot like the local moths. Having grown up in Gravity Falls, you'd definitely recognize it. They only ever show up in the deepest parts of the forest. 

You wondered why he drew them on fire. “They’re indigenous only to Gravity Falls, I happened upon them while I was out looking for singing mycelium- or as I like to call them, my-sing-iums-” 

Your lips quirked upwards at his words. Wow, he could talk a mile a minute. All you needed to do was talk about moths, it seems. Too bad he was so excited and fond of scientific jargon that your brain couldn’t quite catch up to his pace. 

"Huh. That's awesome, are you a writer?" 

At this, the man's expression dimmed, he looked away. A lonely smile slipped into his face as he drummed his fingers over his journal.

"Ah, I am somewhat of a writer, yes. I am... looking for new material, per se, in Gravity Falls."

Dead silence once again enveloped the two of you. You wondered what the right question was so that you wouldn't kill the conversation with him somehow.

You took a deep breath and flashed him a deceptively easy grin.

"Well, I'll leave you to it, Mr. Writer-"

"Stanford."

You raised a brow at his interruption. The man- Stanford, fidgeted with his fingers. You’d have to ask him about his hands one day, but you didn’t wanna scare him off. He was the only regular the library had now. 

"It's Stanford. Stanford Pines. I... I meant to introduce myself the other day. I'm new in town."

Your eyes practically sparkled. Finally! Something other than silence. You try not to be too eager when you tell him your name.

"Haha, I wouldn't say you're new anymore. Stanford. It's been a year hasn't it?"

"How'd you know that?" He narrowed his eyes at you slightly.

"Dude, you've been coming by for months and it's Gravity Falls. Everyone knows everyone." 

"Ah... That is true." He mumbled. 

Welp, looks like the conversation’s run dry. But now, you had a name to the face so you cheered internally. 

"Well, I have some work I need to go back to. Enjoy your time here, Mr. Pines."

You didn't get a response, which was normal for the elusive and aloof Mr. Mystery- Pines, now. You breathed a sigh of relief after disappearing from his line of sight.

God, why was customer service difficult? Why is talking to people worth only 15 bucks an hour?

You spent the next hour or so organizing the moth-filled Philosophy section. 

You tried to be gentle with the little creatures and you wondered if they too, ignited into a small fire ball like Stanford Pines' drawing.

*✧･ﾟ: ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──*✧･ﾟ: ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──*✧･ﾟ: ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──✧*

Thank you for reading! <3

Title is a work in progress~

Just remembered I can bring this drawing back from high school.

You guys will not believe who came through my shop

that one fucking pingu screenshot.

The spring bonding montage has arrived! 🌷

Had a lot of fun making some of these. Hope y’all enjoy! :D

I blacked out and suddenly it was lined and colored and rendered and

ooh baby baby

keep sucking the triangle

i swear i have actual things im working on, but in the meantime you get studies and doodles

⭐️💙⭐️Blue Royal Stars⭐️💙⭐️

the fact that bill chose the great gatsby out of all texts is so so so so compelling to me. brother you just bared your soul to every gay lit student worth their salt. now all of china knows you fruitlessly chase an unachievable ideal that you insist must involve the love of your life that does not care about you with that same vigor

Me @ Dr Stanford Pines Ph.Ds

Evidence in the Epistolary

read on ao3 Rating: Teen & Up Type: Multi-chapter Chapter: Quantumly Yours (1/9) Tags: Ford Pines/Reader; Strangers to Penpals; Strangers to Disgruntled Peers; Strangers to Vague Respect to Oh-No-They're-Hot; Gender Neutral Reader; No pronouns used (as any accurate descriptor); Inaccurate Technology for Sake of Plot; Additional Tags to be Added Summary: "The idea of thirty years' worth of mail is bothersome, and now it just feels like an overcast reminder of just how many bridges he has burned. But it feels obtusely preemptive to just be rid of them all on the spot. Maybe there are genuine pieces of correspondence in there. Peers. Professors. Professionals. People who wanted to engage in dialogue with him -- surely not all of them would be so egregiously casual in tone as the initial one. When he is alone again, Ford reaches down, pulls the letter from the bin, and rereads it." While taking a break, you ship yourself up to Gravity Falls for a few months, definitely for the fresh air and definitely not to coincidentally cross paths with your unintended penpal of the past few months. The universe grants your wish: you do meet him. Under perhaps the worst set of circumstances.

Stanley knows his brother more then even himself.

the stress is getting to him

og colors bc i kinda went crazy on the filters lol

kiss kiss fall in debt

I think the fact that Bill did not, in fact, chose Ford is so fucking funny. The sheer amount of coincidences that had to happen for them to meet are astounding. Bill having interacted with the shaman thousands of years before, the area the shaman lived developing into Gravity Falls. Gravity Falls as a place attracting weird things. Ford deciding to study weird things. Ford being a scientist/ having the knowledge and skill to potentially build the portal Bill needs. Ford deciding to summon Bill at all, despite the shaman's warnings!

Like, imagine you're feeling hopeless and your world is literally dying around you and then some guy, who has the potential to solve all your problems AND seems to have stepped out of one of your wet dreams, just HAPPENS to knock on your door, completely unprompted, and go "excuse me, can you help me?" my god, I'd be clingy as hell too!

Ford F150 💕

Ford "Icarus didn't flap hard enough" Pines

What a harmless little creature! based on this

does that sky remind you of something bill?

weirdmageddon was a bust but hey at least you have your hat back

aaand he is gone

Hc that Ford gets a job at a local community college as a physics prof after he and Stan are done sailing around the world and fulfills his destiny as the eccentric professor he was always meant to be

And he quickly gains a reputation amongst the stem students as That Professor

I bet his ratemyprof reviews would be insane:

“He didn’t grade any of our homework until the end of the semester, but he brought something called a ‘plaidypus’ to class and let us pet it. Her name was Dorothy. 5/5”

“He constantly ranted about how ‘triangles are the most untrustworthy shape’ whatever that means. Also he doesn’t know how to use the internet. I hated his class. 5/5”

And many more iterations of “this guy is terrible. 5 stars”

people making aus (including myself) of bill returning to the pines family but with no powers makes me think . bro hasnt used his noodle legs in years bc he’s always flying . and Thus i drew this

Rating: SFW

Type: One-shot

Tags: Ford Pines x Reader, Young Ford Pines, Fluff, Female Reader, Reader is a flirt, confident reader, Forced Proximity, First Kiss, Kissing, No use of y/n, Teasing

Word Count: 3,274

It started raining.

Ford, who had been entirely lost in thought prior to this, looked up at the sky with a look of pure shock as the first drops fell on his head. Very quickly after that, the rain began pelting the two of you, falling down hard from the dreary gray clouds blocking out the sun.

“Oh dear,” he said, frowning up at the offending clouds. “Well, I suppose we should try to find cover and wait out the storm. I believe I saw a cliffside near here; there may be some alcoves we can—”

Before he had begun speaking, you were already reaching into the messenger bag on your hip and pulling out an umbrella. He stopped short when you deployed it.

“Oh.” He cleared his throat, looking a little embarrassed. “Well, I suppose that will… work just as well.”

Find the full fic here

Header style inspired by @/stupidlittlespirit btw. It is so neat and I love it, and you should go check out their fics

i love this billford baby. no one knows where it came from. they dont know how it was conceived. it speaks in morse code and it has a "beautiful singing voice"

Took a break from tumblr for a bit and opened it to see this.

Obssession reignited, I need to write about happy and nerdy Ford

but also Scarred, Untrusting Outlaw!Ford

fordsy

I literally wrote this at 4-5am and if I don't share it now I probably won't share it ever so I'm sorry if this sucks lmao

The Bad Timing

It was an autumn evening in 1981 and you and Ford were on the sofa, cuddling.

"I loved you ever since you met me."

Ford tilted his head to look at his lover laying on his chest. "When I met you?"

"M-hm." Was all you said. Ford chuckled.

"Don't you mean 'When I met you'?"

You smiled, still not looking at him. "Nope. I meant when you met me." Then you finally looked at him. "Because if I loved you when I met you, it would be weird."

He was silent for a while, thinking. "I don't get what you mean, darling."

You chuckled. "It just feels right to say it that way."

This confused Ford even more but when he opened his mouth to ask, you gave him a look that said "Don't think about it that much." So he changed his mind and didn't ask anything. 'It must be something that doesn't make sense but they like anyway.' he thought. You had things like that, he got used to it. You actually thought him not everything has to be factually accurate and sometimes doing some things in the wrong way was more fun. Just like this sentence, although he couldn't see the appeal to it yet.

You planted a small kiss on his cheek and he kissed your head. You both savoured this moment of cuddling on the sofa on an autumn evening, while his mind wondered off to the day you met in the library.

~

While he was in the portal he thought about you every day. One day he remembered this moment and he smiled. He still couldn't figure why you said it that way. But it didn't matter anymore, did it? He was lost in other dimensions and he lost hope on going back to his own. By that time he thought you would've moved on and maybe found someone else. Even though he knew that was most likely the case, it still hurt him to think every time. He just hoped he could go back one day and reunite with you and his brother.

After he came back from the portal, he was expecting to see you, if you were still in Gravity Falls, maybe married and with kids, grandkids even. It would hurt him for sure, but also help him to get over you.

He decided to ask Stan about you. Maybe you were still here and he'd get to see you once again. But before he had a chance to ask him, he saw you.

You were right there, right in front of him, at the gift shop, rearanging some items. You had your headphones on and were humming the song you were listening to. You didn't notice him until you felt his gaze on you and turned to him. You smiled politely and took of your headphones as you approached him.

"Hi! You must be Mr. Pines' brother, right?"

He looked confused and surprised at the same time.

"I'm Y/N. Nice to meet you." You extended a hand to shake his hand. He waited for a while, like he was lost in thought. After a few seconds he finally snap out of it and shook your hand.

"Stanford Pines." His voice betrayed him and shook a little.

"Nice to meet you Mr. Pines." He mumbled something like "You too." before you excused yourself to get back to work.

He looked behind you. All his thoughts about this reunion was crashed. Because in no scenario he thought that you would not remember him. He also, in no scenario, did ever think that you would be the same age he met you.

He went down to his lab in a hurry. He needed to be alone. He couldn't understand what was happening. How did you not age at all? Were you not human anymore? Or were you ever a human or were you something else this whole time? A vampire, perhaps? Or had you find a way to stop aging? How come you didn't remember him? Did you act like you didn't know him on purpose? But it really was like you two were meeting for the first time back there.

Then it hit him. The thing you said over thirty years ago. The time he met you. You had loved him the moment he met you.

"Because if I loved you when I met you, it would be weird."

Your words echoed in his head as he finally understood it all. He met you thirty years ago, but you met him just now, at the gift shop.

You must have traveled back in time. You weren't from his time. You were from now, the year 2012.

So at the end of the day, you had no chance on getting back together. Not because you were married, not because you were over him, but because of something you both couldn't control: The bad timing.

Coffee and Conclusions [Stanford Pines x Reader] FLUFF

Tags: Fluff, Young!Stanford Pines, Pre-Portal incident, just Ford being a sleep deprived nerd

When you went to check on Ford, the laboratory down stairs was in a state of disarray- even more so than usual.

Papers filled with hurriedly scribbled scientific notations, equations, graphs, and triangles(?) Littered the floors. All sorts of machinery bits laid scattered from an unpturned basket of them. And Ford? He was paced around wildly, six fingers clutching a crumple stack of papers while mumbling to himself.

You called his name, and he stopped his pacing to shoot you a grin that could rival the sun in it's brilliance.

"Ah, Starling, there you are! What time is it? Did you get the parts I asked you to fetch for me?"

"I did, but, Stanford, what is all this?"

You strode closer to the chaos, the eye of the storm- Stanford Pines who gratefully took the box of parts you fetched from town.

"I am close to cracking the code- well, one of them. I can feel it! I'm drawing close to an astounding conclusion!"

"And probably a heart attack." You drawled, eying the empty cups of coffee stacked high on his work table.

"So long as it comes after the portal test run!" Ford joked.

You fix him a glare and he smiles abashedly.

"By next week, we should be able to initiate test runs and optimization checks for the portal!"

"Incredible," you whispered.

Your eyes drifted to the triangular structure that towered over the two of you. It was dim in the lab, but in less than a week, it would be lit up with otherworldly light, buzzing with energy- if what Ford was saying was true.

"This could be the answer to all our problems!" Ford beamed, fist balled up in the air triumpanthly.

A hand gently yet firmly snaked around your shoulders, you were pressed against Ford's chest. You're screaming internally as you caught the scent of fresh pine, coffee, and ink on him.

"That's great, but are you alright?" 

Now that you were closer to him, you noticed Ford's unruly appreance. His chocolate brown hair was tousled and sticking up in places, as if someone took a vacuum, tried- and failed- to tame it. There was a coffee stain on the untucked hem of his button-up, revealing a bit of the soft skin hiding underneath. There were even more ink stains on the cuffs of his sleeves. His eyes were blown wide with delight, a contrast to the dark shadows forming under them.

His smile was easy and wide as he looked at you, eagerly waiting for any sign of your approval. You swear you saw goddamn sparkles in his eyes just now.

Somehow, his haggard appearance made your heart quicken. Damn this fool for not taking care of himself and somehow manages to STILL be attractive!

"Oh noooo, you've drank to much coffee," you groaned, stepping back from him.

A part of you mourned the warmth of his body, but it was getting hard to think being that close to him. Besides, you needed to set him straight- he's running on fumes!

"Oh yes! Yes I have, but that's besides the point, my dear. I needed to chase a certain equation that's been puzzling me and Fidds for a while now. I simply can't sleep, not when the solution's at the tip of my tongue!"

His words were hurried, you barely registered them as the sound of his velvety smooth voice called you "My Dear".

Your cheeks flush and you sighed, running a hand through your warm face.

"Stanford Pines, you need to sleep, it's been two days!"

"Sleep? Perish the thought! I need at least 34 more hours, if we're being generous, to figure out a way to stabilize the anti-gravity compression cogs of the portal-"

Ford was about to launch into another rant when he ran into you with his pacing. He wasn't the most coordinated and self-aware whenever he was sleep deprived. So your face bumped his chest, making you stumble back.

"Oh! Sorry, starling, I am feeling... a little  indisposed right now."

The nickname made you melt. But that wouldn't do, you needed to put your foot down and make him rest.

You quirk a brow as Ford chuckled wearily, clearing his throat and stepping back. When he wasn't busy talking your ear off, you can see the lines of sleepiness painting his face.

And here it comes, the wave of exhaustion- the crash that often followed days and nights of drinking coffee like water. Ford yawned, a hand covered his mouth. You sighed, shaking your head fondly at your friend.

"Man, you were always like this. Even in college. Come up, you fool. Rest up, new ideas will come when you wake."

Without waiting for his usual protests, you grabbed your hand. It was always effective in silencing him. You grinned at him over your shoulder before dragging him up the stairs.

Stanford was always weak to when you held his hand- especially in college. It seems that trait survived years after graduation. Six fingers curled gently against your small hand as he finally surrendered to your nagging.

"I have jelly beans waiting for you upstairs, IF, you promise to eat something filling."

Ford beamed, the apples of his cheeks turning pink at your promise and touch.