Stanford Pines X Reader - Blog Posts

hmmmm if you’re looking for stanford smut requests….. maybe expand on ford loving pegging? maybe throw in him getting called pretty boy to really wreck him?

- 🎩 anon!

A Night to Remember

a/n — Yeah, not my best work. But oh well.

warnings — implied Fem dom, dom reader, use of a strap, pegging, sub Ford **NOT PROOFREAD

summary — Reader and Ford try out pegging for the first time.

“Are you sure about this, dear?” Ford queried for the hundredth time that night.

You were almost done setting up with prep, getting ready to slide the first finger in. His weariness was almost laughable, “Yes, i’m sure. Are you?”

He looked taken aback—sounded taken aback, as he was already on fours for you. “What? Yes! Of course, I— I’ve been looking forward to this all week.”

It’s almost cute how unsure of himself he could still be, despite everything he’s been through. It’s in vulnerable moments like this you catch a glimpse of the insecure boy he once was. You try to call him down.

“So have I, baby—“ the pet name was well received, “—but you can relax. I’m gonna take good care of you.”

Your finger slipped into his asshole with ease because of the lubricant, and he shifted uneasily. “It might feel weird at first— But just get ready, sweetheart.”

“Right. Yes. Of course,” was his short response.

You worked on loosening him up for a little bit before you must have hit a spot he liked, because he sucked in a breath, “Oh.”

Gaining confidence, you kept moving. Twisting your fingers in and out, drawing soft moans from Ford.

Finally, his voice wavered, “Please.”

You took that as your queue, slipping your fingers out and replacing them with your strap. 

“Brace yourself,” You say as you slide into him, drawing out a whimper of approval from Ford. “Good, good.” You praise absentmindedly, beginning to find a pace.

You steady yourself and move inside him, not too fast, but not annoyingly slow. 

“M-more,” Ford mutters, “Please, love—“

So you speed up, and you begin to drive deeper into him. First your pace unsteady, but once you find a good place, Fords legs begin to shake. His breath hitches and he gasps for the sheets, groaning slightly.

You go on like that for a little bit, before deciding to, once again, lift your pace.

Ford whines your name. 

“You’re doing so good, sweet boy,” You thrust into him, “So well behaved, so perfect.”

He whimpers into the pillow, mumbling incoherently.

“And so pretty,” you add on, drawing out a long raspy whine from Ford.

“Ah— Y/n, dear lord—“ He whines, “Close, ‘m so very close.”

You drill into him now, daring him to reach his limit, a challenge he seems to gratefully accept.

“Anytime you want, sweet boy.” 

His breathing gets ragged, back arching with every thrust, and with one final whimper he releases, before collapsing onto the mattress.

You lay there with him for a few moments after ford flips onto his back. 

“Wanna get cleaned up?” You propose.

He breathes, “I think—“ a huff “—If we want to get full use out of the strap then… maybe a second round would be.. most productive.”

fluff requests? 😁

u think ford would be into roleplay? like HEAR ME OUT FOR A MOMENT OKAY. we all know he’s a huge nerd and likes fantasy games like ‘dungeons dungeons & more dungeons’ soooooo like imagine topping him in like a cosplay of one of the characters maybe like a succubus character or something HFHDGDHDGDGFHHSHSHS

just a thought 🙂🙂

UGHH YOUR SO RIGHT. The way he’d be hesitant to bring it up, but he’d be so into roleplay. Imagine surprising him with this sexy dominating elf queen cosplay, and being really in-character the moment he steps in the bedroom. You’d command him to kneel before you and he’d barely hesitate before dropping to his knee with “yes, my liege.” Or alternatively getting really into in himself and like going “I’ll die before I bow to a tyrant like you!” Uh oh! Que sexy elf queen punishment.

Once again , please tell me if you're uncomfortable writing it, but Ford being so starved of touch, having so many places of stimulation touched on his body and being praised that he's accidentally cumming very quickly in his pants during a heavy make out session!

He says a little "Oh! :( " when it happens.

He feels very mortified and ashamed, tries to hide it first to make it unnoticeable (he failed big time at it). His girlfriend reassures him, tells him it's okay, it's hot and there's nothing to be ashamed of. ❤️😭

-🌌

Work Break

700 words,, Stanford x reader

a/n — Couldn’t think of a song title this time, I feel out of character. Also this isn’t proofread.

warnings — NSFW, dom!reader, at what point in the series this takes place is unclear, gender neutral!reader, sub!ford

summary — Reader helps Ford take a break from work, he gets a little excited.

You kiss up his jawline and land on his check before he decides to protest, “I have mountains of work that I have to get back too—“

“Just wait, baby,” You make your way over to his mouth, feeling that he’s about to abject again, and so you roll your hips ever so slightly on his slap.

He was half-hard from the attention, and he sucked in breath when you did it. A paper was still in one hand, as he’d refused to give in yet. 

“Y/n—“ He warned, voice now shaky, but was cut off with a disgusting kiss on his lips. 

Your hands explored his body, caressing his chest, and tracing on his arms, before settling on his pecks. For a nerd, he had a wonderful body. You always thought that. 

You broke away from the kiss, drawing a sound of disappointment from Ford, which he tried to cover up by clearing his throat.

“You deserve this, you know,” You remind, tugging at his collar to flash a little bit of skin on his neck. You needed a place to sink your teeth into.

“Don’t be absurd, i’ve barely gotten anything done today. I deserve a slap on the wrist and an order to get back to work— ah— ah—“

You sank into his neck while he was talking, and licked the spot after you were done, “You know that’s not true, Ford.”

And you were being honest. Whenever a new project caught his attention, he acted like it was the end of the world all over again. 

“You’ve done so much already, it’s coming along good,” You pluck the papers out of his hands either mild protest from Ford, and take his hand afterwards.

“Your— doing— so— good—“ You plant a kiss on every one of his fingers inbetween words, Ford blushes and looks away, muttering something about how he’s ‘not necessarily doing good, barley done anything..’ 

To make the make out session a little more to Ford taste, you take his other hand and do the same thing. This time, rolling your hips ever-so-slightly against his, now fully hard, cock.

He whimpered, and you took the opportunity to interlock lips with him again. Pushing your mouths together—with excessive spit, if you’re being honest—you continued the slight roll of your hips he seemed taken with.

At some point, your hands let go of his, and went to his hair. You deepened the kiss once more. In between breaths, you commented things like, “So good, ford,” “You’re so beautiful,” “So smart, baby.”

The entire time Ford had been whimpering into your kiss, hands now placed on the side of your hips and grasping at the fabric on your shirt. His pants had tightened noticeably during this time, and he was hoping you wouldn’t notice the precum beginning to stain the top of his pants. 

You had a way of turning his brain to mush that, surprisingly, he didn’t just allow. He craved. Your attention was positively unmatched, especially when your moving like that, or how your tongue his doing that thing he likes, or how your saying such sweet things and— 

 Oh.

Ford whined uncharacteristically and buried himself in your kiss. His hands moved you down on his lap so you wouldn’t notice what happened. 

It didn’t work. You opened your eyes with a quizzical look and tapped the crotch of his pants, then breaking away fully to look down. 

He was still hard, but it was apparently he’s finished earlier by the embarrassing stain on his slacks.Poor thing. 

“I-i’m sorry, y/n. I got—“ he rubbed the back of his neck apologetically, “—carried away. I guess, uh, I should cleanup and… Oh god, i’m sorry—“

Your face looked sympathetic, as it guided his chin back to meet your gaze, “No, no, it’s fine, Ford really. It’s cute you got so excited.”

His looked lightened at this, but you continued before he could talk. 

“In fact, why don’t we do it right this time? If you’re up for round two.”

MROE MORE MORE MORE I I JSUT NEED MORE STANLEY BILL STANFORD AND FIDDLEFORD YOUR WIRIRNT IS SO FUCKIMG GOOD OH MY GOD KEEEP ON WRITING DONT STOP WHY R YOU SO TSENTEED!.!!,!,,, PIT ME IN A ROOM WITH ALL OF THEM AND I WONT BE THE ONE COMING OUT ORGENEATN OH MY FUKCJNG GODDD YOU AWTE SO AWRSOME

I love you and your writing, please do not suddenly disappear off the face of the earth. (ゝз○`)

I LOVE YOUR ENTHUSIASM. Also I’m going to take this request, since you seem to be specifically excited at the thought of more content, to talk about things i’ve been wanting to write!

[lalala PLEASE SEND REQUESTS lalala]

Bill with equally/exeedingly powerful reader is so interesting to me, there’d be so much competition there and the fact it’d probably be one sided on his part.

ANYTHING with young fiddleford, he’s such a cutie!! From his little hillbilly town omgmgmgmg he’s such a cute little nerd, I love him.

A full Stanford fic, those headcanons did pretty well so if I get a specific enough request i’d literally be ON IT.

I also have a fluffy Bill fic in drafts and that’s all i’ll say about that!

Alternatively in drafts, I have princess bubblegum headcanons. STARVING for adventure time requests, that kept me fed.

Also I’d like to do more with Stanley.. maybe smut this time?

OH and aside from gravity falls, Diego Hargreaves. Would love to fuck him. Him as a sub? Literally, i’m busting.

Lastly… pegging bill? I have nothing planned or in mind, but maybe this could go with the powerful reader. Dunno, but have ideas!

holyyyy shitttt I’ve never run into a writing blog I agree with so much! refusal to write dom!male characters? you’re speaking my language here, seriously! the sub bill fic/concept was so godly too actually what the fuck?????

despite that — I actually came here to speak about Stanford lol. I’d just be so curious to hear any thoughts you have on sub! ford really, whether hcs, a drabble, or just you going on a general little rant over how you think he’d be like. sorry if this is too vague!!!

a/n — anon, your so real!! I literally cannot write dom!male characters without getting icked out — also i’m glad you liked the bill fic!

warnings — dom!reader, sub!ford, gender-neutral reader, mentions of various kinks

summary — [SMUT] headcanons of reader and sub!Ford

ᯓ★ I genuinely do not know why people would be think this man doms, he is such a bottom.

ᯓ★ He has very little experience, maybe he got lucky at a party in college or met a hot alien during his time in the portal, but he might as well be a virgin.

ᯓ★ He’d probably be very nervous your first time together, fumbling taking his clothes off, not knowing where to start.

ᯓ★ His confidence has come along way but he’s still a nerd at heart, and he’d get flustered so easily.

ᯓ★ His praise kink would be so unmatched.

ᯓ★ Call him good and smart while talking him through it, he deals with so many high tension situations, he’d love you to be soft with him.

ᯓ★ “Pretty boy” would ruin him. After being bullied for being a freak all his life, even if he is genuinely over it now, it’s still be jarring to be praised for his looks.

ᯓ★ He would literally feel such a relief when you tell him you’d be leading, like “ah, yes. perhaps that’s.. a good idea.”

ᯓ★ Ford is probably immensely touch-starved after everything he’s been through. He’d want you to touch him literally everywhere.

ᯓ★ He would probably be pretty vanilla, anything to crazy would freak him out.

ᯓ★ Not a fan of degradation, where is the pleasure in being openly mocked by a loved one?

ᯓ★ After a little bit, he would probably feel bad for making you do all the work, so he’d try to do things for you to make it up to you.

ᯓ★ However, only to realize he wants constant reassurance while doing that too. Even when he’s fingering you and treating you nice, a ‘good boy’ every now and then would make him fold.

ᯓ★ And it’s probably always deserved too.. He’s a genius and a scientist, it’s not crazy to say he knows a thing or two about anatomy. Things to enhance your pleasure.

ᯓ★ Would love pegging, probably already knows about it, but you’d still have to ask first. And even then he’d be incredibly nervous and not masking it well.

ᯓ★ Probably cannot go for a long time or do that many rounds. Look, he’s old… I don’t know what you people expect when you’re into a 60+ year old man.

ᯓ★ Will always help out during aftercare no matter how tired out he is. Even if you insist he rest, he’ll still get you glass of water at the very least.

ummmm.. need to praise ford. need to tell him how good and smart he is while slowly bouncing on him. i fink i hauve couvid……

working on headcanons right now because I didn’t have to go into work today 😁

Stanford Pines would have such an ungodly praise kink, I dont make the rules. The way he would fold if you called him a good boy.. and that thing Bill said about him wanting to feel special, someone fuck this man, jesus christ.

Welcome to the blog

My name is Ellie! I’m currently in college but in my downtime I like to write stupid little fics for my latest obsession - feel free to leave a request, after reading the rules.

if you know me from before, also here’s my masterlist

RULES —

Do’s : I will write fluff, angst, nsfw, headcanons, drabbles, full fics, gender-neutral & fem!reader, as well as afab & amab

Don’ts : oc x reader(depends), dom!male characters, male!reader, any nsfw that I deem too freaky

QUICK REMINDERS I have the right to not interact with any ask I don’t want too, and add rules when I see fit.

I’ll do most nsfw prompts, so if you have an idea you think is really kinky, i’d say still take the chance, just know that I might not respond if I don’t fuck with it [anything with barf or scat is too far.]

And I will NOT write dom!male character, I will write dom!female character.

If you don’t specify the readers gender, it will just be neutral. This gets trickier with nsfw, I don’t have male parts, so the default will be afab.

Also, if the request isn’t specifically asking for a fic/drabble/headcanons, i’ll just ramble my thoughts in short. Sometimes this doesn’t apply if the idea is really to my liking.

WHO I WRITE FOR —

Current fixation is gravity falls! This means i’ll be loving these requests for the next few months.

GRAVITY FALLS Stanford Pines, Stanley Pines, Bill Cipher, Fiddleford Mcgucket [young]

ADVENTURE TIME Simon Petrikov, Betty Grof, Bubblegum, Marceline, Marceline’s fuckass dad

UMBRELLA ACADEMY Diego Hargreeves, Klaus Hargreeves, Allison Hargreeves, Luther Hargreeves, Viktor Hargreeves, and Lilah

INSIDE JOB Brett Hand, Reagan Ridley, Gigi, Andre, probably JR ngl

MISCELLANEOUS Benson from Regular Show, Deadpool, Tony Stark, Sidney Prescott

REQUESTS — OPEN

GIRL I WILL THROW MYSELF INTO THE ARMS OF THE LOCHNESS MONSTER, GOBBLEWONKER, OR JERSEY DEVIL JUST TO BE SAVED BY HIM???

SCOLDED BY HIM WHILE CARRIED LIKE A SACK OR POTATOES OR (preferrably) PRINCESS CARRIED HOME?

hsgsjansjjsjkaka thanks for entertaining my headcanon

I headcanon that post-portal ford would try to impress you by doing really athletic stunt for really mundane tasks.

We all know he'd jump out the attic window for something as simple as getting money back from mothman

Picture evidence below:

But also I feel like he'd show off his strength by lifting heavy equipment to and from the lab without breaking a sweat. He'd be chopping wood for your fireplace even if you didn't ask him to.

He may even abandon his turtleneck to "cool off" but everyone knows he'd wear his usual coat even if there's a heatwave lol.

He'd pick you up and carry you to ned if you're being bratty and doomscrolling too much. OR if he just wants you all to himself fshsgdhsjajwjdh

Idk I just goddamn love this man

GRRRRRR no because im actually gnawing drywall over this. im feral over Ford performing feats of strength like a damn mating display. i swear, if he pulled any of that shit in front of me i’d react exactly like Dipper, screaming internally. but unlike Dipper, i would jump this man and eat his face like pizza. don’t test me

i am so weak for strong Ford its humiliating. yeah baby chop that wood. carry that weird space gun across the shack. grunt a little. wipe ur forehead. take the turtleneck off just to flex those arms and then put the coat back on because you’re still dramatic come on. id faint right there

yes, please carry me bridal style through the woods, saving me from some random dangerous anomaly shit. i’m the distressed damsel now. i’ve twisted my ankle. i need rescuing. let me hold your neck while you save me from smth dangerous

and that line “or if he just wants you all to himself” i smiled like an idiot because YES. YES. FORD POSSESSIVE. like you’re doomscrolling or ignoring him and he just decides nah. scoops you up like nothing, takes you to bed, and doesn’t even say anything at first. just kisses you because he wants to remind you who you belong to.

“you’ve been on that phone too long, sweetheart,” he mutters, already pulling your legs around his waist. “let me give you something better to focus on.”

Hi! I hope this is okay but I felt so inspired by this that I have to write something!

Adding onto this, it would be kinda funny amd endearing if he started collecting your lost belongings the way he did with anomalous/wildlife specimens.

Your hairties? Stacked nicely in a handmade stand that best displays their design and shapes. It'll be in the bathroom or his nightstand for when you stay over.

Your lipbalms/lipsticks? Stored in a scientific mini fridge and organized by scent/brand. Right next to his worktable, it becomes an accidental reminder of when you kissed him a million ways with painted lips.

If you're like me and you leave pencils and art shit lying around EVERYWHERE, he may start using them. Or getting pen stands for the nearly done and worn out pencil you favor (it's on its last legs but he does't have the heart to throw it away)

He won't realize it's a little weird, he just wants to keeo them nice and well-stored for when you need them back. But he does forget about all this because of his work. He'll be really embarassed and shy if you stumble upon it accidentally and tease him.

Because you're the most interesting thing in his life, the one, precious and odd creature who chose to stay in his life.

I think Ford would love to see all the little signs of his partner around the house. If you leave behind a bobby pin or hair elastic, even strands of your hair left behind on his pillow.

It’s a reminder of you when you’re away. He’d actually be upset if you didn’t leave anything behind for him, like your shampoo of choice in his shower or a change of clothes in case you stay over.

And if you have a signature scent you prefer, and leave a bottle of it behind? He’s spraying it just to get a whiff of you. He’ll bury his face in your pillow and just INHALE, deep breaths into it until he’s lightheaded and has to stop. Even then, he considers diving back in for more.

Love Language Headcanons [Stanford Pines x Reader]

I stayed up til 3 am thinking about this man. I will be finding a way to integrate these HCs in To Sonder

Ford loved you so reverently, so deeply that it often left you speechless. This man thrives off acts of service and he loves showering you with gifts. 

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

💙 He wasn't clueless to your affections, but he does have trouble comprehending why you liked him back. 

💙 He looks forward to the way your eyes would brighten when you see him. It’s like seeing a comet fly in the night sky, rare and reserved only for him.

💙 Your cheeks would turn an adorable rosy color because of him, and he doesn’t really understand why at first. He does NOT know how much of a catch he is, damn.

💙 He thinks of you whenever he finds a pink flower out in the wild. Whenever the skies turn pink on a hot summer afternoon, it’s you who occupies his mind. 

💙 He'd leave you dried flowers in your favorite spots in the shack. At first, you chalked it up to his forgetfulness. He tends to leave unfinished notes and contraptions all around the house.

💙 Whenever you'd bring his supposedly unfinished projects back to him, he merely smiles at you and tells you to keep them. 

💙 Eventually, you had enough flowers to fill an album. He'd be really happy if you collected them and stored them carefully.

💙 Stanford's talents weren't limited to science and invention- he was also an artist.

💙 Admittedly, he does sketch you- a lot. Some of these drawings do slip out of his journals or he simply forgets to put them away- they'll fall out of his pocket. 

💙 He will wake you up at 4 in the morning to show you a goddamn cryptid- or anomaly, as he refers to it- he plucked off the forest floor from one of his excursions.

💙 It would be something marvelous and beautiful. He sometimes forgets people need sleep, though eventually, he'll learn to wait til next morning to show you pictures or take you where he found the new creature. 

💙 He'll make you trinkets!

💙 He can't really sit still for too long. So whenever you tell him to relax and lock him out of the lab and his study, he'll have an impromptu arts and crafts session. 

💙 He's made you a tiny terrarium filled with pretty, bioluminescent moss.

💙 He made you a locket! What's so special about it? Well, it may look normal but he engraved it himself with his homemade laser! He nearly lost a few fingers in the process, but hey, he reasoned that had an extra two if it did happen!,

💙 He gave you things that had the color spectrum only shrimps could see. 

💙 Sometimes, you'll catch him staring at a blue flower he kept on his desk. A dreamy, wistful expression rested on his face before a huff resembling a laugh would escape him.

💙 One day, he'll tell you that he could see one of those special colors the human eye can't quite comprehend. One day, he'll tell you about the being who named an impossible color after him, the closest he's ever been to having a love letter written to him by an equally impossible being. 

💙 This man is so unbelievably touch starved, that he'll never initiate physical contact. You may have to take the lead on this one. 

💙 Or maybe, he wouldn't even realize he initiated contact until after it happened. 

💙 Maybe that invisible wall Ford built around himself would crumble one rainy day. 

💙 You'd be shivering. His Ma raised a gentleman, so he gives you his coat. He holds a small umbrella over you- he didn't really account for being out in the forest with someone else today. So he leans it over your side, making sure you're dry and soaking his shirt to keep you mostly warm.

💙 He frowned at the way you rubbed your hands together and shook under the weather. 

💙 He cups a warm hand around your smaller ones. He reassures you you're almost back home as he rubbed smooth, calming circles over the back of your hand.

💙 But in a blink, he'll realize how close he got. He turns into an absolute tomato and starts stuttering. You giggle as he pulls his hand away and shoves them deep into his pocket. 

💙 You keep your hand over his, gently guiding the umbrella so that it covers him too. The poor man's gonna catch a cold at this rate.

💙 Eventually, he'll learn to be more forward and show you more affection.

💙 He'll intentionally stand as close to you as he can, hoping you'd hug him or hold his hand. 

💙 He'll melt if you reach out and adjust his glasses for him. Leaning his face into the palm of your hand while fixing you with the softest look ever. 

💙 Out of the blue, he'd sometimes catch you off guard and hug you from behind. He forgets how quiet his footsteps are, after years of learning to sneak around skittish creatures for his work.

💙 Even when he's distracted by note taking and reading, he'll grope around blindly for your hand. Resting it around yours as he mumbled and crunched numbers for his latest invention. 

💙 At night, he definitely is a big spoon. The man's a furnace, and if you're cold, he'll actually enjoy that. It balances him out. Insert nerdy scientific joke about how opposites attract, here!

💙 More to come~

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~

Me @ Dr Stanford Pines Ph.Ds

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.

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.

Lipbalm [Stanford Pines X Reader]

Set in the Nightmare Realm, you two are outlaws and reluctant allies, trying to find a way back home.

Tags: Suggestive, Pining, Fluff(?), Enemies to Lovers

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

You happily unpacked a little bag full of makeup onto the glossy counter of the bathroom. Mirrors surrounded you both, the perfect time to do your makeup.

"God, even interdimensional dive bars have the same flashy bathrooms as we had on earth."

You hummed happily, dipping your thumb into a tin of what Ford assumed was lip balm. You pressed your lips together, it smelled nice!

"Hurry up, we don't have all night. The longer we're here, the more ground bounty hunters cover around us." Ford grumbled.

You sighed, mood soured slightly by his haste. The muffled sound of the bar outside was nice at least, if you had to listen to Stanford's bitter words. You fixed him an unimpressed look through the mirror.

Ford leaned next to the door, ear perked up in case someone entered the bathroom, six fingers tapping impatiently against his forearm. You held a brush in between your delicate fingers, painting color onto your cheeks and under your eyes. He dared not let his gaze drift towards you too much, but he knew you were grinning at him.

Dive bars were for hedonists and people seeking the bottom of a bottle. Ford didn't really relish being here, but they needed to make contact with an important Altraxian dealer, if he were to get the parts he needed for the portal back home.

"You know, Altraxians love makeup. They consider it an art form, as well as a form of war paint." You mumbled as you painted swirls onto the edges of your lids. Ford perked up at the mention of the alien species. Of course, that was one way to get him to be less mean- information, knowledge. You quietly cheered as the wrinkle between his brows eased. His hands immediately reached for his pen and journal. Ah, how he wished he had his leatherbound book back in Gravity Falls. You were a well of knowledge, an anchor in the confusing dimensions of the Nightmare Realm.

"Is that so? Are they a warring species? What is their political climate like, to be able to appreciate art and war in equal levels? I have only seen one in passing, it turned it's nose and mandibles at me and walked away in disgust…" Ford rambled, scribbling into his book.

As always, Ford didn't give you time to answer each question as he scribbled away. You fell into the Nightmare Realm years before he did, but he was already so knowledgeable in it all. Stanford Pines had a thirst for knowledge that impressed you. It's what kept him alive in this realm- and if it kept him less angry, you'd entertain his questions.  

"That's because a nude, unpainted face is considered an insult to their society." "Hmm, intriguing. And what of tattoos? Do they value it, seeing as it's permanent art on your body?"

Your eyes drifted to the intricate markings that disappeared under Ford's rolled up sleeves. No doubt they continued well past his toned biceps, you've seen glimpses of it underneath his shirt before. Your cheeks flushed, but thankfully, the light was dim here. "Huh. I don't know. Never really talked to one before. Which is why we need to be extra careful, and play by their rules."

With a click, you closed your little bag and strode over to Ford, who was engrossed in his writing his little notes. He hadn't noticed how close you were until you tapped the top of his journal, nudging it downwards so you can meet his gaze. "The dealer is Altraxian. We'll need to suit up if you want the sciencey doo-dad you told me about." "I know that." Ford rolled his eyes "And it's called a cryo-compulsor cog." "Yeah, that, for your portal." you nodded. "Right…" You stared at Ford expectantly, a flicker of mischief in your wide, seemingly innocent eyes. "That means you need to prepare for that as well. I'm not talking to them alone." "I thought this robe would be sufficient? I even made sure to wash it this morning." You sighed at the infuriating man. True, he did trade his torn and dusty trench coat for something much softer and velvety. You hated to admit it, but he looked damn good in a suit. It was near maddening, but for his sake and yours, you wouldn't tease him for it.

"Mhm, yeah, you need makeup." "Pardon?" Ford incredulously asked. Your grin turned sharper and more mischievous as you took a step closer towards Ford. He blinked, locking up as you got close enough for him to smell the floral scent of your hair. Something alien yet alluring all the same. "They won't talk to you if you show up like this. Y'know, "When in Rome" and all that! We'll stick out like sore thumbs!"

Ford's eyes flitted around your face, distantly admiring the way you skillfully painted patterns into your eyeliner. Your lips were plump and redder than usual, cheeks alive with rosiness and accentuating your eyes. Distressed, he started to stutter.

"I-I don't- Ugh, Fine. Don't… Don't over-do it." Your eyes brightened, light passing through them like a small comet.

"Great! Now, close your eyes." you whispered conspiratorially. He wanted to protest, but all he could manage was a gulp. He closed his eyes, sighing in resignation. 

Your expression softened somewhat. He trusted you to get this close with him. Despite being the only other human in the nightmare realm, he barely gave you a fraction of his trust. You weren't sure if you could even call this a friendship. His presence was necessary to your survival, and vice versa. His smart yet cruel words often earned you both another day alive in this hellscape. Now, the same man who often offered nothing but dry scientific facts and cold words was quiet. You took a moment to admire the way the wrinkles around his weary eyes softened.

The tension built around you, ensnaring the air like a hungry snake. Distantly, you noticed how the bar music lulled to something slower.

You situated yourself between his legs. One hand rested on the counter he leaned on while the other dragged a brush lightly across his cheek.

You were so close now, brush held near his face and ready to condemn him with your touch- and makeup. Altraxian men didn't wear a lot of makeup. They wore sigils painted on their faces and slathered a ridiculous amount of rosy paint on their cheeks. But Ford already had red cheeks, so you needn't paint over that. You worked lightly and quickly, lest you risk annoying him and thinking too much about your quickening heartbeats. A shy, distant part of yourself screamed at the way your noses almost touched at the last flick of your brush.

God, pull yourself together, you're doing this for survival!

Being so focused on your work meant you missed the way Ford's six finger hands gripped the counter tighter. The tick on his jack was pronounced, his brows softened at your light caress. You missed the way he stopped breathing at the sensation of your soft knuckles gliding over his jawline.

You sighed, leaning back to look at your work. Ford's eyes were still closed. Upon closer inspection, you notice how dry his pale lips were. Honestly, when was the last time he drank water? Moisturized??

So to remedy this, you leaned in once again, thumb dipped with fruity lip balm. In one fluid motion, it went over his lower lips, slowly, carefully.

The world held it's breath as your gaze lingered on Ford's softened lips.

After a small eternity, you forced yourself to look away. Your eyes fluttered upwards, meeting Ford's coffee brown eyes, wide with shock. Cheeks red from embarrassment and what you suppose must be anger.

Dear god.

You stood frozen as your brain caught up with what you just did.

"Shit- sorry! Force of habit! We don't exactly have lipstick here!" you squeaked in one breath.

Stepping back as if you were burnt, you gave Ford his space back.

"Your lips were chapped," you murmured, looking away.

Ford's hands twitched. You looked away in embarrassment, body aflame with something you dare not name.

You prayed to the Axolotl and all the stars in the sky that the ceiling of this shoddy little dive bar would collapse on you- or better yet- for a blackhole to unravel you at a molecular level. Anything to escape this unbearable silence.

"It's… It's fine. They were quite dry." Ford's smooth, deep voice filled the awkward silence. You blinked, quietly sighing relief- at least he wasn't angry at your intrusion. You turned to hurriedly pack your makeup away.

"Don't touch your face! The sigil will smudge!" You huffed, after seeing him faintly touch his face in the mirror. In your haste, however, you missed the way Ford brought a hand to his lips. Chasing the fading warmth of your fingers from moments before. They tasted sweet.

English isn't my first language and I do struggle sometimes with present and past tense writing. Feel free to correct me and my grammar!

Cipherstarling's Masterlist

Here we go! Here's all my Gravity Falls related posts. Welcome to my little obsession blog!

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

Stanford Pines x Reader

~ Poetry: "Stanford Pines was poetry in a mortal man's body" ~ Lipbalm: "The world held it's breath as your gaze lingered on Ford's softened lips." ~ A Gentler Soul: NSFW, Nightmare Realm Ford ~ To Sonder: Part 1, Ao3 Link, Long series!

*✧･ﾟ: ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ :･ﾟ──✧*

Bill Cipher x Reader

~ Nightmare!Realm Bill Headcanons ~ Ad Infinitum CH1 and AO3 Link

*✧･ﾟ: ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ :･ﾟ──✧*

BillFord

~ WIP

*✧･ﾟ: ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ :･ﾟ──✧*

Ramblings and Concept Fics

~ Bill and Trust~ Jekyll and Hyde!Stanford Pines Concept ~ Bill Cipher x Bounty Hunter! Reader Concept

*✧･ﾟ: ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ :･ﾟ──✧* Cipherstarling's Scribbles

~ Ford Gets Held Down Day ~ Bill Hyperfixation Meme

Poetry [Stanford Pines x Reader]

Stanford Pines was poetry living in a mortal man's body. It was unfair.

His calloused fingers were often stained with ink, wrist resting under a thick red sleeve that often brushed against the surface of a weathered journal. If you squint, you'd see the yellowed fibers clinging to the cotton of his cuffs.

It's astounding how something as simple as his reading habits could undo you.

He sat cross legged on a worn armchair, book deftly resting over one six fingered hand. His other hand rested languidly on the arm rest, tapping a slow little tune on the wooden end of it. You wondered how warm his hands would be against your smaller ones.

Occasionally, he'd tug at a stray, greying strand of hair. But no matter how much he ran his fingers through his head, it would endearingly fall over his forehead. Waiting to be tamed.

His glasses fogged at the corners, sitting crooked over narrowed eyes.

Oh, his eyes.

Coffee freshly brewed, pure and aromatic.

The color of a leather bound journal, well loved and written to completion.

Honey, dripping and shining under the light of the sun. Why did he choose to sit next to a stained glass window like some- some picturesque figure? A perfect painting, unmoving as he read. His chest rose and fell gently, sometimes, a small mumble escaped him.

You can't do this.

You can't focus with this infuriatingly attractive man in your vicinity.

With a huff, you closed your spiral notebook. Shaking your head as your packed your things.

"Oh, do you need a break?", Ford asked, fixing those earthy brown eyes on you.

No, not really.

"Yes, it's about time for lunch, Ford." You sighed.

"Well, I'll join you then."

Your cheeks flush, and you turn so fast that you don't catch the way his face mirrored yours. You miss the way he gaped like a goldfish, stumbling his words as he tried to think of something to say to you. To keep you from leaving his space and to secure his place in your side.

But there was no need for that.

You'd let Stanford Pines sit at your table and talk your ear off about anything and everything. Despite the way you can't make eye contact without turning red.

He hopes that one day, you'd catch his gaze and see that your admiration was reflected in his.

Ford Pines x Reader X Bill Cipher concept: Jekyll and Hyde

Ford grapples with the immorality of his actions. His deal with Bill, creating the portal, possibly bringing Weirdmageddon into Earth, shakes him. He throws himself fully into his work to try and survive the nightmare realm.

He tries to find ways to make sure that doesn't happen again. He keeps a close eye on Bill, creates a lab at the edge of nowhere, and constantly experiments. The reader watches as he spirals into madness, but she doesn't fully comprehend what he's up to until it is too late.

Ford found a way to separate good and evil, to defy the duality of man. He wanted to erase all his hubris and selfishness, to make sure he'd never make dangerous decisions ever again. His mind was a weak and exploitable thing. He' is being's the only human being in the Nightmare realm- Other than you, that is. You both are so, so mortal and small in such a dangerous place. He needed to push away his fear to help you survive. He needed to protect you. He wanted to run away from his guilt. So, he creates a Jekyll and Hyde formula, to push aside the parts of himself that would put you and the world in danger.

He gets exactly what he wanted.

However,

Ford notices gaps in his memory. Similar to the time he's possessed by Bill, he wakes up in strange places, a wrecked lab, and a fearful Reader.

He managed to remove the more cruel parts of himself from his psyche as Stanford Pines. However, he's left with an alter ego that makes awful, evil decisions.

He seeks Bill, but the demon laughs at his hubris and accusations. He didn't have a hand in this.

This, was all him.

Or rather, him and the Other. Also, this'll be kind of a short-ish dark fic.

~~~~~

TLDR: GUESS WHO DISCOVERED THE WONDERS OF JEKYLL AND HYDE THE MUSICAL? FORD PINES IS ACTUALLY REALLY ATTRACTIVE AND AMAZING AND I WANNA DATE HIM SO I'M WRITING AN EVIL FORD FIC

Inspired from this song: Transformation