From Sweethearts to Soulmates [A Stanford Pines x Reader]

Chapter 1

I wandered into our bedroom/study hybrid and sighed heavily when I saw Ford still sitting at his desk, the bags under his eyes almost black, glasses sliding down his nose. I took the pen from his hand, placing it down beside his journal and grabbed his hands, pulling him up from his desk and backing towards our queen-sized bed. "You need your sleep Fordsie, no matter how much you say you don't." I mumbled, pushing him onto the pale white sheets and throwing the covers over him. He tried to protest but I was having none of it, crawling in beside him to lay my head on his chest. He held my hand in his own, running his thumb over my knuckles and yawned.

"Fine. I'll get some sleep... I love you, Y/n." He mumbled, his eyes falling shut and his breath steadying. I curled into him, taking in his warmth.

"Love you too, Fordsie." I whispered, spiralling into a deep sleep.

I woke to the sound of banging coming from the basement. Ford must've gotten up again... I wiped at my bleary eyes as I pulled on a dressing gown and took the elevator down to portal level.

I was still half-asleep as the elevator doors swung open, finding him sitting in the lab, head in his hands. I went to touch his shoulder, before his head snapped up to meet me, wide-eyed.

It wasn't Stanford standing in my basement but Stanley, tears pouring down his face as he clutched a book, holding it to his chest as if it were his last tether to reality. Ford's journal. My heart shuddered up as he stood, handing Stanford's glasses to me. "Why are you giving these to me?" I whispered, voice cracking around the reality I didn't want to acknowledge.

He didn't reply, only half-heartedly pointing to the portal before putting his arms around me, the back of my gown wet with his tears. I slowly returned the embrace, staring at the wretched device, processing what had happened.

I had seen the same thing happen to Fiddleford a few weeks before, although, he'd had someone to catch him, to stop him from disappearing.

Stanley concealed sobs into my shoulder as I began to cry too. Stanford was gone and unless we could get that thing working again, he wasn't coming back.

So that's what we did. We had his first journal; how hard could it be?

Extremely hard, apparently. The rest of the instructions were scattered between his second and third journals, both of which were hidden somewhere in Gravity Falls.

So, for 30 years, the Mystery Shack grew. From its humble beginnings to a full tourist trap, we had the works, my stubborn love for what was originally just a cheap source of income growing with each passing day.

At night, Stan stayed in the basement poking and prodding, what the science community would have called brute forcing the controls, trying everything he could think of, while I ventured into the woods to search for the remaining journals. As far as this rinky-dink backwater town was concerned, he was Stan Pines, Man of Mystery, and I was his partner in crime, Y/n.

One Summer though, everything changed. Stan and Ford's great niece and nephew- my great niece and nephew, as I had to keep reminding myself- came to stay for the holidays, so we took care of them while maintaining the secrets of the basement below. I would've done anything for those kids, just as I would've for their grunkles back at the beach.

Dipper was an awkward, inquisitive little boy who reminded me so much of Ford, the similarities were almost uncanny. He even had his oddity (I refused to call it freaky), a birthmark on his forehead in the shape of the Big Dipper.

Mabel on the other hand, never stopped moving. She was constantly energised and was the sweetest little gumdrop you'd ever meet (provided you kept her away from industrial sprinkles and Smile Dip).

They were the perfect partners in crime, having many adventures from what Mabel showed me as I helped her create her scrapbook. They always had each other's back; it was them against the world.

And they reminded me of Stan and Ford so much it made my heart ache for our younger years, when all our shadows disappeared, the animals inside came out to play. When we went face to face with all our fears, learned our lessons through the tears, made memories we knew would never fade. I missed our hometown, now that I didn't have to live there, of course.

The kids came home one night, Dipper battered and bruised and Mabel looking exhausted, something you never saw. I greeted them gasping gently as I checked their injuries over and they merely looked at me, they were so tired. Stan walked into the house, an expensive looking clown painting under his arm and turned to the kids. "Sheesh, what happened to you two?" he asked. They looked up at him, lids half closed as they flopped against the chair.

"Gideon." They said in unison. Stan went on to rant about how "the little gremlin swore vengeance on the whole family", and everyone seemed to light up at the prospect of Gideon's lucky bolo tie being broken.

I leant against the doorway, sitting down on the stoop as I giggled softly. It amused me to see how much his defeat meant to my family and honestly, I loved it.

The little creep was the Mystery Shack's main rival so him being taken out meant he was:

1) Away from the kids, and

2) Stan was now the town's hero.

There were tourists everywhere the next day asking for autographs as I helped take their money and sell them Mystery Shack merchandise. I even got to catch up with a few townsfolk I didn't get to run into so often. Stan looked happier than I'd seen him in a while, something that was becoming more frequent now that the kids were hanging around for the summer.

Things were finally going right for us.