You're returning from a walk on one of your many trails that snake through the woods, the one that dips into a small gully that houses some critters that prefer the scenery, tall pines cover you from the sun, leaving splotches of light on the ground, when you start to come up to the mystery man's cabin and catch a whiff of the smell of summer; fresh pine and wildflowers.
You occasionally came across the cabin when you were out about, curiosity tugging at you, and sometimes you catch him outside throwing away a garbage bag of treasures. You noticed he didn't do much outside. Mostly staying indoors, indicated by a light on the inside of the lodge. But when he was out, he mostly collected mushroom spores and the like, it confused you sure but it was closer to something you witnessed more normal people doing. Scavaging for mushrooms and berries was something the occasional hiker did, and hell, that's how you mostly get dinner. But you knew he was far from ordinary. For example, one time when you decided to walk to the enchanted forest to hop over to the gnome tavern you witnessed the man in an arm wrestling match with a different unicorn, and it shocked the hell out of you. You decided to watch for a bit, but after the back-to-back struggle between the two reached about fifteen minutes you chose to continue on your way, the bulging muscles at work starting to bore you.
Today you caught him messing around with the antenna outside the house, kneeling while tightening bolts connected to the object. He was wearing a woven vest over a light blue button-up, the sleeves rolled up to the elbows, with dark slacks today. You knock around the thought of what the antenna would be for, maybe television? Or perhaps it collects weird radio waves. You choose to sneak closer to possibly get a better look, rounding the clearing by sticking to the trees. You look up, seeing that the antenna is higher than the house but doesn't come close to reaching the tip of the trees. Have to admit, it's kind of eerie. It doesn't seem that it's for television of some sort, it's too big and it has a blinking red light at the tip of it.
Not being able to pick up anything else from the antenna you refocus your gaze on the man. Up close you can start to make out scratches adorning his arms. Those well-toned arms. You briefly think back to the arm wrestle, muscles bulging, sweat running down his face. His face. Looking at it you can't help but stare. His jaw is strong and square, clean of any facial hair aside from his long sideburns. His glasses are thick-rimmed with round glass, the eyes behind them are of honey and amber, focused and with a furrowed brow. You have to admit it, he's quite attractive. And you're gawking. Blantly.
There's something off though. You can't put your finger on it, but you can just feel it.
You take a step closer. And another. You inspect his face again, this time with a more inquisitive eye. You move your gaze to his back, his legs, -nothing. You look at his hand grasping a wrench and your brain tells you that something about it is uncanny. No, not uncanny, bizarre maybe. You lean forward, gaze locked on his hand. You count his fingers, each time subconsciously getting closer. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Si-- SNAP.
His head quickly whips towards the sound, eyes immediately locking onto yours. Your ears are pointed up, eyes wide. Your hair starts to stick up as though you're in slow motion. He sees you; arms bent in an attempt to be more sneaky, legs in full view. You're brain too stunned to catch up as the man starts looking you over, his jaw going slack from awe.
"Sweet Moses," he utters under his breath. You see him slowly put the wrench down beside him on the grass, raising his hands in a show of peace. You can't help but stare into his eyes, almost trying to read what his next move will be. Your senses seem to be running high; you can almost feel every blade of grass under your feet, the wind stroking your face as it pulls your hair behind you. You feel as though you're in slow motion. As soon as his legs start to move to stand your brain rushes into flight, urging you to run. You listen, turning on the sole of your hoof as you begin to book it into the woods.
"Wait!" You hear the man yell behind you followed by hurried steps in your direction. Full on sprinting, you hop over fallen-over trees and bound across stumps. You're confident in your speed, but a little voice in your head warns that he might be faster than he seems. So you begin to take sharp evasive maneuvers. Like being chased by the gnomes, you take sharp turns around the pines. The sound of running grew fainter, but you didn't stop, not until you were sure he gave up chase. Trees rush past you, occasional branches reaching out toward you as you brush past. Your heart beats out of your chest while you exert yourself. Sweat rolls down your skin in an attempt to cool you down. Jumping rocks and small boulders, using them as leverage as you jump against them.
When you reach a small creek, you pause for breath. Looking all around yourself to make sure you lost sight of the mysterious man. Between gasps of air, you strain your ears in the chance of hearing him still pursuing. The sounds of songbirds and the flowing water of the creek enter your perked ears as your breath starts to even.
You reach a hand up and start to rub one of your horns, a nervous tick you formed over the years. The smooth bone soothed your nerves as you felt the branching paths stretching above your head. After you've calmed you begin to pace the edge of the water, raking your nails against your skull, scratching behind the back of your ear. You think back to his hands and the fingers that grasped the wrench. You could have sworn there were six of them. That can't be right though, sure something felt off but that could have been from his demeanor or the atmosphere that surrounded him. You couldn't be sure since you didn't have enough time to fully inspect them, and you were still quite a distance from him so you can't be sure.
Taking a deep breath, you rest your hands on your hips and take in the area. You made quite the distance; this creek, if you remember correctly, is close to your home-- a dense bush that hides a hollowed-out tree. Looking toward its direction, you decide to hide at home for a bit, the comfiest safe spot you can think of.
///
Crawling into your home you lay on your back, arms pillowed beneath your head as you look up into the trunk. You can't help but think back to the moment you locked eyes with the mystery man. The great sense of marvel pouring from his face burning into your brain, you can't recall the last time you were looked at like that by a human. Most of the time it was shock or fear, but that? You can't help feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. You rest an arm across your eyes, hoping for the flush to go away.
You decide that laying low is your best bet as you go to collect some nearby blackberries, mind still raving about the mystery man. He probably has his guard up after seeing you anyway, so spying--- people-watching will probably be a bit more difficult. He probably told others about you so the town is off-limits for about a moon cycle, no collecting trash, stealing clothes, or watching others. You stare at your basket in defeat. What are you going to do for entertainment now?
YOU ARE READING
From the Start (Stanford x Reader)
FanfictionY/N, a Satyr of Gravity Falls, comes across a young Stanford Pines during his studies and gets curious. He, in turn, gets curious about you. (This happens at the beginning of his studies in Gravity Falls, so no contact with Bill yet.)
