#billford if you REALLY squint | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

darlingdaisyfarm · 3 months ago

Text

takin’ what’s not yours (ford x reader x stan)

chapter 1

tags: pre portal, hurt/comfort, angst, Stan & Ford needs a hug, reader too, emotional manipulation, everyone needs therapy but that’s not happening, mystery trio dynamics if you squint, billford?? hmmm

author note: guys i swear this was supposed to be a shameless porn threesome fic, but then Ford and Stan showed up with a whole suitcase of unresolved issues im so sorry

“You’re gonna change the world, Ford.”

“Only if you’re there to see it.”

***

Backsmore University. What a fucking place.

It wasn’t just the old brick buildings or the ivy creeping up the sides. Not really. It was the people. The crazy mix of the smartest, weirdest people you could imagine. You were one of them, no doubt. An absolute nerd with a lab coat on 90% of the time, a mess of papers and equations in your backpack and a head full of ideas and knowledge. But unlike Ford, you weren’t shy about showing it. You thrived in it, honestly. Lectures? Boring as hell, but the energy in the halls? The potential of every single person you met? Yeah, you were there for it.

One of these was Ford Filbrick Pines.

The ultimate BMU enigma, the textbook definition of nerdy. For some reason, his persona always made you think he was hiding some secret genius-level insanity behind his weirdly serious face.

You’d laugh about it with your friends, the way he avoided talking to anyone. Classic “genius who’s too good for people” type.

He was everywhere, and yet, nowhere at all. Seriously, you could walk through the student lounge, see him hunched over a pile of research papers in the corner and just know you were witnessing something profound. He didn’t get what you were about at first.

You were funny, obnoxious even, always the first to crack a joke or make a ridiculous observation in class. Meanwhile Ford would just stare at you with those big eyes like he was trying to figure out if you were some kind of social experiment.

But then you started talking, typical nerds topics. About quantum physics, mathematics, about the mysteries of the universe, about everything. He’d scoff at how crazy your ideas were but then, just a second later, he'd be scribbling down some insane theory of his own that he wouldn’t even tell anyone else about. And you’d get it. You both would sit in the library, trading theories and arguing about the tiniest details of space-time.

You were the loud one, in Ford’s opinion, the one who could hold a conversation about quantum theory and drag Ford to a campus party all in the same breath. He’d grumble the whole way, saying it was a waste of time, rolling his eyes at your insistence that he needed a little break. He’d follow you through those sticky, badly lit student lounges, watching you laugh with people he’d probably never even look at twice.

These late nights when you’d drag him out to stargaze, pointing out constellations, half-naming stars you didn’t know, laughing when he’d shake his head, muttering about inaccurate astronomy. But he always went along with it, always ended up laying beside you on the grass, looking up at a sky he could never quite make sense of but was desperate to understand.

The graduation day. You clearly remember that one.

The sun was so bright you could barely keep your eyes open and everything felt like a dream. You had your cap crooked on your head (you were probably running late, as usual), your tassel swinging as you walked across the field, your friends beside you, shouting and celebrating like you were all in the fucking “after party of the year.” But then you turned and your eyes saw Ford, who was clutching that damn diploma like it was a golden ticket. He looked different somehow, like he’d finally unlocked a new version of himself.

The Stanford Pines himself, recipient of Backsmore’s largest grant for his “eccentric” research, standing with his square academic cap, although it was comically slipping off his head. He looked out of place, like a scientist among a sea of partying students who could barely remember their names half the time.

So, you did what any good friend would do— you adjusted his cap for him, (plus you wanted an excuse to touch him), made some dumb joke about how he’d better not screw it up. He’d roll his eyes, but you knew he liked it. He needed it.

“Hey,” you grinned, “looking pretty fancy for someone who spends all their time talking to aliens or whatever.”

Ford smirked. “I’ve already got a date with a space-time continuum. But you can join if you want.”

You rolled your eyes, but the smile didn’t leave.

***

Outside, the world has turned into a kind of cold, quiet hell. Snow falls in thick slow flakes, burying everything in a suffocating blanket of white. And Stan stands there, jacket pulled tight against his chest, staring up at the looming silhouette of his brother's house.

It's freezing, but Stan hardly feels the cold. Not really.

It’s quiet here, but it’s not peaceful. Silence feels heavy, like it’s watching him.

His thoughts are pulled back to a time that feels both recent and impossibly distant.

Ten years. Ten goddamn years. It’s been a decade since he's seen Ford’s face. Well, of course he doesn't expect Ford to look like something completely different, they’re twins after all. But at least now Stan knows what Ford would look like with a mullet.

Stanford was always the smart one, the golden kid, with big brains and hands that tinkered with mysteries beyond Stan’s understanding. And now. . . after all these years of silence, Ford finally decides he needs him. It’s a postcard, a single damn postcard, that drags Stan out of the muck and dumps him back here in this town, holding secrets and god knows what kind of twisted shit his brother’s got himself mixed up in.

After everything Ford did, after leaving, after barely even thinking to check in after all these years, Stan knows he shouldn't feel this way. But here he is. Waiting. Hoping. Hoping against hope, as if somehow, that tall figure would come striding down the snowy path, arms filled with books and that same serious look on his face. That same one he had as a kid when something big was on his mind.

Stan shakes his head, letting out a breath that forms a small cloud in the icy air.

“Ten years, and you drag me here for what, Stanford?” he thinks.

Stan takes a deep breath, the cold seeps right down to his bones, but it’s not the winter’s chill that makes him shiver. His heart pounds as he stares at the weathered door in front of him, trying to shake off the surge of memories of the two of them, inseparable, back when they thought the world couldn’t touch them. But that was more than a lifetime ago.

He mutters to himself, “you haven’t seen your brother in over ten years. It’s okay. He’s family. . . He won’t bite.” or at least Stan hopes so and then he knocks, half-heartedly, already bracing himself.

The door swings open with a sudden jolt. Before Stan can even greet him, Ford’s voice booms through the biting air. "WHO IS IT?! Have you come to steal my eyes?!” his trembling hands grip a crossbow, pointed directly at Stan, and the first thing Stan notices are his brother’s eyes — wide and paranoid.

Stan looks at Ford, steps back a little, blinks, then blinks again. He tries to mask the pang of hurt as he lets out a shaky laugh, “Well, I can always count on you for a warm welcome.”

Ford lowers the weapon slightly, narrowing his eyes suspiciously and then, as if finally recognizing the person standing before him, he blurts, “Stanley, did anyone follow you? Anyone at all?”

“Eh, hello to you too, pal.” Stan grumbles, but to his surprise, Ford grabs him by the clothes, yanking him roughly inside before he can even process it. "Ah!" he exclaims, stumbling forward, before the door slams shut behind them.

Ford, still skittish, shines a flashlight in Stan’s eyes, his fingers trembling as he holds it, blinding his brother. “What is this?!” Stan shoves the flashlight away.

Deep down, though, he tries to mask the pang that Ford’s mistrust strikes in him. What happened between you two? Mom would be so upset about their relationship. They used to share everything, trust each other without question, without even a word. Now here they are, stumbling through a reunion that feels like walking on broken glass.

"Sorry,” Stanford answers quickly, studying Stan’s face as if looking for lies hidden in his eyes. “I just had to make sure you weren’t. . . It’s nothing. Come in, come in.”

Stan follows him, the warmth he thought he’d feel upon seeing his brother slowly cooling into something he doesn’t want to admit that feels like disappointment. He watches Ford flit around the room, casting paranoid glances, clutching onto a battered old journal like it’s the only thing holding him together.

The shack is cluttered, papers scattered on the floor, strange devices cluttering the tables, books piled high. Wow, Stan thinks, the whole place screams my brother has been here alone too long.

It makes Stan's chest tighten.

“Uh, you gonna explain what’s going on here? you’re acting like mom after her tenth cup of coffee.” he is trying to defuse the atmosphere somehow, to make contact, but inside, his heart aches. He missed Ford; he missed him like hell. And to finally be here, standing right next to him, only to find him. . . like this. Seriously? It’s almost too much to bear.

Ford, ignoring the gentle jab, clutches the journal tighter. “Listen, there isn’t much time. I’ve made huge mistakes and I don’t know who I can trust anymore.” he doesn’t meet Stan’s eyes as he glances at a skeleton in the corner, twisting its head away from him.

Stan’s heart drops. This is bad, worse than he thought.

He steps forward, placing a hand on Ford’s shoulder, a touch he hopes can somehow bridge the miles and years between them. “Hey, easy there. Let’s talk this through, okay?”

But Ford pulls back, a strange, paranoid look in his eyes. His fingers trace the spine of the journal as he glances at Stan. “I have something to show you. Something you won’t believe.”

Stan's brow furrows, his curiosity piqued despite himself. What could it be? Some kind of super scientific bullshit that opens doors to parallel worlds? A time machine? A wormhole? Black hole made at home?

He looks at Ford, how the man hasn’t aged a day physically, but the exhaustion, the fear, the isolation, it all is painted on his brother’s face. It’s painful to see. It’s heartbreaking to think how Ford might have been living in this place, alone with nothing but his thoughts, trapped in his own world of mistakes and fears.

Stan manages a weak grin, masking his own fear for brothers sanity in his heart. "Look, I’ve been around the world, okay? Whatever it is, I’ll understand."

That twist in your chest, that awful, prickling feeling that something’s wrong.

You’re curled up at your kitchen table, sipping your tea with that kind of numbness you get when you’ve been overthinking too much. You told yourself to back off. He needed space. He needed time.

But when Stan’s eyes scan the giant, hulking portal machine in front of him, he can’t hide the bewilderment as he adds, “There’s nothing about this I understand.”

Ford’s hand wrapped tight protective around his journal. It’s the only one left, his last remaining key to understanding, to protecting everything he’s worked for.

But now Stan stands across from him and his face clearly shows something what can be called betrayal.

Ford’s been distant. Secretive, even. The last time you two spoke, it was tense, full of anger and words you didn’t mean. It shouldn’t matter, you tell yourself, but the thought of him out there, alone, is like a weight pressing down on your chest.

Ford tries to explain as if Stan would understand. “It's a trans-universal gateway, a punched hole through a weak spot in our dimension. I created it to unlock the mysteries of the universe. But it could just as easily be harnessed for terrible destruction. That's why I shut it down and hid my journals, which explain how to operate it. There's only one journal left. . . and you are the only person I can trust to take it.” he steps forward, holding the journal out to Stan, eyes pleading. “I have something to ask of you: remember our plans to sail around the world on a boat?” Stan’s face shines with smile until he hears next shit his brother say. “Take this book, get on a boat, and sail as far away as ya can! To the edge of the Earth! Bury it where no one can find it!”

I should’ve just stayed, I shouldn’t have left.

Your fingers curl around the warm mug, but sadly the heat doing nothing to soothe the anxiety creeping up your throat.

You set it down on the counter, trying to shake off the feeling. It’s just the storm, it’s just you being overdramatic. It doesn’t mean anything.

But the knot in your stomach refuses to untangle.

Something’s wrong.

“That’s it? You finally show your face after ten fucking years and all you’ve got to say is ‘get away’?”

Ford's hand drops and disappointment flashes across his face. “Stanley, you don't understand what I'm up against! What I've been through!”

“Oh, yeah?” Stan can't contain his emotions. How dare he?! “You don’t understand what I’ve been through! Three different prisons, Stanford! I’ve chewed my way out of a goddamn car trunk! Meanwhile, where have you been? Living it up in your fancy house in the woods! Selfishly hoarding your college money, because you only care about yourself!”

With a sigh, you stand up, setting the mug down on the table as your dog, a sweet, eager little spaniel, looks up at you with wide, curious eyes.

Ford's temper snaps because he can't believe what the fuck his brother is talking about. “I’m selfish? I’m selfish, Stanley? You ruined my shot at a real life! At my dream school! And here I am, giving you a chance to do something meaningful and you still can’t get it through your head!”

You glance over at your dog, a scruffy, affectionate spaniel with big brown eyes who’s been staring at you from the corner of the room.

Stan raises his eyebrows. “Yeah? You want this fucking book gone?” he yanks a lighter from his pocket, the flame flaring up as he flicks it. “Fine. I’ll get rid of it right fucking now.” he holds the journal over the flame, daring Ford to make a move.

You can’t shake this feeling, this urge to go find Ford, even if it means dragging yourself out into the goddamn blizzard.

“I’ll be back soon, girl,” you murmur, pulling on your coat. You don’t know what you’re looking for, don’t even know what you’re hoping to find. But you have to see him. You have to know

Ford’s eyes widen, panic flashing across his face. “No!” he lunges for it, reaching out, but Stan yanks it back. “You don’t understand!” Ford shouts, desperation pouring through him.

But Stan takes a step back, holding the journal dangerously close to the flame. “You want me to take it? Well, then, I’ll decide what to do with it.”

“My research!” they jerk the book back and forth, playing a fucked up game of tug of war, their yells echoing through the lab as they struggle over it.

You can’t shake the feeling, it’s like something’s dragging you forward, pulling you toward him, toward the unknown.

It’s late and the woods are fucking silent, which is weird for Gravity Falls. You’ve been running for what feels like hours, your chest burning, your mind tangled in a mess of thoughts you can’t quite shake. Every goddamn thing with Ford lately has been a disaster, hasn’t it? One fight after another, with him shutting down, disappearing into his head like he’s always been known to do.

The last words you shared with him are still fresh in your mind, “this is it, okay?! I can’t do this anymore.” he didn’t even fight back, just. . . stared at you like you were the problem. Maybe you were the problem, you don’t know, but damn it, you cared. You couldn’t just pretend like everything was fine when it clearly wasn’t. That’s why you’re out here, because you’re not about to let him get swallowed up by whatever the hell is going on in that messed-up head of his.

And now, here you are, halfway to his place with nothing but your gut telling you that whatever was going down at Ford’s place was way worse than you thought.

When you enter, you hear the kind of noise— angry, violent, something breaking and you know Ford’s involved, you just know it. You don’t care if you two haven’t spoken in days, if things between you and him are a mess of unsaid things and frustrated silences. He’s been acting so off, and now, hearing the absolute mayhem erupting inside, you’re terrified.

The sounds are loud, shouting voices, furniture crashing, angry grunts. Your heart fucking stops as you push the door open so fast it slams against the wall. You’re not thinking, not caring that maybe you shouldn’t be here, but it’s too late to stop now.

At first, you think you've completely lost your mind, because you're seeing two Ford Pines. And then you think, either you're the one who's gone crazy, or Ford has, because he's literally fighting with himself.

But as you take a breath, both Fords turn to look at you, and that’s when it hits you: this isn’t just some bizarre mirror trick. There’s Ford and then there’s someone who looks a whole lot like him, but is definitely, absolutely not him.

“What the fuck is going on?” your voice rings out much louder than you meant, but you don’t care. Your heart is pounding way too hard and your feet are planted, legs shaking with adrenaline and worry. You’ve seen Ford in a mess of emotions, but never like this. Not this bad.

The second the door slams open, both of them freeze, but it’s the mulleted guy who speaks first. “So you got yourself a chick now, huh? Thought you were too busy playing goddamn Einstein to bother with things like that.” his angry eyes narrow at you, and you’re not sure if it’s anger or. . . jealousy? Frustration? You don’t have time to decode it.

This guy have absolutely the same features, same nose, same intense, serious brow, but his whole look is just rougher, like he’d been living a life Ford would never survive.

And your blood boils.

“No, fuck that,” you snap, glaring at mullet-man. “You don’t talk about me like that.” then you glance at Ford. “Ford, why the fuck didn’t you tell me about—”

but you get interrupted by Ford’s clone, Ford’s twin, whatever. “Name’s Stan. Stanley Pines. The brother of this genius. Bet he’s never even mentioned me, huh?”

Your stomach churns at the words. Fuck that, no way. This isn’t about you, this is about Ford.

“What the fuck is wrong with you two?” now you are shivering not only from the winter cold, but also from the absolute chaos of what is happening. You turn to Ford, eyes desperate, desperate to know, to understand, to find answers. “What’s going on? Where have you been? I couldn’t get ahold of you. You just. . . left. And I—” you stop yourself, biting your lip. This isn’t the time to scream at him for all the unanswered questions, for all the shit that’s been left hanging. Not yet.

Ford doesn’t seem to get it. His eyes flick between you and Stan like he’s trying to piece it together, but nothing adds up. "I don’t— what are you doing here? We— we said goodbye," his voice is strained, like he’s trying to convince himself.

“No, Ford. You said goodbye! You fucking disappeared! I don’t even know why, and I— fuck, just explain yourself, okay?” you can’t keep the desperation out of your voice anymore.

Stan is watching with his arms crossed over his chest, and he still doesn't look too pleased, but it's not just anger. Although you don't have time to deal with his point of view. You need answers. You need Ford to talk.

Ford opens his mouth to say something, but then the anger, the frustration, all of it just snaps. "I didn’t want you involved in this. . . anyone involved. This, this thing with the portal, you wouldn’t understand—"

You don’t even let him finish. “Stop. Just stop, yeah? You don’t get to just disappear like that, Ford. I don’t care about the journal or the goddamn portal anymore. I care about you. Why the hell are you so fucking determined to push everyone away?”

Ford tries to get himself together, though he looks like he’s been caught with every secret he’s ever buried. “This— this doesn’t concern you, alright? Just— just leave, go, this is between me and him.”

Stan scoffs. “Oh, yeah, classy, Sixer. Let’s bring her in just to shove her right back out, huh? Really hitting your all-time high here.”

“Shut up,” his brother snaps.

But Stan’s just as stubborn, glaring right back. “No, I don’t think I will. Not when you’ve dragged some poor girl into this whole shitshow. Real nice, by the way, real nice! Does she even know what you’ve been up to, huh? All the crap you’re into?”

“I said shut up, Stanley. I shouldn’t have called you— God, I regret calling you! You’re just here to make things worse, like always.”

The words land harder than you thought they would. It's not like you didn’t know Ford could be an asshole, but hearing him say that directly to his brother hits a nerve, like a punch to the gut.

You see Stan’s face change, his mouth drops open, his eyes so wide, like he’s been slapped across the face. He looks like he’s been gutted. It takes his breath away, because he didn't expect to hear this ten years later, and it's obvious that Ford's words hit him too deeply.

However, your own heart drop to your stomach too. Fuck. You didn’t know what was worse — the fact that they were tearing into each other or the fact that Ford could say something like that to his own brother. It’s too much, even for you. You want to scream at Ford, demand that he stop, that this isn’t helping anyone, but you’re paralyzed.

But Stan’s hurt turns into something else and he spits back, “You think I wanted this, Ford?! You think I wanted to be the fuck-up brother?! You’re the one who dragged me into this whole goddamn mess now. You asked me to come! You! So don’t go acting all high and mighty like I’m the one screwing your life up right now!”

And then, in that moment, everything goes to hell.

Before you know it, they’re back at each other’s throats. Ford lunges forward, grabbing the journal, but Stan’s not letting go, the damn thing passed back and forth between them like it’s a live wire, all anger and resentment boiled down to this one book as each of them trying to get a hand on it.

You rush forward, hands outstretched to push them apart, anything to stop this from going too far, but in the heat of it all, Ford jerks back, elbow flying and you feel it land in your ribs, knocking the wind right out of you and it really fucking hurts. The pain shocks you so hard you gasp.

Ford’s eyes snap to you instantly, widening in horror. “Oh my god— I’m s-so sorry! are you alri—“ he reaches toward you, himself can’t believe he just did that to you, but he barely gets a word out before Stan’s fist slams into his jaw.

This time, Stan hits so hard, putting all his resentment into the punch that Ford stumbles dangerously close to the portal, which is buzzing. You watch in absolute horror as his body goes too close, the fucking thing flickering and humming like a beast about to devour him whole and for a heart-stopping second, Ford looks like he’s going to fall right in.

You’re out of your mind in an instant as you scramble to your feet, adrenaline spiking, crazy fear in your eyes. Without thinking, you reach out, grabbing Ford’s arm, pulling him back, using every ounce of strength you have to pull him back. “Ford, no! Get back!”

Stan’s standing there, frozen for a second, scared himself by how far he had come. His chest rises and falls in heavy breaths and his face is fucking pale as he stares at his brother’s body half in portal, but the guilt is written all over Stan’s face. His bruised hand is still raised, like he wants to hit Ford again, but it’s shaking. Did he. . . did he just. . ? God, he didn’t mean—

“You!” you scream, still tugging Ford away from the edge, but the portal’s pulling like a magnet and you’re fighting with everything you have. “Help me, now!”

Snapped out of his daze, Stanley rushes over, grabbing Ford. You tug harder, your muscles screaming as Ford’s body gives a last push toward the rift, but finally, finally, together, you both heave him back, dragging him away from the portal and out of that damn pull. His feet hit solid ground and you both just collapse.

You’re gasping for breath, hands still fisted in Ford’s coat, both of you holding on like if you let go, he’ll slip right back toward that nightmare.

Ford’s breathing heavily, disoriented, his hands gripping your arms in fear.

Stan’s still looking at Ford, his face torn up because he doesn’t know whether to say sorry, to yell or to just walk the fuck out to not ruin something else. There’s realisation in his eyes and, for the first time, Stanley is seeing what his anger’s capable of. That punch could’ve been the end of everything.

“Brother. . .” Stan’s voice trembles. “I didn’t mean to—”

You don’t let him finish. “No, you didn’t mean to. None of you meant to,” you snap, but it’s not anger in your tone, it’s damn fear, panic, it’s this deep fucking worry. You turn to Ford. “But this shit needs to stop, okay? Right now. Please.”

The silence between you, Ford and Stan stretches out as if it’s some aftermath of a bomb going off. Ford’s still on the floor, breathing hard and it’s not the near-death experience that’s fucking him up, but the bitter realisation of what could have really happened if that damn portal had taken him in.

“So that’s it, huh? After ten goddamn years, this is how you treat me? Almost shove me into a portal like it’s nothing?”

Stan opens his mouth, but Ford isn’t letting him get a word in, he’s too riled up now, all that anger and pride churning in him, boiling over. “Do you even understand what could’ve happened? What you almost did? You haven’t changed one bit, Stanley. I should’ve known better. Should’ve known you’d just fuck everything up, again. Just like you did back then.” Ford’s voice sounds colder than the winter outside. “Remember the science fair, Stan? You destroyed my experiment because you were too fucking selfish to think about anyone but yourself. I could’ve had everything. You took that from me, my chance at West Coast Tech, my chance at anything and then you have the nerve to make me the villain?”

It hits Stan harder than any punch ever could. Stan doesn’t even blink, his whole body stiff, shoulders slump.

His mouth opens like he wants to fight back, but there’s no fight left in him, the words are stuck in his throat. He doesn’t say shit, trying to process everything at once. But there’s nothing to process. Ford’s right.

“Yeah, I get it,” Stan mutters, holding back tears. “I’m a fucking failure. I know that, Sixer. Always have been. I’m sorry.”

But then he does the one thing you didn’t think he would. He turns around, slow, defeated, too fucking tired to argue and fight anymore.

And just like that, he starts walking away. But deep inside Stanley is crying like a child, expecting Ford to stop him. He doesn’t look back, doesn’t say a word, but he wishes Ford would care, at least once.

You’re fucking shocked, feeling helpless rage and anger, heart pounding with confusion and disbelief. You thought. . . well, you don’t even know what you thought! That they’d hug it out? Have some big, tearful reunion? Not really! But this mess of accusations and bitterness and old scars is so fucked up. Completely and utterly fucked up.

Ford stands there, all silent, watching Stan’s back as he walks away, not moving an inch. The pride, the stubbornness, the wall he’s built around himself. Oh god, that guy is so fucking smart he doesn’t know how to feel anymore.

You look back at Ford, at his rigid stance, he won’t even move, won’t even try to call Stan back. You can’t believe it and something snaps in you, something fierce and hot because you’re done with all this bullshit.

“You’re not even gonna ask him to stay? Fuck, what is wrong with you both?”

Ford’s face tightens, but he doesn’t respond, doesn’t even flinch. And it drives you insane, watching him cling to that pride, that goddamn logic of his that’s somehow more important than his own damn family. No fucking way is this ending like this. Not after everything you’ve just seen, not with Ford standing there like a goddamn statue, too proud or too blind or too stupid to do anything but let his brother walk out.

You storm past Ford, ignoring his surprised look as you push past him, practically running after Stan. “wait!” you shout. But Stan doesn’t stop, doesn’t even glance over his shoulder.

“Stan!”

“What?” he snaps at you.

You step closer. “You’re not leaving,” you say, staring him down like it’s a challenge.

He lets out a dry, humourless laugh, shaking his head. “Trust me, sweetheart, it’s better if I do. I don’t belong here.” he jerks his thumb back in Ford’s direction. “Pretty clear I’m not welcome.”

“Bullshit,” you respond, what makes Stanley raise an eyebrow, looking a little surprised at your bluntness. “I don’t care if he’s too proud to say it, but you’re his brother— I mean, you think this is how family’s supposed to be? You think he doesn’t want you here?”

“Look, kid, you don’t know what you’re talkin’ about. Me ‘n’ Ford? We’re a lost cause. Always been. Ain’t no point in tryin' to fix it now.”

“Oh, come on! So you fuck up, he fucks up— you’re both disasters. That doesn’t mean you just give up. I don’t care if it’s been years or what the hell happened between you two. You don’t just fuckin’ quit on family. That’s not how this works.”

Stan’s mouth twitches and he looks like he’s gonna bite back with something snarky, but he doesn’t. He just lets out this tired sigh, rubbing his hand over his face. “I don’t wanna hurt him more than I already have. I always mess things up. I’ll just make it worse. So what’s the point?”

You take a deep breath, trying to rein in the frustration pounding through you. “The point is, you’re his brother! And if you don’t stay, if you don’t try to work this out, you’ll both regret it. You can’t just leave him to deal with this shit alone.”

Stanley opens his mouth, ready to throw out another excuse, but you cut him off.

“Look, Stan,” you change the intonation to softer one, “I don’t know the whole story here. I don’t know what went down between you two and I’m sure as hell not saying it doesn’t hurt like hell. But this whole thing you guys are doing? Pushing each other away? It’s not gonna make anything better.“

“Fine, fine. But don’t expect me to be the hero, alright? I ain’t got no magic words to fix this shit.” Stan sighs and looks down like he’s too damn tired for this conversation.

When you and Stan make your way back inside, you see Ford still there with his back to you.

Stanley huffs out a laugh, trying to shake off the tension. “So, Sixer, when’d ya start collectin’ all this junk? don’t tell me you got a whole damn museum in here.”

Suddenly, Ford huffs a dry laugh that sounds a little bitter coming from someone like him. “Wouldn’t expect you to get it. Takes more than a few brain cells to appreciate real science.”

Stan’s smile falters, well, it was pretty rude, but he thinks he deserved it. You and Stan share a look, but before you can say anything, Stan just shrugs it off, letting out a forced chuckle, his voice trying to stay light. “Ha, yeah, same ol’ Ford. Ya always had a way with words, didn’t ya?”

There is only silence in response, but when you come a little closer, you finally take in the sight of Ford holding a goddamn crossbow.

Wait, what?

Your eyes go wide and the first thing that hits you is the cold sweat creeping up your spine.

Stan and you freeze. Confusion mixing with a little fear as you both look at Ford, What the hell is going on with him? Since when does Ford carry a crossbow around like it’s no big deal?

Stan raises an eyebrow, trying to lighten the mood with a joke, but the smile doesn't reach his eyes. “Hey, bro, you planning on hunting something tonight or just ready to, I dunno, take out some deer in the backyard?”

#gravity falls x reader #x reader #gravity falls #gravity falls x you #gravity falls smut #ford pines x reader #stanford pines #ford pines smut #stan pines smut #stan pines x reader #stan pines x you #ford pines x you #stanford pines x you #stanford pines x reader #stanley pines x you #stanley pines #gravity falls fanfic #mullet stan x reader

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godsfavoritescientist · 5 months ago

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Billford Fic Recs: Part 1

Everything on this list is rated either Gen or Teen, so it’s accessible for the sex-repulsed billford fans out there. Part 2 will be all the fics that don’t fit within those ratings! Everything on this list (aside from the still-updating one) is a completed fic that was written year/s before Book of Bill came out. Most of these are under 5k words, and while most of them are pre-betrayal and canon compliant, there’s a few that cover different eras in the timeline and AUs. These are some of my all-time favorite billford fics, plus some bill-centric fics at the end of the list.

A Change of Scenery, by Nelja https://archiveofourown.org/works/10914882 Pre-betrayal, Ford’s perspective, 4k words

This fic really nails the devotion-to-the-point-of-obsession that Ford had for Bill. It’s one of the very first fics I think of when someone asks for recommendations. Really really top tier stuff. I wish there were more fics that had this same tone and a central focus on Ford’s obsessive worship of Bill. I can’t do this fic justice, you just have to experience the writing for yourself.

The Writing of Destiny, by Nelja https://archiveofourown.org/works/6256570 Pre-betrayal, Ford’s perspective, 1k words

This fic says so much with so few words. It goes over Ford’s feelings for Bill, as well as some moments in Ford’s life that led up to becoming the kind of person who would fall for Bill.

Devote, by orphan_account https://archiveofourown.org/works/8783656 Pre-betrayal, Ford’s perspective, 600 words

Ford gets a tattoo. This one is also chock full of the obsessive devotion Ford had for Bill. It’s a delicious little peek into how potent his feelings for Bill were.

Loose from the Lever, by clockheartedcrocodile https://archiveofourown.org/works/32120011/chapters/79575955 Pre-betrayal, mostly Fiddleford’s outside perspective, 9k words

The imagery and voice in this one is fucking impeccable. Best I’ve ever read on ao3. It’s also an absolutely chilling read. Fiddleford can sort of piece together the fact that Ford is working with… someone. And meanwhile, Ford’s relationship with Bill in this one is gut-wrenching to see. Bill is cold and calculating in ways that are arguably disproven by the book of bill, but it’s still such a believable read on their relationship.

Now You See, by MaryPSue https://archiveofourown.org/works/8134141 Mostly pre-betrayal, AU where Bill comes through the portal in the 80’s, 4k words

Only billford if you squint. This one’s about Ford undergoing a slow body horror transformation while building the portal. Bill stops him from enlisting Fiddleford’s help, and his uneasiness and isolation is so palpable. This fic is good at building atmosphere.

The Ol’ Three Legged Waltz, by equilateralromance https://archiveofourown.org/works/35691013 Pre-betrayal, AU where Bill is upfront about a lot more things from the start, 3.5k

This one has such a unique writing style, it feels very romantic in the classic sense of the word, like it was written in an era gone by. Their relationship is very soft and tender in this one, a win for fluff fans everywhere. It’s about the first time Bill possesses Ford, and is a very sweet what-if for a world where Bill is better at letting Ford in, emotionally speaking.

Stars in my black and blue sky, by idrilhadhafang https://archiveofourown.org/works/41989533 Ford reminisces on how much he used to love Bill. 1k words

Solid characterization in this one. It’s short and to-the-point and feels true to canon.

Weirdpocalypse, by completetheory https://archiveofourown.org/works/20798036 Post-canon, Bill visits Ford’s dreams, 1k words

This one’s a really interesting take on why Weirdmageddon failed. Very bittersweet.

One Stage of Grief, by Fooeyburr https://archiveofourown.org/works/13969392 Post-betrayal, Ford in the multiverse grappling with how he feels about Bill, 8k words

This one is all about Ford obsessing over what he had with Bill while refusing to come to terms with the fact that he cared about Bill! Which is all set up/framed by some fun multiverse worldbuilding, too. - Bonus round: Bill-centric fics -

Wasting Away Again in the Goldilocks Zone, by ckret2 https://archiveofourown.org/works/57714430/chapters/147167545 Post-canon, Bill dragged kicking and screaming down a very long road towards redemption, updates weekly and will end up being hundreds of thousands of words at minimum.

This is the fic for Bill growing and changing as a person in post-canon. Every single doubt and hesitation you might have about whether Bill is even capable of change? It’s absolutely taken into account in this one. Seriously, its characterization of Bill is so scarily good that it accidentally predicted a mountain of things that got revealed in the Book of Bill. If you invest your time in one super long fic in your life, make it this one.

A Romance of Many Dimensions, by Haley3 https://archiveofourown.org/works/20796845/chapters/49427522 Covers the span of Bill’s entire life in detail. Finished work. 250k words

A breathtakingly ambitious fic that consistently knocks it out of the park. There are so many things I could say about this fic that I don’t even know where to start. I feel a lot of things about this fic. If you’ve ever wanted a fic that delves into Bill’s psyche and is tragic in its (pre-tbob) canon compliance, and has an opening set in flatland that approaches things from a really creative angle, and has my favorite interpretation of the axolotl, and rewires your whole brain, then this is the fic for you. Feels a bit reductive when it covers Bill’s time interacting with Native Americans on earth, but otherwise one of The Fics of All Time.

#billford #fic rec list #i felt like it would be tacky to list one of my own fics here but if youre interested i have the same username on ao3

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tigersharktheautisticseawing · 5 months ago

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gravity falls fic/au concept (billford, romantic if you squint hard enough, mostly platonic tho)

Theraprism, and for some reason Ford is brought into the process (maybe they got drunk married or as a "apologise to the people in your past" type of thing) and Bill is fucking furious with Ford because he destroyed the last of his home dimension. And the Axolotl decides that Ford's "breaking the ice" activity will be trying to make Bill trust him enough to give him the story of his home dimension, and Ford's like "He actually told me that a while ago, but he probably lied lmao" and describes what Bill told him, and the Axolotl says that it matches their notes in every aspect that they have notes of, and they know the notes to be true. Then the Axolotl gives Ford the task of finding out the monster's name, telling him that "they must be brought in, it's an important step in getting Bill to heal from it"

After this shenanigans ensue, as they spend time in the theraprism and maybe even outside of it after a while, bonding and stuff and trusting each other again

Then after a while Ford asks "Hey, so what was the monster that destroyed your home dimension?" and Bill kinda repeats the whole 'it'll eat you alive' thing, and Ford just says "I'm stronger now lol, besides I just wanna research something so powerful that it destroyed an entire dimension!" and Bill kinda shuts it down and they keep going back snd forth about it, until one faithfull day, after Ford says something to the effect of "We'll find it and things will get better! Maybe killing it will help you get over it!" Bill just snaps and basiically screams at Ford that he did it, it was his fault, and he is fully responsible for it

Then Ford stares at him and says "You said a monster destroyed your dimension"

And Bill says "That wasn't a lie then, was it?"

And hurt/comfort ensues they roprt to the Axolotl (who probably knew it the entire time lmao, just wanted Bill to have some other fucking creature to talk to other than the drawing of his parents)

This can also get merged with another AU I was spinning around in my brain, basically Bill cracks when his mental state goes really really bad, and his first crack, placed under his bricks that weren't there at the time, happened when he killed his dimension, and as he lost more and more he just kept fucking cracking, and he has panic attacks, mental breakdowns and all the juicy stuff, meanwhile the Axolotl is just straight up tired, cuz this mf acting all unbothered like the only reason he even was in his office wasn't the fact that he hgad a violent panic attack caused by not being able to remember which parent was which color and how they looked like less than 10 minutes ago

#ignore the awful phrasing and whatnot #it's the combination of the ADHD #autism and the 0:20 (12:30 AM) time #bill cipher #the book of bill #billford #gravityfalls #stanford #book of bill #fic idea #running out of trendy tags lmao #if you don't like gf ognore this please #gravity falls

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critter-crawlee · 3 months ago

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Can I just say I think Romesse is a fascinating ship?

Now I say that, but I’m going to make it clear: I do not ship Romesse.

But even so, I’m just intrigued by the concept. Because it’s basically built on the idea that while Romeo was watching Jesse from afar, he formed some kind of parasocial relationship where he felt like he and Jesse were super close despite that not being the case. Then when he tries to make that relationship real and Jesse doesn’t reciprocate, he basically throws a tantrum and does something akin to “i’m never going to talk to you again!” like a kid would do.

Romeo’s so immature and doesn’t know how to express his emotions in a healthy way, and in the case of Romesse, Jesse becomes the subject of that immaturity. They made him feel bad, so he put the “feeling bad” back on them tenfold.

Like, again, I don’t ship Romesse in the slightest, but I still wish there were more fics of it just to explore their dynamic in a romantic nature (albeit one-sided on Romeo’s part).

If you really squint, Romesse could be seen as similar to Billford from Gravity Falls tbh

#mcsm #mcsm fandom #minecraft story mode #mcsm fanfic #mcsm romeo #mcsm jesse #mcsm romesse #romesse #critter chatters

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ignoredbellyaches · 5 months ago

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RESONANCE

Pre-portal Billford fluff blurb, angst if you squint, not proofread we die like men

Ford had a tendency to calling Bill his muse. It was, in Bill's humble opinion, a well-earned title; One he deserved.

And, although he would never admit it... Ford really didn't need Bill to make art.

There's only so many interdimensional bars, space mom and pop shops, and authority centers you can raid and burden before you feel tired of it all. That's when Bill would resort to his palace, the Mindscape. That's where his real entertainment began, seeing the creations of others and how he could easily distort their most personal thoughts.

Yet, somehow, Sixer was different for Bill.

He didn't need to manipulate, or even make his presence known, to enjoy Ford's dreams. He simply watched in awe as this human, he had to remind himself, HUMAN made such beautiful imagery in his brain. Detailed and complex meteor showers, large libraries of scarily accurate knowledge, and Bill's favorite...

Vast, endless galaxies.

Floating through the space that Ford had made himself, even without being off Earth— It was a masterpiece. Every constellation down to a point, a serene silence keeping company, and the stars. Bill couldn't comprehend how magnificent they were. Dainty yet bold explosions of light bursting and disappearing like a disco, every color imaginable to human, every experience having true to tale math behind it.

Bill had never seen anything so brilliant.

Yet, the most curious of Ford's mind was the center. Just next to his conscious, Bill could see... Himself. The radiant, glowing center piece of it all, with Ford at his knees in front of him.

He was Ford's light. And Ford, his.

...

requests/asks are open : )

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caspercryptid · 5 months ago

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For the Billford thing maybe something Monster Falls related?

Ford is like a sphinx to contrast Stanley being a gargoyle but Ive seen versions of Ford being a deer centaur like Dipper and Stan being an aquatic creature to match Mabel being a mermaid. Pick your poison with this one

Okay so bill's humanoid design is inspired on @monobmp's, that's basically what I was thinking of. I'm sorry to all the object head lovers. it's not my field. As for Ford. Well. :- )

Also uh, I invented a whole new version of this AU because I wanted a reason for it to hit Ford, since like. If it happened pre-portal and then he came through he might be able to avoid it? anyway. So. There's a whole setup here. Have fun Requests still open for Billford ______________________________

"—Stan's crimes include pug smuggling, embezzling, highway robbery, regular robbery, advanced robbery—"

Stan is lifting the remote to turn the television off when Shandra Jimenez cuts off.

"—Though this list is far from complete, we have— breaking news. The fireworks and explosives on the mountain seem to have broken open some kind of — underground river, or spring? Water is pouring off the mountain and we may have flash flooding incoming."

Stan turns off the TV.

"You kids wanna go vandalize Mayor Tyler's mansion?" Dipper squints. "Should we…maybe avoid going out in flood conditions?"

"What?" Stan scoffs. "It's a little water. Come on. it's not a tsunami. What's some weird mountain water gonna do?"

_____

"—aw, shoot," Gideon says, looking out the prison window after he's made his deal with Bill. "it's my yard time. Walk with me, cipher."

"Sure, kid, always willing to go anywhere with a friend!"

______

Ford walks right into it.

The seismic activity sets off every sensor in his lab— every measurement device for every kind of disturbance, all at once. He knows something is coming, and naturally, that means he needs to study it.

He's expecting Bill— he has his gun ready and loaded, he has his weapons, his coat.

At first, it seems as though his equipment was wrong. There's nothing in town but ankle-deep water. He wades in, looking down.

His reflection is…strange. It shifts, making him look as though he's made of gold for a second, and then he realizes it's— the sunlight reflecting from his skin. He's shining, sparkling strangely. He reaches up to touch his own face and is stopped dead by being able to look through his fingers.

"—Ah," he says, out loud. "That isn't good."

And then all hell breaks loose.

_____

Bill is physical.

Bill is physical and he doesn't like it one bit. He tears out of the prison yard— climbing the fence while everyone is still panicked and screaming, running into the street. physical. physical. physical.

What was his protective shell is just clothes around him now: no more bricks, just yellow and gold. His hands are inky gray-black, but they feel like human skin, and his feet are hitting the ground, and as he can feel his breath ragged in and out of his chest.

not good. not good. not good.

He runs back into town, splashing into the water still pouring everywhere: he can't feel its power anymore, and that's what really scares him. His power over the mindscape is— weakening. He thinks maybe he could temporarily leave this body, but it's his, and as long as he can't go back to the nightmare realm that's a problem. He's not just projecting himself here anymore, he's here.

He feels like screaming, so he does. He can't grow his shape, he can only throw his voice, so that's what he does— he lets his voice tear out of him, and it's almost as satisfying, the air reverberating, his voice echoing off the buildings. It drowns out all of the other creatures around him, whatever their petty struggles are, he no longer has to hear anything besides his own voice, his own panicked scream, and then there are hands on his shoulders.

Someone is trying to talk to him.

He chokes the noise back down: his throat hurts, and it isn't as funny as it should be, feeling pain. Not right now, not knowing he can't just throw this body out if he breaks it.

"—Bill," the voice repeats, and it's almost soothing, "Bill, look at me." Despite himself, he does.

He— sees water.

For a second that's all he sees, but he… blinks, what a strange sensation, and focusing his eyes reveals facial features in the water, almost-solid, at least shaded, and the clothes— the trench coat he knows, the voice he knows.

"—Sixer?" Bill asks.

"In the flesh," Ford says, "—or maybe not."

"What's— going on?"

"I'm not sure. but the— water levels seem to be dropping. That's a good sign. Maybe the effect is tempora—"

Ford has to cut off, because Bill tries to grab him— it's hard, getting a hold of the water, but with his clothes roughly hanging on him, he can almost get his arms around Ford.

"you're not—" Bill says, "You're not physical. I'm physical and you're not—"

"—Bill," Ford says, "I'll— figure out how to control it, alright? Just calm down—"

"How am I supposed to calm down? I'm a meat sack and I don't even get any of the perks!"

"The—" Ford almost laughs.

"I'm angry with you," he reminds Bill.

"Can you be angry with me later?" Bill asks, hysterical. "yeah yeah, I tried to kill you, I know, but what am I supposed to do? I can't maintain a flesh shack—"

"I'll— help. I'll help, Bill. Just relax."

Bill shoves his face in Ford's chest— his clothes are soaked through, and he smells like river water, but he tentatively lifts his arms to pat Bill's back.

"—Don't think too much of this," Bill manages, voice shaking. "this is a moment of weakness." "Moment of weakness," Ford agrees, "Temporary alliance." "—take me home with you." Bill orders.

Ford snorts. "—You're not going into the lab. But. You can…come with me."

"I'll settle."

He hates that he means it.

#billford #monster falls #gravity falls requests

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knawing-at-my-enclosure · 4 months ago

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Whumptober day 4!

prompt: HALLUCINATIONS Hypnosis | Sensory Deprivation | “You're still alive in my head.”

skipped yesterday bc i procrastinated a little too close to the sun lol

today i mostly just wanted to play around with some effects/brushes i haven’t really used much. i think it turned out okay considering my hatred of backgrounds. plus billford if you squint (not really but i could be perceived as such).

#gravity falls #artists on tumblr #fanart #art #bill cipher #digital art #whumptober2024 #whumptober

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bordapanic · 6 years ago

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Third Time’s The Charm

Words: 1,500~ || CW: ... Billford || Bill touching Ford. Based off of liskribble’s piece.

A hand came at his shoulder first, tipped with sharp claws and purposeful. Another appeared, pulling his trench coat out at one side and his heart leapt up into his throat at the obvious intent behind the hands now.

“Bill-“ he started softly.

A shushing sound in the air all around him made him fall immediately silent.

More hands appeared, popping into existence only as they touched him, pure black with gold leading up forearms that never seemingly made it to actual shoulders. Each one made his stomach knot up further.

One at his forearm, claws trailing upwards. Another at the other edge of the trench coat, running along it before pressing to the front of his shirt instead. Another at the small of his back, just holding him there in a way that kept him trapped between it and the one at his front.

His lips pressed together on the edge of the ‘B’ for Bill’s name, barely restraining the natural inclination to ask. Or even just to say Bill’s name, uncertain what he actually wanted to ask. What was going on? He could tell, Bill was touching him. What was this leading up to? (Too presumptuous, there was no reason for him to think this was going to ‘lead’ anywhere. It was simply what it was.)

He didn’t... understand, and the hands kept moving shifting or gliding along and keeping him nervous, uncertain. (Scared? But that wasn't quite right.)

“Come on, Sixer. You trust me, don’t you?” His muse spoke to him, the hand at his shirt sliding over to grab onto his side.

Ford answered, slightly relieved to finally hear him. “Yes, always.”

“Then you don’t have anything to be worried about!”

He hesitated, wanting to object. Of course he wasn’t worried, not with Bill. It didn’t make any sense to be worried with only Bill around. “You’re right, Bill.”

Fingers curled into his hair, unexpectedly pulling his head back and he gasped. Shining above him was a large glowing yellow eye, engulfing his entire sight, watching him. It squinted slightly, amused. “Of course I am!”

The fingers at his hair moved to his temple then his glasses were taken off, blurring his vision. He only had a moment, blinking and attempting to put everything back into focus again, when a hand slid over his eyes, blinding him.

All the hands slowed for just a moment, still there, but movements calmed temporarily like they were waiting on something. He took a shallow breath, waiting as well.

He felt a hand playing along the underside of his neck.

Ford tilted his head backwards for the hand, for Bill. The fingers hooked along his jawline, a perfect fit locking into place, keeping his neck craned back. A finger trailing down the exposed throat.

“Bill.” He was solely aware of the hand at his throat, everything else having turned into some blurred backdrop in his mind. The other hands came back to life then, fingers possessively curling around him or claws pressing into his skin.

A new hand gripped into the hair at the back of his head, the hand at his front was were now the claws scraping down his chest, and and his tie roughly gradually being pulled loose.

All his nervous energy was now something... desperate almost. A refrain of pleas asking for an unknown something. His voice mindlessly came out in a reverent whisper. “Bill.” It felt good.

“Better hold onto that next one. You know what they say about the third time!”

He wanted to say Bill’s name again. His muse. All he could think about now. But he kept his mouth shut, only thinking of Bill’s name in his mind, over and over again. An endless repetition that kept him from speaking it aloud again, and matching that desperate unknown energy that had taken hold of him earlier, finally identifying what the pleas thrumming his body was for. Bill. He wanted Bill.

A hot rush of shame flushed through him and he squirmed in Bill’s hold, trying to keep himself from leaning into every touch. (It was greedy). It was hard not to though, with every touch he wanted to push into it, embrace it fully, take everything Bill gave.

Bill’s hand was finally done loosening the tie and the fingers moved undoing the buttons at Ford’s shirt before slipping inside to bare skin. The hand felt hot and cold at the same time, like a temperature so extreme that it was hard to tell whether your skin was being burnt by the cold or the heat. Except this sensation wasn’t painful, and Ford began to feel it from all the other hands now too, especially the one at his throat.

Ford gasped, arching up into the hand, sputtering and barely keeping from saying Bill’s name again.

“Almost got you to say it again, and I’ve barely even touched you!” Bill said cheerfully.

Was this a game? He nearly asks what’s going on, but he doesn’t. He’s already sure he would receive a straightforward answer.

“That’s my smart guy.” Bill praised him. The hands finally tear away Ford’s trench coat, but Bill continues on. “And if I answered every single question you had we’d be here for eternity.” A hand rakes back up his arm along the thin shirt material and Ford can’t help but think it may have torn. “So you only get one question tonight!” Another hand undoes the rest of the buttons on his shirt before it’s diving inside as well, tracing up the side of his ribcage. “Got it?”

“Yes. What-“ He stops himself after the first word. A question about something... else was still a question.

“Hmm? What was that?” A hand rubbed circles over his chest, the hot and cold feeling messing with his mind as it continually passed over a nipple almost inconsequentially like it wasn’t intentional, making the area increasingly sensitive.

What happens if I say your name a third time? “N-Nothing.”

“If you say so.”

Hands pull at his shirt, sliding off his shoulders and removing it along with the tie, stripping him. Exposed.

He can’t see himself and he knows it’s only Bill with him, but it makes him nervous again. As though the shirt being present, even if unbuttoned, kept this... within familiar territory. Bill had laid a hand on him before while he’d been clothed, a hand lingering on his arm or wrapping his arm around Ford’s neck. This was just... multiple hands had been all, no difference from if it had only been one, right?

Bill’s hands pressed back to him though, touched more purposeful and driven than just a simple touch of an arm from his friend and muse like nights from before. (The latter was what made something so simple so significant and distracting, wasn’t it?)

Hands wrap around his wrists, fingertips digging into the skin, gently holding them in place as hands roamed over his torso. A hand scraping down his abdomen only to lightly trail across his stomach.

Then fingers ran along the edge of his pants, a thumb tucking along the inside as fingers went over the front of his pants and Ford realized he was hard. Fingertips brushed just centimeters above, and he desperately tried to ignore the sensation because even just the thought alone of his close Bill’s fingers were was... not helping the situation.

He jerked slightly in surprise at additional hands at his thighs now, claiming the skin as the hand at the front of his pants moved down rubbing him through the material. “Bi-!” He bit down on his bottom lip, with a short whining noise that he was immediately embarrassed over.

“You know if I wasn’t such a great guy I would have counted that one! If I were you though I’d ask your question while you still can!”

Ford strained against the hands, trying to keep still and failing. In response all the hands holding onto him tightened to keep him in place.

He was trying to reign his mind back in enough to even think about what Bill had just said, what it meant, when the hand at the front of his pants started undoing the button and zipper. His mouth opening on a shocked gasp when Bill’s hand wrapped around his length, slowly stroking him.

“Oh God-” Bill, Bill. Ford started panting, pushing back into every touch, every hand. All of it.

“Running out of time, Fordsy.” His muse told him.

Question. A- only one question. Ford barely reached back to all the threads of questions that were virtually out of his reach. “What...” What was going on or what was happening. What would happen. What, what, what. None of them answering what he really wanted to know. “Why ... ” Ford asked airily, “why is this happening?”

The hand on his neck suddenly tightened, fingers growing to encompass his entire neck, and the hand covering his eyes slid off. Almost too bright to even look at above him was Bill. “Because you’re mine, and I want to.” His voice boomed on the word, reverberating through him. His .

The hands at Ford’s wrists pulled them tightly behind his back, and he shuddered looking up into Bill’s eye. Feeling claws possessively grip into him and the slow strokes going faster, each one building up that desperate feeling higher and higher into his chest. His whole body turned hot, unrecognizable except for where Bill was touching him. The only thing that mattered... The name flowed out past his lips. “Bill.”

#billford #gf fic #my fics #fic #smut #I wanted to finish a specific fic today #instead i wound up writing billford smut right out of the blue #(well calling this smut is probably being a LIL generous)#(sorry mom and jesus)#/first piece of smut i'll have published outside of rp here we go/#long post #((apologies if you can tell immediately where i ran out of steam))

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kindafooey · 7 years ago

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Symbioses

Here's a little birthday ficlet to my amazing friend @wolfmoonjournal! Have the most fantastic of birthdays, you ♡ Let's also make this a belated b-day present to @mooseings, who had their day of birth earlier this week! Both of these awesome peeps work with animals, and that's totally a theme here. :D You guys rock!

I apologize for the slight time inconsistency - the theory of social anthropology that appears in the ficlet wasn't actually coined until the late 90's, so Ford shouldn't really be aware of it. But it's one of my favorite interspecies development theories ever brought up in my philosophy lectures back in the day, so I had to use it nevertheless! I hope it does enough to justify its anachronistic presence. (Also please let me know if I majorly hecked anything up here, as it's really not my field of expertise. ;A;)

Pre-betrayal Billford, G-rated.

Ford let out a deep, harmonious sigh as he let his hands down on his crossed knees. The meditation techniques and the serenity of the Dreamscape were merely another drop in the ocean of all things his brilliant muse had taught him, and something he’d be eternally grateful to him for. He had never been a particularly good sleeper – his mind was constantly at work and allowed him very little rest, but now, he could simply empty and arrange his Dreamscape as he saw fit, slip into a meditative state and wake up to the morning sun in a state of complete, blissful relaxation.

Tonight, however, his mind was set on what it did best: research.

He opened his eyes and, with a light motion of his hand, brought his archived memories to surround him in the form of countless neatly arranged notes and hardcovers. Bill had suggested he should turn them into something more abstract, less constrained and easier to scan for the exact information needed, but Ford preferred to keep his knowledge in classic packages he could physically leaf through, even if it was a little more time-consuming.

He got up from his cross-legged position and reached to pick the nearest book. Social development of mammals. Hm, that wouldn’t do, seeing how it most definitely did not fit in the mammal class. Was it even a vertebrate? It certainly sported quite a few insect-like physical attributes, so should he begin his search from there instead? Ford frowned. This was not going to be an easy task.

Suddenly he felt a familiar presence flicker into existence right next to him, and it made his heart leap with joy.

“Top o’ the night to ya, smart guy!” Bill greeted with a cheerful tip of his hat.

“Bill! It is wonderful to see you”, Ford said, turning to face his muse with a delighted smile. “It has been quite a while since we last met.”

“Sure it has! Busy times, my friend. Busy times.” Bill looked around. “Well, I see you’re already hard at work on our transdimensional breakthrough! Good on you, Six – hold on.“ Bill squinted. “’Human vs. animal behavior.’ What’s all this?”

“Oh”, Ford laughed. “I apologize. I do plan to return to my portal calculations as soon as I have figured out this little side project of mine.”

Bill squinted again. “Side project?”

“I assume you know of the shapeshifter that recently hatched from its egg and is currently kept under scrutiny in the underground bunker. I am searching through my memories to gain some insight as to what would be the best way to go around its socialization process.”

“Hm, so you’ve got yourself another freak of nature to study! Hah, I can see the charm in that, Fordsy!” Bill winked. “By socialization, you mean domestication, right? That’s how you get yourself a nice obedient pet, y’know!”

“I feel the word ‘domestication’ doesn’t quite encompass what I wish to achieve with the creature”, Ford explained. “Shifty – that is what we call it – appears to be highly intelligent, far more so than domestic animals. I am yet to find out how much its social nature can be likened to that of other socially developed fauna, or perhaps even humans.”

“But you’re planning to keep it locked up and conditioned to your praise and care, right? Sounds like a pet to me! Or better yet, a lab rat!”

“Well… it’s a little more complicated than that. You see…” Ford fell quiet. Was he about to lecture his all-knowing muse? What an absurd idea. Then again… perhaps his muse was fluent first and foremost with the ‘what’, and did not bother himself with the intricacies of ‘how’.

He cleared his throat, mentally preparing a profuse storm of apologies in case he’d catch even the slightest sign of offense in his muse’s expression. “Perhaps this scientific anecdote will shed some light on what I mean. Recent developments in the theory of social anthropology suggest…” He looked around. “I could probably find the article I learned this from floating somewhere in here, if you wish to read it yourself.”

Bill swished his hand impatiently. “I’m a busy guy, so get to the point! We can fact check later.”

“All right. Studies have shown evidence that we did not, in fact, domesticate dogs. Instead, it would appear that they domesticated us.”

Bill let out a bark of laughter. “Hah! That’s a good one, Fordsy! Are you saying the tail wags the dog? Could the rumors about fluffy pooches controlling society from the shadows be true? Well, I’m not denying any possibilities here, that’s for sure! Everything your lot thinks it knows about the government is a bunch of lies, anyway! Hahaha, this is priceless!”

Ford smiled. His muse’s ability to find entertainment in every topic was truly astounding. “Allow me to explain. When humanity and the ancestors of the species we now know as dogs first came into contact, humans were yet to develop a truly social, cooperative nature that our current lifestyle, even our very essence as a species, is built upon. The early dogs, perhaps still wolves, approached us and eventually became our aid in gathering food. They followed us and guarded us from other predators, and received our protection and care in turn. It was a deeply symbiotic relationship that greatly benefitted both sides. However, they also taught us something completely new.”

Bill looked a little skeptical. “And what might that be?”

“Loyalty.” Something about saying this powerful word out loud made Ford blush slightly. “Friendship, one might even say. In the process of humans and dogs learning to share their territory and lifestyle, humans were taught new ways to communicate, express their affection and reach out for one another. Some even say that this interspecies cultural exchange could have played a crucial part in the very foundation of civilization as we know it.”

“Could be, could be!” Bill nodded along, still looking more amused than convinced. “But to be real with you for a second, Stanford, I don’t think your kind took the rule of this planet by the power of tummy rubs!”

“You are right about that”, Ford laughed. There was a hint of sadness in his voice as he continued. “However, I do not believe humanity is truly the cruel, greedy conqueror mastering all in its path that history often makes it out to be. With those who gaze back at us with no ill intent, I think we much more prefer… partnership.” His blush deepened, and he had to avert his eyes from the softly glowing entity before him.

“M-hm. Okay, whatever toots your philanthropist horn, Sixer!” Bill said, swirling his cane around carefreely. “So what’s this all got to do with your slimy little pet?”

“I would like to learn how to better understand it and fulfill whatever needs it may manifest. Shifty has already developed a primordial level of linguistic skills, and it uses that and a variety of other communicative means to interact with me. I do not wish to underestimate its social capability or misunderstand its intentions, that is all.”

Bill smirked. “Sounds like you’ve got it all figured out, so all I’m gonna say is good luck with that! I’m sure something that constantly changes its face has nothing but good will and friendly thoughts up its sleeve! A true gentleman, just like your old pal Bill!”

Ford smiled warmly at his muse’s gracious words of encouragement. “That does remind me…” he scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, his face still redder than usual. “Bill, I cannot possibly even imagine how much urgent business you must have on your plate. It is shamefully selfish of me to even ask this, but… if there is any way to arrange it… I would, uh, very much like to see you more often.”

“Hm?” Bill threw a curious look at him. “But you see me all the time, Fordsy, and vice versa! Isn’t that why you prepared all those artefacts portraying yours truly in your house?”

“I… I guess that is true. What I meant is… I want to talk to you like this, face to face. It is a great honor to be in your presence, and it gives me as much delight and joy as it inspires me. I love to hear your brilliant insight on everything between the moon, the sun and beyond. I learn so much from you, and, well…” Perhaps you might learn something from me as well. That much he didn’t dare say out loud.

“Hmmm…” Bill tapped the space below his eye in a thoughtful manner. “Well, get a move on with that portal project of ours, and I just might find the time to visit you every night!”

“W-what?” Ford’s eyes widened. “Every… every night?”

“Sure! You’re gonna need a hand to guide you to the right direction, anyway! We’re just getting started here, Fordsy! We have long nights of work ahead of us! Could take years, even!” He gave him another wink. “That sound often enough for ya?”

“Yes, it’s… more than I could ever hope for.” If Ford’s face hadn’t been burning by then, it now matched the crimson covers of the books around him. “I have no words to express my gratitude. I will do everything in my power to make it worth your while.”

“Peachy! I know you’ve got it in you, Brainiac. As long as you keep your eyes on the first prize and let side projects be side projects, I’m ready to stick with you for the long haul.”

Ford nodded, his chest filled with pride and enthusiasm. And perhaps something else.

He held out his hand. “I’m looking forward to our future endeavors.”

And when he felt the warmth of the black fingers and the coldness of pale blue fire, he was oddly convinced their joined hands brought to life something more than just a symbiosis.

#gravity falls #billford #ficlet #bill cipher #stanford pines #happy birthday alice and moose! I'm so happy to have met you <3

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