#ford!reader

[thegeeksideofsr]

Midnight Snack

Summery: Nate's daughter' period is a pain, literally and figuratively. Sent home to relax, and receives a late night visitor.

A/n: This is entirely self indulgence. I was on my period, had cramps and wanted cuddles. But alas. I am single. So this was made. Eliot might be a little OOC, but whatever. It's fluffy.

The kitchen is a buzz with activity. Kate works with the pastry chef and over sees the line cooks prepping at their stations, the prep cooks prepare ingredients and portioning them out, and the bussers setting tables up.

I sit at the bar talking with the sommelier, Alice, and bartender, Duncan, about the wine list, the drinks available, and the influx of minors trying to buy alcohol.

I try to pay attention to them, but my cramps are taking over, going from my waist to my lower back, I run a hand along my abdomen, trying to soothe the pain.

"Boss, you ok?" Duncan asks.

"I'm fine."

"You don't look fine, hun," Alice pipes in. " You look like you are going to be sick or pass out."

"I am fine," I stress. " It's just cramps. I've had them before and I'll have them again. Now the wine list-"

"Boss!" Yells Kate comes out of the kitchen in a trot. " Do you still want to do the- whoa! You look like shit!"

"Thanks, Kate. Just what every girl want to hear."

"Sorry, but you do." She turns to Duncan and Alice, "What'd you two do to her?"

"Nothing!" They exclaim.

"She has cramps and insists she's fine even though she looks awful." Alice's explains.

Kate turns to me, "You want to go home? I can hold down the fort."

"I can't. It's a Friday night, I can't leave you guys here while I'm at home."

"Ok, but how much help are you going to be of you are in pain all night. Have you taken anything?"

I nod. "Forty minutes ago. They haven't touched it."

"Well then I am pulling Soue Chef rank and sending you home." Kate's hand in her hips and a determined look on her face.

"I don't think that's a thing." Duncan mutters.

She ignores him and squints at me. "I will call your father and tell him you aren't talking care of you self."

I squint back.

"You wouldn't."

She reaches into her pocket, pull her phone out and opens to his contact. Her finger hovers over the call button.

"If you don't agree to go home in the next ten seconds I will call him." She says calmly then begins to count down.

I look to Duncan and Alice.

Duncan raises his hand in defense,"I'm not getting in the middle of Kate and one of her missions. I know better."

Alice shrugs. "While I don't agree with her tactics, you need a break. You have been here almost everyday for the past three months."

I glare at them. "Traitors."

"Five, four, three" Kate's finger hovers closer to the screen.

"Fine! I'll go home!" I relent. " What are you, twelve? Threatening to call my dad."

Kate shrugs as she put her phone away.

"It worked though. What's that say about you?"

I roll my eyes as I slide of the stool. "I hate you."

"I know."

I head to my office to get my phone and some paperwork, then to the wall of lockers in the back for the rest of my stuff.

I explain to the kitchen crew that I'm not feeling well and that Kate is sending me home, they all nod in understanding as they have also experienced her mothering, then stop at the bar again on my way out.

"Call me if you need me," I tell the trio. " I can still -"

"We will survive until Monday," Alice assures.

"Monday?"

"We discussed it," Kate nods, and gestures to the pair next to her. "And decided you need a vacation. You make sure this place runs smoothly and that everyone is ok. It's time you took care of yourself."

The thoughtfulness is touching, and she is right, a break would be nice.

"If you're sure."

"Go!" The three practically yell.

"Ok, ok I'm going."

I head towards the door, wave one last time, then open the door.

"Call the guy you told me about!" Kate yells after me. " The one with blue eyes!"

"What guy?" Duncan asks, a protective tone to his voice.

I roll my eyes and head to my car.

**********************************************"

Once in my apartment I go for a hot shower, hot as I can stand. My cramps are a bit better, but not gone, and the heat of the shower helps.

After the shower come the comfy pants, my favorite sweatshirt, and fuzzy socks.

I make my way to the kitchen and make a cup of tea. I place a bean bag in the microwave and turn it on for a few minutes to heat up.

Once it's done, I grab my mug and bean bag, then head to the couch turning off lights as I go.

Once in the living room I grab the remote and place it on the side table next to my mug, before placing the bean bag on my lower belly then tuck my blanket in around me.

I turn the TV on and pull up my comfort show, volume turned down low.

Cool autumn air flows in from the window, cracked open for fresh air, fairy lights line the ceiling of the living room casting a warm glow.

After half an hour my phone vibrates on the side table, my Dad's name across the screen.

I pick it up to answer.

"Hey, Dad. How are you?"

"Hey, kiddo. I wanted to check in, haven't heard from you in a while. Didn't expect you to pick up. Was gonna leave a message because you were working."

"I'm fine. Just busy with work. I wasn't feeling well so Kate sent me home," I explain.

"Are you okay?" His voice full of concern.

"I'm fine. Nothing a good nights sleep won't fix." I assure him. "I'm sorry I haven't called you or come by, but you and the team seemed busy. The last time I saw you all Eliot looked like he when toe to toe with a moose and lost."

"Yeah, we have been rather busy, but that doesn't excuse us not spending time together."

"I know, but it's not a big deal. We both have been busy. It happens. And what you and the team are doing is good work, I don't want to get in the way. The least I can do is feed you when I have the opportunity."

He goes quiet, neither of us speak for a moment.

"Can you come over tomorrow? Just us. So we can catch up?"

I smile. "Of course! What time do you want me there?"

"Ten?"

"Ten is perfect. I-"

I hear a yell in the background, I think is Eliot . Dad yells back that he's on his way.

"I have to go, kiddo. I'll see you tomorrow. I love you."

"I love you too, Dad. I'll see you tomorrow."

We hang up, I set my phone down again and go back to my show.

I start to dose after a few episodes. My bean bag long since cooled, but the blanket keeps the heat in. Thankfully the cramps have subsided.

A knock on my door breaks through the quiet.

A groan leaves me. I extract myself from my cocoon, keeping my blanket wrapped around me as I trudge to the door.

I look through the peap hole, to find Eliot on the other side.

Confusion floods me as I unlock and open the door.

"Eliot?" I ask him. "What are you doing here this late."

"Nate said you weren't feelin' well." He lift his arm, showing off a fabric bag. "I brought this."

"What is it?"

"Can I come in?"

I nod, stepping out of the way.

He step past me to stand in the entrance awkwardly while I lock the door.

I turn to him. He looks out of place in my cozy apartment. His leather jacket and hoodie over a Henley, work boots and blue jeans.

He in turn looks at me. Reminding me that I'm wearing a blanket as a cape and fuzzy socks.

"Where's your kitchen?" He asks.

"Down on the left." I gesture towards the kitchen.

He nods, goes to take a step but hesitates.

"Should I take my boots off?" He asks.

I look down to his rather dirty boots, then back to his face.

"Would you mind?"

He shakes his head.

"I can take the bag to the kitchen if you'd like."

He hands it to me hesitantly, then bends to unlace his boots.

I head to the kitchen, "Make yourself at home," I call over my shoulder.

I place the bag on the counter, then turn my kettle on for another cup of tea, or hot chocolate. That would be good too.

Foot steps pull me from my thoughts as Eliot comes to the counter and start to pull items from the bag to lay on the counter.

Two tupperware of something, two quart jars of what looked like broth, and a tub of my favorite ice cream.

"Can I borrow your kitchen?" He asks, leaning against the counter next to the items he laid out.

"Depends. What are you making?"

He opens and sets down one of the tupperware to reveal scrambled eggs and small bits of cooked chicken, repeating with the next container to reveal small elbows pasta.

"My mom's chicken noodle soup. Homemade broth is what makes it so good. Fixes any ailment you got."

Oh that sounded good.

"Eliot, as sweet as this is and how good it sounds, I don't think that soup will help me right now."

He shrugs. "Never know till ya try it. How ya feelin' any way?"

I hesitate and look away from him.

He steps closer, his hands rest on my arms, heat radiating through the blanket around my shoulders.

"What is it?" He asks.

"My period. The cramps have been really bad today. Kate made me go home because I looked like I was going pass out. I was fine, but it was nice to relax for a while."

"Have you taken anything for them?"

I nod. " Some meds. And a hot shower and a heated bean bag. It's fine though, you didn't have to come over."

He shakes his head, "I don't mind. Are you cramping now?"

"The meds are wearing off," I check the clock on the stove, "I can take more in half an hour."

"Alright. When's the last time you ate?"

That question makes me pause. Thinking back, I wasn't hungry when I got home, or after my shower, so that ment the last meal would have been lunch with Alice and Kate. Considering it was ten-thirty , it had been about eleven hours. Yikes.

"Lunch time," I mutter.

He sighs and give me a disapproving look.

I roll my eyes, "I know. You can cook if you agree to stay and eat with me and keep me company."

He lets a half smile cross his face. " Deal."

I nod then leave him to fetch my mug for a new cup of tea.

On my return I see he's pulled a medium pot from the cupboard, emptied the two jars into it, the container of eggs and chicken as well, the ice cream no longer on the counter, presumably tucked away safely in the freezer.

"Where'dya keep your herbs?" He asks.

"Left of the stove." I gesture towards the cupboard as I pour hot water into my mug.

He opens the cupboard, reading the hand written labels.

"You dry these yourself?" He turns to me, holding the jar of dill.

I nod.

"The building has a community garden. Some people grow fruits, others grow veggies. I grow the herbs and dry them. The landlord has a chicken coop and those ladies are egg producing machines," I explain with chuckle as I grab my mug and move to the kitchen table, tucking my legs under me.

"We share what we grow, like a family. There's only a six units in the building so it works well. It was nice when Dad was out in LA. And when Sam died. My neighbor's made sure I was ok during that time."

"Nate wasn't there for you?"

"Not as much as I would have hoped. He took it the hardest. He got really angry at the world." I look down to my hands. "I was just starting my restaurant when he got diagnosed. Kate was the only one who knew."

"I'm sorry." He says, looking at me with a sad look. "I met Nate when he was probably at his worst. He was reckless. He never mentioned you before."

I laugh lightly.

"I'm not surprised. He always kept work and family separate as much as he could."

He nods then goes back to cooking.

I watch him cook. His movements smooth and confident, adding herbs and stirring them in, adding the pasta and turning the heat down to simmer.

Watching him slowly gets taken over by pain encircling my hips and lower abdomen.

I lean forward over my lap, squishing my organs to relieve the pain. I must make some kind of noise, because Eliot's feet appear in front of me, then he squats down in front of me.

"You ok, darlin'?"

"I'm fine." I mutter.

"No, you're not. Where are your meds?"

"Bathroom, left middle drawer."

He leaves my view, I hear him rummage through the drawer, then his foot steps back to the kitchen.

He squats back in front of me, opening the jar and pouring out a few pills into his hand.

"How many?"

"Two."

He puts the extras away until two remain in his palm, held out towards me.

I sit up, and take them from him, I wash them down with my tea, now drinking temp.

I set my mug back on the table, Eliot's gaze following my movements, hand on my knees gently rubbing.

"Why are you so calm about this?" I ask. "Most guys are kinda grossed out, or do the bare minimum."

"My mom taught me to take care of people, especially women in pain. Plus I've been workin' with Parker and Sophie for two years, this ain't my first rodeo."

"Parker must be a handful." I joke.

"Yeah she is." He chuckles, the corners of his eyes crinkle. "You need anything else?"

"Not right now." I push my blanket from my shoulders to stand up. "I think I'll go back to my spot on the couch after a quick bathroom stop."

He nods, taking a step back allowing me room to stand.

I head to the bathroom, sounds come from Eliot moving about my apartment through the door.

Once I'm done I head back out towards the kitchen, but the living room catches my eye, the couch specifically.

My blanket it there, not on the kitchen chair, my mug on the side table, and two bowls sit on the coffee table in front of the couch, steam rising from them. The microwave hums is the kitchen.

I stand in the door way of the kitchen, starring at Eliot, leaning against the counter waiting for the microwave to finish.

He looks up at me.

"Go sit down. I'll bring this over when it's done."

"What is it? My bean bag?"

He nods.

"Found it when I brought you blanket over. Thought I'd warm it for you while you were gone."

The thoughtfulness makes my heart flutter.

"Thank you, Eliot."

"You're welcome. Now go sit." He points towards the living room then turns to the microwave as it beeps.

I give a small salute then head to the couch, tucking my self into my blanket like a nest.

Eliot follows a minute later holding the bean bag.

"Over the blanket or under?" He asks.

"Under." I reach for the bag, move the blanket and settle it across my lap and abdomen.

I tuck the blanket back around me, leaning my head down to the back of the couch.

"Better?" He asks.

I hum an confirmation.

The couch dips next to me, he sits close enough to feel his body heat, but not touching.

He leans forward and pick up a bowl, passing it to me, then picking up the next for himself.

I thank him, then take a spoon full of the soup. It smells amazing, and the taste even more so.

"Eliot, this is amazing. Thank you."

"You're welcome. I'm glad you like it."

I watch him as he eats, sitting on the edge of the couch, leaning forward like he's really to go at a moment notice. Not relaxed at all.

"Eliot," I say to him. "Sit back get comfy."

He looks at me, almost like a dear caught in headlights, then shifts back and settles into his spot.

"Happy?" He grumbles.

"Very. Now," I reach for the TV remote and turn it back on. " What do you like to watch?"

"I don't watch TV much, but when I have the opportunity it's sports."

"Of course it is," I whisper under my breath.

"What was that?" He raises any eyebrow at me.

"Nothing! So sports, I think they are running some old baseball games -"

"Not baseball."

"What's wrong with baseball?"

"It's stupid. Can't score off defense."

I roll my eyes.

"Don't say that around my restaurant, you'd never make it out alive."

"I think I'd be fine."

I shake my head, turning back to the TV to find something we agree on, surprisingly it's old reruns of Magnum PI. At least he's got good taste out side of sports.

Soon enough the bowls a empty, ice cream replaces soup and is consumed. Empty bowls are left on the coffee table to be cleaned later.

During the third episode, I lean over to rest against Eliot's side, his arm moving from the back of the couch to around my shoulders, his thumb rubbing against my shoulder.

I feel myself start to doze off. The dimly lit room, the warmth from Eliot around me, and the comfort of his arm around it the perfect recipe for sleep.

I wake up a little bit as I feel myself being being lifted from the couch. I'm carried for a few seconds, then am gently set onto something soft. A hand cradles my head, guiding it until my head hits my pillow.

The blankets are pulled over me, tucking me in. A head brushes some hair from my face, then leaves. I look to catch the hand, I hold tight.

"I gotta go, darlin'. You need sleep." He whispers.

"Stay." I mumble back, eyes falling closed again.

He doesn't move, still holding my hand, he then squeezes it briefly and lets go.

"A'right, I'll stay."

He rounds the bed and climbs in the other side. I shuffle over to his side, his body heat like a magnet. I cuddle into his side, my head on his chest, arm draped across his stomach.

He's stiff, and his heart beats are rapid.

He soon relaxes, heart slowing, one hand resting on my upper back, the other coming to rest on the back of my head, rubbing my scalp, lulling me to sleep.

***********************************************

Sun through shear curtains shines on my face, pulling me from sleep.

I roll away from the window reaching to the side that was occupied the night before, but my hand lands on cool, empty bedsheets.

I sit up and glance around the room. Not a trace of anything out of place. I listen for movement, but the apartment is silent.

I toss the blankets of and slip out of my room.

The blanket on the couch is neatly folded, there are no mugs on the coffee or side tables.

The kitchen is the same. No tupperware or jars, no pots on the stove. The sink is empty, or in the drainer.

The whole house is baren of any sign Eliot was in my apartment, let alone my bed.

Except for the the pot of coffee on my counter, the light still on.

***********************************************

Taglist: @fictional-hooman @skyeofbees @kimberkingrivers @spencereliotwinchester @padawancat97

[fablesrose]

Ch 20 - The Reunion Job

Series Rewrite Masterlist 

Pairing: Eliot Spencer x Ford!Reader

Description: The team goes back in time, to high school with all the insecurities of a nerd turned overly rich and successful bully.

Words: 5.7k

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was only a couple of days later when after Hardison met the client with Nate, he burst through my door complaining about Eliot being a lurker and Nate playing mind games with him which he very much did not appreciate. At least that’s what I could decipher from his frustrated ramblings. I’ll admit, I was only half listening to him as I was just reaching the most exciting part of the book I was reading.

“How do you deal with him?” Hardison finally asked. 

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Well, I mean, he’s your uncle, he raised you. You’ve gotta have dealt with his mind games and little psychological tricks all the time, so…” 

I sighed, realizing that he actually wanted an answer and not just a rant session. Meaning, I wasn’t going to be able to finish the chapter. I closed the book and turned to stare at Hardison. I contemplated whether I wanted to actually answer his question in a fulfilling and helpful way for my friend or find out what happened in the current story arc. 

I think the answer is obvious. Now how to go about completing the goal. 

“Well, Hardison, you are a very smart young man,” I began. 

It was obvious that he was not expecting the compliment and blinked, “Well, I– I’m not sure how that–”

“It is very relevant,” I cut him off, bringing the attention to me again. “The thing with dealing with manipulation tactics is that you first have to understand them.” I stood up from my couch, making a better connection with him by having more direct eye contact. “You see, Nate does use mind games, but it isn’t an always, every time thing so in order to identify when he is trying to manipulate you, well, let's say there is a learning curve.”

“And I am at the very bottom of the curve,” Hardison whined a bit. “I have never been at the bottom of a curve!”

I thought I had him hooked, so said a quick, ‘follow me’ and tried to walk towards my door, and to my satisfaction, he started to follow without a second thought. “That’s okay, I’m sure you will catch on. The thing about manipulation is that it is most often about subverting attention, whether that be to the manipulator, yourself, or somewhere else with a hyper focus that it is hard to redirect back to where you want if you aren’t looking out for it.”

He followed and listened intently, making a few interested comments. 

I walked him across the hall and entered Nate’s apartment, “It takes practice and a lot of self awareness both to spot it and to try to do it to someone. There’s also tricks that can help, in a way it is similar to grifting and hacking, just combining the two.”  I finally led him to where his computer was, “But, I won’t keep you any longer. I think it is better if you did some research on some psychology and the job for the client, right?” I nodded as I asked him that and he instinctively nodded back at me, agreeing as he sat down and placed his hands on his computer. 

“Okay, thanks y/n.”

I hummed in agreement and casually, but quickly, walked back across the hall to get back to my book. Hopefully Hardison didn’t think too much about what just happened when he was doing his research. 

Not too much later Nate came in to bring me along for the recon of an Iranian intelligence secret police hideout. 

“You’re lucky I just finished a really good part of this book and need to decompress a bit,” I said as I slipped a bookmark in and stood from my couch for the second time. 

“Mmm hmm, I think you’re the lucky one because you wouldn’t be able to pull the same thing on me that you did on Hardison,” he said, very self satisfied. 

I stopped in my tracks, “how do you know about that?”

“I was upstairs and heard you.”

“You’re not gonna tell him, are you?”

“Only if you hurry up, we’ve gotta go. Come on, birdy,” he insisted, ushering me along and out the door. 

“Okay! Okay, I’m going!”

Eliot and Hardison went into the restaurant as health inspectors. Sophie was already there as a customer with a bug in her food to give the boys an in to do an inspection. When Eliot wouldn’t help her get the roach away from her after her outburst, she told him that he would pay for it. I’m sure that will be interesting. 

Parker was breaking in one of the back rooms where we were sure all of their sensitive information was. Nate and I stayed in the truck monitoring. Once Parker plugged into their computer, Hardison cloned it so we could all see the screen and Hardison could search the files. Meanwhile, Eliot was doing the food inspection as a bit of a distraction, and if I didn’t know any better, I would have thought he was enjoying himself, just a little bit. 

“There’s nothing on Manticore, starting a syntax search” Hardison said as he remotely connected to the computer. 

“What about the Manticore?” I asked, vaguely gesturing to the graphic on the bottom corner of the screen depicting the creature. 

“The image on the bottom left there,” Nate said, since Hardison couldn’t see where I was gesturing. “Manticore is a mythological creature, Persian for ‘man-eater.’”

“Yeah, I was just about to click on that,” Hardison said unconfidently. 

“Oh yeah, right, sure,” I replied, making sure he knew of my skepticism. 

Hardison clicked on the graphic and a bunch of files opened on the screen. 

“Okay, let’s uh, copy Cyrus’s program,” Nate said. 

“I’d love to, but it’s not here,” Hardison said. “Doesn’t even look like they’ve heard of Cyrus.”

I looked at Nate, “That’s odd. Then who stole the program?”

“I’ve got payment records here,” Parker said. “The last one dated three weeks ago.”

After some searching, Hardison said, “The last Manticore update was also three weeks ago.”

“And who was that payment to?” Nate asked. 

Hardison answered with a low whistle. 

“Larry Duberman,” Hardison began once we got back for the brief on our new mark. “Founder and Ceo of Dubertech. Back in the 90s he wrote the book on digital database security. Literally wrote the book.”

Eliot stepped between Sophie and I with an intricate looking tea set and started pouring the both of us tea as Hardison explained how much revenue Duberman pulled in. I tried to make eye contact with either Eliot or Sophie to question what was going on, but Eliot was focused on pouring the tea, and Sophie wasn’t paying any attention to him at all.

“Why would Larry Duberman be selling software to Iran? He doesn’t need the money,” Sophie said and quietly thanked Eliot for the tea with a soft touch to his shoulder.

I repeated the sentiment to him, without the touch, and took a sip, noticing it was my favorite tea. I smiled a bit to myself, not quite listening to what Hardison was saying. I did catch that Duberman had a lot of competition in the tech industry which required him to expand his market share to make money. 

“So, he sells the technology to embargoed countries and the income is tax free?” Nate asked. 

“That’s a nice way to keep the bottom line from being squeezed,” Sophie commented. 

“Now Duberman has a long term contract around Manticore for Iran, this man has become the IT department for the axis of evil,” Hardison said definitely. 

“Alright, so Eliot was right,” Nate said. “The Veserate didn’t go after Cyrus, Duberman did.”

“It’s not about politics man,” Eliot said while squeezing a lemon into Sophie’s tea. “It’s bad business for him.”

“Okay, so Duberman’s our target,” Nate said, “what are we up against?”

Hardison explained how if we could shut off a certain one of Duberman’s servers then we could shut off Manticore. 

“So, get to hackin’ man,” Eliot said. 

“Dude, what is it about ‘wrote the book on database security’ that you don’t comprehend?” Hardison mocked. “I can’t just access Manticore remotely, we got to get to that server, in person.”

“Have any of you ever trimmed a Bonsai?” Nate asked. 

I looked at him quizzically before following his eyes to see where he was looking at an article saying that Duberman recently installed a Japanese garden. 

“I mean, I took a class in college,” I said, once I thought I had an idea of where he was going with the question. 

“Really?” Eliot said in an excited and almost conspiratorial whisper, “cuz I actually–”

“Maybe some other time, Eliot,” Nate cut him off, clicking on the screen to enlarge the article he was reading. 

“Okay,” he said, a little dejected, also seeming to realize why Nate asked, more hypothetically. 

I was about to give an encouraging remark to Eliot when my attention got pulled to the other side of the table. 

“Why is Eliot pouring your tea?” Parker asked. “Hmm? You brainwash him again?”

Again? When was the first time?

Sophie hummed in a negative tone. “Neuro-linguistic programming,” she corrected. “It’s amazing what you can do with the power of suggestion. ‘Sugar, squeezed,’” She said, only slightly directed at Eliot and patted his shoulder again. “And a few strategic pats on the arm.”

Eliot seemed to register what Sophie said and paused where he was about to pour her some more tea, “Damn it!”

“You owe me for that roach business!”

“Damn it!” Eliot repeated, “Sophie, not again.” He then took the cup of tea he was pouring for Sophie and marched off. 

Hardison was laughing at the front of the room, and it only took me a moment to give a laugh as well. It seems to be the job for mind games. 

I took a sip of my tea, which Eliot left in front of me, and leaned toward Sophie, “Thanks for including me in the tea, this is my favorite.”

“Oh, I didn’t tell him to do either of those things, but I’m glad you enjoyed it, dear,” she replied casually. 

That made me pause, because it didn’t seem like something Eliot would do on his own, but I took Sophie’s word for it and just assumed that maybe her programming accidentally implied something about me getting tea too. The tea being my favorite must have been a coincidence. 

Regardless, I was going to enjoy the drink in front of me. 

I had volunteered to go into Dubertech as a custodian/gardener to help in the break in, but Eliot ended up doing it. I assume because he also got some nostalgia from the bonsai as well as this part of the mini con involved literally running into Duberman and accidentally roughing him up a little. 

Eliot would shove a bonsai into his hands, spilling it everywhere. Hardison and Parker would immediately come in to clean it up, swiping his keycard and his fingerprint off the bonsai pot. Hardison and Parker then proceeded to break into Duberman’s office to gain access to the Manticore server. 

Sophie, Nate, and I were at his apartment watching through the camera Hardison had with him. When they walked into the supposed server room, they paused. 

“Whoa,” Parker said. 

“It seems like we stepped out of Japan and straight into high school,” Hardison said.

“In 1985,” Parker clarified. 

As Hardison panned the camera around the room, we could see that they were right. There was so much high school memorabilia and 80s tech on the shelves and in trophy cases. The lighting even seemed to be retro. 

“Did you find the server running Manticore?” Nate asked, trying to get them back on track. 

“Oh, I found it,” Hardison said. “Small problem: Nate, he’s running Manticore from his high school computer.”

The computer in question came into view and I was amazed that a program as advanced and complicated to spy on Iranians could even be run on the machine.  Parker picked up and waved a floppy disk with a Manticore sticker on it. 

“Question: can we just smash the computer? Would that work?” I asked. 

“No,” Hardison replied, but didn’t explain as he plugged in to the computer and began to try and hack it. 

“Fair enough, just thought I’d double check.”

“Vintage 1980s technology, man,” Hardison said, mostly to himself, “no wonder I couldn’t hack it from the outside. It’s speaking a dead language.”

“This is bringing a whole new meaning to ‘tech people don’t trust modern tech,’” I commented. 

We watched as Hardison ran passwords through the computer, trying to gain access. After a few moments, an announcement came through talking about a possible breach. 

“Hey, they’re onto us!” Parker said. “What’s the deal?”

“He’s got a multi-tiered password system,” Hardison explained. “Now, I’ve already broken into the first few: uh, Zavransky, MandyDD, a bunch of other random ones.” Hardison’s computer then made an unusual sound. 

“Is that a good beep or a bad beep?” Parker asked. 

“Ohh, that’s a bad beep. We just hit a wall.”

“You didn’t get the password?” Nate asked. 

“Not the master one,” Hardison said, “the last one I got is: L33R15L06.”

Sophie and Nate looked at each other and said ‘high school’ at the same time in a dejected voice. 

“That password is what tipped you off?” I asked sarcastically, mostly to cover up how I wasn’t sure how that password connected to the theme, but with all of the high school themed stuff in the room, it made sense. 

“Come on, let’s go,” Parker said anxiously. 

“Hold on, let me just copy this disk,” Hardison replied. “How did anyone get anything done in the 80s?”

They were able to make their escape once the download finished and made their way back to the pub. We all met down there to discuss what to do from there. 

“Nobody else thinks it’s weird that you can just buy anybody’s yearbook online?” Eliot said when Hardison pulled out Duberman’s yearbook to consult.

“You know, it’s real cute man how you still believe in privacy,” Hardison replied.  

“I’m just amazed he could get his hands on it so quickly,” I commented.

“Here we go,” Nate said as he flipped through it. “Zavransy: math teacher. Now I bet if we turn to the cheerleaders… Yes. Oh, Mandy.”

Eliot gave a low whistle. I glanced at the picture and, well, the double Ds in the password did make some sense. 

“What does the ‘DD’ mean?” Parker asked.

The boys gave some innuendoes towards Mandy’s chest which I rolled my eyes at. I just told Parker that she didn’t need to worry about it. 

“It was the last password that tipped us off,” Nate continued, “L33R15L06, now that has to be a locker combination, right?”

I nodded my head, agreeing, trying to disguise that I was just coming to the realization of what that was now. I guess I never remembered any of my locker combinations that way. Or remembered any at all.  

“So clearly, he’s obsessed with high school,” Nate concluded. “Memorabilia, his high school computer.”

“Yeah, he’s a classic computer nerd,” Sophie said. She glanced at Hardison and apologized. “The girls totally ignored him, the guys picked on him, now that he’s a success, he can’t leave the past behind him.”

“Yeah, he has to remember who he was because it made him who he is,” Nate said.

“I feel bad for the nerd,” Parker said with an almost sympathetic deadpan.

“Don’t feel bad for this guy,” Eliot replied. “Getting bullied in high school is no excuse for propping up dictators. Take Hardison, he got bullied his whole high school career, he’s not a criminal.”

We all looked at him incredulously. Sophie and Parker verbally disagreed.

“Not a bad criminal,” Eliot amended. 

“What makes you think I got bullied in high school?” Hardison asked. 

“A: you’ve got a green hornet doll.”

“First: it’s a limited edition action figure. Second: it is Green Lantern. Educate yourself.”

“Guys, listen, listen,” Nate interrupted, “we’ve got a locker combination, we have a teacher’s name, and we have a crush. So Duberman has made his old high school, his roman room.”

After a moment, Parker confidently said, “Of course.”

“Of course?” Nate asked her, “what’s a roman room?”

She crumbled and admitted she didn’t know. 

“It’s a memory technique,” he explained. “Each of his passwords corresponds with an object in a space he is intimately familiar with. In his case: the hallway of his old high school where he kept his locker. Now if I were to make this bar my roman room, everything I need to remember is in this room. For instance:” Nate stood and clasped me on the shoulder, “my, uh, email password would be Birdy here.” He then approached the bar and picked up a bottle of liquor, “and my bank password would be Balmore,” he said with a shrug. He then poured himself a drink from the very same bottle. 

“Hey,” Parker leaned across the table to Hardison, “Nate just gave us his passwords, huh?”

“No,” Hardison said, “but I already got all his passwords. Want to see his Netflix queue?” He continued with Parker’s nod, “He’s got, like, every season of ‘Rockford Files,’ every season of ‘Sex in the City,’ that show ‘Psych.’”

“Oh, that’s a good one,” I said. 

“Hey,” Nate came back and leaned over Hardison’s shoulder, “Listen, if we can’t get into the main server without Duberman’s master password, you can’t hack into that, right?”

“No, the password's up in the guy’s head. Can’t hack a guy’s head.”

“So the only option is to break inside his roman room.”

“You wanna break into his high school?” Parker asked. “Pft, I could do that blindfolded. Yeah, let’s do it blindfolded.”

“No, no, no, what we’re gonna do, is we’re gonna break into that high school, twenty five years ago.”

“Hmm, what do ya know,” Hardison said, looking at his phone, “Class of ‘85 has a reunion coming up. In eight months.”

We shared a passing look between each other with a smile. I think we could make that work. 

Sophie made some calls as different reunion committee members and was able to get the reunion moved up to this month. She then called Duberman to personally invite him to the party, naming some classmates that should incentivise him to come. And lo and behold, he said he ‘wouldn’t miss it for the world.’ 

Hardison went in and edited a picture of Sophie and put it in the yearbook under the name of Grace Pelts. Nate was going to pose as a student named Drake McIntyre and play the rival, or villain in Duberman’s story. When he came out in his chosen outfit, he for sure looked like the peaked in high school jerk that he was going for. 

Parker posed as one of the caterers and placed cameras around the school so Hardison could keep an eye on everything and help Nate and Sophie out when needed. 

“Oof, so many awkward people in so many ugly outfits,” Parker said as she took a look at the bulletin board with the ‘nostalgic’ photos. 

“You’re lucky you never went to high school,” Hardison said. “Nothin’ but heartbreak and homework.”

I sighed with a nod of my head, though he couldn’t see me, it was true. 

“Didn’t you go to your Prom?” she asked. 

“Uh… I was kinda busy,” he replied in a way that told me he was doing something that he wasn’t supposed to. Probably highly impressive and highly illegal.

“So you guys get to go to the reunion, and I’m stuck on goon patrol?” Eliot griped beside me as he pulled on his gloves.

“What am I? Chopped liver?” I asked, unamused. 

“No, you’re at least a nice Pâté,” he replied with a slight apologetic look. 

I squinted at him, not understanding what he was implying, “I’m gonna try and take that as a compliment, but you’re on thin ice right now.”

“Eliot, listen, once we get the password, you and y/n have to enter it on Duberman’s computer and destroy Manticore,” Nate explained. “Hardison is a little occupied.”

“Besides, I’m sure you already had your high school fun,” Hardison goaded. “Big man on campus. What? Quarterback?”

I watched as a slight smirk of reminiscence appeared on his face and he pulled his hood up, “I had many interests.”

He then waited until a lone employee walked out of the Dubertech building and knocked him out with one punch. I quickly rummaged through his pockets until I found his key card. Eliot then dragged him off to the side in the bushes where we were standing and I tossed his briefcase into the bushes after him. The two of us then entered the building and made our way to the so-called server. 

Meanwhile, Sophie was making first contact with Duberman, stroking his ego a bit to get him loosened up. She also helped make the introduction to Duberman of Nate being Drake McIntire. 

Apparently Drake was pretty popular in high school as it sounded like he was swarmed by people greeting him. Nate made sure to point out Duberman from across the room and address him as “doucherman!”

That seemed to sell it for Duberman.

“How’d you know that was his nickname?” Sophie whispered when she was able to take a step away from Duberman. 

“With a name like Duberman, it’s not exactly rocket science,” Nate replied as he greeted more people, asking Hardison to help him keep his cover. 

“Doucherman’s pretty good,” I commented. “If you wanted to just mispronounce his name you could go with Doberman but that might be too cool for him. I probably would have gone for gooberman or nooberman.” 

There was a moment of silence.

“Say, y/n, who were you in high school?” Hardison asked over comms. 

I scoffed, “Please, I didn’t conform to high school stereotypes.”

“Emo,” a couple voices said, including Eliot who was walking alongside me. 

I looked at him and sputtered a bit, trying to deny it. 

“Don’t even try it, y/n,” Hardison teased, “I can always look up your yearbook pictures.”

“Don’t you dare,” I said in the most threatening voice I could muster. 

“Mmhmm,” Hardison replied in a tone that told me he wasn’t convinced but then continued to help Nate by feeding him facts about his supposed classmates. 

Sophie was able to pull Duberman into the hallway and started reminiscing, trying to get any passwords she could out of him. 

“This hall is burned in my mind,” Doberman said as they walked. 

“Say, wasn’t that Mrs. Zavransy’s room?” Sophie asked. 

“Had her for homeroom. Yeah, Pat Brander once gave me a wedgie in front of the whole class,” He replied. 

“Pat Brander,” Sophie emphasized as if she was remembering too. 

“Check out Brander,” Eliot told me as I sat at the computer. 

I typed in the last name which didn’t work and then first, and then first and last, but none worked, “Name isn’t working.”

“Try Brander303, that was the room number,” Hardison said. 

I typed it in, “Uh, looks like we got payroll.”

“Alright guys, patience,” Nate told us. “If we get him riled up, he’ll lead us to the password we want.”

Nate entered the hallway in a drunken manner and started teasing Duberman in a way that was very reminiscent of teenagers. 

“We’re not eighteen anymore!” Duberman whined, trying to get him to stop. 

“I’m just reliving the good old times, ya know,” Nate replied. 

“Good times? You think they were good times for me? Like when you told Amy Tuttleton, the prettiest girl in school, that I had both male and female genitalia?”

Nate laughed, “I forgot about that! Yeah, that was classic.”

I typed in every variation I could think of for a password with Amy Tuttleton, with no hits. 

“Hermaphrodite?” Eliot asked over my shoulder. 

“I’m not trying that,” I said. 

After a few more passing comments between Nate, Sophie, and Duberman, Duberman finally said, “You just don’t get it, do you? I won.”

“Oh come on now, you’re not still steamed about things that happened twenty-five years ago. Come on! Listen, it wasn’t all bad, does your brain only remember the painful bits?”

“Just the important stuff,” he tried to defend. “Like what happened in the library.”

“Oh yeah, go on,” Sophie encouraged. 

“No, you remember, yeah, I was sitting there–”

He was cut off by a newcomer entering the hallway and their little group. It sounded like a flirty woman, who Nate, trying to stay in character, drew her attention to himself. Nate said her name was Nikki and she implied she was a cheerleader. Hardison got to work trying to give Nate information about her, but there were multiple cheerleaders who could have had the nickname Nikki. She then dragged Nate away from Duberman and Sophie to make out. 

“Nate, I hope you know, this is so gross,” I said, trying to block it out. “Hardison, can you mute him for me for a second so I can listen to Sophie?”

He did as I asked and tuned me to Sophie and Duberman’s conversation.

I kept trying passwords that Sophie was giving me, and while a few of them opened different capabilities, none were the master password we were looking for. Eliot paced around the room looking at memorabilia and giving me updates on the others. 

“Ha, Nikki locked Nate in a closet after he turned her down.”

I laughed as I tried another password, “serves him right, he probably broke that poor girl’s heart. And he broke my eardrums.”

“Yeah, Parker said the same thing along with high school being dramatic. She’s gonna go break him out.”

I scoffed, “she can say that again. High school was so over dramatic.”

“Says the emo.”

I glared at him and he changed the subject, looking back at the glass case in front of him, “They give out trophies for chess?”

“Chess is at least a strategy game. It’s better than a spelling bee trophy,” I countered.

He didn’t have the chance to reply as grinding noises and sparks started to shoot through the door. 

“It’s the Veserate, they’re comin’ in!” Eliot told me and the rest of the crew. 

Hardison unmuted Nate for me as he asked what the Iranians were doing here. 

“How are we supposed to know?” I told him. 

As I typed in another password, Nikki crashed Duberman’s and Sophie’s conversation again. She said she just wanted Drake out of the way so she could have Duberman all to herself, she spilled her drink on Sophie in the process, insisting she clean up. Well, there goes our audience with him and our opportunity to get the password. At least for now. 

“What happened? He get away?” Nate asked Sophie when they met up. 

“She took him!” Sophie lamented, “That, that… That bloody little slut!”

I’ll admit, that was not what I expected to come out of her mouth.

“Calm down,” Nate mediated. 

“Just because I’m not some cheerleader or something!” 

Oh, there was some bad blood here. Some history for Sophie. 

“Alright, let’s forget about it for now. Eliot and y/n have company and we’re no closer to getting the password, so I think we need to escalate.”

“You think he’s ready?” Sophie asked. 

“Uh, guys,” Hardison interjected, “I’ve accounted for all the Nikkis in the class of ‘85, your Nikki’s not even in the yearbook.”

“Wait, so she’s a fraud, like us?” Parker asked. 

“What, is she just some random hussy who’s out for his cash?” Sophie proposed. 

“Not exactly,” Hardison answered. “She’s a hired gun.”

I shifted my focus from the melting door to Eliot, “Well, this just got more complicated.”

“An assassin?” Sophie asked. “Nikki’s an assassin?”

“Yeah, I guess we weren’t the only ones with the bright idea to pose as alumni,” Hardison said. “This chick’s connected to wetwork jobs all up and down the east coast. Russian mob, Italian mob, there’s a New Zealand mob?”

“This is our fault,” Nate said. 

“I didn’t do anything,” Parker denied. 

“We lured him to an unsecured environment,” Sophie said. “We exposed him.”

“Now we have to save him,” Nate said. “We can’t destroy Manticore with him dead. Split up and find him. Eliot what’s happening on your end?”

“T minus five seconds,” he replied. “This reunion sucks!”

“I agree!” I said, surveying the room, trying to find something I could defend myself with. I finally settled on using a chair if I had to. 

We watched as a hole was finally punched through the door and a head appeared to assess the room. When he saw Eliot, he said, puzzled, “The health inspector?”

Eliot shrugged, “I’m gonna have to dock ya again.”

Two of them quickly entered the room, the first raising a gun to Eliot. He knocked it away and was able to knock one down at a time to fight off the other. The first was able to drive Eliot into one of the trophy cases, breaking the glass everywhere. I stepped up and stomped on the back of his knee, making him collapse. I then stepped back out of the way to play support, protect the computer, and input the password if necessary. 

“Duberman must have pissed off the Iranians,” Hardison said, “They hire an assassin to take him out while they raid his office? Eliot, you’ve got to keep them away from that computer.”

“He’s working on it!” I yelled at him at the same time Eliot said, “What do you think I’m doing?”

Eliot grabbed the chess trophy and was able to knock out the second Iranian, and for a moment, they were both down, and it was quiet. 

“Check mate,” Eliot said, but the first Iranian would just not stay down and stood up again, ready for another round. “Or not.”

Over comms, it sounded like Sophie was able to find Duberman and Nikki and fight her off.

“I always hated cheerleaders,” Sophie said. “It was always mean girls like you who ruined high school for the rest of us!” It sounded like they kept fighting for a bit before Sophie was able to get away.

Eliot kept playing whack-a-mole with the Iranians, as soon as one went down, the other popped back up. I tried to help where I could, taking any cheap shots that were available while Eliot kept them occupied. Luckily, anytime they turned to engage me, Eliot was freed up to take them down, or at least divert their attention to himself. 

I heard Duberman’s voice come through the comms again along with Nate, so he must have found him again. I was too preoccupied with the Iranians in front of me to pay attention to what was going on with them, but nothing seemed to be going horribly wrong yet. At least, not more than it already was. 

What I did hear was Nate saying, “And, it’s done.”

That was a signal that Duberman changed the password. Eliot was still engaged with the Iranians, so I took a risk to turn my back on them and type in the new password, testing if Sophie’s neuro-linguistic programming worked to put ‘Badger85’ in his head. 

“I’m in, Hardison,” I said, hearing Eliot finally knock both of them out enough to stay down. 

“Great, now deauthorize and delete all directories, like we talked about,” he replied. 

I typed in the commands and watched as the program fizzled out. “It’s done.”

“Manticore’s dead,” Eliot added with a note of finality.

Hardison was able to send some files to the FBI with an anonymous tip that should land Duberman in detention for a long while. 

“Well, I think it’s time we graduate,” Sophie said once the figurative dust settled for a moment. 

Nate agreed, but they were stopped by a loud announcement that even Eliot and I could hear through the comms. 

“Your votes are in for the king and queen of the reunion, and the lucky winner is: Grace Pelts and Drake McIntyre!”

I laughed. I could just imagine the shock on their faces. 

“Uh, very funny Hardison. Y/n?” Nate said. 

“Oh, you think I did this?” Hardison asked. “Nah, I don’t rig elections. I mean, I could, but…”

“How could I have pulled that off? I’ve been across town this whole time,” I pointed out. 

“Parker, was this you?” Sophie asked. 

“I didn’t even know they had kings and queens in high school,” she replied. 

“Yeah, um. I guess it was a good con,” Nate said. “Hardison, why don’t you set off the fire alarm right about now?”

“You two enjoy this, you earned it,” Hardison replied.

Music started and Hardison asked Parker for a dance. 

“Everybody having a good time at the dance, anybody wondering if we’re okay? If we made it out alive?” Eliot grumpily asked the team. 

“Do you want to dance? We can still hear the music,” I said, a blush coating my face at the question even though I asked it kind of sarcastically. 

Eliot paused, like the thought hadn’t occurred to him. “Well, uh–”

“My vote is we get some good food,” I amended before he could say no. 

“Oh, yeah. That, uh, that sounds great right now,” Eliot answered. “Much better than a dumb high school dance.”

I let out a huff of a laugh and pulled out my earbud, “uh huh.”

The employee that we stole the key card from stood up from the bushes and Eliot quickly knocked him out again with a punch. 

“Was that necessary?” I asked him. 

“Probably not, but it made me feel better,” he answered while he dug his own earbud out.

I nodded and jokingly linked my arm with his as we walked silently towards his truck for a few paces. 

“What should we eat?” he asked me. 

“I don’t know.” I thought about it for a moment and remembered what he said earlier in the night, “What’s Pâté? Is that good? Should I try that?”

“Maybe not tonight, let’s take a drive and see what we can find.”

“Sounds good to me.”

A/n: Reblogs and comments are welcome and encouraged! Thank you for reading!

Tags: @instantdinosaurtidalwave @kniselle @technikerin23 @kiwikitty13 @plasticbottleholder @wh1sp @who-actually-cares-anymore 

[kentstoji]

• whenever ROBERT FORD wrote a narrative, it was necessary to seek out nuances of hell hidden between the lines of his immaculate text. the devil is always in the details, in the minutiae that we overlook due to their subtlety. and with him, it was no different.

• every detail, initially fictional, was part of a path. a bloody adventure, with numerous routes and possibilities.

• however, every leader, every angel, every god needs a successor. someone to carry on the sadistic legacy the park harbored. If ARNOLD WEBER had DOLORES ABERNATHY— the sharp-minded host —and the darling CHARLIE as children, ROBERT FORD had you, as his HEIR.

• an heir intimately involved in various narratives within the parks. And the NEWCOMER favored by some of the hosts.

[thegeeksideofsr]

I did something similar once. Though it wasn't crime it was on roll to run a restaurant........

Trying to write Leverage fic is tricky, because if there's an evil mark involved, you run the risk of spending hours upon hours researching real-life crimes and injustices (only 2% of which are actually relevant to your story) and then getting sad that the characters are fictional and can't actually do anything about them

[doodlenoodleboi]

I'M SORRY BRO IS AS OLD AS MY GRANDPA AND I STILL WANNA HIT!

Edit: Follow the artist this got a lot of love but give the artist some!

(I just realized she had Tumbler I found these on Pinterest)

Shop: http://lydibugart.bigcartel.com

[lucigooseart]

stanley pines

grunkle gilf brain rot is going crazy rn guys. pls enjoy

[gay-dorito-dust]

What would be Stan’s brothers reaction when after Y/n helped them with stuff and they said “Well, what are you waiting for? Kiss on the cheek?” Or “what else do you want? A kiss on the cheek?” And reader fastly respond ‘Yes please’ without hesitation 🤑

Ford:

‘What are you waiting for? A kiss on the cheek?’ Ford said when he noticed that you were lingering nearby.

‘Yes please.’ You replied almost instantaneously.

The poor man was now blushing to the tips of his ears as his eyes grew wide. This wasn’t a response he was expecting and therefore not properly prepared to answer accordingly.

He didn’t expect you to eagerly agree even in the slightest and now he was racked with nerves, while his mind overworked on whether or not you were joking with him. Ford has never been in the situation before where someone shown active interest in him, so needless to say this man was imploding on himself over shat could only be a theoretical.

He hated vagueness and ambiguity, they were his biggest personal pet peeves. he much preferred things to be upfront and direct for he tended to look for deeper meaning in things they didn’t need to be looked at so intently or up close.

‘I- well if it’s okay with you.’ Ford says, finding the collar of his turtleneck a little tight and finding it hard to swallow the lump in his throat.

‘It’s more than okay.’ You said with a smile.

Ford had to steel his nerves that were running rampant within him as though he was still that teenage boy, he mustered the strength he needed to press a sweet, almost featherlight kiss to your cheek that had butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

Stanley:

‘What are you waiting for? A kiss on the cheek?’ He asked.

‘Yes please.’ You said without hesitation.

Stanley, while taken aback but your straightforwardness, smirked in response as he leant closer to you.

‘Oh do you now?’ He says playfully with a raised brow, trying his hardest not to show just show affected he was by your words as he felt his heart in his throat.

‘I wouldn’t have said otherwise.’ You replied with a smile, taking a step towards him as he internally congratulated himself for not loosing his touch. (or so he liked to claim when in reality it’s you who holds the more power in this situation.)

Stan only said what he said because it was something his father said time and time again to him after he did something that he thought would finally make his father look at him. Only for that to not be the case as his father easily dismissed his efforts and managed to degrade him with a single sarcastic comment that felt like a dagger to the heart.

Here when he said it, you made it sound a lot sweeter when you gladly accepted the prospect of him kissing your cheek, almost as though it was the only thing that would make your entire day. You were far too sweet for Stan but you attract more with honey than vinegar or so they say and needless to say you had this man hook line and sinker with how sweet you were.

‘Okay honey just remembered you’re the one who asked for this.’ Stan said as he pressed a kiss to your cheek that made you want more in the future.

[multi-fandom-imagine]

Please, write something about facesitting with Stan and Ford, cuz with those giant noses I know its good.

A/n: 👀

Warnings: Oral sex, female receiving.

•Stanly Pines•

Stan love's nothing more than to eat you out though the moment you let it slip that you want to try something knew the man tease's how can he ever go back.

You're adorable, so adorable,

Stan can't help but smirk at your shy request, feeling his cock twitch in anticipation. He loves when you take control like that, it’s so damn hot.

"Anything, for you angel, though who knew you were such a naughty one."

He purrs, gently guiding you to straddle his face. His strong hands grip your hips as he eagerly starts to devour you, his tongue expertly exploring every inch of your dripping pussy.

Your cries only fueling his own desire as you tried to move, Stan's hands clutching preventing your movement as he held your hips tightly.

He moans softly against your folds, the vibrations sending shivers down your spine. Stan's fingers dig into your skin as he worships you, determined to make you feel good. He loves the taste of you, the way you squirm and moan above him only fueling his desire.

You can feel his hot breath against your sensitive skin, his tongue flicking and teasing your clit with expert precision.

Stan's hands roam up your body, squeezing your breasts and teasing your nipples as he continues to eat you out with fervor. He’s completely focused on giving you pleasure, lost in the moment as he worships you like the goddess you are.

“Mmm, you taste so fucking good, baby,”

Stan groans, his voice thick with desire. He’s completely under your control, eager to please you in any way you desire. His cock strains against his jeans, desperate for release, but right now all he cares about is making you feel good.

•Standord Pines•

It all started in High School for Ford, he was tutoring you well doing his best as you complained about your boyfriend refusing to eat out which lead to you dumping him. You didn't know why you told him, maybe it was because you had a soft for him a crush and you were hoping that he would notice your feelings despite you being popular.

Though it didn't take long for you to try it, neither of you had experience and looking back on it, you couldn't help but chuckle at your first time with Ford though that night lead down the road of your experience with your six fingered lover.

Ford had gotten better, more experienced with sex when it came to you. One particular memory came to mind, you two were running from some asshole on some planet and one thing lead to another as the man had you pinned to the wall. Bottom's gone, panties hanging off your ankle as your legs draped themselves across your lovers shoulders.

You head hitting the wall as your eyes closed shut as your fingers wove through his hair. "That prick in the bar said he could eat me out better?" You had a teasing tone to your voice but you wanted to see Ford's reaction.

Ford's eyes darken with possessiveness and desire as he hears your words, as his glasses nearly slip off his face . His hand tightens on your waist as he adjusted your legs so you were more comfortable

“Like that bastard knows you like I do! I am going to show you what it’s like to be worshipped properly,” his voiced muffled by your thigh, his breath hot against your skin. The hunger in his eyes is undeniable as he eagerly waits for you to take control and give him what he craves.

Ford groans softly as you settle on his face, feeling the warmth and weight of you on him. His hands grip your hips firmly, guiding you into the perfect position as his tongue eagerly darts out to taste you. He moans in delight, the vibrations sending shivers through you as he starts to worship you like you deserve.

His tongue explores every inch of you, licking and sucking with skill and precision. He's relentless in his pursuit of your pleasure, making sure you feel nothing but bliss under his ministrations. The sounds of your moans and gasps only fuel his desire, and he's determined to make you unravel completely with his touch.

Your fingers gripping his hair, tugging at the silver strands, your eyes squeezing tightly shut.

He devours you with a hunger that matches his possessiveness, wanting to show you just how good it can be when you're with someone who truly cherishes you. And in this moment, with you on top of him, he's proving just how much he adores you. He may no longer be that fumbling teenager but Ford loves you and he'll always make sure you know.

[hamsternella]

PLEEEEASE a nsfw alphabet for Stanford??🥺

SORRY IT TOOK ME SO LONG

Stanford Pines NSFW Alphabet

A= Aftercare (what they're like after sex)

Despite the tiredness and embarrassment once the heat of the moment wears off, Ford goes to great lengths to wrap you in his arms and hold you tight against his chest, where you can hear his heartbeat. He likes to let you know how well you did, and how much he loves you. Caresses and kisses, as well as laughter and sweet whispers until falling asleep are never lacking.

B= Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Ford would always say his brain. He is a cool, methodical person who almost always finds a way to achieve great results. Thinking and ingenuity are like breathing to him. But of course in this case that's not the answer; considering that the last thing he can use is his brain when he has you in front of him. It is as if only his heart exists, beating wildly at the sight of the most beautiful and inexplicable thing he has been able to witness in his entire existence: you.

That being the case, he can't find any other part of himself that he likes enough. Maybe his hands, because he knows how much you love it when he touches you. And if it's you, it would be everything—Ford is unable to pick just one part of your body. If he had to, maybe it would be your waist; because he loves to grab you with both hands from that spot to keep you still, under or on top of him, and at whatever pace he can best get those sweet sounds out of you that fascinate him so much.

C= Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He cums a lot and hard. Preferably inside you or on your face; sometimes pushing a little with his fingers to fill your mouth with his cum. He loves it when you clean his hand with your tongue.

D= Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Ford would never tell you—there's a reason it's a secret. But do you still remember those times when you couldn't find your underwear, and suspiciously it was during the weekdays when Ford took care of the laundry, and oddly enough he took all the time in the world to iron and put the laundry away...? Yeah, well. I think you know what I mean. Don't mention to him how obvious it is that he's been stealing your underwear to masturbate with it. Don't tell him, really.

Also don't mention that you've actually felt him cling to you when you sleep; looking for more than just warmth at night. Don't tell him that you clearly feel him down there—hard and warm.

Or do. Who knows what might happen.

E= Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Technically no experience at all. Of course he had gotten to kiss other women, maybe a little touch with one or two, but that was many, many years ago; by now he hardly remembers anything at all. Besides he was very young; he used to think differently and be busier with his research. Now that the world is at peace and he can enjoy the calm and family life, it is more than obvious that the only thing he has to defend himself at the beginning of the relationship is all theoretical. It's not a terrible thing, of course. Ford is willing to experiment and learn with you.

F= Favorite position

There are still many positions to try and discover, but the most used —for comfort and practicality— are three par excellence.

Doggy, because nothing is nicer than being able to see you under him, with your ass and waist at his disposal to play to his heart's content.

Cowgirl/Cowboy, because even though he loves making love to you, Ford has to accept that at his age it's hard to stay steady all the time. Sometimes he needs a little help from you to avoid looking pathetic for getting tired after so much action—even if you tell him there's nothing pathetic about it. Besides, don't you look lovely on top of him, with your body shaking and your eyes glazed over? Best view of all.

Spooning, because Ford goes crazy holding you from behind, pushing his hips against your ass; with one of his hands working over your body and his lips on your neck, waking you up from a long night of deep sleep. This man is desperate to touch you.

G= Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Ford is quite serious during the moment, but this is because he is a very shy person about approaching you to begin with. Even if it comes to playing along with you he is the first and last to get embarrassed. An occasional nervous laugh; sometimes little choked sentences if he notices you looking at him too much, and that makes him lose his concentration. But in general he is someone very focused, who seeks not to lose the thread of the moment. His biggest fear is disappointing you.

H= Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

A lot of things happened and he hasn't had the time, nor the desire, to get down to work there. That being the case, I'd say hairy; but at least he's started to take the time to trim it down a bit and make it halfway nice for you. If it's something that would bother you, Ford is willing to trim it further—even all of it.

But yeah. Super hairy.

I= Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Ford takes care to be careful with everything he does or says, always seeking to satisfy the needs of your body and mind; every fantasy you have closely tied to everything he does to make you feel fulfilled. He is a dedicated man, with nimble hands and a sensitive heart. Sweet and witty words are never lacking, always driving you crazy in his arms and against his lips. Sensuality is never in short supply.

J= Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He's been starting to do it more often since he's been with you. Not a lot, because he prefers to do it with you; but once in a while never hurts if he can't get you out of his head. He needs at least something of yours to make him cum—your underwear or the warmth of your body. He needs you.

He cums fast and hard, with the piece of clothing against his face, inhaling intensely; or with a free hand on your body, against your skin.

K= Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Definitely role-playing and cockwarming.

L= Location (favorite places to do the do)

Private places, if possible. Ford doesn't want to risk the possibility of being seen by someone else. He loves to have you in the bedroom, or even in his study room. Any place where no one and nothing will interrupt you.

M= Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

To see you in his clothes, to hear your voice, to come on to him... to suddenly appear dressed for some sensual and perverse role-playing... My goodness, how you drive him crazy.

Ford is a simple guy: he sees his partner existing and making eyes at him, and suddenly he feels his body warm and ready to go.

N= No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Threesomes, because he can't accept the idea of seeing you with someone else, let alone seeing himself with someone other than you. Ford is also unwilling to degrade you or physically harm you; just as he does not find it attractive to allow the same to be done to him.

O= Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Ford loves to receive oral, but he prefers to give it. He loves to put his mouth down there, tasting you and pulling out sounds that haunt him in his best dreams. You are a delight. Even if he's inexperienced, he's so desperate to have you in his mouth that the guy learns in no time to meet your expectations. There's no way not to lose your mind when Ford is taking care of everything between your legs; with his hands holding you by the flesh of your thighs, with his fingers caressing your skin.

Imagine his face if you proposed sitting on it. Imagine that, I insist. It's the best.

P= Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Slow and sensual; deep and hard. Getting all the way in, Ford always gives a little push to press himself against you, hiding his face in the space of your neck. He will talk to you through this—be prepared for a couple of whimpers and muffled moans.

Q= Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He doesn't like them at all. He prefers to take his time with you. Although if you are very needy, then maybe he can find a way.

R= Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Ford loves to experiment! And with that always comes risk. But when it comes to sex, this all takes a different turn; and while he's willing to try new things and experiment with you, he'll always be against anything that might hurt you or make you both uncomfortable.

S= Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

The years and the various experiences out in the open have weathered Ford, and have made him a man with a lot of physical capacity to endure long hours without sleep and with a lot of work. Research work, of course; the physical stuff has always been for fighting or survival.

With this in mind, Ford is able to handle quite a bit of foreplay and sex itself, but he tires quickly after a second round—if the first one wasn't strong enough. Even if he feels he can't go on, he has no problem helping you by using his hands or mouth; as well as any other part of his body that comes in handy. Hopefully and maybe there will be another round if you manage to turn him on one more time.

T= Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Ford doesn't need toys. He only needs you. Now, if in a hypothetical case you would like to use one, he has no problem even designing his own to use with you. At first you tell him no, because it's easier to buy them; but after seeing some plans and listening to him talk so excitedly, seeing that he even starts to consider the idea of implementing other things when it comes to sex, you come to the conclusion that maybe it's not so bad.

Ford opts to use toys on you, not him. They don't get his attention that way.

U= Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Not so much, really. He thinks it's cute to see you being so desperate for him. But at the end of the day it's something that makes him desperate too. Ford couldn't stand to play with you like this for long; he needs to accede to your needs in order to satisfy his own.

V= Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Whimpers A LOT, and likes to moan loudly—but tries to drown them out, fearful that someone might hear them.

If the two of you are in a place where you can be sure not to be overheard, Ford sets out to talk to you during the act.

W= Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

He's unexpected and always manages to sweep you off your feet, but Ford is capable of the hottest dirty talk you can imagine. When you least expect it you have him with his lips on your ear, his hot breath on your skin, and his husky, deep voice of desire spitting out dirty, kinky phrases that keep you with your hands pushing against his chest; his fingers pressing against the skin of your neck, surprising you with how much this man can separate himself from the real world and let you drown in his darkest fantasies.

Ford prefers not to talk about it after everything calms down. It will take some time.

X= X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Not as long, but definitely fat. The tip is quite sensitive. Slightly curved downward.

Y= Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Since he discovered how fascinating your touch is, quite high. Although it's more what he desires than what he can get to do. If he gets careless, he comes quickly. It's fun to play on his desperation and make him wait; that might help him endure his neediness with you a little longer.

Z= Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Pretty fast; but he strives to see that you're okay after all, and that you're resting with him. His priority is you, after all.

[sleeplessdreamer14]

If you honestly think Ford didn't keep a photograph of you on his person during his time in the multiverse like a soldier keeping a locket with a picture of their lover during a war, think again.

[stanfordswifey]

Stanford Headcanons!!

(Bf ver.)

Giggling hes so pretty in this picture-- COUGH COUGH SORRY ILL GET STARTED (pre-portal)

Loves physical touch. Would lowkey miss you whenever he's working so he always hugs you, and gives you cuddles whenever he can.

Kisses? Yes please, he'd be flustered at first but reciprocate it sooner or later, he's a shy lil dude.

Gift giving!! He'd make silly gadgets for you for no reason, you need a pen holder? Boom made you one, need anything at all and he'd get started on it just for you <3

Quality time is something he'd like also, since he'll be working on the portal so much he'd spend time with you whenever he can, sometimes it'd just be the both of you cuddling in bed and he'd start infordumping about the most random shit ever.

He would promise to take you to the galaxy and even farther, that he'd show you everything and adore it with you, but out of every gorgeous sunset, out of every prettt flower, he'd always see you as the most beautiful little thing he'd ever lay his eyes on.

Might be possessive, just a little! He'd 'accidentally' leave hickeys in obvious spots on your body (neck, chest, etc)

He'd take you on dates, he would cook your favorite food, setup the table and for nighttime lazy dates he'd just get some popcorn and you two would watch documentaries together or go looking for a new creature to document.

He would let you draw on his journals or add some stuff in, decorations, notes, etc.

He's the type to pat your head when you do something good

[thegeeksideofsr]

What do you want?

Ford! Reader

A/n: I am alive!! I know I haven't posted a story in almost a year, but I managed this one! I have some ideas to pull out of my head but it might take a while. Thank you to everyone who has been enjoying and supporting my stories. You have no idea how much it mean to me.

cw: Beaten up Eliot, a client in a bad relationship

The end of the day finally came. A day of dealing with screwed up supply orders, a chef being cut so badly they had to go to the hospital, and a dead car battery needing to be jumped by a coworker, it was finally time to go home.

So when the last door was locked, and the car was leaving the lot, I could finally relax and not have to wait for another shoe to drop.

I lock my car in the driveway, and dragged my self to my apartment door, locking it behind me, then kick my shoes of by the door.

I drop my purse the side table and take off my coat to hang on it's hook, shaking of the rain that started on the ride home, before head to my bedroom to get a change of clothes before I take a long, hot shower to wash the day away.

Once I'm done and dressed in comfy clothes, I head to the kitchen. I fill my water kettle, then place it on a burner to heat.

I turn to look through the fridge, then the cupboards, then the fridge again for something to snack on, but nothing seems to spark my interest, even though I can't remember when I last ate, so I decide on something simple.

I pull out some of the grapes I had in there and some cheese slices. I grab a box of crackers then begin making a small stack of cracker, cheese, and a grape. I pop the stack in my mouth as the kettle begins to whistle.

I turn off the burner, then grab my favorite mug and tea, and pour the hot water, enjoying the smell waft through the room.

I continue eating in peaceful silence while my tea steeps.

A knock on the door breaks the quiet.

I turn to check the time on the clock. 12:09. Who in the world could be at the door at this time of night. They should be in bed asleep, hell, I should be in bed.

I walk over to the door, stepping around my shoes. I look through the peephole to see Eliot soaking wet in a dark jacket and knit hat, and face swollen and bruised.

I step back from the door unlocking it it quickly before I opened it.

"Eliot? What the hell happened? You look like you got his by a buss."

He blinks. Then shakes his head.

"More like a army." He chuckles, then gestures to his head. "Probable concussion. I shouldn't be alone right now, and thought maybe I could spend a few hours with you?"

"Eliot, what are you doing here? Shouldn't you be in a hospital resting?"

" I don't do hospitals."

I sigh, grab his hand to pull him inside, close the door behind us, and drag him to the living room.

"Do you need anything? Ice? Food?"

He shakes his head gently as he sits on the couch, leaning his head back to rest on the back of the couch. I sit of the coffee table in front of him, a hand resting in his knee.

"Eliot, when was the last time you ate?"

He's quite for a moment, then shrugs.

" Right," I sigh as I stand, holding a hind out for him to take, " I'm gonna make you something to eat, and I do expect you to eat it, then you are going to get some rest. Here on the couch, or the spare room, your choice."

He places his hand in mine and I pull him to his feet, then lead him to the kitchen, making him sit at the small table in the corner.

"Sit here. I want to keep an eye on you."

I don't give him time to protest before moving about the kitchen, and begin pulling out ingredients for a grilled cheese from the fridge and cupboard, setting them on the counter. Getting my favorite pan from is hanging spot, and placing it on the stove.

I slice some cheese and butter two slices of rye bread, then place the cheese down on one slice, and the second piece on top. I place the sandwich on the pan and ignite the stove, turning it to low.

I let it cook while I mix up a mug of tea for Eliot. Getting it just right before placing it in front of him.

I smile at him, then turn back to the stove and flip the grill cheese over, the pan sizzling as the butter hits the pan.

I turn back to face Eliot sitting at the table. His hands wrapped around the mug, eyes closed. I take in his appearance, one eye is swollen shut, and a bruise blooms on his cheek.

I turn back to the stove and shut off the stove and place the sandwich on a plate.

"Eliot, what happened?" I ask, as I walk to table and set the plate in front of him.

He looks at me, then let's out a sigh and begins telling me in between bites about the latest job, helping a young mom leave her abusive husband, who had ties to some powerful people. And they had kidnapped the woman's little boy, and he and Parker went to get him.

"Was getting beaten to a pulp part of the plan?" I ask him as I take his hand in mine.

"I can take the punishment." He squeezes my hand slightly. "It was my job to retrieve her kid. It's what I do."

We sit in silence, hand in hand, until he grumbles.

"I like your way of distracting guards much better." He rasps.

"Me too," I smile. "Not as painful."

" I don't think Nate would agree." He chuckles.

" My dad knows I am a grown woman, and can do want I want. Besides, I saved that job."

"Yes, you did."

A long moment passes before I speak.

" You haven't come around since that job." I rub his knuckles, focused on a small scar near his ring finger.

" I've been 'round. We've seen each other -"

" Yes, but-" I interrupt, then hesitate.

"But what?"

I take a deep breath.

"But you haven't been here." I gesture to my apartment as I stress the last word. "You haven't come over to cook together, or watch a movie, or listen to me rant about co-owning a restaurant. You have barely looked me in the eye since then.

"And I know you guys have jobs, and that the world doesn't revolve around me, but we kissed, El. Once here, in my kitchen, and again on that job. And I would do it again if you wanted to."

I take another breath after my small rant at him. He still just sits, in his chair, Stoick as ever.

I let my body deflate at his silence. I release his hand, then stand up and head to the stove and to the pan I left there, now cool enough to handle.

I turn on the water and soap the sponge. I wash the pan, then set it in the drying rack. I wash the other items I used, that add them to the dryer.

"I don't want to mess things up. I don't want to mess with the team, or you." He explains. "I haven't had anything serious in a long time."

"You're serious about me?"

"As a heart attack," his voice has a laugh behind it, but then his tone changes. "But I don't think Nate would approve."

I turn to look at him. He's looking at the table, picking at his fingertips.

"What does my dad and his approval have to do with you and I?"

"He knows me," He sighs out. "He knows some of my past and-"

He stops, looking away from me.

"Eliot I don't care about your past. With women or the jobs you've taken. I am much more interested in a future. If that's what you want."

We sit there in near defining silence.

"Eliot what do you want?"

He finally looks at me, his face full of emotions.

"You." He grumbles. " For as long as you'll have me."

"You have me." I whisper.

He takes a deep breath, nods to him self, then places his hand on the table and stands up.

He rounds the table towards me, his steps full of purpose.

He walks up to me, his body is close enough to mine that I can feel the heat radiating from him.

"Will you, Miss Ford, go on a date with me?" He whispers.

"Yes," I whisper back.

"Can I kiss you?"

I nod.

He cups my face in his hands, leans in and presses a sweet kiss to my lips.

******************

Eliot Spencer Tag list

@spencereliotwinchester @fictional-hooman @skyeofbees @kimberkingrivers

[fablesrose]

Leverage Rewrite Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Pairing: Eliot Spencer x Ford!Reader

Description: Y/n Ford is Nate's niece, of whom he looked after after his brother, her parents, died. Y/n gets pulled into the adventures and shenanigans of the Leverage team through this series rewrite, but she loves being along for the ride. The overly talented and handsome hitter doesn't hurt :)

Warnings: canon level violence, swearing, drinking. I'm sticking pretty close to the show thematically. I'll add warnings if needed.

A/n: this'll be a slow burn, btw. Partially inspired by @thegeeksideofsr and their Ford!reader, I thought it was an awesome idea to have the reader related to Nate!

No set updating schedule

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Season 1 Ch 1 - Phone Calls Ch 2 - The First David Job Ch 3 - The Second David Job

Season 2 Ch 4 - The Beantown Bailout Job Ch 5 - The Tap-Out Job Ch 6 - The Order 23 Job Ch 7 - The Fairy Godparents Job Ch 8 - The Three Days of the Hunter Ch 9 - The Top Hat Job Ch 10 - The Two Live Crew Job Ch 11 - The Ice Man Job Ch 12 - The Lost Heir Job Ch 13 - The Runway Job Ch 14 - The Bottle Job Ch 15 - The Zanzibar Marketplace Job Ch 16 - The Future Job Ch 17 - The Three Strikes Job Ch 18 - The Maltese Falcon Job

Season 3 Ch 19 - The Jailhouse Job Ch 20 - The Reunion Job Ch 21 - The Inside Job

Tags: Let me know if you wanna be tagged :) @instantdinosaurtidalwave @kniselle @technikerin23 @kiwikitty13 @plasticbottleholder @wh1sp @who-actually-cares-anymore @romanreignsluver1

[stansangel]

Take a Pic

Ford keeps a picture of you in one of his coat pockets ALWAYS. Even when he was in other dimensions it was always with him. (He lined the pocket with steel so it couldn't get destroyed. He didn't want to forget what you look like.) When he came back he was OBSESSED with taking pictures of you/drawing pictures of you.

Stan keeps one of you in his wallet, he shows it off all the time. It's a terrible picture of you that he took with a polaroid camera when you first woke up one morning, Mabel has a copy of it in one of her scrapbooks. He also keeps pictures of you and the rest of the family throughout the house/gift shop. They're so cutie patootie.

[yandere--stuck]

Laughing at the idea that while playing dolls using the reader and ford he also has a little doll version of himself and does poor impressions of their voices

Bill doing a ford impression: “how was your day homey? I made you a nice bowl of teeth for dinner”

Ford: this is ridicules

Bill doing an impression of the reader: “come here and let me give you a kiss bill!”

Reader: please stop making me kiss the weird doll

"You know what means!" Bill beamed.

"... You'll let us go?" You dared to ask, held in mid-air.

"Extra kisses!!!"

You surged forward, wind whistling in your ears as you brought up, face-to-face, with a plastic replica of the triangle demon. Your face met plastic, Bill maneuvering your body and smushing it against the toy.

"MWAH MWAH MWAH!" Then, the triangle put on an impression of your speaking voice. "I love you sooooo much, Bill! Mwah mwah mwah mwah mwah!"

"Put them down, you animal!" Ford barked from below, trying to act intimidating despite the size difference.

"Oh, is someone getting jealous, Fordsy?"

Thankfully, you were ripped away from the plastic Bill. You sneered with disgust, suddenly realizing drool had been smeared over your face - but it was replaced by a look of fear and a sudden yelp as the ground rushed to meet you.

Only for Bill to suddenly stop, jolting you in his grasp, before dropping you hard onto your ass. Immediately, Ford rushed to your side.

"Are you alright?" He asked breathlessly. His hands were on you, helping you to your feet. "I've got you, don't-"

"Not so fast, Sixer!"

You grabbed for Ford's hands and a shout of 'No!' burst from your throat, but it was too late - he was already lifted high into the air. You couldn't look away, heart pounding in your ears.

In Bill's other hand, he still held the replica of himself.

"Now, pucker up, Braniac."

[angelyuji]

yandere stanley and stanford pines somno thoughts :)

18+!!!

tw // somnophilia, noncon, dubcon, drugging, pls lmk if i missed any tags

sorry there’s a read more link, this one is a little intense so… mind the tws and tags pls🥰🥰

stan is not sneaky or quiet going into your room. he thinks he’s being quiet, but he’s not. after a couple times, he stops bothering. like it clicked for him that it doesn’t matter if you do wake up cuz either way you’re in his home and there’s no way out. no amount of screaming will save you either, like the shack is out in the woods.

the first time wasn’t on purpose, it was a heatwave and stan woke up around 2 am not being able to go back go sleep in the heat. sooo he goes to ur room to check on you, yk to see if you’ve fallen asleep yet or if ur awake like him. he’d go into your room and see the 4 different standing fans he bought for you turned on, and also see that you’re only sleeping in your underwear. the heat was killing you, so obviously you had to strip. immediately stan’s next to your bed, hand slowly messaging your naked chest. you moan a little in your sleep and stan takes that as a sign that you’re literally begging for him. like moaning??? in your sleep??? ok SLUT. same thing next evening, except stan goes farther. and like he’s been out of the game for so long yk so he’s just curious. and like it’s not his fault you were tempting him, he’s an old man. he takes a couple risks: kissing you, pushing a couple fingers into your mouth or hole to see how much of him you could take. by day 3, he’ll see that your body is being conditioned to respond to his touch and he’s actually gonna lose it.

your eyes flutter open, a moan falling from your lips, as you feel something press against your heat. “hey there, dollface.” stan grins at you and you jolt awake, trying to move away.

“stan, don’t! get-”

stan grabs your waist and pulls you back, cutting you off, “no point in trying to run, baby.” he flips you over, pushing your face into the pillow. he gets to his knees and pushes into you, stopping to feel the melting heat.

“s-stan p-please” you moan, muffled by the pillow.

“please what, sugar.” stan grins as you try to move your hips. he grabs a fistful of your hair, making you arch to look at him.

“please, please keep going”

ford is the sorta the opposite of stan like he couldve been doing this to you for months and you wouldve never known. like he definitely crushes up some sleeping pills into your food when you’re not looking. he knows what he’s doing is wrong and knows he should stop, but he can’t help it, you’re just so beautiful.

i feel like first time it happened, it was probably when you fell asleep in his lab. you had stayed with him to do some research and when you fell asleep, he decided to carry you to bed. the warmth of your body against his was enough to get him flustered, but when he laid you down, he took the opportunity to press a kiss to your mouth. and dude… he was immediately devastatingly horny like one kiss almost took him out. he definitely booked it out of your room out of embarrassment (even though you weren’t conscious to see) after this, he didn’t make eye contact with you or talk to you for a couple days. you end up confronting him about it and instead of telling you his feelings, he decided that he should just drug you to keep using you without having to vulnerable.

i feel like every time he does this, even if you’re not awake, he’s apologizing to you and making sure that you cum too. like he feels sooo bad for doing this to you, but like the guilts not gonna stop him. the only reason you ever realized is cuz he fucked up on the pills and you woke up to him pounding into you like a rabbit.

“f-ford, get off me.” you could feel every inch of him as he held you close. you try to push him off you, but instead he folds you in half, legs hooking his shoulders.

in this position, you could hardly think or breathe, he went deep and hard into you. as he gets quicker, he starts to mumble into your ear, “i can’t stop, i-i’m sorry, i’m s-so sorry.” he bites into your shoulder and you moan. “you just feel so good.”

for both ford and stan, once you wake up to them using you and you end up not telling anyone what happened, they’ll take that as a green light to keep doing this to you. and then it evolves from at night while you’re sleeping to the afternoon in a public mall bathroom.

(i kinda want to write about that now… but also… tutor!ford x reader… stan x babysitter!reader… im thinking thoughts…)