#ford oneshot

[froggy-demon]

Stan + Ford - S/O with insomnia HCs

Totallyyyy not just because I have insomnia.. anyway submissions are open <3

Ford

Ford has sleep issues himself, if not insomnia as well he at least has a hard time sleeping though the night from needing to stay hypervigilant during his time dimension hoping

So he notices very quickly when you are having a difficult time getting to bed

He’d keep a journal entry about different strategies that helped more than others, reading before bed, sleepy time tea, hot shower, getting up for a walk, etc., even if nothing worked 100% of the time

He loves acts of service so he’d love to be the one to make your tea, start your shower, pick out your pjs, whatever it is, plus just wanting to be a gentleman and take care of you

He would be very worried anytime he woke up throughout the night to find you missing from bed, he’d have to lay eyes on you to make sure you were safe even if it meant waiting for you to get back from a walk or out of the shower

Wouldn’t make you immediately go back to bed of course, he’d be happy to sleepily sit with you until you were ready to try and lay down again

Happy to try and lull you to sleep with stories, either real ones from his adventures or reading to you from whatever he was reading at the time

Would also try to soothingly (think almost asmr) explain the biological processes involved in falling asleep, this would not actually help, similar to being reminded that your are breathing

Some nights you would both not be able to fall asleep and after a good few minutes of laying there silently trying to let the other sleep one of you would break, ‘you’re breathing sounds awake, let’s go watch Ducktective’

Stan

Stan sleeps like a freaking rock

So he would want to try and create good ‘wind down’ activities for you

Happy to draw you a bath in the evening, even got you candles and lavender soaks to help, extra loves taking a bath with you—holding you and combing his hands through your wet hair

He’d try to get lots of things to help actually, weighted blanket, eye mask, incense, white noise machine, etc., anything if it might help you fall asleep

Will hold you and talk your ear off in bed to try and get you to fall asleep, it doesn’t help, but you like listening to him so you’ll never tell him that

If he does wake up to find you out of bed he’ll track you down and bring you back, he just needs to be able to feel you in bed next to him, doesn’t mind if you are on your phone or whatever as long as you are near him

Happy to rub your shoulders and scratch your back to help smooth you before bed while peppering you with kisses—likes when you hum happily as a response

Would instinctively cuddle you back to sleep if you stirred after finally falling asleep, he just loves physical affection

So much so that even if you are sitting up in bed unable to sleep he will lay his head on your lap, nearly purring if you run your hands through his hair/scratch is head—happy to return the favor

Worries and dotes on you more when you seem any more tired than usual during the day, he just wants his baby to get the rest they need

[a-scary-lack-of-common-sense]

Gravity Falls was strange, and the townsfolk even stranger, it seemed.

The twins had been unceremoniously dropped off on the side of the dusty road, the roar of the bus engine fading away as the driver wordlessly drove off without fanfare. The poor man had almost seemed close to tears ever since they had entered the thresholds of this seemingly innocuous town, all too eager to speed off and away while leaving the two children coughing and wheezing in its dust.

It had not even been a full minute since their lackluster drop-off before they became well acquainted with the oddly sociable and irritatingly chatty inhabitants of Gravity Falls. A single conversation with a pair of boisterous policemen already told them all they needed to know about the history of the town, as well as the whereabouts of their Great Uncle Ford.

"The Mystery Shack," the townsfolk had called it. It seemed as though their distant uncle had earned himself somewhat of a reputation amongst the locals. He was the town cryptid; the ever elusive mad scientist that lived in the outskirts of town in this so called "Mystery Shack". No one really knew who he really was; but everyone knew exactly who he was.

So, when the twins found themselves stood hand in hand in front of the rickety old shack, they hadn't really known what to expect when door had swung open with a deafening slam.

He was a strange man, their Great Uncle Ford. He seemed nothing like the cackling looney lab-coated madman they had imagined from what meager hushed information the townsfolk had offered them. It seemed as though the tales of a scientist gone mad that experimented on stray children that wandered into his spooky "Mystery Shack" was but a cruel rumor.

He mostly just seemed unhealthy, to be honest. His sickly, pale frame utterly drowned in the thick red woolen sweater that practically seemed to hang off of his lanky body like a second flap of skin. It made him look almost child-like, like a kid trying on their parents clothes; which somewhat diluted the intimidating effects of his looming height.

Although, the townsfolk's apparent fear of their Great Uncle Ford seemed to have some merit.

For one, Grunkle Ford really didn't seem all too human. He wasn't inhumane, per se; just, not entirely himself, if that made any sense. Looking at him was like looking at an incomplete puzzle; or looking at someone who you remember all your life wearing a hat, suddenly coming to work one day without one, and it takes a little too long for you to remember what is missing.

It was like Grunkle Ford had lost pieces of himself. Somewhere, to someone. His eyes seemed... almost empty. They were a little too dull and a little too opaque, lacking the lively shine of life everyone else seemed to have.

Another thing was that Grunkle Ford wasn't entirely alone. There was... someone else. The twins couldn't exactly pinpoint where, but they could feel its stare, whatever or whoever it was. They could almost feel its stare, a non-existent eye trailing a weird prickling sensation across their skin. The twins recalled the words of one of the townsfolk, a tall bestacled man with haunted blind eyes; although unseeing they could have sworn his gaze never seemed to leave them, as all he said was:

"Don't catch IT staring at you"

The twins had an odd feeling that IT was looking at them right now.

They didn't even notice when the pale bony hand of Grunkle Ford suddenly reached into their personal space, barely registering his words at all, much less the extra fingers that adorned each of his rough, worn palms.

They didn't take the hand.

If the twins had thought the outside of the shack looked decrepit, the inside seemed somehow even worse.

Every inch of exposed wall, ceiling or floor were utterly covered by sprawling symbols, summoning circles, and indecipherable words that seemed to be in an entirely different language than any the twins knew. They overlapped and tangled into one another into big, messy, red splotches of clustered nothings.

There were notes, diagrams on ripped pieces of aged looking paper scattered everywhere, with hardly any room for post-it notes squeezed wherever there was room. Lit and unlit candles were placed absolutely everywhere; either hidden in the dark corners or openly stood in the middle of the floor; sometimes in a circle, sometimes not. The melted fallen wax had coagulated into a hard white mess onto the floor; the smell of cheap vanilla scented candles intermingling with the smell of halloween fake blood (and Dipper was convince there had to be some real blood there, too) to create a sour concoction that stung their noses unpleasantly.

The shack was sparsely furnished with rarely any furniture at all. Not even a couch, the tables and chairs simply pushed to the walls to make more space for the endlessly swirling symbols and pentagrams. The twins were hesitant of stepping on any of the summoning circles, carefully sidestepping the candles and walking over the line of the pentagrams.

The attic, where they would be residing, was not much better.

Maybe they did end up in a mad scientist's house, after all.

[multi-fandom-imagine]

❁𝙸𝚝'𝚜 𝙹𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝙰 𝚏𝚕𝚘𝚠𝚎𝚛

Warnings: Penetrative sex, aphrodisiac { pollen }

A/n: I am so sorry this is horrible, this is my first time writing GN smut.

A flower, yo were tasked with finding a flower, a bright pink flower if you wanted to be exact.

Dropping your shoulders you carefully picked the thing only for the damn thing to blast bright pollen in your face, gripping the stem of the plant you didn't even notice Ford stepping out behind you.

"Oh so you found it! Perfect....are you feeling alright."

Shuddering, you glanced at Ford with narrowed eyes. "What the fuck."

Rubbing the back of his neck, Ford gave you a sheepish smile as his cheeks turned a bright pink. "It is an aphrodisiac...I did not expect.!"

"Ford!"

"I...I'll take it too." Ford stuttered out as he looked over your flushed form as he inhaled the pollen too, a shudder running through his body.

Squeezing your legs shut, a whimper escaped your lips. "Fuck....Ford why would you."

Doing his best to stay calm, Ford ignored the hammering in his heart as he wrapped his six fingers around your hand. "It was for science."

Biting back a snort, you shook your head as a weak laugh escaped your lips. "You gonna fuck me for science."

Blushing Ford continued to pull you back the lab, his pants were becoming uncomfortable now.

“I..."He blinked a few times, he felt hot, he felt,turned on. Letting out a weak laugh he turned to face you.

"We would have trials but...if you don't mind." Ford asked, finally back in his office his hands moved to your hips. "You are my partner after all..." he cleared out his throat shifting his body, his erection throbbing now.

Letting out a soft laugh, you sunk your teeth into your lip as your hand ran down his chest. "Then I guess you have to fuck me for science."

Letting out a deep chuckle, he tilted your chin up and lowered his mouth to yours in a tender kiss. He poured all his feelings into it, once he broke the kiss. Ford rested his forehead against yours and gazed into your eyes. "You do not have to do this, I can...take matters into my own hands."

Shaking your head, you pulled the man in for another kiss. "I want this...I want you to fuck me Stanford."

Ford's breath caught at your explicit consent. Month's of pent up longing and desire boiled over, an inferno engulfing any semblance of rational thought and restraint.

Crushing his mouth to yours in a fierce, starved kiss, he hauled your body against his hardness, intoxicated by the feel of you at last in his arms. You gasped into his mouth as his erection, ground against your heat through the thin fabric.

Breaking the kiss with a groan, he grasped your thighs and lifted you effortlessly to wrap your legs around his waist. Turning his head, he nipped along your neck, laving his tongue over every sensitive spot he discovered.

"You have no idea...how long I've dreamed of this..." He muttered raggedly against your skin. His hands roamed your body with unrestrained hunger, pausing to palm your chest and roll a pebble hard nipple between his fingers.

The desk no impediment as he found your hole with his thick length. Locking eyes with you, he slid inside with one deep thrust, until he was fully seated to the hilt. Your gasp of pleasure at being filled so wholly and a low masculine groan of satisfying left them both teetering on the edge.

Ford began to move, withdrawing almost fully before surging back in a relentless rhythm. His mouth devoured yours ravenously, swallowing every moan and sigh as sheer bliss cascaded through him. At long last, his star, his entire universe was in his arms, joined with him utterly as he took you with abandon. Papers on the ground, glasses sliding off the desk with each thrust.

An airy laugh escaping your lips as you clutched the desk, grasping the hard surface. "Who knew the old timer could still get it." You teased as your fingers ran through his dark gray hair.

Ford groaned at your teasing words, making him fuck into you even harder and faster. An animalistic side surging to the surface in his unrestrained claiming of you.

"I'll try to not throw out my back." he growled gutturally, nipping your earlobe between his teeth. He felt wildly out of control but you were right there with him, meeting each powerful thrust and clawing at his back.

Hooking one arm under your knee, he hit an even deeper angle that had you screaming his name to the heavens. The sound only served to further unravel his tenuous hold on sanity.

He could feel the tension coiling impossibly tighter low in his abdomen. Glancing down between your joined bodies, the erotic sight of his glistening cock pounding relentlessly into you, he felt a flush to his cheeks as he hid his face in your neck.

"..I'm so close" he pleaded roughly. Sliding a hand between your sticky thighs, a few more strokes and you would fly over the edge into ecstasy.

"Ford! Shit don't stop...please." A whine slipping from your lips.

Ford shuddered, feeling you clench around him, his breath labored as you convulsed deliciously around his throbbing length, milking him for all he was worth, he lost himself completely to instinct. His hips snapped at a punishing pace.

The pollen, the pollen had to be effecting him. Bringing his hidden feelings to the surface.

"Mine," he snarled possessively, attacking your lips voraciously. One hand clenched your thigh in an unyielding grip. You mentally laugh at the thought of his six fingers leaving a print.

A deep groan leaving your lips feeling your release hit you as his own release hit like a freight train, detonating through him in burning waves as he slammed his hips flush against yours one final time. Thick spurts of molten seed flooded your hole, his primal grunts of satisfaction echoing around you amidst the fading echoes of your squeals.

Still locked intimately together, his labored breaths stirred your hair as he barely held your boneless form aloft with his arms. Gradually the frenzied haze lifted from his eyes, leaving only a sated glow of deep intimacy and devotion. Gazing down at your flushed, ravished appearance, his mouth curved in a wolfish smile of ownership and affection. "Mine."

Shaking your head, you brought your hand weakly ruffling his hair. Shaking your head you then fixed his glasses. "Yes...yours...I'm yours Ford."

[carlmipololo]

Guess.

Carl Grimes x fem!reader

Smut, oral sex f!receiving, fingering, car sex, semi public(? clothed eating out and all that jazz. Based on Guess by Charli XCX and Billie Eilish.

Sexuality was something you hadn't explored much, but if you knew something it was that girls were definitely your treat, not that guys weren't attractive to you, but there was something way more appealing about women than men to you.

You had told this to your best friend, except you decided not to let him know about the guys, the young Grimes was accepting of you, how could he not be? You were his best friend, but the disappointment was inevitable for him. Everyone knew, everyone except you, who was oblivious to Carl's obvious interest in you, he was pretty hormonal, and you were pretty, oh hell, he'd be lying if he said he didn't think you were the hottest girl around for him. He'd be lying if he said he had never found himself with his hand down his pants after letting his mind linger on the thought of you bending down to pick something up way longer than it should.

Carl was a hormonal mess. And so were you.

Going on runs was something you did pretty often, and while you waited for Rosita, Tara and Eugene in the van Carl and you came up with something to keep yourselves entertained.

"Okay, so, guessing each other's underwear color? Sounds easy." Of course it was easy, Carl would never suggest something he knew he couldn't win easily.

"Yeah, pretty easy, right? Take your guess, ladies first." He says, trying to keep a straight face, to not let his lips curve up in the cocky grin he was holding back, trying not to give himself away.

You hummed while thinking, you had seen the color of the elastic on Carl's boxers before, it couldn't be that hard, right?

"I'll go with grey. Are they grey?"

Carl chuckled as he shakes his head, amused. "Nope, try again."

After your fair share of tries and repeatedly getting it wrong you were done, letting out a frustrated huff, which was just amusing him even more, a big grin plastered on those pretty lips of his, you had to admit, he was hot when he acted this cocky, but he was also annoying.

"Okay Carl, then why don't you guess the color of mine?"

That was all he wanted to hear, he took his time, leaning in closer, his hot breath against your skin as he whispered in your ear. "I don't have to guess the color of your underwear, I saw it as soon as you sat down."

You gasp, your breath stuck in your throat as soon as he says that, his attitude finally making sense, you wanted to be angry, of course you did, but you couldn't help the way his demeanor and closeness was making you hot, you couldn't help the way your panties sticks to your aching pussy as your slickness wets them.

"What color are they then?" Your voice was way shakier than you intended, and Carl was enjoying it, his hands trailing their way up your thighs. Was he being way too impulsive right now? Of course, he knew he was. Were his hormones allowing him to stop and think it through? Hell no.

"Pink lace, quite pretty by the way... I know you like girls but..." His soft lips brush against your ear, pressing a kiss to your jaw. "You know I'd hit it, right?"

His voice is soft and husky as he says that, his hands sneaking under the hem of your shorts, feeling the warm skin, his lips trailing down to your neck, you couldn't help it, you wanted him to keep going, and the way your hands were gripping at his flannel gave it away.

"Carl...?"

He hums softly in response, his lips latched to your neck, soft kisses and occasional suction that drew pretty moans out your lips. "Want me to stop?"

Your head shakes almost frantically, not wanting him to stop at all, his grin widens against your neck as he lets go of your thighs, one of his hands moving your shorts to the side, his fingers finding your clothed clit, rubbing tiny firm circles over it, earning a myriad of moans from you, already sensitive and responsive.

He can't bite back the smirk on his lips as he lets go of your neck, his lips finding yours quickly, his mouth devouring yours, tongues dancing with each other as he slides his fingers under your wet underwear, sliding a finger inside you. Basically devouring every single moan he coaxes out of you, a second finger adding shortly after as he pumps them in and out, his thumb rubbing over your bundle of nerves to add to the feeling even more.

Carl sucks on your tongue gently, breaking the kiss and taking his fingers out as soon as he senses you're getting close, gummy walls clenching around his fingers continuously. "Why did you stop?" Your voice is breathless and shaky, and he loves he's the cause of it, he shows you the two fingers he previously had inside of you, his tongue sticking out of his mouth as he licks them clean, drunken by the taste of your juices. "So fuckin' good, I need to taste you for real."

The cowboy quickly makes his way down to your legs, kissing at your thighs and nibbling on them gently as he props your legs open and over his shoulders, wet lips and tiny love bites being imprinted on your inner thighs as he finally faces your clothed pussy, he takes in the scent, so tempting, he's the hardest he's ever been, but he tries brushing it off and focus on you, his hand moving the shorts away, but he leaves you panties in place, admiring the wet patch on them that makes the baby pink fabric slightly translucent, drawing out the outline of your folds.

"M'gonna make you feel good, pretty girl."

His voice is husky as he leans into you, pressing a soft kiss over your clothed clit, making you jolt as a shiver runs down your spine, he holds your hips down with his hands, a low laugh from him rumbling through your folds as he starts making out with your clothed cunt, tongue lapping at the fabric that sticks to you, now wet in your slickness and his spit, the feeling is enough to have you gaping, gasping for air as he pleases you over your clothes, hands reaching for his hair as you watch the windows of the van fog lightly, back arching slightly as your cheeks become reddened and eyes look glazy.

Carl decides to finally give into his own temptation, moving the panties to the side and finally tasting you fully, his tongue tracing a line up your slit before he starts lapping at your wet cunt relentlessly, making your eyes roll back as you tighten your hold on his hair, mumbling sweet nothings into the air as you whimper in a way that makes Carl almost come in his pants as he hears you, loving the way you taste on his mouth.

"C-Carl, I'm close..."

His tongue keeps moving as you say that, sucking gently on your clit, knowing that he wants to make a mess out of you, to make you come undone under his touch in such a way you will never want anyone else to do those things to you, so he quickly inserts his two fingers again, curving them up to search for your G spot, finding it easily as you almost scream the moment he presses on it, shaky hands tugging at his hair, he continues eating you out like it was his last chance to do it ever, enjoying every single second of it as he fingers you, coaxing your walls open each time you tighten around him, knowing you're about to cum in his mouth.

"C'mon pretty girl, come for me."

He whispers and quickly dips his tongue back into your folds, relishing in the feeling of your body squirming and arching under his touch as you finally come hard, a loud moan leaving your lips as you close your eyes, mind completely blank, Carl is quick to drink your juices, the ones he earned with his own mouth and fingers, he gently takes his fingers out of you and fixes your panties and shorts back to normal, smiling at how fucked out you look, so pretty because of him.

"The color of my underwear, the ones you couldn't guess, wanna find out later?"

"Bet."

He smiles at you, leaning in for a quick kiss, making you look presentable again before the others return, sitting back straight again as the rest of the little group gets back inside the van, Tara looks back at you both, smiling, "Did you guys get bored waiting? It took us longer than we thought." Carl shakes his head quickly, a satisfied smirk on his face. "What did you do to entertain yourselves?"

"A little guessing game, it can be way more entertaining than you think."

I'm dead

Tags: @crxssbowcarl @lunarnightt @carlsangel @aurasplanet @herrera2k @hiro--aoki @girlthatsinsane

[ancharan]

ive seen where those things have been, sixer

[oatmealdaydreams]

Oh no, an anomaly out at sea attacks the Grunkles! Stan gets injured. He tries to hide injury because he's far too used to tending it himself (aside from maybe his niblings). Ford is worried. He cannot find Stan. Worried Brother mode activates. Still cannot find Stan. What if he lost him? What if he can't find him and never see him again? Ford cannot deal with that kind of separation again. Science Man panics a little. But wait, he finds Stan! Success! Oh, and Stan is injured. Ford did not know that. Ford tries to help. Stan is stubborn. He tells Ford he knows how to tend to injuries, don't worry, he's tended to worse ones before all by himself when he was homeless! Ford is even more worried. Stangst occurs. Comfort also occurs. Stan eventually lets Ford help him after emotional shit goes down. Brother hugs ensue. The words "Wherever we go, we go together" are uttered at some point. Protective Ford for the win.

[ddejavvu]

Hiii I was just wondering if I could request some Han Solo x reader? Like maybe him with a super soft shy reader and Han just has the biggest soft spot for her, like maybe she gets injured in a fight or smth and Han is all sweet and doting towards her (or as sweet as he can be 😭) love youuu

happy may the 4th! send me star wars requests/headcanons and we'll have a party <3

his own brand of sweetness <3

--

"I told you not to rush in there," Han's voice is stern as his face wrinkles with the force of his frown. He's peering down at your arm, a gash stretching from shoulder to elbow from where a sharpened staff had caught you in the heat of battle. It's not as deep as it is wide, which is a small blessing, but it does sting, moreso when Han slathers it in antiseptic.

"I was trying to help you," You protest feebly, "They were shooting at you."

"Uh-huh," He glances incredulously up at you, "And I was shooting back. That's what a fight is, sweetheart. If I hadn't gotten to you in time, they'd have plucked you off of that spear and hung you on the wall."

"I think I helped, though." Your voice gives way to a slight cough, courtesy of the smoke inhalation you've suffered, "'Cause they got distracted when they saw me and that's how you got through."

"They got distracted 'cause they saw you as an easy target! You should let Chewie and me take care of the stupid stunts," He corrects you, stretching a strip of gauze around your bicep, "And I mean stupid; that was braindead, sister."

Humbled by your injury and Han's lecture combined, you grumble, "You are pretty good at stupid."

"Incredible." He marvels, sitting back and looking at your half-wrapped arm, "I'm sitting here, playing medic because you decided to run face-first into an entire Imperial fleet, and you're sitting here telling me I'm a moron."

"That's because you're yelling at me for trying to help you," You level him with as vicious of a glare as you can manage, "Face it, Han, you can't shoot your way out of everything."

"It's never failed me before," He insists, finishing up the dressing on your freshly cleaned wound, "But thank you, brave warrior, for charging headfirst into a fight you were hopelessly outgunned in, and making me circle back to drag your lifeless body back onto the Falcon."

Thank you for distracting them, is what he really means, but words like those could never come directly from his mouth. You know their translation though, and you grin proudly, "You're welcome, Han."

[ikebanaka]

I bet Ford and Bill would've played some crazy Yugioh games in the dreamscape if it existed in the 80s

[get-lost-in-fanfiction]

hi!! i saw your requests are open and im currently rewatching lost and crushing on sawyer all over again, could you maybe write a fic about braiding his hair? (lots and lots of fluff) f!reader in an already established relationship with james, thank you!

Braids

Paring: Sawyer x F!Reader

Word Count: 1.4k

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The first rays of sunlight filtered through the thick jungle canopy, casting soft beams of gold onto the beach. The island was waking up slowly, but the usual chatter of the camp was still blissfully absent. The ocean’s waves lapped lazily at the shore, and a cool breeze rustled through the palm trees, carrying with it the salty scent of the sea.

You stretched out on your back in the makeshift tent, the one you shared with Sawyer—James, really, but no one else ever called him that. The tent was a little beaten up from the weeks of wear, but it had become something of a sanctuary for the two of you, offering a sliver of privacy in an otherwise chaotic life.

James lay beside you, still fast asleep, his chest rising and falling steadily with each deep breath. His blonde hair, grown longer since the crash, was fanned out across the pillow. It had a habit of falling into his eyes, wild and unruly from the humid island air. You couldn’t help but smile as you studied his relaxed features—his usual scowl and teasing grin replaced with something softer. He looked younger when he slept, less burdened by the weight of his past.

Careful not to disturb him, you turned onto your side, propping your head up with one hand. You reached out with the other, brushing a lock of hair from his forehead, tucking it behind his ear. The sun glinted off his skin, making him look almost golden in the morning light. 

James stirred slightly at your touch, a low hum escaping his throat, but he didn’t open his eyes just yet. Instead, his arm snaked around your waist, pulling you closer without a word. It was moments like this that felt like a dream—when the island didn’t seem so harsh, and it was just the two of you, cocooned in your own little world.

You smiled to yourself and continued running your fingers through his hair, enjoying the soft texture of it. It was one of the few luxuries the island had allowed, and you took full advantage of it every chance you got.

“You plannin’ on pettin’ me all morning, or you gonna say somethin’?” His voice was rough with sleep, that slow Southern drawl breaking the silence.

You chuckled, biting your lip as his blue eyes cracked open, peeking at you from beneath those long lashes. “Maybe I’m just enjoying the peace and quiet before you start running your mouth.”

He grinned lazily, pulling you even closer until your head was resting on his chest, his thumb idly tracing circles on your lower back. “Careful, sweetheart. You’re gonna hurt my delicate feelings.”

You snorted. “Oh yeah? Since when have you ever had delicate feelings?”

He raised an eyebrow, pretending to be offended. “You forgettin’ how sensitive I am? I’m practically a damn poet.”

You laughed softly, pressing your hand to his chest as you propped yourself up again. His hair, still falling messily around his face, caught your attention, and you gave him a playful look. “Speaking of sensitive… how about I fix this hair of yours before it takes over your face entirely?”

Sawyer gave a dramatic sigh, though his smile never wavered. “You just can’t resist playin’ with it, can ya?”

“Can you blame me?” You twirled a lock of his hair around your finger. “It’s a mess, but it’s *my* mess.”

He let out a low chuckle, clearly enjoying the attention. “Alright, darlin’. If it makes you happy, braid away.” He dropped his arm from around your waist, folding his hands behind his head in a show of surrender. “But don’t expect me to walk around camp with it, or I’ll never hear the end of it from the doc.”

You smiled and shifted so you could sit up properly, scooting close enough to begin your task. As your fingers moved through his hair, you noticed how he relaxed completely under your touch, the tension in his body melting away as you worked. The familiarity of the moment felt grounding—like an anchor in the storm of the island’s uncertainty.

Starting with a section of hair at the top of his head, you carefully parted it into three strands, letting your fingers move slowly as you began braiding. The hair was soft, slightly damp from the humidity, but it felt natural now—the way things had been since you’d grown close to him. Even in the most chaotic situations, you always seemed to find these quiet moments together, moments where the rest of the island and its dangers faded away.

As you finished the first braid, you leaned down to press a kiss to the top of his head, breathing in the scent of salt and sun that clung to him.

“Ya know,” James said, his voice quieter now, “if I’d known you were gonna turn into a hairdresser out here, I might’ve made you cut it short.”

You laughed softly, moving on to braid another section. “You wouldn’t dare. Besides, I like your hair this way.”

“Oh yeah?” His voice was teasing, but there was something softer underneath. “And what exactly do you like about it?”

You paused for a second, considering his question. “I like that it’s soft,” you said, fingers still threading through his hair. “And that it feels like you when I touch it. Like something familiar.”

James didn’t say anything for a long moment, and when you glanced down at him, you caught the slight tilt of his lips, a rare smile that wasn’t his usual cocky smirk, but something deeper. The kind of smile that made your heart skip a beat.

“You got a way with words, ya know that?” he murmured, his eyes still closed as if savoring the moment.

You hummed in response, finishing the second braid and moving on to the last. The sun was climbing higher in the sky, casting longer beams of light across the sand. The camp would be waking up soon, and the daily chaos would begin again, but right now, everything was still calm. It was just the two of you, wrapped up in the gentle rhythm of the morning.

As you tied off the final braid, you sat back to admire your handiwork. His long hair was now neatly braided in three small plaits along the sides of his head, leaving the rest of it loose and out of his face. It wasn’t anything fancy, but it made him look even more ruggedly handsome in that untamed way only Sawyer could pull off.

“There,” you said softly, leaning down to press a kiss to his forehead. “All done.”

He opened his eyes then, glancing up at you with that familiar spark of mischief. “So, how do I look? Like a million bucks?”

You giggled, brushing your fingers over the braids to smooth them down. “Better than that.”

James sat up, pulling you into his lap in one swift motion, his arms wrapping around your waist as he nuzzled into the crook of your neck. “Damn right,” he murmured against your skin, pressing soft kisses along your collarbone. “I’m worth at least a billion.”

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t suppress the warmth that bloomed in your chest at his touch. “I’ll give you that,” you said, running your fingers through the hair at the back of his neck.

For a moment, the world outside your tent didn’t exist. There were no Others, no looming dangers, no mysteries to solve. Just you and James, wrapped in each other, the morning sun warming your skin and the quiet sound of the ocean in the background.

“Ya know,” he said, his voice low and teasing, “you coulda braided your own hair. Give me somethin’ to hold onto next time.”

You laughed, swatting his arm lightly. “You wish.”

“Oh, I know,” he drawled, pressing another kiss to your neck, “and don’t you forget it.”

You leaned back into him, closing your eyes as the breeze ruffled the fabric of the tent. Whatever the island threw at you today, you felt ready to face it. Because no matter how rough things got, no matter what dangers or mysteries still lingered out there in the jungle, you had this. These moments with James, the man who let you braid his hair in the quiet mornings when no one else was watching.

And somehow, that made everything else a little more bearable.

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Please let me know if you’d like to be tagged for oneshots!

[zpiderwebs]

A/N: it's literally 4am..HUZAHHH I wanted to write this soo badd mmnngghhfff..also, this is the first actual time I write in..a very long time that has to do with my own idea...sorry if it's not good </3

△△△△△△△△△△△△△△△△

𖦹[△"Who are you..?"△]𖦹

[In control! Bill Cipher (Ford) x GN! reader]

Summary: [Basically Bill in Ford's body. That's all. Reader witnesses it all and Bill is very...icky about his Sixer.]

Warnings?: Just kinda angsty and lots of swearing coming from reader and Bill just being a complete dick and doesn't care about hurting reader's feelings...guh..apologies in advance!

(;´∀｀). Enjoy!!

------------------------------------

Four goddamn months.

It's been four dreadfully long months since you've last had a decent conversation with him. He hardly pays attention, hardly even needs you down in the basement, and now his fucking home is full of..triangles. You thought it was another one of his little silly quirks..but no. "Meditating" sessions have turned into hours. Hours of him being locked down in the basement, refusing you to even take a peek down at the portal. What the hell were you even needed for anymore? Did he just need your damn help on the calculations and mathematic brain and that's all???

God, it all bothered you so much.

You felt like you were wasting so much time just sitting on your ass all day, not even having any type of interaction besides with yourself when your half asleep and mumbling whatever crosses your mind.

Ford. Ford was a great and smart man when you became friends through Fiddleford back at Backupsmore. But now, after he dragged you all the way to a small town called Gravity Falls that was nowhere near where you last lived...you've never felt so isolated and alone. The one man you once considered to be a great friend and a smart guy..turned out to be just a mess.

He barely eats anymore. Barely sleeps or even takes care of himself. Only ever coming up for more bitter coffee and heading back to the basement without a word to say, brushing pass you. He worries the hell out of you...and your not sure how long you could keep going at this, allowing him to destroy himself mentally and physically.

Well, you have hit your limit.

It was a late night. You had woken up to a loud sound coming from the basement. You didn't realize you had fallen asleep reading a book on the couch. You quickly sat up and walked towards the basement door. Reaching for the doorknob, it didn't stop when you slightly turned it.

It was unlocked.

Sucking in air through clenched teeth, you gripped the doorknob even tighter. You knew you shouldn't, but you needed to make sure your only friend at the moment was okay. Slowly, turning the cold knob, you pulled the door towards you. Once it was open, you heard Ford talking to himself and..laughing? That was..new.

You began to descend the stairs, slowly making your way down. Barely a few steps down, you heard another crash that was followed by another laugh.

"What the fuck..?" You quietly mumbled to yourself. Once you reached the ground, you quickly scanned the area and saw Ford hunched over his desk, writing something into his journal. You walked over, making sure not to startle him with your new presence.

"Ford? You..alright?" You called out. Suddenly Ford's body jumped as he dropped the pen he was writing with. He quickly flung his head to look at you with...weird eyes.

His eyes looked odd. Was the lack of sleep finally catching up to him? Then, a wide smile appeared on his face as his eyes stayed glued to yours. Creepy. That stare sent shivers down your spine as you swallowed hard and bit the inside of your cheek.

"Hey, toots. Didn't think you'd come down here." Ford chuckled, awkwardly standing up as he quickly made his way over. You took a step back.

'Toots'? Since when the hell did he start using nicknames like that?

"Uh, well, you were making a lot of noise and...I just wanted to check up on you. First..time you fucking speak to me in..months practically. What's up with that?" You rubbed the back of your neck, awkwardly looking away. Fuck, you sounded desperate...and you were.

Ford took some time to answer, like if he wasn't actually expecting you to keep a conversation going, hoping you'd just day 'Oh, okay' and scram.

"Oh well..I dunno. Too busy." Ford shrugged. Oh, that answer pissed you off.

"Busy? With what? Seriously, Ford. What possibly could you be doing down here, just hunching over your damn desk and writing in your journal. The least you could do is eat something. All you live off of is coffee? Don't you understand how bad that is?" You huffed. You haven't felt this..angry in years. The last person you wanted to upset you was Ford.

"Why does that concern you so much? Your so concerned over him that you can't even think straight, toots." Ford chuckled, his...weary yellow eyes looking into yours as he took a step closer.

You huffed. His way of speaking sounded off. "It concerns me because you can get yourself killed this way, Ford. How am I supposed to know if you do drop dead when your always locked down here? I wouldn't even know if you hardly speak to me anymore in the first place!"

Ford groaned and rolled his eyes. "God, you humans and your dumb relationships and emotions. Boring! Your all so clingy, depending on attention and empathy from others. It's pathetic."

You raised a brow. Ouch? What the hell was he talking about now? "Ford, seriously, just talk normal. And..I wanted to ask you, what's up with all this stupid triangle worship stuff and..all this 'meditation'? Your really worrying me."

Ford only sighed before pinching his nose and looking at you dead in the eyes. "Alright listen, toots. And listen good because I'm not repeating myself. I'm not Ford. I'm Bill. I'm his biggest and only muse. He doesn't need you or anybody anymore. He has me and that's all he needs. You were nothing but a pure tool for him to use until he didn't need it anymore, and that'd be..now! So, you've been doing nothing this whole time while me and little ol Sixer have been having a blast." Ford..or..now Bill that was in Ford's body, chuckled.

You were..dumbfounded. What..? "H-huh? Okay, Ford, is this some sick joke?"

Bill chuckled and made his way closer to you, causing you to back up..only for your back to hit the wall.

"Oh, no I'm not joking, toots. I'm in control of Sixer right now. And right now, I'm telling you to leave. He doesn't need you anymore. He doesn't need anyone. Your just a waste of space and a mere tool he used and doesn't need anymore. Back into the tool box!" Bill laughed.

As he continued to laugh at his own words, your mind was trying to comprehend what the fuck was going on. "Who are you...? What are you...?" You murmured out. Bill only chuckled against.

"I'm Bill Cipher. I'm this man's muse."

"What do you want with Ford? Were...you the reason we started building that dumb fucking portal!?" You snapped but suddenly a six fingered hand was slapped onto your mouth.

"Now, let's not disrespect my work or insult it with that dirty mouth, toots. Watch your words. It's simple, really. Ford is what I've been looking for, and I'm what he's been needing. He doesn't need a pestering worthless being like you around him. Your always nagging, begging for attention like some lost puppy. It's pathetic, really. Don't you have anything else to do in your sad life?" Bill's smirk widened, letting out a laugh.

"Of course you don't. You've been thrown under the bus and now your trying to crawl your way out, but that's not possible. He doesn't want or need you anymore, face it. He used you for what he needed. For that smart little brain of yours and that's all. He didn't actually care for your friendship, he was just playing along."

You felt a lump build up in your throat. That's not true..or is it..? Well..he is in Ford's mind. Is that what Ford really thought of you and only needed you for..? You pulled away from the hand before speaking up.

"That's not true-!"

Suddenly-- the hand slapped against against your mouth, shutting you up. "Yes it is! Just accept it already! Your worthless. All you'll ever be good for is to be used and thrown aside. Ford never gave a single shit about you. Your nothing." Bill frowned, speaking through gritted teeth as he glared.

"Now...you can leave his sight, leave him alone. He doesn't need you anymore."

Bill then let you go. You didn't say a word as he walked back towards the desk and sat back down. You wanted to bash something into his head..but that'd mean hurting Ford's body in the process too. His words had already stabbed way too deep into you.

Fuck, you felt like crying...it hurt. It all hurt. Was that really what Ford thought about you? All he ever needed you for? You felt your eyes sting.

You simply wobbled upstairs without another word. You laid awake, starring at the ceiling until you felt hot tears stream down the sides of your face. Everything hurt.

The next morning, you left without word. You thought about leaving a small note or even a letter..but if Ford never said those things and Bill was just lying, he knew where to find you and tell you the truth or write...

But it hurt that 30 years later,

he never wrote to you.

-----

[jubmato]

i love that stupid little turtleneck he wore for all of 2 seconds on screen 💛💛💛

[froggy-demon]

Ford x College Age!Reader (gender neutral)

Please accept this offering Ford lovers, I plan on doing some pre portal ford writing so pleaseee send requests for pre portal ford/stan, also open to (almost) any other asks !! <3

You’re in college for either business or a STEM program, in fact it’s the summer before your senior year of your program

You had been looking for internships to take on over the summer when one of your aunts insisted upon reaching out to a friend of hers from college

“Smart man that Pines, told me he owed me a favor one time and I’m sure he has something for you to work on!”

You were not so sure about shipping out to the middle of Oregon to work for some old college buddy of your Aunt’s, but off you went anyway, it was better for your resume than nothing.

So you had been working at the Mystery Shack

Upon arriving you found that there was in fact two ‘Stan’s, there was the one who actually went by Stan as well as Ford, your Aunt’s actual former classmate.

Stan was very laid back, and he loved having an extra set of cheap hands around the shop even if it meant you were taking up the (formerly wax statue) spare room and drinking all their coffee. You grew on him pretty quickly and you had a very friendly and sarcastic sort of dynamic, it was easy to joke around with him and the two of you were absolutely encourageable

Ford was not so quick to warm up to you it seemed. He was certainly the more serious of the two and always had some experiment to work on or thing to engineer, meaning you also just didn’t spend as much time with him off the bat.

“It’s too easy to get hurt. I can’t exactly send you back home with a broken arm, or worse, I fear your Aunt will trek all the way up here just to wack me on the head!”

That said he did sometimes let you come down to the lab, especially if you played it off by bringing a coffee for him and offered to organize or clean something up (Ford had no motivation in cleaning his horribly chaotic labs, but he did very much enjoy a clean lab when it was possible) and you found yourself sitting at the cash register upstairs just trying to think of excuses to go downstairs more than you’d like to admit.

One afternoon at the shack you were stocking inventory onto the floor while Ford uncharacteristically had been chatting with Stan for quite a while in the gift shop. you’d been stealing glances their way, but Ford’s back was to you anyway, his six fingered hands clasped behind his back as they often were. After the third of fourth time Stan caught you he winked at you, “like what you see?” He teased. Your ears burned when Ford turned to follow where his twin was looking, you turned back to the merchandise in front of you replying sarcastically “yeah these Bigfoot snow globes are pretty cool.” Earning a laugh from Stan and from the corner of your eye you could see Ford smiling at you curiously before going back to their conversation.

Eventually Ford had gone back downstairs and two tour groups later you were still thinking about the way he had look at you. It was ridiculous though, he was supposed to be your mentor this summer and you’d been brought up to date on all the freaky goings ons of last summer when he walked out of a different dimension, not to mention he had a few decades on you. He wasn’t the first older man to have caught your eye, but he was the first you fell so hard for. Given this, while you pretended to read all you could think about was what excuse to give Stan. The sound of the “employees only” entrance into the house caught your attention, you were ready to ask for a coffee break and of course you would be polite and bring one to Ford who always appreciated more coffee. Stan didn’t even give you the chance, “I don’t wanna hear it, you are actually going to work the job you have here today.” He chided, inspecting your stock job. “I have rights you know, you still need to give me breaks, I’ve yet to have one today.” You’d defend. “This is not how you get a glowing letter of recommendation.” He grumbled checking shelves for dust that wasn’t there. “Isn’t Ford supposed to write that?” You quirked an eyebrow at his assessment of the store, he is not normally so picky. “Fucking- Fine I guess so, is that why you want to go kiss his ass right now?” The older man asked walking back over to you at the cash register, evidently satisfied with the store. His arms were crossed over his chest, now he was assessing you, clearly he could tell you were working an angle, but couldn’t pinpoint what exactly it was. You took the excuse, hopping out of your seat. “Yup! Thank you Stan!” You said walking past him. “For what?” He asked. “For the rest of the day off!” And you disappeared through the door he had just come through before he could argue. Quickly you went to the kitchen to brew a fresh pot of coffee and before long had poured two cups just the way you each liked them. You quietly walked down the staircase carefully not to disturb the scientist prematurely, a knot building in your stomach, some mix of anxiety and excitement. Ford always mumbled to himself while working, something you honestly found kinda charming, but it also made it easy to know which room he was in if you just listened for his low voice. “Dr. Ford?” You called out as you approached the open door. You had called him ‘Dr. Ford’ the first time you met him and he had lit up at the title ‘Dr. Ford, I like that’ he had said with a smile, it always pulled a small smile to his lips to hear you call him like that.

Three doctorates and only one person he knows uses his proper title! He certainly wasn’t going to stop you, especially when you always said it so sweetly, it almost sounded like a compliment the way you said it and it definitely boosted his ego like one. He liked that about you, you may have seemed friendlier with Stan, but never sweet like you are with him. “Come in, come in” he called, glancing quickly towards you before continuing writing. “I was making myself fresh coffee and thought you might like one as well?” You offered holding one mug out to him. He placed his pen on his page closing the journal to take the mug from you as you walked in. Taking a sip his smile widened, “two sugars, perfect, thank you.” He said. Your coffee always tasted better than his, sometimes he’s even put off getting himself a fresh one in hope you would offer instead.

He watched you walk over to the seat on the opposite side of the table and sit down with your own mug, his eyes clung to the curve of your silhouette for longer than they should. Internally he chastised himself for even wanting to look at you that way, some your age—it wasn’t appropriate, but the guilt still never stopped him. “Is there anything else I can help with?” You asked, looking around the room. Ford forced him mind to push out the thought of something you could help him with. “Well,” he paused to clear his throat, “I’m not sure if there is much to be done today. Just boring data entry.” Your mouth formed a small frown at his words, still not looking back at him as you anxious tapped your mug. “What about your glassware, I’d be happy to clean and sanitize them, I know it can be a pain.” You offered, acutely aware that you didn’t actually see any dirty lab equipment, maybe he was hiding it all in one room like a kid after being told to clean up. Ford had already done that though, he seemed easily distracted today so his focus had been on tasks that didn’t necessarily require full mental effort like cleaning the glassware and simple data entry. His eyes dwelled on your mouth when you bit your lip at this news, all your usual tasks had been done already, “Well, is it okay if I just read down here then? I like the quiet.” You asked softly trying to ignore the light blush you could feel dusting your face. He nodded, unsure of why you wanted to, but happy to accommodate, especially if it meant his got to observe you more.

After that Ford found himself watching you more often whenever you were around, even going out of his way to go up to the gift shop when you knew he was there to hang around or talk to Stan. He also liked when you’d ask for his help: “Dr. Ford? Could you reach that box?” “Dr. Ford, can you help me move the display?” He loved feeling needed by you.

His thoughts about you were loudest at night though, when the store was closed and you’d just be hanging around the shack in your pjs. He would try to work late, especially once Stan caught him looking at you as your reached for the top of a cabinet on your tiptoes, the hem of your shirt and shorts each riding up exposing even more skin. Stan had walked in and promptly clocked his brother, silently hitting him on the back of the head, ‘Need me to reach that for ya?’

Yeah he didn’t trust himself to be subtle enough around you in that state, even if he craved it.

You on the other hand were worried you’d done something wrong seeing his withdrawal. Still, he never turned away your coffee, he’d get this soft tired look in his eyes every time you handed it to him, you knew this was a weak point for him. One you didn’t mind exploiting.

You and Stan have just finished a watch of one of those cheesy and overly generic horror movies that played nonstop on channel 13, he was off to bed for the night, but you hadn’t seen Ford come up since before dinner. The man kept odd sleeping hours, but you brewed a decaf pot just to be safe. The summer heat and barely working ac unit of the mystery shack meant you were only ever able to wear your little sleep shorts and a tank top or maybe an oversized tshirt overnight and this was no exception. Totallyyyy no other reason…

You crept down the staircase with his coffee in hand, thinking of your excuse, readying a reason to stick around. “Dr. Ford? It’s pretty late you know, you should be getting to bed soon.” You called out, keeping your voice light. When you got to the bottom of the stairs you saw he was in the main room sitting at the first table with one hand propping up his chin as tired eyes examined the journal he was writing in. “You’re one to talk.” He retorted with a weary smile before looking up towards you. Ford could feel his face warm at the sight of you, what a sight you were, your pjs hugged the shape of you revealing the tops of your thighs, the curve of your hips, even a section of your waist exposed. His eyes raked over you slowly as you approached him, you were very pleased to have caught his attention. “I couldn’t sleep,” you said, holding out his mug, leaning one hip against the table next to where his hands rested. Ford hesitated before taking the mug. “It’s decaf, coffee is not a replacement for sleep.” You said and he finally took it. His eyes were fighting to focus on yours, your hands overlapping on the mug as you transferred it. You could feel the callouses that had formed on his hands over time rake across your softer skin and it nearly sent a shiver down your spine as the little voice in the back of your head begged to know what they would feel like against more of your skin. “I know.” Was all he said flatly, closing his journal and eliciting a frown out of you. He pushed his glasses up, pinching his eyes closed as he rubbed them from a mix of tiredness and trying to focus his guilty mind. “Dr. Ford?” You asked, adding to the knot forming in his gut. “Do I bother you?” You asked, pulling yourself onto the table so that your legs dangled over the side, trying to read him. Truly it was impossible for you to tell if he had decided you were the most annoying person in town or if he possibly returned the interest you held in him. Ford leaned back in his seat, looking back at you, feeling ashamed that he wanted to do nothing more than to spread your soft thighs in front of him and show you just how highly he thought of you, ‘does this feel like you bother me?’ He’d coo, but he couldn’t. “Why do you ask?” He managed to say, his voice coming out lower than usual. You’re soft lips pressed together as you searched for the right words, “Stan said I’d been bugging you too much and you just seemed withdrawn when I tried to help down here, I’m sorry.” Your voice was soft and your thumb was subconsciously busy digging into your other nail beds one at a time, a nervous tick. Ford parted his lips, pausing, choosing his words very carefully, “Of course not, in fact I’ve been very grateful to have you here, it’s just-“ his eyes were transfixed on your hands, resting in your lap, he placed his larger hand on top, stilling your anxious movement. “-I’ve been having a hard time concentrating on my work when you’re around.” His choice of words made your heart pound in your chest. “I’m not used to be observed.” He added, deflating you once more. You had no idea what to do with him, all you could think about was that his skin was touching yours, fixating on the way his thumb was gently rubbing your hand. At one point you knew you would have to just say it because this second he was driving you absolutely crazy. He so rarely touched you and here, so alone, so late, so exposed, you desperately needed a conclusion.

“Ford?” You started, the sound rang in his ears. He was always ‘Dr. Ford’ to you, always, as much as he loved hearing you use his title the lack of it here was even more arousing. You felt your face burning as you built up the courage to continue, “I’d like it if you kissed me.” You wanted to say something more, but it all was caught in your throat. His thumb stopped, neither of you said a word as you sat perfectly still, you wanted to run up the stairs and never look at him again and probably die of embarrassment at some point along the way from the silence. Finally, he moved his hand off of yours, you closed your eyes unwilling to take in the sight of him, even when you felt him cup your cheek and gently turn your face towards him. “You shouldn’t want to.” Was all he said, but when you raised your eyes to look at him his face was so soft, you leaned into his touch, placing a hand on the arm reached out to you. A small “Please” was the only encouragement he needed before he buckled, shoving aside what he think should be and focusing on what he desperately wanted, he slid his hand to the back of your neck, pulling you in for a gentle kiss. His guilt and worry washed away, this was perfect you were perfect. Finally, what you had been daydreaming of for weeks happened, your fingers quickly found themselves in his hair and his free hand moved to your thigh, squeezing the soft exposed skin. You reveled in the taste of him, coffee mixing with the scent of leather filled your senses as you leaned further into him. His hand on your thigh began to explore you, squeezing your hips, tracing around your waist, threatening the hem of your shirt, you encouraged him by parting your lips gently and allowing him to deepen the kiss. Ford was eager to, eliciting a small groan to escape you and only turning him on more, such a sweet sound, he wanted more of them. His grip on you tightened bringing more sweet moans to his ears yet just as suddenly as it had started, it stopped. He pulled away resting his forehead on yours letting you both process and catch your breath. Ford wanted to do everything he’d been envisioning of the last few weeks, but he also didn’t want to rush things with you, it wasn’t just lust for him. He had grown incredibly attached to you, the way you smiled and laughed and were sweet to him and smart, he wanted more of all of you. He moved both of his hands down to your waist, tracing tiny circles there with his thumbs keeping you captivated, afraid to break the tension. “That was a good idea.” He practically panted, rolling his head down to your neck where he planted gentle, barely there, kisses up towards your jaw. On one hand he wanted to taste more of you, but on the other he was embarrassed for you to see the desperation for you that he couldn’t keep off of his face. “We should both get some rest.” He asserted against your skin. You melted at his touch and you didn’t want to leave this moment, but you couldn’t produce a whole sentence fast enough. “Before you get to working tomorrow,” he planted one more kiss on your cheek, “come back down here okay?” You breathily agreed, Ford hummed and released you, his eyes tracing over you again, using all the composure he had left to restrain himself in front of you as you hopped down and left for your room for the night. Admittedly you both had a very difficult time falling asleep.

The first few days after that you didn’t say much on the matter. You had done as asked and found him back in the lab looking better rested than normal the next day, fully dressed, he was less confident, but you were eager for his touch and his lips on your skin again. It repeated like that for the next couple nights, until you worked up the courage to ask him, while sitting on his lap and acutely aware of a hickey forming just below the collar of your tshirt, “Ford,” you caught his attention seeing his eyes flick their focus back to your face, “I absolutely enjoy this, but-“ crimson washed over your features, unsure the right way to proceed. You didn’t want to scare him off, nor for your late nights to end, but you also had to tell him your feelings for him. “I like you as more than this I-“ Ford you kept one arm around your back to keep you steady as he moved the other to take one of your hands, bringing in front of his lips. “I’d like more than this.” He finished for you, kissing your knuckles gently, he fumbled for his words a moment before stopping and taking a deep breath, “I treasure you far too much to not want more.”

The two of you spent the rest of the night on the roof after that, talking mostly, kissing some, Ford had a wonderfully awful trait of wandering hands while he spoke. Whenever he was listening to you though his mind was too occupied to wander so much, instead he busied himself by playing with your hair or holding your face. Whenever you’d point out his handsiness he’d become flustered and turn pink, even under the moonlight you could tell that he was flushed as he stuttered out an explanation.

While you didn’t immediately say anything to Stan, he caught on fairly quickly that something had shifted with the two of you, especially since he had picked up on Ford’s attraction in the past. ‘How the hell did that happen?’ Stan asked on a particularly slow day when it was just the two of you in the gift shop, you didn’t need to hear his train of thought to know what he meant. ‘You don’t seriously think I liked brewing that much coffee just for fun do you?’ Which was enough for him seeing how much his brother had been smiling and even sleeping more regularly. (Something was tiring him out for once)

Master List

[a-scary-lack-of-common-sense]

Continuation to This Post :]

------

It was always so strange to hear adults argue.

Grown up fights never seemed quite the same as the trivial spats her and Dipper sometimes had. They were similar in some aspects, yes; Adults and children weren't as different as people liked to think. Mabel had seen adults verbally lash at one another with vicious words just as low hanging and petty as the ones she'd sometimes see kids the same age as her use. Adults arguing was essentially just a louder, angrier version of children fights.

And yet, there was somehow... more to it. Grown up arguments always seemed to weigh so much heavier in the air, and for so much longer than she'd ever thought possible.

Sometimes, the weight would leave quick and early, practically gone by the next morning. However, occasionally, the weight would stay; and grow heavier, and heavier over the years. Until it came to a point when the weight was nothing but a choking, stifling presence that seemed to fill every room in the house and buzz deafeningly in your ears like an unpleasant static that made your head pound.

Then, one day, the pressure would burst with a loud yell, a slam, and a bang, and start building up all over again. It was a cycle Mabel was much familiar with.

Her Grunkle Ford's "Mystery Shack" didn't have that air.

The shack's air smelled like burnt out candles and cheap discount Halloween fake blood, with a hint of real blood underneath the stinging scent of old wood and aged parchment. It wasn't necessarily a very nice air, certainly not in any way the fresh, crisp, clean air of the streets of Piedmont, but it smelled more like home than she'd ever felt back in California. It just smelled like... Grunkle Ford.

She liked her Grunkle Ford. He was super weird; with an even weirder Uncle as his roommate. He checked her and Dipper's arms and legs every morning "just in case someone broke in at night to steal a sample of their bloods"; he despised overly sweet foods (baffling, truly); and he had exactly 27 locks installed on the front and back door respectively that he could unlock all in under a minute with his really fast extra fingers. He reminded her a little of Dipper on some occasions, no matter how much the latter liked to deny the similarities (although, bar the demonic obssession).

However, last night, the air suddenly grew heavy.

Grunkle Ford had a fight.

Mabel hadn't heard it, and she hadn't seen it, but she knew there had been one. She was an expert recognizing the signs; she could always tell.

When she had awoken that late morning, the stuffy summer air had taken an even more sour note than usual, and had become a touch heavier than it should have been. Either that meant Grunkle Ford had just recently finished up a ritual, or a particularly rowdy argument had taken place; and Mabel knew that Grunkle Ford only performed his rituals between 2 to 4 AM, when he thought the twins were well asleep.

It was strange, to feel that same heavy air push down upon her temples and pound that same painful rhythm of a mounting headache as it used to do so often back when Mabel was in California. It had already happened a few times at the shack, but this one felt... heavier, than usual. She didn't think she would have to encounter the discomforting weight again this summer, away from her parents. Yet here she was. Aching.

She knew Gunkle Ford and Uncle Bill fought and bantered. With Bill being a permanent resident trapped within her Grunkle's mind, she couldn't imagine how they wouldn't. She didn't think even she could keep her cool if she had Uncle Bill as her brain roommate 24/7.

In any case, their interactions in front of the twins were mostly a mixture of exasperated resignation, or irritated tolerance, mostly from Grunkle Ford. Their occasional volleying exchanges of vitriol doused insults and words were short lived, and brief most of the time, especially when in front of the kids. They were nothing like the long, loud ones that could go on for hours back at her house in Piedmont.

Even so, there were some times when Mabel would see Grunkle Ford late in the evening, red faced and tight fisted, stomping down to the basement and disappearing into his lab there with a deafening slam of the rickety wooden door. She recognized that slam. He didn't want the twins to hear the argument.

Even if they could hear anything, what little they could glean always seemed to be only side of the argument, with Grunkle Ford yelling curses at Uncle Bill inside his head. She always did wonder what happened inside Grunkle Ford's head. Although, she wasn't sure if she wanted to know the answer. She couldn't imagine the state of the mind of someone who sometimes forgot to eat or sleep for almost a full week until someone reminded him.

The entire day passed with that same, tense air choking the atmosphere. Dipper had dragged Mabel and himself to some adventure in the forest, but it seemed to her that he was just trying to find excuses to stay out of the shack for the time being. Even he seemed to feel the unnerving heaviness of the air.

That night, underneath her sheets, Mabel pulled out the worn and well used wooden art mannequins Dipper and Grunkle Ford seemed to keen on using to summon Bill rather than their own shadows. With her trusty golden glitter pen (that she knew Uncle Bill loved despite what he claimed), she gently drew a closed eye upon the blank wooden face of the little model.

The eye opened, and she spoke:

[localcanadiancreature62]

Fiddlestan au Stan and Fidds argument Post Weirdmaggedon

@mickeytk Here.

////////////////////////////////////////////////

Stan is watching the Duchess Approves in the living room as he hears the loud noises of Dipper and Mabel running around from upstairs as they do dumb kid stuff like forcing each other to gross smelling sniff scratch and sniff stickers,he sighs contentedly as he can finally have peaceful quiet moments like this again without having to worry about the portal or Bill hurting his family anymore. He then smiles as he turns up the volume of his favorite show while eating a can of meat. "Ah. This is the life. No Bill,no portal,no apocalypse,just me in my house and my family being left to their own devices. I sure hope this peace sticks forever." Stan says to himself as he enjoys his quiet afternoon,until he heard the rough knocking on the door. He decided to ignore it as he figured it was probably some dumb gnomes trying to get in and steal food again plus he was busy watching the good part where Duchess sues Count Lionel for killing her new husband. But the knocking persisted. He then groans in annoyance as he walked up to the door to answer it as neither the kids nor his brother were around to answer with them being busy having fun elsewhere. To his surprise,Fiddleford Mcgucket was at his door. He tried to not act happy about the southern man finally reaching out after those painful years of watching him lose himself. "What's your business here,Hick?. Tell me now or i'll shut the door on your freakishly long nose." Stan asks as the hillbilly looked at him with his big bright eyes and charming smile while he lightly blushed,the con man almost vomiting from the fact that the southerner STILL makes him feel this way even after how much he hurt him. "Ah just wanted to see Stanferd' so i could show him my new plans for creating a trapping device fer anomalies. And i.. want to talk to you." Fiddleford explains as he stared at the former grifter expectantly. "Ford's not here,Mcgucket. He's chasing some new moth species in the forest. Get lost." Stan says in frustration,not wanting to face his ex despite how his gut tells him that he absolutely needs to and even yearns to. Fidds isn't offended by the man's harshness in the slightest. As based on the things he recollected about the con's behavior through the kids telling him stories about him,he was always a grump who often avoided being "sappy" unless he couldn't take it anymore. "Well fine. I know how bad ya feel about our.. separation,darlin'. Stanferd' has been telling me about your guilt and how bad you took the heartbreak lately ever since he found out about our relationship. If ya really want me to leave again,i understand. Yer probably not ready to talk yet anyway-." Fiddleford remarks as he then tries to walk away,only for the swindler to grab him by the wrist. "Damnit Ford. I can't believe he told you even when i explicitly told him to NOT tell you anything about my pathetic moping over the break up. And uhhh,you can stay. I.. want to talk too." Stan replied as he opened the door a bit wider to let the hillbilly in as Fiddleford enters the building while the con guided him to the kitchen where they can discuss their relationship more comfortably. Stan sat in his chair while Fiddleford sat at the chair in front of him. "So what do you have to say for yourself?. After making me go through that dumb memory gun 'experiment',which was just an excuse to rope me into your problems." Stan says bitterly,leaving out the part where he heavily grieved the southern man after he lost his sanity in the final moments of the memory tapes before the car crash occurred. "Ah never meant to force you into anything back then. You were completely willing to help at first despite you being annoyed at having to be the camera man." Fiddleford explains as he watched the man shift uncomfortably in his seat.

"Well what about the part where you left me after that car crash and made ME fix the portal while i tried to avoid your cult mess?." Stan remarks as he balled his fists in anger while his hands are placed on the table,wanting to retaliate at the hillbilly for making him hurt for so long yet he doesn't as part of him still deeply cares about the nerd. "I- Ah wasn't in my right mind back then and i figured that the entire world was against me with my slipping sanity as well as paranoia. I had to leave,Stanley or else i wouldn't have held onto the sliver of peace i kept before i fully lost mah mind." Fiddleford says as he looked at the man in guilt,but then Stan banged his fist on the table as he couldn't take it anymore. He needed the hillbilly to know how bad he hurt him.

"YOUR peace?. What about me?,huh?. With the little sanity you had during that time,didn't you once think about how much your little memory gun fiasco affected ME?!. YOUR PARTNER?!. Don't you get it,Fiddlesticks?. You HURT me. You left me to suffer from your dwindling mental state and THEN you abandoned me last minute when your mind couldn't take it anymore,leaving ME to cover up all evidence of YOUR insane cult from the house. I spent those days of memory gun testing watching my beloved southern nerd,the person most important to me at the time,destroy himself with a damn memory erasing ray while you never even called or talked to me about what you were going through before you got into that cult." Stan exclaims as he started crying angry tears as Fiddleford gasps in disbelief at his reaction. "Stanley,hun. Ah had no choice!. Ah had no choice but to leave or else you would've been roped in deeper into my problems. I couldn't reach out because i felt like clawing mah skull with every memory erasure!. Do ya know how hard it was to keep it together while knowin' full well that the gun was ruining me?!." Fiddleford says in slight annoyance over the con not considering how he felt at the time. "No no YOU don't understand. Do you know how hard it was for ME,to see your unhinged bastard self everyday while knowing full well that i couldn't talk to you about what happend with your empty noggin?!. I spent half of my life thinking that it was my fault,Fiddleford. I kept thinking that i was the reason why you went back to using that damned gun,i hated myself for never talking about our issues which lead to you using the memory gun with our every argument. Something i didn't know was actually ruining your brilliant mind with every use." Stan explains as he kept crying,more out of sadness and hurt this time instead of rage. "I did everything for you. I protected you from monsters,i made dinner for you even when i was used to living off of granola bars and couldn't cook for shit,i comforted you every time you had nightmares about Ford coming back to hurt you for quitting the project. Yet you still subjected me to that memory gun shit,and you left me despite everything we've been through together. Heh. Every time i get attached to someone,they always leave me in the end. Whether it's Ford,my old heist buddies Jorge and Rico,or you." Stan remarks bitterly as tears fell on his chest while he kept bawling from the horrible heartbreak as Fiddleford took a guilty glance at him,as he never knew how bad his dwindling sanity affected the man until now. "I.. Stanley. I'm so sorry. I- I had no idea that what i did hurt you that much. I never meant to hurt you,i just made a lot of regrettable decisions and my past arguments with you were just the catalyst. It was never your fault,the blame is all on me. I didn't mean to make you suffer with my problems,i sincerely apologize and i feel terrible for doing all of that to you without realizing how much it hurt ya." Fiddleford explains as he expresses genuine regret for his actions,but the con turns his back on him and refuses to accept his apology. "Sorry won't reverse the unimaginable amount of heartbreak you gave me." Stan says in slight annoyance,as he has accepted the man's apology but he's still angry at him for never explaining himself until 30 years have passed.

"Will this change yer mind?." Fiddleford replied as he then kissed the con straight on the mouth as he placed a light peck on his grifter's lips,the man blushing as he pulled away while leaving the man dumbfounded as Stan laughed from being tickled by the hillbilly's trimmed beard. "Ahahahaha! Fidds,your beard made my mouth feel funny." Stan remarks as he smiled at the hillbilly slyly looked at him. "But ah thought you were still mad at me?~." Fiddleford says as he blushes while staring at the con with pure love in his eyes. "I'm not anymore. Now that you gave me that long overdue apology and that great kiss~." Stan replied as he then kisses the southern nerd again,giving him a longgg slobbery smooch as the saliva connecting their lips breaks soon after he pulls away. "Ah missed yer kisses,and that adorable laugh." Fiddleford says as he smiled at the con,with Stan smiling back as he finally got his nerd back. All he wanted was to hear the man apologize,and get his hillbilly back instead of constantly seeing that empty mindless and insane husk that he became everyday,and he got both in one fateful afternoon. "I missed ya too,Fiddlesticks. I'm so glad to have you back. And we have plenty of time to make up for lost time before the kids come over to pester us about our relationship." Stan remarks as he then looked at the nerd with adoring eyes. "I'd like that. But first,let me hold you again like i always did. C'mere." Fiddleford replied as he gestures for the con to come over,which he obliges as he let himself get tightly embraced by the taller elder as he started crying tears of joy as he hasn't had felt the warm touch of his nerd in years (someone help this touch starved man). Fiddleford then winces in guilt as he thought he messed up again. "Hey,what's wrong?. Why are ya cryin' again?." Fiddleford asks as he kept gently holding his grifter in his arms. "N-Nothing. It's just- I haven't felt your warm embrace in such a long time. I'm so happy to feel it again." Stan replied as he smiled at his nerd while Fiddleford sighs in relief. "And am' glad to hold ya again. C'mere,darlin'." Fiddleford says as he then grabbed the man by the shirt collar as he lightly made out with him,with both of them blushing deeply as Fidds gently caressed his con man's face. Stan smiled through the kiss as he realized that he'll finally get to spend the rest of his life with the southern nerd he adores as he makes up for the time that the memory gun robbed from him.

[pokimoko]

The Poetics of Space - A Gravity Falls Fic

Written by pokimoko

Chapters: 3/3

Word Count: ~44K

Fandom: Gravity Falls

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: The Mystery Shack & Ford Pines, The Mystery Shack & Stan Pines, Ford Pines & Stan Pines, Fiddleford H. McGucket & Ford Pines, Bill Cipher & Ford Pines, Ford Pines & Mabel Pines, Dipper Pines & Ford Pines, Dipper Pines & Ford Pines & Mabel Pines & Stan Pines, The Mystery Shack & The Pines Family, Fiddleford H. McGucket/Ford Pines (One-Sided), Bill Cipher/Ford Pines (also one-sided), (do you even need to ask in which direction the one-sided is pointing)

Characters: The Mystery Shack - Character, Ford Pines, Stan Pines, Fiddleford H. McGucket, Bill Cipher, Dipper Pines, Mabel Pines, Background & Cameo Characters

Summary:

“What was it like when you lived here?” Mabel asked, gesturing at the Shack.

Ford let out a gentle chuckle. “Very different, I assure you. If these walls could talk, I'm sure they would tell some stories.”

Oh, if only he knew.

—

(or: the Mystery Shack has many secrets, and just as many memories. Afterall, a lot can happen over four decades within the space of four walls.)

Tags: Mystery Shack (Gravity Falls), Mystery Shack POV, setting as a character, Haunted Houses, POV Outsider, POV Nonhuman, Pre-Canon, Canon-adjacent, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ford Pines Has Issues, Ford Pines Needs a Hug, Golden Child Syndrome, Manipulative Bill Cipher, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Gaslighting, Possession, Stan Pines Needs A Hug, Stan Pines Has Issues, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Loneliness, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Reconciliation, Implied Autistic Ford Pines, implied AroAce Ford Pines, Unrequited Love, Ford Pines and Mabel Pines Bonding, Pines Family Feels (Gravity Falls), Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Grief/Mourning, Inspired by House of Leaves - Mark Z. Danielewski, (very very VERY loosely), If These Walls Could Talk They Would Give You Therapy, Sentient Houses, Sentient Buildings, POV Inanimate Object, its/its pronouns, Protective Mystery Shack, Sentient Mystery Shack - Freeform

[earako]

I see y'all with Smart stan and I raise you

Smart! Stan along with Artist!Ford

Have you seen those journal illustrations? Ford can draw and there is no way he and Mabel don't have hours long arts and crafts sessions

Meanwhile Stan gets a glimpse of an equation Dipper's working on and goes "that variables off, it'll mess up your equation" and Dipper's all "wait, you know advanced mathematics?