#stanford pines fanfictions

[perplexedflower]

Connection

Fandom: Gravity Falls.

Category: F/M.

Relationship: Stanford Pines x Female Reader.

Type: One shot.

Words: 3,830.

Summary: Stanford Pines is anything but used to romance, but when the young woman he has fallen for confesses her feelings to him, it feels to him as though they were destined to be together…

Chronology: Late Season 2.

~~~~~~~~~~

I felt a little dizzy as my body began to tremble, but after one slow, deep breath, I regained my composure and walked out of the attic. After having spent so long, so much time, so many days debating with myself, I had finally made up my mind: that day was the day I would dare approach Stanford and confess to him everything that weighed on my mind. At last.

I made my way down the staircase and up to the vending machine, alone in the room; that afternoon was bright and sunny, thankfully for me, as all the others were spending their time outside the shack. The last thing I wanted was for one of them to walk in on me confessing my love to Stanford, and the sheer thought of such a thing happening was enough to bring knots to my stomach.

Still standing in front of the vending machine, I input the code to the basement on the pad, a code only the Stan twins knew better than I did, a code I typed in every day, a code that had become so important to me.

Come on, [Y/N]... You can do it. I motivated myself through thought as I watched the secret door open. You've prepared yourself for this day, for this exact moment... You can do it.

With the vending machine now retracted, I took a deep breath once more, sensing my nervousness rise as my stomach truly began to ache, my heart beating faster in my chest than it had ever before. For the second time, I found myself faced with a flight of stairs: I walked down each step, one by one, until I arrived at the elevator. With a slightly trembling index finger, I pressed the button that led to the last floor, which was home to the now-broken portal. While I waited inside the elevator, I continuously repeated to myself the speech I had prepared, the speech I intended to give to Stanford. And the second the elevator stopped moving and the doors slowly opened, I knew my time had come.

Seated on his chair, Stanford was pacing back and forth between all corners of the room, whether it was his desk, shelves, or even the ground, promptly standing up to grab some of his tools off the floor before he sat right back down. For but a moment, it was clear he had not yet noticed I was present in the room with him, until I took a few steps forward in his direction: then, he instantly recognized the sound of my footsteps and finally turned around to me.

From the other end of the room, he showed me a warm smile that made my heart flutter.

"Good afternoon, [Y/N]." He said cheerfully while he brushed the dust off his clothes with his hands. "How are you feeling today? Good, I hope."

"Good afternoon, Ford." I said back to him as I tried to sound as nonchalant as I could. "I'm fine, yes, thank you for asking. And what about you?"

"I'm doing great." He answered, still smiling. "In fact, I'm doing very well."

"Really, how so?"

"Well, I can't quite yet tell you much about it, but my current research is coming along nicely, to say it all." He told me with delight.

"Oh, that's fantastic news!" I exclaimed enthusiastically.

I stared at Stanford in the eyes, pretending to be jolly, when my heart rate was in fact racing.

"Oh, but enough about all that." He said as he took a step toward me while gesturing his hands. "Tell me, [Y/N], why are you not outside? I would have expected to see you out there, enjoying such a sunny day."

"You're one to talk, you know?" I teased him with a light chuckle. "But, as for me... Well..."

The old ceiling lamp above our heads emanated a low light that mixed in orange and red, which faintly reflected against the lenses of Stanford's glasses, making them sparkle just slightly.

"You see, Ford..." I started, the volume of my voice diminishing with each word. "God, it's just so hard to say it..."

As my hands began to tremble and awkwardly twist their fingers, he took yet another step in my direction, which brought him right in front of me.

"[Y/N], are you sure everything's all right?" He asked me with concern while he rested a delicate hand on one of my shoulders. "Is something the matter?"

To avoid his gaze, I lowered my head and stared at the ground, at my feet, just in front of his.

"Ford... There's something I have to tell you." I finally managed to say. "It's... really important... to me. That's why I'm here and not outside with the others."

While I spoke, I simply could not resist the urge to look down at Stanford's hand, holding my shoulder in place with a firm grip, yet without too much pressure; and the longer I stared at it, the longer I felt his touch on me, the more I could sense my heart pounding in my chest. I could tell my cheeks were progressively turning pink as I allowed my eyes to wander, leaving his hand to trace up his arm, detailing the outline of his muscles through the sleeve of his coat.

It's undeniable that the 30 years Ford spent stuck in-between dimensions have toughened him up... by a lot. I thought to myself. He's told me before that back when he and Stanley were little, he would get pushed around by other kids, even bullied. Then, growing up into adulthood, as a scientist and researcher, he never quite had a muscular physique, unlike his twin brother. But now, I look at him... and I can't help but feel a sense of pride seeing the man he has become.

I quickly pulled myself out of my thoughts and diverted my eyes from his arm, then cleared my throat before I looked back up at his face.

"I have to tell you that... I'm really glad that Stanley made the right choice to save you and bring you back here... and that Mabel decided not to press that button." I told him with genuine affection. "Stanford, I like you, and—"

"Oh, how sweet of you, [Y/N]." He exclaimed with a smile as he interrupted me. "I know it may not always seem like it, but I'm actually truly happy to be back, to be here, beside you all, even Stanley... And that includes you, of course. I like you too, [Y/N]."

With a grin still displayed on his face, he leaned forward and moved his hand from my shoulder to my head: his palm tousled my hair, after which he started to walk back to his desk, assuming our conversation was over and that he could go back to his work.

"T-Thank you, Ford, but you don't get it—" I said with a sad smile while I shook my head slowly, my eyebrows furrowed. "I like you, Stanford... I love you."

It felt as though my words echoed throughout the room, bouncing off the walls, surrounding us wholly, resonating within our heads. He immediately stopped walking, his foot frozen in mid-air, and remained still, his back turned to me; although I could not see his face, I could feel mine growing hot with blush, an expression of conflicted emotions on my face.

"... Hum— You know what? Forget I said anything." I mumbled as I stared at his back. "I... don't know what came over me, but just— Ignore it... please..."

The more I tried to express myself properly, the longer I spent choosing my words, the more teardrops escaped my eyes, rolling down across my cheeks and ending their course on the ground.

"This... must sound like complete nonsense to you... I'm sure you're thinking I've lost my mind."

While I still stared at his back, still turned to me, Stanford still motionless, I took a blind step backward, then another.

"... I'm very sorry to have disturbed you, Stanford... You may resume your work, now."

The second I finished speaking, I promptly turned around and nervously pressed the button on the elevator: and as I stepped inside, I anxiously waited to hear him say something, anything, but he remained quiet. I pressed a second button, this time to order the elevator to go back up to the surface. After a second of silence that felt excruciatingly long, the two doors closed, and the moment the elevator started to move, I broke into tears.

I was still sobbing when, shortly after, I walked out of the elevator, climbing the secret stairs back up to arrive back into the room. I was too emotionally compromised to truly scan my surroundings, but I was still able to tell all the others were still busy, as the room was still empty.

I need... to be alone... I told myself. I need to find a place... somewhere, anywhere...

I knew the attic was out of the question, considering Dipper and Mabel could have very well been there, and so was the kitchen, given how much time Stanley spent in it; the only place that was left, the only place I could think of was the secret room Soos had discovered the other day, by pure accident. Once standing in front of the door, I gave it a soft push with my hand, too feeble to put any amount of strength into my movements. But as physically weak as I felt, I stepped inside the room without even an ounce of hesitation.

Once I was in, I closed the door behind me then took a look around the dim room, plunged into darkness, and, soon enough, my eyes spotted a couch: without a second thought, I made my way to it and sat down, bringing both of my legs onto the sofa. The temperature in the room was quite cold, which forced me to bury my face into the sweater I was wearing, a sweater Mabel had knitted for me. And as I sat in the dark, I let my tears flow, pouring out of my eyes like a river.

For a while, although I had no notion of how long it had been, I did not move from my spot, nor did I stop weeping, surrounded by my overwhelming thoughts in the midst of obscurity. That was, until I heard the door of the room open behind me, in such a slow and gentle manner it was almost inaudible.

Without sticking my head out of my sweater, I shook my head at the sound.

"I don't know who you are, but frankly, I don't care." I let out in-between two tears, my voice muffled. "Please... go away... I just need some time on my own..."

Despite my pitiful request, the person decided to walk in anyway, and I felt my heart twist into knots when I recognized the sound of their footsteps on the creaking floor, the sound of old, muddy boots. They continued, growing closer and closer to me, until they stopped, right beside me, and after but only a second, I felt his body sit down on the couch, just next to mine.

"[Y/N]... Please, listen." Stanford started in a tone so gentle it was almost a whisper. "You may think you've lost your mind, but you're far from it, trust me."

His voice and his words reached my ears and instantly enveloped me in a sensation of safety, of warmth, of comfort, and a part of me was already soothed, just listening to them, no matter how much I craved to be alone at that moment.

Though hesitantly, I slowly raised my head from my sweater, revealing the upper part of my face, though the rest was still concealed: and in an instant, my eyes were met with his, his gaze soft and affectionate.

"Because of... what you've told me, you see yourself as a freak... as some kind of monster. And you know this is something I can relate to, [Y/N]. I've had similar thoughts in the past, when I was a child, after other people would make fun of me for my weirdness, especially my polydactyly. But no matter how many times I got pushed around, I always— Well, almost always had my brother by my side, to remind me I should not be ashamed of who I am... Just like you have us."

Ever so gently, Stanford extended one of his hands to me, reaching down into my sweater to grab my chin between his thumb and index finger. And that one single gesture tore my heart in half.

I already know how all of this is going to end... Ford is going to comfort me, to try and make me feel better, but he's not going to bring up again my love declaration, he's going to ignore my feelings for him... He'd rather avoid mentioning it, finding it easier to pretend as if it never happened... and this tension between us would remain.

With my face still held by his hand, he stared deeply into my eyes, though it appeared his confidence was progressively fading away.

"[Y/N], I... I don't... quite know how to say this..."

His face turned pink as he broke eye contact with me, his eyes restless.

"I've never really... done this type of thing... ever, you see, so..."

But eventually, after looking for the right words for some time, he looked back into my eyes, this time with strong determination.

"I love you too, [Y/N]." He blurted out bashfully.

Upon hearing his words, my eyes opened wide and my heart stopped beating. I was already convinced my imagination had played a trick on me, unable to believe what Stanford had just said to be the truth.

"... This... is not something I thought I would say today, but I assure you that I mean it, no matter how unbelievable it may sound to you." He further confessed, his words heavy. "I've had feelings for you ever since the day I first made your acquaintance. I saw you for the first time and... found you... beautiful. I talked to you for the first time and thought your personality was wonderful. Then I saw how well you got along with my family, with Stanley and the kids, and... I felt something I had never really felt before."

He marked a pause, his voice slightly shaky and his face shifting from pink to red.

"... A-And, at first, I couldn't believe it was love, I put the blame on... on the fact that you simply had been the first woman my eyes landed on after 30 years outside of this dimension, but—... But soon enough, I had to be rational and face the truth... I understood I truly had fallen for you."

Although I kept quiet, I could very distinctively tell what was going through Stanford's mind, especially given the facial expressions he was switching between as he spoke.

"But I... I didn't say anything." He continued, lowering his eyes to avoid mine. "I didn't know how to properly apprehend these feelings, how to confess them to you... For a man my age, all of this shouldn't be a problem, but... well, my experience is close to none. I understand your own hesitation regarding your feelings came from our age gap, and, quite frankly, so did mine. I just couldn't find a way to let you know about mine without coming across as a pervert... So I decided to bottle it all up."

After his last sentence, silence reigned for a moment, and I understood his speech had finally come to an end; the two of us were now staring straight at each other, our gazes locked on, neither of us saying a word. Only then did Stanford remember he was still holding my chin, and only then did he realize his speech had gone on for much longer than he himself had intended, judging by the look on his face. His eyes suddenly opened wide, his cheeks still buried under a thick layer of blush as he let go of my face, visibly embarrassed.

"I-I'm sorry, [Y/N]— I said too much, didn't I?" He asked me, seemingly shameful. "I must have spoken for too long— You said you wanted to be left alone, so... I'll be going, now—"

He hurriedly stood up from the sofa as he nervously pushed his glasses on his nose. He promptly made his way to the door of the room, but before I could let him get too far away from me, I extended an arm toward him and reached for the bottom of his coat: as he felt my hand tug at the fabric, he turned back around and looked at me, at the single tear rolling down my cheek.

"Stay." I said in a whisper. "... Please."

Stanford's eyes remained on me, on my face, which was now begging for his presence, and he could feel it; all while staring down at me, he walked back to the couch and sat back down, this time even closer to me, close enough to wrap his arms around my body and bring it down against his as he lay back slightly. His embrace felt warm and secure, yet so overwhelming as well. With my face nestled in the crook of his neck, I closed my eyes and took multiple deep breaths, his natural scent soothing me further with each passing second.

As I listened to the sound of his heart beating faster in his chest, I felt one of his hands rub my back gently, shortly followed by a kiss he left on the crown of my head. Both of us found peace and tranquility within that moment, that moment of serenity and quietness; but the silence did not last for long, as I let out a heavy sigh.

"... I'm sorry, Ford." I said, my voice slightly muffled against his skin.

"What for?" He kindly asked while looking down at me.

"For... all of this. For having waited all this time to let you know how I feel, and for having made you repress your own feelings. Because of me... we've wasted so much time we could have spent... this way."

Stanford chuckled, a genuine laugh that made my heart skip a beat and turned the tips of my ears red.

"You don't need to apologize for such things, [Y/N]." He stated as he brought his hands down on my shoulders.

With slow and gentle care, he pulled me out of his embrace, just slightly, just enough so that he could look down at me, so that our faces could meet, so that he could show me his bright smile.

"You're not responsible for any of this, and if we follow your way of thinking, logic would have it I need to apologize too. But neither of us is at fault, here. So, please, don't burden yourself with guilt."

With a shy smile, I closed my eyes and nodded. When I opened them again, I was still faced with his loving smile, with his affectionate gaze; and, after but a brief moment of uncertainty and indecision, I slowly brought my hand up to his face and gently rested my palm on his cheek, which led to the blush on his cheeks intensifying. As my fingers drifted down along his jaw and then his neck, I tilted my head a little.

I've... never really been this close to Ford before... It might take some getting used to... But I get the feeling that won't be an issue.

Our eyes gazed deeply into one another as my other hand found its way to his torso, my palm slowly rising and falling along his heaving chest, along the rhythm of his heartbeat. One of his hands left my shoulders to hold my waist, while the other held the nape of my neck, his fingers delicately running through my hair. Our faces grew closer to each other, the air around us filled with anticipation and excitement, until we both tilted our heads and closed our eyes: our lips met and our embrace grew tighter, finally sharing together this special moment we had waited so long to see happen.

My hand on his neck moved to the collar of his sweater, which I grabbed passionately while I felt Stanford furrow his eyebrows, his lips sighing against mine, cherishing the moment as he held me against his body. But the moment inevitably came to an end when we both pulled away, slightly out of breath, slightly panting, in an atmosphere that had all of a sudden become heavy. The two of us were still nervous, even now that we had kissed, and I could tell Stanford was feeling particularly awkward: with a soft smile, I tugged at his sweater and leaned forward to leave one more kiss on his lips, catching him off-guard. After I pulled away, I stared into his wide-open eyes with love as I caressed his blushing cheek.

"That was wonderful, Ford." I told him enthusiastically in a reassuring tone.

While still smiling, I readjusted his glasses on his nose a little better, seeing as they had slightly slipped down during our kiss.

"For a man in his 60s who's barely ever kissed a woman before, you're quite a good kisser." I added, teasing him playfully.

My compliment made him chuckle, somewhat awkwardly but mostly with genuine affection.

"Well... Thank you, [Y/N]." He said while blushing. "You're... really good yourself."

My body imitated his and I felt the redness on my face intensify as I giggled lightly. Both of his hands traveled back down around my waist, which he grabbed firmly, though without applying too much pressure.

"Well... The afternoon is far from over, so why don't you and I go back to the basement?" He suggested happily, visibly excited at the idea of keeping this conversation going elsewhere. "I'll show you a glimpse of what I've been working on these past few days."

"I like the sound of that." I replied just as happily.

With the help of my hips, his hands moved my body to the side, freeing his so that he could stand up from the couch: then, as he stared down into my eyes, he opened the palm of his hand to me.

"Then, let's get back to work... Shall we, sweetheart?"

I felt my pulse accelerate greatly upon hearing him call me by such a pet name, but I did my best to keep my composure as I nodded and put my palm in his.

Hand in hand, Stanford and I walked out of the room and headed to the basement, where we spent the rest of the day together, exchanging more than just words, until the sun went down and the moon went up.

[paintedcrows]

Revelations - Little peek at a longer continuation to my Stan & Bill accidental internet buddies comic!

After the reveal, Stan initially doesn't want to tell Ford his (former) internet best friend was Bill Cipher, because he doesn't want him to worry. Stan later doesn't want to tell Ford because he (and Bill) would rather die.

[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.

[sleeplessdreamer14]

𝓌𝒽𝑒𝓃 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓀𝓃𝑜𝓌 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓀𝓃𝑜𝓌

fandom: gravity falls

relationship: stanford pines x reader

summary: the moment Ford realized he liked you. 

contains: stan being stan, the uh-oh moment, and pining

Ford wasn’t the most social person, to put it plainly. Despite his popularity amongst his teachers at school and the odd handful of classmates, he normally preferred his own company, otherwise his family’s. It had been that way for a long time, and it seemed like it would remain so for the foreseeable future.

And so it did. That is, until he met you, which he did not see coming. 

You had this welcoming presence about you, that much was clear by the way you spoke to him for the first time in the seventh grade, remaining mostly unfazed by his sixth digit aside from the initial surprise. The first time he caught himself rambling about parapsychology and anomalistics, he found no judgment or disinterest in your expression. In fact, you were actually listening, setting down whatever you were doing just to give him your undivided attention. That was a first. It felt nice to have someone (who wasn’t his brother or mother) listen to him. 

And the energy was returned, as he indulged your interests too. Before he knew it, Ford would often seek out your company, whether his brother was available or not, and the two of you could usually be found bouncing ideas off of each other. The room seemed to brighten when you came into view, your presence made him feel comfortably warm inside. Whenever you two parted ways, it always felt too soon, just like it did now.

“Oh my gosh.”

Stan’s voice drew Ford’s attention away from you as you left.

“What?” he asked, mildly perturbed by the wily grin on his brother’s face. Stan just chuckled and nudged him, “You’ve got it so bad, it’s almost embarrassing.” he teased, to which Ford lightly shoved him away, beginning their route back home from the pier. 

“Stanley, come on. They’re my friend just as they are yours. They’re good company.” he said, glancing off to the side, as if that could conceal the rosy pink hue on his face, but Stan remained undeterred. “Sixer, face it. You’re whipped with a capital wh-pshh!” he said, smacking one hand with his other for emphasis. 

“I am not- look, [Name] is very kind and a good friend, I appreciate that. It’s not like I lie awake at night thinking about them.”

Several hours later, it was well past nightfall and everyone in the Pines household was fast asleep, save Ford. 

Up on the top bunk, he laid on his back, hands folded over his midriff as his chest heaved slowly and his heart thrummed steadily beneath its surface. That warmth was still present, especially around his face. His conversation with Stanley had been playing on loop all evening.

Of course Ford liked you, heck, he was crazy about you. You were so nice to him and fun to be around, your enthusiasm was so endearing, and you never treated his abnormalities as though they were defects.

And you weren’t bad to look at either, of course, like earlier that afternoon on the boardwalk when the sun’s light highlighted your features. He could stare at you for hours. The way you diminished his resolve just by looking his way and smiling at him was so positively-

Oh.

Oh. 

“Oh no.”

Ford could just faintly hear a sleepy chuckle from his brother in the bunk below him. 

if this gets enough notes I’ll write a part 2

[sunniskyies]

𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝 || 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐏𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐎𝐧𝐞-𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐭

𝐑𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭: - 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Reader forgets she has Ford’s mind reading device on… 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Ford Pines x fem!shy!reader 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: - 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬: Makeout, fluffy shy stuff 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2k 𝐀/𝐍: This is so so so out of my league with this kind of thing, but I had a vision and had to try, so forgive me if it’s not the best !! ( you can read this as young or old Ford by the way ! )

“Are you going to tell me what exactly that is?” You ask shyly, perched neatly on a wooden stool in the deepest room of Ford’s laboratory. The man in question is bustling around the benches, plugging in wires and fiddling with dials and buttons.

“It’s a mental-strengthening device, able to encrypt one’s thoughts to prevent dream demons like Bill Cipher from entering.”

You purse your lips. “Ah. Of course.”

Ford looks briefly over at you while he tinkers. “I don’t want any chance of that creature making his way into our world. The damage he causes is… irrevocable.”

You fall silent, quietly studying the scientist’s practised hands and that little furrow in his brow you doubt he’s aware of. You see it often, in your stolen glances as you set his coffee down in the mornings, or when his eyes linger for a moment on his work when you call for his attention.

You let yourself sit in the warm feeling that spreads through your skin, toying with the fantasy of him for just a moment. Before you know it, Ford is approaching you with a gadget in his hands, and you’re pushing those silly thoughts from your mind.

“This is the receiver,” Ford explains, gesturing to the sieve-like helmet in his hands. “May I put it on you?”

All you manage is a ‘mhm’, and you hope your ears aren’t bright red when Ford places the bronze contraption over your hair. As he adjusts it here and there his fingers often brush your skin, you’re mortified as goosebumps shiver over your skin. Luckily, from what you know about Stanford Pines, he isn’t the most observant man unless you happen to have three eyes or an off-on switch.

Being Ford’s assistant has been the best opportunity of your life, but childishly you often wish for something more. To see those lips say your name not just to thank you for your helping hands. To have the confidence to show Ford the book of research you’ve been privately gathering, his eyes catching yours as he realises the potential he’d never seen in you before…

For the millionth time reality pulls you from your daydreams. Ford crouches down slightly, your faces level, your eyes on his while his are at your hairline. A six-fingered hand gently tucks loose strands back from your face.

“There,” he says, eyes catching yours. “Equipped. How does that feel?”

You swallow, voice a tad too squeaky, “All good!” 

“Perfect. I’ll begin the calibration, inform me if you experience any discomfort,” he nods, satisfied, before sweeping away again.

As you wait, you silently tap on your knees, looking around. You look over the table behind you to see a television screen with—

Your thoughts.

A string of your most embarrassing ideas visualised on a ceiling-high collection of screens, unarguably clingy and desperate desires paired with Ford’s name scrolling everywhere.

You whip your gaze over to Ford, dew already appearing over your skin. He seems to be engrossed in whatever's in his hands, but it’s only a matter of time before he sees all… that!

Fuck, fuck, fuck! The screens mirror the chant in your mind.

You try vainly to think of other things, random words and imagery slowly but surely creeping onto the televisions. Polar Bears. Adjectives. Pencils, pens, markers. Dates and historical impact of various civil wars. Charity raffles. That one catchy jingle. Discombobulation. Ambystoma mexicanum.

Ford looks up. “Finished!” He says with a quick smile.

You quietly clear your throat. “Uhm. Wow! This is very clever, Ford, although I must admit didn’t realise it displayed the user's consciousness?”

His eyebrows raise at your question, before his face softly twists with confusion as he stares at the reading. He glances back over at you with the face of someone just realising how stupid something is. Yet, you almost slump with relief. At least he only thinks you're simple, not a freak.

“Well, yes, it does. Did I not mention that?” He says slowly. “I was going to suggest you exercise your brain to ensure the program reaches every aspect of your cognition… but it seems you’re… already… doing that?” He questions hesitantly. Your smile is too-bright.

“Oh, yes, that is what I am doing. Yep.” You squeak.

“Right.”

The silence is palpable, a thick sludge that clings to your form. Sometimes both your wandering stares slide over each other, awkward blips before you both avert eye contact. You hear the hum of machinery, the soft tap of your shoe on the floor. Your fingers itch to grab your journal from your pocket to give yourself something to do with your hands, but you’re embarrassed at what Ford would see as you ponder over it. The silence stretches on and on, until you can’t bear not to break it.

“So, you, uhm, said something about exercising the mind?” You blurt sheepishly.

Ford’s eyes are immediately on you. “Yes! Yes, just try to keep your mind active, it helps the protection process.”

And the silence is back. Perhaps even worse than before.

Desperate for relief, you pull your journal from your pocket. You wave it weakly, “Mind if I do some work?”

Ford adjusts his glasses. “No, no of course not. Go ahead.” He gestures at the various desks stationed around the room. You shoot him a quick smile and spin on your stool to the table next to you, propping open the journal and continuing an essay you plan to submit as a paper in your current university course.

This works, taking your mind off your vulnerability as you focus on your work. This is what you love about science, about academia, the ability to lose yourself in something so complex, so worthwhile. You really can’t wait to get your research out there and make a name for yourself.

You write for a while, pen often times balanced between teeth. You don’t quite register Ford coming up behind you until his tilted head is in your peripheral.

“Fantastic,” he mutters absently, his face well and truly absorbed on the open page. Embarrassed, you half-heartedly cover the page with your hands.

“Oh, no, it’s really not anything special.” You mumble, eyes averted. 

“No, really, I love it. You’re studying quantum physics, right?” He insists, head tilted trying to catch his eye. When you do, he has a soft smile painted on. Your cheeks glow pink.

“Yes, I major in quantum physics and forensic science. I minor in biomedical engineering, and I’m additionally doing an online paper on parapsychology with the only university that does it, in, uh, Finland.” The sparkle in Ford’s eyes grows as you timidly recite your areas of study.

“Parapsychology? That’s brilliant!” He remarked, awed. “Why didn’t you say that, I would love to take you out on my field days. I study all sorts of paranormal and supernatural activity here. It'd be great to share it with someone.”

“Oh, I don’t want to trouble you,” you say hushed, fending off a stammer. Internally, your heart is soaring. Yes yes yes!

“It’d be no trouble,” he says earnestly, soft features returned as if coaxing you out of your shell. “I knew you were smart, but I had no idea the extent,’ he says, almost to himself.

Your eyes lock on him immediately. “You think that?”

He seems surprised. “Of course I do. You’re an exceptional assistant, and you’ve been in study for ages. I’ve heard nothing less than great things about when I send my own work to our local university. Not many scholars live out here, you know?”

You can’t drag your eyes away from him, and you're sure Ford can see every star in the galaxy swirling in your pupils right now. This is everything, everything you’ve wanted.

You’re not sure whether it’s the surge of confidence, or the way Ford’s looking so gently at you, but you’re acutely aware of how low Ford has bent down to talk to you. It would only take a small movement to bring your faces together.

And so, heart fluttering with this moment of bravery, you rise slightly up on the balls of your feet and press a small kiss to Ford’s cheek.

“Thank you,” you breathe, the sensation in your chest borderline sickening. “It, uh, means a lot.”

Ford doesn’t say a word, eyes wide but painfully unreadable. The silence is once again, stifling.

“Not a lot of fellow scientists in this area, like you said,” You hastily ramble on after a long moment. The gap doesn’t last this time, though.

In a swift motion Ford’s hand is at your cheek. You barely have time to inhale before his lips are on yours, their warmth sinking against your mouth.

You’d never imagined them to be so firm, although his proximity doesn’t give your mind any room to think about anything. It’s all happening so fast, your mind dizzied as you reciprocate his intentful kisses.

Your pen clatters slightly on the table as your hand releases it, quickly gripping to Ford as his arms snake around you and lift you up. He spins, setting you on the table in the middle of the room. You’re sure at some point you have or will let slip an embarrassing sound, but you’re wholly focused on Ford and how you’re sitting at his level on the tall table; him standing before you with his hands at your waist. Your knees brush either side of his thighs.

Your hands bury themselves in his hair, his hands in turn pull you closer. It’s eager and messy, making your pulse thud wildly. You never thought a man would want you like this, never catching an eye. Let alone the genius that is—

Abruptly, his lips leave yours, the emptiness not lasting long as they move just beneath your lip, then down to your jaw. They trail down to the side of your neck, lips brushing over the shiver on your skin. Small breaths leave your mouth when you feel a glimmer of teeth against your collarbone.

You tilt your head, resting against his where he’s kissing your shoulder in the crook of your neck. Your hands remain tangled in his hair, your eyes closed.

Your bodies are so close together, his lips are all-consuming. It’s bliss. The man you’ve loved for so long, holding you like he’s besotted. Like he’s just as infatuated as you. The thought thrills through your mind; He wants me.

“I can assure you, I most certainly do,” Ford murmurs breathlessly against your skin. You pause, the statement uncannily sounding like a response to your thought…

Oh. Oh no.

The machine. The mind reading. The television directly behind your back.

You haltingly turn your head, face pale. The screen is, in fact, still reciting your thoughts. Every thought. And Ford’s facing it.

“Oh my god,” You groan, palming your forehead. You sink into yourself, drowning in humiliation. But Ford’s hand fishes beneath your chin, tipping your glowing face to look at him. His face is one of endless kindness beneath his mussed hair.

“It’s really not a bad thing, sweetness.” He says gently. You shake your head slightly, eyes squeezing shut.

His thumb creeps up the side of your face, face dipping level to yours. “No, seriously. It’s a very encouraging thing for a man to see.” He jokes warmly. You peek an eye open. Heavens, did he have to look so irresistibly handsome all the time?

“Should I, uhm, remove…” you gesture at the contraption atop your head, teeth worrying your lip.

Ford hesitates for a moment, thinking as his thumb strokes your cheek. “No. No, it’s too important. I can’t have Bill infiltrating your mind.” 

You wilt slightly, but Ford once again brings you back to him. “It’ll only take a moment. Half an hour at most.” His eyes flicker fleetingly at your lips. “And besides, it’ll be sunset by then. I hear you can see a meteor shower tonight? If you drive up the hill a little.”

You hum a soft confirmation, smile melting onto your flushed features as Ford presses a last kiss to your cheek. “Good,” He murmurs. “I’ll go fetch the coats.”

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @sleeplessdreamer14 @2hiigh2cry @taffycandyqt @papi-machucha @muffin1304

 @space1crow @fries11 @yasuuuudere @shadowsandswords @darling-eos

@bloodspatteredprincess @snake-in-a-flower-crown @defmxl @ryanthatsgay2

© sunniskyies 2024, do not repost or translate my work

[imwritingthefout]

after session hangout

basically you fall in love with the dm of your campaign in college: Ford pines, smut ensues

This is crossposted to ao3 so if you wanna go read it there, here’s the link:

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Waking up each day to the same old ceiling was starting to bore you. 

Ever since moving out of your parents house for college you felt like a stranger in the dorm you now called ‘home’, and It didn't help that you refused to decorate it. 

Getting out of your plain old bed, you stand up and push away the blinds with a tug, the light from the early morning sun blinding you temporarily. You glance down at your clock; 6:30am, thursday. The time isn't the part that excites you though, it's the day. Today is the day you look forward to all week: Dd&md day! 

You go to get ready for your morning class, excited for what the future of today may hold. You love dd&md, its been your favourite game since you were a child -even though you had no one to play it with back then, you got creative (no goat was harmed in your past attempts at playing the game).

Your classes went by in a blur. Of course you were taking notes and whatnot, it was important to pay attention! But in secret, you were drawing your character all over the side of your notebook and thinking of strategies on how to defeat the next dungeon your dm set up for you.

And then there was your dm. 

One of the many reasons you adored thursdays was because you got to play dd&md of course, but other than that there was another big reason you liked thursdays.

To put it plainly: your dm, Stanford Pines was Hot. like, capital H Hot. you couldn't get over his warm brown eyes that sparkled with passion whenever he detailed the characters he was playing. His hands that moved with his every word, adding to the description of the imaginary world he was building. God you wanted to feel those hands on you. What would they feel like, intertwined with your own, on your hips while he-

You decided to stop that train of thought. As much as you liked him, you also respected him enough to know that he would probably never feel that way towards you, and you shouldn't fantasise about him like that (even though it was hard not to).

And though he was Hot, that wasn't the only reason you liked him. You liked him because he was smart, compassionate, funny and so very cute.

What can you say? You had a thing for nerds.

As your last class of the day finished finished up, you quickly packed up your things and rushed to the old building next to the dorms that housed your favourite room in the whole campus: the old meeting room you guys used to house your dd&md sessions! 

The room wasn't glorious, it was just an old meeting room that's been out of use for years. But to you, that room was the home of your imagination. It held a special place in your heart, and you were sure it was the same for the rest of your party.

Speaking of which, you saw Fiddleford approach you down the old hallway, little puffs of dust kicking up with each of his steps. “Hey Fidds! You ready for today’s session?” you yelled to him slightly as he approached. “Ready as I'll ever be! You won't believe what I have planned in order to kick that sorcerer's butt!” he gave your shoulder a weak punch and opened the door with his key.

Usually, the old building was out of commission. But since Fiddleford knew a guy who works as campus security and convinced him to give him the key, you had full access to the building to do whatever you pleased. Of course for you, anything just means playing dd&md, not causing a mess and cleaning up after yourselves as much as possible in order to not inconvenience anyone. You knew that other people your age would throw huge parties and wreck the place, but you weren't that kind of person, really. You just liked having a quiet place to play your games and hang out with your friends. Fiddleford was like that too, that's how he got the key in the first place; because his friend trusted him not to mess up the place.

As you walked inside, you saw the table set out just how you guys left it last week: the long rectangular table set up in the middle of the room, with seven chairs set out all around the table, one for each player and one for your dm. A whiteboard behind the dm’s seat that shows the map of the fantasy world you are currently in the middle of exploring, and cork board on another wall with a bunch of graph paper pinned to it.

You walk around the table, taking your regular seat across from Fiddleford. “So what do you think Ford's planning for this session?” you ask Fidds. This is your usual routine: get to the building early, wait for Fidds and ask him if he has any intel for the session since his roommate is Ford. “like usual, i can’t tell you, it'll ruin the fun!” Fidds exclaimed, although the grin on his face told you he likes this familiar back and forth. 

You eased into a casual conversation from there, talking about your days as you waited for everyone else. You liked coming early because then you had more time to talk with Fidds and, of course, with Ford.

You met Fidds on the first day of the semester, when you sat next to each other in the freshman orientation presentation, and hit it off from there. you became friends rather quickly, bonding over the fact that you were both far away from home with no friends in town. You decided to help him move into his dorm after the presentation, and that's when you met Ford.

At first, you were a bit speechless at the guy in front of you. His outfit was the usual scholar's outfit of a white button up shirt with a brown vest on top, but then he was wearing jeans in order to look more ‘casual’ as he put it. His hair was neat and tidy and his glasses framed his face perfectly, at least in your opinion. You introduced yourself awkwardly, and once he introduced himself as Stanford Pines, a parapsychology major with aspirations for 12 phd’s in the next five years, you knew you were in over your head. You can't have a crush on a super-genius! What if he turns out to be an arrogant asshole? But you couldn't help developing feelings for him as you got closer. He wasn't just a super-genius, he was also kind and compassionate, understanding and just a good friend. That's when you decided to just stay friends with Ford, you couldn't afford to lose such a good friend.

Speaking of which, the man himself comes into the room, holding a stack of books detailing the rules and monsters of dd&md, a satin sack full of dice and his dm screen. You can barely see his face behind all of the things he's carrying, and immediately you jump up to help him carry everything. He silently thanks you for the help and starts setting his stuff up while you go back to your seat. “Hey guys, how've you been since last week?” Ford asks you two. “Oh i've been well, you know. Dealing with you every day can be challenging but I manage somehow” Fidds says dramatically and you stifle a giggle. Ford gives Fidds a death glare before turning to you “and how are you?” he asks with a smile that makes your knees weak. “I'm good!” you proclaim a little too loudly and cough to hide your blush “yes i'm good, just the usual classes and such” you say in a normal voice (or at least what you hope is a normal voice, it doesn't help that Fidds looks at you cheekily, already knowing your secret crush on his roomate) “how have you been?” you ask him. 

“Just the usual: doing homework, studying and building up today’s session” you catch on to the last part as a potential way to continue the conversation. “Well, what do you have planned for today?”. “Oh come on now, it wouldn't be fun to just spoil the game for you, would it?” he says and points to you to emphasise his point. “You can't even give us an outline? Something?” you pout a little and Ford gives in “fine… I may have something up my sleeve for today, and I can guarantee you won't see it coming this time! That's all I'm going to say for now though” he jabs his finger at you, trying to seem angry that you caught onto his plans last time, but his little smile gives him away. 

Soon your other party members start filing in and you all start the session. 

It goes as usual, you all mess around for a bit before getting serious. You can confidently say you saw the twist Ford put in this session coming, it was obvious how the wizard was actually a party member’s son, they had so many similarities! After another successful session, everyone leaves for their respective houses, leaving you, Fidds and Ford alone in the room to clean up.

“I can't believe you saw that coming again! I swear you're like a sorcerer in real life” Ford chuckles and Fidds adds “that would also explain how you get here before me every time! I swear I ran to get here today and you still beat me here!” “well what can i say guys? I'm just magical in every way!” you strike a silly but confident pose as Ford and Fidds laugh at your antics. “Oh shoot! I promised my friend i’d go on a blind date today, could you guys lock up this time? Ford you can just give me the keys tomorrow morning if i get lucky” Fidds winks and Ford rolls his eyes “alright, we get it, you can go”. Fidds leaves the keys on the desk and almost sprints out of the room.

You and Ford clean up the mess on the desk in silence before Ford decides to break it “how do you keep predicting my twists anyways? I swear it was supposed to come out of nowhere but you're too smart” you blush a little at the compliment “thank you, i guess i’m just good at guessing twists. But you do make it kind of easy. I mean, a secret relative of someone close? It’s kind of a cliche don't you think?” he pulls at the collar of his button up shirt and you can immediately tell something is wrong.

“Yeah.. I guess it is kind of cliche, but it's what fits the character, don't you think?” he says with a guilty tone. “Ford, what's wrong? I feel like you're hiding something” you get close enough to put a reassuring hand on his shoulder “you can tell me anything, i wont judge” you add, trying to coax him into telling you what's wrong.

“Well… I guess I brought the secret relative from my own life because… well… I have a twin brother….” the sentence doesn’t completely shock you, but it is still somewhat of a surprise “why do you never mention him? Did something happen between you two?” he chuckles a bit before saying “still as perceptive as ever, huh?” you blush a bit as he continues, looking out into the middle distance in thought

“Me and my brother were really close when we were young, we would do everything together. But as time went on, we grew apart. He didn't like the fact that I wanted to go away to a fancy college, especially because he knew he couldn't follow me there. I was working on a machine to impress the college, but on the day of the showing it stopped working. My own brother sabotaged my future. We had a big falling out over it and that’s why I'm here instead….” you empathised with Ford, but you couldn't help but question some things about his story.

“I know it must have been hard to deal with the fact you lost your ticket to the college of your dreams, but do you really believe your brother would sabotage you? If he loves you, wouldn't he want to support you? Maybe it was an accident and he didn't mean to destroy your project?” Ford looks lost in thought again before replying “i… it's foolish but i never thought of it that way…” he looks at you with thankfulness in his eyes and you can't help but smile up at him “you should maybe sort this out with him? Talk to him about what actually happened and if he meant to hurt you?” 

“God you're right… Thank you! This changes everything! I'm so glad I could just kiss you!” 

….

It takes him a second to realise what he said and blush at the thought of actually kissing you. You just stare at him dumbly for a second until your brain processes what he said.

He wants to kiss you?

Well this took a turn for the better.

“Do you really mean that?” you ask him with hope in your eyes

“Well… yeah, of course. Why wouldn’t i? Look at you” he finds that it's suddenly very important you understand how much he wants to kiss you. “Wow… i- i didn't know you felt the same…” you say softly and look down. He says your name and puts his hand on your cheek and lifts up your face to meet his eyes “i like you. More than as a friend. Would you… let me kiss you?” he looks at you nervously for a moment before you close the gap between you two and kiss him yourself.

The kiss feels electrifying. As your soft lips meet his you put your arms around his neck to pull him closer. You realise he smells exactly how you thought he would; of old books and aftershave. His hands find your waist and rub gentle circles with his thumbs into your skin. You pull away after a little and touch your forehead with his “you have no idea how long i've wanted to do that” you whisper gently.

“Me too” and he goes back to kissing you, this time he takes the lead. You tighten yourself around him until your chests meet, his hands move down to your hips and he pulls you onto his lap in one swoop. You gently bite his lip as he groans into your open lips. He then moves down to kiss from your jaw to your neck, leaving the occasional love bite. You sigh at his bites until he gets to your collarbones. “Do you…. Want to do this?” he breathes the question against your skin, the feeling of him against you makes you shudder. “Yes. im sure”. He straightens up from excitement and goes back to kissing you collarbone, now more eager than ever as his hands travel past the hem of your shirt and up to your bra. Meanwhile your hands go down to feel him underneath you.

“Someone is excited” you smirk as he breaths heavily against you. 

“Very” his response falls heavy against you as he unclasps your bra (with only a little bit of a struggle) and his hands move to massage your breasts. You moan as he pinches your nipples in between his fingers. You lower your head to bite at his shoulder to stifle another moan from falling out of your lips- “No” he says and moves his shoulder to get you to stop muffling your sounds. “I want to hear you”. The thought of him wanting to hear you like this makes you blush and sends a bolt of pleasure down your spine. “Y-yes’’ 

You intend to start massaging him through his pants but he beats you to it, moving his hand down into your pants. You help him take off your pants and underwear (with a lot of struggle because of your position) and he suddenly picks you up and places you on the table. The cold desk underneath you only adds to the pleasure as he caresses your side before moving his hand down to finally touch you. 

His hand caresses your folds and feels how wet you are, and you moan from the feeling of his thick fingers on your sensitive skin. “Damn, you feel so good” he whimpers at how you feel before kissing your breasts and plunging his index finger inside you. “A-ah~” you sigh as he moves his hand so his thumb is circling your clit. 

He continues pumping his finger inside of you for a second before adding a second one and speeding up the pace. If he continues like this you wont last long. Almost as if he can hear your thoughts, he stops and goes down onto his knees, his face in front of your core. “Can I please taste you?” he asks innocently, as if his request isn't the most dirty thing you've heard him say. Thinking about it makes you even more aroused -if that's even possible at this point- and you hastily agree.

Not even a second after he sees you nod does he jump into your pussy, his tongue plunging into you and licking you from the inside. His nose bumps into your clit as he moves to taste and lick you even more. Your breath hitches and you moan loudly as he begins sucking at your clit, toying and teasing it with his tongue. “Please F-Ford” you manage to say in between moans. He groans against you and the vibrations send a wave of pleasure through you.

He suddenly brings his fingers back into you, curling them just right, hitting that spongy spot inside you that sends you over the edge. 

You briefly hear him let out a broken “Fu-uck” as your orgasm ripples through you in waves. Ford helps you ride out your high as he continues fingering you and licking at your clit. You have to push him off of you as it becomes too overstimulating

You try to pull him up to his knees, but he seems embarrassed by something. He looks up at you with his chin and nose glistening from your wetness, a guilty smile on his lips and his glasses fogged up and crooked. You then look down and notice it. A wet spot against his jeans

oh.

He got off on pleasuring you. He turned into a mess from just tasting you, feeling you on his lips and fingers. “That's the hottest thing i've ever seen” you say suddenly and lean down to kiss him passionately. He pulls away “really? You think so?” he looks at you in shock. “Yes! Now let me kiss you” you bring him up and kiss him passionately. He takes the hint, grabs at your hips and grunts. You can feel him already hardening again so you pull at his belt and pull down his pants and underwear. You softly grab him and start moving your hand up and down as he whimpers against your lips. You bring up your hand and spit onto it in order to create less friction when touching him.

“Please Ford- fuck me” you moan into his ear and he leans his head back in pleasure. “But i don't have-” you cut him off “there's some condoms in the front pocket of my bag, please” you emphasise your point by giving his cock another stroke. This seems to fuel him on to run to your bag and get the condom. He opens the packet and rolls it onto his member. He rubs his cock against your folds to collect your juices and as his head rubs against your oversensitive clit you moan. “Please put it inside” you hold onto his shoulders as he follows your request and pushes his tip in slowly.

He slowly pushes himself inside you until he's bottomed out inside you and you both groan. You move your hips experimentally and he whimpers at the feeling of you around him. He slowly starts to pull out and then thrusts back in with a moan of your name. You dig your fingers into the soft skin of his shoulders as he continues thrusting inside of you slowly. 

He continues gently until you decide to whisper in his ear something that changes his attitude completely “harder- please~”. He understands the message and suddenly picks you up and flips you around -while still inside of you- and bends you over the table. You moan at the sudden change of positions but you have no time to get used to it as he starts thrusting into you at a killer pace. He moves his hips sharply into you, with an almost mechanical pace as he pushes your chest onto the table with his broad torso. You can't help the sounds you let out each time he hits that deep spot inside of you. He grunts into your ear at each thrust and it makes your eyes water from all the pleasure.

You're suddenly pushed over the edge for the second time when he wraps his hand around your body and starts playing with you clit. You scream his name as you cum around his cock. His pace stutters a bit and he curses in your ear as he cums too for the second time.

He slowly eases you both down with some gentler thrusts and then exits out of you with a sensual pop. 

You lay down for a little while with your ass out before you gather some strength to get up. As soon as you do, your legs start to shake and Ford catches you in his arms and chuckles a bit with pride. “So…. did you like that?”  

You dead-pan him and say “no. i didn't like that. Of course I liked that you doofus!” he laughs a bit and kisses you again. “I just wanted to make sure!” he says against your lips. You giggle and pull him even closer “well, i enjoyed that a lot” you give him a small peck on the nose and then pull away to put your clothes back on. He disposes of the condom and goes to put on his pants but pauses. “I can't go out with a wet spot on my pants…. What should I do?” he looks terrified at the thought of walking around campus like that.

“Don't worry, i always carry an extra sweatshirt around in case the ac is too much in class” you laugh as he looks at you like you just saved his life “you are an angel!” he comes up to you and kisses you again before going back to putting on his pants. You hand him the sweatshirt and he ties it around his waist in order to hide the evidence of what happened.

He then comes up to you and hugs you. “You know i meant what i said, right? About liking you” you blush and then respond “i meant what i said too”

“Then can this not be a one time thing? I want to -if you’d want of course, there's no pressure if you don't want to do anything more than what happened today but-” you cut him off to spare him from rambling even more “i’d like to go on a date with you, Ford. i want to go out with you and be with you” he sighs with relief. “Great! Are you free tomorrow?” you check your calendar “yeah i should be- do you want to meet up?” 

“I would love that” he kisses your forehead before picking up your bag and the keys to the room.

You go out but as Ford locks the door, he realises something.

“Why do you have condoms in your bag?”

You immediately flush a deep red as you remember the fact that after first meeting him, your horney brain convinced you to put some condoms in your bag. ‘Just in case something happens’ you thought to yourself

“No reason” you yelp out and pull at his bicep so he continues walking and change the subject.

He chuckles at your antics but goes along with you.

He’ll just have to ask another time.

[cookiekate-art]

Golden Glue and Porcelain

Chapter 5 cover!!!

Based on the fantastic Fixer-Upper AU by @1spooky2me and written by the lovely @pickledchips

Fic link in the notes so Tumblr doesn’t eat me alive!!

[rangerbarbz]

Stanfiction Masterlist

💋= smut 🎀 = fluff

Ford:

Love Drunk 🎀

Love is but a Walk in the Park 🎀

What Are We? 🎀

No Need to Worry 🎀

Patient Pines 🎀

Music and the Muse 🎀

Study Sessions 🎀

Sixer and the Princess 💋

First Time 💋

Please 💋

Professor Pines (prologue) 🎀

Professor Pines pt 2 🎀

Stan:

Losing Bets 💋

Sugar Stan 💋

Mail Call 🎀

Serving Up Romance 🎀

Serving Up Romance pt 2 🎀

Serving Up Romance pt 3 💋

[ignoredbellyaches]

they are best friends <3

[viceroywrites]

deja vu - part 1

i decided to make a full-fledged multi-chapter fic out of this idea that i posted a few days ago with a cyoa ending potentially

thanks so much to everyone who showed so much love for it and hope you enjoy this series!

this is my first time writing for gravity falls so i hope to do it justice!

planning out your road trip through the pacific northwest, you find yourself inexplicably drawn to the town of gravity falls.

little did you know that this town held more memories than you could have possibly imagined.

too bad you didn't remember any of them.

stan x fem!reader/ford x fem!reader

original fic idea | part two

tag list: @awitchersbard / @theilluminatidragonqueen / @jazzypop-op/ @maryclanders/ @chaimshelii /

@starship606/ @swimmingrascalbatdragon / @stanfordsbaby

He wasn’t in bed.

You woke up in the middle of the night to find the space beside you empty, the blankets cool to touch, indicating that a warm body had not even slipped into the sheets. Begrudgingly, you slip out of the warm comfort of your bed to search for your lover.

Your bare feet pad against the wood floorboards, creaking with each step you take. Your fingers balancing a candle that you used to illuminate the way, too lazy to try and turn on the lights. 

You descend down to the basement, pushing open the metal door that reveals an intricate lab full of oddities and gadgets with a triangle shaped portal looming just behind the glass window. You let out a yawn, approaching the figure that had his back turned towards you. His six-fingers spin the pen in his hand effortlessly as he rests his chin in the palm of his hand.

Your soft yet groggy voice calls out as you place your hand on his shoulder, “Ford, come to bed. Your research will be here in the morning.”

Stanford jumps at your sudden touch before relaxing when he hears the sound of your voice. He puts his pen down, placing his hand over yours with his thumb running soothingly over the back of your hand, “I’ll be there soon, just head back upstairs. I just need to finish this last equation that's been driving me mad the whole day.”

“Stanford…” You say with an edge to your voice, knowing that he could easily stay up the rest of the night working tirelessly on this portal that he had been working on for the past few months.

“Alright… I concede. You win this round, my dear.” Ford sighs, turning to face you finally with a tired smile. He gets up from his seat, pressing a soft kiss against the top of your head before following you up the stairs but not before looking back at the portal.

-

You had the dream again.

It always starts the same. Walking down a staircase, the floorboards creaked with each step you took. Your eyelids feel heavy almost as if you’re resisting the urge to fall asleep. Your feet carrying you down to a basement. The warm flames of the candle you hold illuminating the way.

Your fingertips push the cool metal frame of the door to reveal a figure sitting in front of a desk, facing away from you. Your hand reaches out to touch their shoulder and as they turn around to reveal their face to you, you awaken.

Your eyes open abruptly, staring at the dark ceiling as your alarm echoes through the empty room. Slowly sitting up in bed, you instinctively reach across to turn off your alarm and turn on your lamp before your hand reaches to open the drawer of your bedside table, feeling around for something. Your fingertips brush against leather and wrap around the item, pulling it out to reveal a journal.

These dreams happened almost every night over the years. It had gotten to a point where you started logging them, just trying to find any pattern or meaning behind them.

You turn to the page labeled ‘The Basement’ - adding another tally mark in the margins that you used to keep track of the frequency of each dream. You close your eyes, trying to conjure up any distinguishable features from this mystery person but nothing new arises. 

Sighing, you shut the leather-bound journal, putting it to the side.

Now was not the time to be worrying about your cryptic dreams, you were supposed to be getting ready for the trip you had been planning for the past few months. 

A road trip through the Pacific Northwest, starting in Northern California and making your way up to Seattle.

You hop out of bed to start getting ready for your journey ahead. After completing your morning routine and slipping on some comfortable clothing for the long drive, you make your way to the kitchen, grabbing the map that was stuck to the fridge with a magnet from your alma mater, Backupsmore. 

Having already packed your bags into the car the night before, your feet make a beeline out the door, wanting to hit the road before sunrise to give you enough time to hit the places you wanted to visit on the way up to your final destination for the day, Portland. 

Unraveling the map in your lap, your eyes scan over it, reviewing over the route you had planned out today. Your gaze lingered on one particular spot you had circled closer to Portland that was unlike any of the stops you had chosen.

Gravity Falls.

You couldn’t explain what drew you in to choose this town to stop in out of all the surrounding towns near Portland. You knew that you had an old friend, Fiddleford, who had moved out to this area to do research. You had even visited him once during his time out there. However, you hadn’t heard from Fiddleford in years, correspondence seemingly dropping off as he stopped answering your calls and your letters always ended up returning to you.

Trying to push aside thoughts of your lost connection, you put your car in reverse, pulling out of your parking spot and heading out onto the open road. The winding roads take you through the lush forests that enveloped the region. As each hour passed, you could see the sun slowly starting to make its way up the horizon and decided to stop to watch the sunrise at Redwood National Park. 

After the brief stop that you used to stretch your legs and grab a cup of coffee, you make your way back on the road. Your original plan was to stop at almost every National Park on the way up to Oregon but after hitting a pocket of traffic that put you behind a whole hour, you decide to skip a few stops and make your way directly to the town of Gravity Falls, figuring it would be your last stop with the remaining amount of daylight you had left.

Unfortunately, you had hit another bump in the road, pretty much derailing the first day of your methodically planned out trip.

Your car had suddenly stopped in the middle of the forest about five miles out from the town.

Cursing under your breath, you step out to assess the cause of your delay. Your hands pop open the hood of your car, breathing a slight sigh of relief when you don’t see any steam or smoke. Figuring that the most likely cause is the battery dying on you, you pull out your phone, trying to look up the nearest towing company to hopefully bring you into town to get it looked at.

As you’re waiting for the screen to load due to the poor signal out in this forested area, a gruff voice calls out, asking if you need a hand.

You look up to see a red convertible with the phrase ‘El Diablo’ etched on the side on the other side of the road. Its owner, a man with gray hair, glasses and a stubbled yet chiseled jawline, wearing a black tank, a shiny medallion that sat on his exposed graying chest hairs, and a brown leather jacket, stares back at you, one hand on the steering wheel while his arm dangles lazily outside of the rolled down window.

You pause, taken aback as something about his features seems… familiar. You quickly snap out of your stupor, realizing you’ve just been standing there in silence.

"Uhm… yeah if you have jumper cables, I just need to get my car running to get to the next town and hopefully get a replacement battery,” You reply, figuring this option would be way cheaper than hiring a whole tow truck.

"Of course, I have jumper cables, toots - look at my car, you think I haven't been stranded out here myself." The stranger chuckles, making an effortless U-Turn with one hand before pulling his car close to yours. Your cheeks warm at the nickname given to you by this man you met literally seconds ago, This guy’s a total silver fox.

You step to the side to give him access to hook up the jumper cables after he fishes them out of his own trunk. You both stand in silence while he attaches the cables to your car before his deep voice cuts through, "So uh, what brings you out here? You just driving through?"

You almost chuckle at his awkward attempt to make small talk, "Sort of. I'm doing a whole road trip through the Pacific Northwest. I was gonna check out this town ahead, Gravity Falls, before I make my way up to Portland."

The older man blinks, expecting you to just be passing through the town at this time of a day. Normally, tourists only stop into town in the early hours of the day on their own journeys up north. His lips spread into a grin, pulling out a business card from his leather jacket. "Well, if you're stopping by, you gotta check out the Mystery Shack! One stop shop for mysterious oddities!"

You take the business card with a giant question mark on the front. He retreats back to his car, turning on his engine before nodding over at you as a signal for you to start up your own engine. You slip back into the car, slipping the card into your pocket before turning on the ignition. You breathe a sigh of relief as your car stutters back to life. Glancing up, you see him grinning back at you before the two of you step out of your respective vehicles.

“Thanks again for your help… sorry, I didn’t catch your name. I’m Y/N.” You say, extending your hand out in gratitude. The silver fox’s large hand envelops yours, shaking your hand firmly, “Stan Pines, nice to meet ya. It’s no problem, wouldn’t want to leave a lady like yourself stranded in the middle of the woods.”

“Do you say that to all the ladies that end up stranded in the woods?” You can’t help but tease, earning a hearty chuckle from Stan. “Well, let’s just say that’s not a common occurrence out here. So you thinkin’ about stopping by the Mystery Shack?”

You pause, stuffing your hands into your pockets as you thumb the edge of the business card Stan had given you. On one hand, you should probably be heading back on the road to make it to Portland and this Mystery Shack sounded like a tourist trap. On the other hand, the sun was starting to set and you weren’t keen on driving through the forest in the dark. Maybe it would be best if you stayed the night in this quaint town and start again the next morning. As you look up at Stan, you make your decision, deciding to appease the man who helped you so graciously.

You also had to admit you found him quite charming and curiosity got the better of you.

“Sure, lead the way.” You say with a casual shrug. Stan grins, “I’ll make sure you get a personal tour of the Mystery Shack. No need to worry about other tourists.” Your eyebrow raises in amusement before slipping into your car, “What, you know the owner?” You blink at the smirk that spreads across Stan’s lips, “Sweetheart, you’re looking at the former owner, Mr. Mystery himself.”

You bite back a giggle, “No wonder you were laying it on thick, just trying to get more tourists to visit, huh?” Stan rolls his eyes mirthfully “Hey, I was trying to lend a helping hand… though I have a good sales pitch, don’t I?” He grins, shooting finger guns towards you with a wink.

This’ll be interesting. You think to yourself as you follow behind Stan in your car, pulling into the empty lot of the Mystery Shack. You snort, seeing how the S dangles off the side spelling out Mystery Hack, before pointing it out to Stan as he exits his car. His features grimace as he grumbles out, “I noticed” before beckoning you to follow him, twirling his keys on his index finger.

Stan proceeded to give you a detailed tour of the Mystery Shack, spinning elaborate tales surrounding the variety of taxidermy animals that he had mismatched together. Despite the absurdity of it all, you can’t help but get sucked into his tales, seeing the clear passion and excitement he had for this place. You burst out into laughter at the sight of the Sascrotch to which Stan beamed at, “Good one, right? Probably one of the highlights of the Mystery Shack.”

You weaved your way through the shack, though there were certain sections of it that looked oddly familiar. Almost like you had walked down these hallways before. A wave of deja vu hit you as you walked through the doorway into the gift shop. “Usually this is the part where I try to sell people on an overpriced souvenir but I have a feeling that the whole schtick isn’t gonna work on you, is it?” Stan admits.

“Probably not but I’ll take a look around and see if there’s anything that catches my eye.” You chuckle, making your way around the space as your eyes scan the various trinkets. Your fingertips run across the mugs with question marks painted on them. You decide to use this opportunity to make small talk as you mill around the gift shop while Stan leans back against the counter, “So, you said you’re the former owner? Who owns it now?”

“One of my former employees, Soos. Kid’s been working for me since he was… well a kid. Only person with as much passion as me about this place.” Stan says, glancing over at the Employee of the Month picture that still hung behind the counter that showed a younger Soos. “What made you step down as owner?” You hum, thumbing through the t-shirt rack. 

Stan smiles fondly, “Me and my twin brother actually just got back from traveling, we’re only in town for the summer. It was always our dream to travel the world together by boat, and we finally got to make that happen.” You look up, smiling at how warmly he spoke of his brother. Stan catches you staring and crosses his arms defensively, “What?”

“Nothing,” You say, shaking your head before thumbing through the assortment of keychains and stickers that were displayed. “So twin brother, huh? What’s he like?”

“You’re sure asking a lot of questions… not sure if I should be flattered but it feels like I’m being interrogated by a government official.” Stan comments with a grin. You pause with dramatic effect before looking up and admitting, “Well technically, I do work for the government.”

Stan freezes, his stance becoming defensive as he looks you up and down, “Oh shit, really? Man, these cover-ups are getting better and better but I swear I haven’t broken any laws… recently at least.” Your warm laughter fills the room, finding the look on his face priceless, “Relax, I work for the National Parks.” Stan’s posture relaxes at the realization and he rolls his eyes, “Alright, you got me good. So what do you do? Are you like a park ranger or something?”

“No, I’m a geoscientist. I pretty much study rocks and fossils. Kinda boring day to day but sometimes I’ll come across a precious gemstone and keep it for myself… even though we’re not supposed to take anything off a dig site.” You admit sheepishly, rubbing the back of your neck. “Using the government’s resources to your own advantage? I like the way you think.” Stan chuckles.

You pick out a magnet to add to your fridge when you return as a reminder of your side quest at the Mystery Shack. Stan rings you up though you notice a significant markdown in the original price after he insists on giving you the employee discount. As you walk out of the gift shop outside, you round the corner back to your car. 

Little did you know that you would run into the man that you once loved as someone with a long tan trench coat was outside fiddling with a device with his back turned to you. Stan elbows you in the arm to catch your attention, "That's my poindexter brother that I mentioned, Ford. He's always working on some geeky invention."

"You know I can hear you, Stanley?" Ford sighs, turning around to face you two.

Time slows down as he meets your eyes, memories flooding back to him before landing on the last memory he had of you - your back turning away from him, your hand slipping through his fingers after he chose to continue with his research despite your pleas.

He freezes, seeing the woman that left him all those years ago, "Y/N?" He calls out to you.

You blink, staring back at this man that you had never met before calling out your name.

Stan is just as confused as you are, looking between the two of you. 

You tilt your head in confusion, “Uhm… sorry, have we met before? How do you know my name?”

[inkies-art]

Some teen Stan twin doodles, I actually love drawing them so much they're so cute. First pic is inspired by a fic series where Ford follows Stan when he gets kicked out, check out the series here!

[carrotanikerok]

so Bill had read Statement Abnegation if you had't read it then GO AND DO IT RIGHT NOW. RIGHT NOW I'M SAYING- also ford had read it too.

[darlingdaisyfarm]

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆ HALLOWEEN EDITION | Stan & Ford x reader ⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

sorry if this is too late :,((

kind of inspired by two incredible artworks i reblogged earlier this week

tags: nsfw (it’s literally pure filth), fem!reader, oral (f and m receiving), p in v, praise & degradation, rough sex, overstimulating, dirty talk, biting, blood kink, sex toys, Ford is mean

࣪ ִֶָ🩸་༘࿐ vampire!Stanley

Stan’s in that damn costume, the deep red of his cape casting a dark shadow over his broad frame, fangs sharp and glistening. you shouldn’t find it as hot as you do. . .

Stan’s got you exactly where he wants you, pinned down beneath him, wrists locked tight in his grip, his body hot and heavy, pressing you into the mattress, holding you there like he never intends to let go. “oh, sweetie,” he murmurs, that evil smirk curling up on his lips. “you’ve got no idea the kinda trouble you’re in now, do ya? look at you. . . all spread out, soaked for me, you’re just beggin’ for it, aren’t ya?”

his mouth trails to your neck and it’s not soft. no, his fangs sink in, claiming you as his, groaning low as he laps up the drop of blood that blooms under his bite, like tasting you is all he needs. he lets his tongue trace the drop of blood that wells up, groaning as he laps it up like it’s the finest thing he’s ever tasted. Stanley is obsessed, absolutely wrecked over you, and he doesn’t even try to hide it. “fuckin’ hell,” he mutters, his thumb dragging the crimson over his lips, smearing it, his eyes are dark, half-lidded and god, he’s so hard against you, his thick length grinding up against your cunt through his pants and he feels the way you’re already soaked for him, feel it seeping through the thin fabric of your panties.

“just like that, honey,” he growls, slipping his rough, calloused hand down, pressing his fingers against your aching clit through the cloth, rubbing slow lazy circles that make you whimper, arching up into him. “needy messy thing, huh?” he lets out a dark chuckle, watching you fall apart under his touch, his finger slipping down to push against your entrance, just barely pressing in to tease, before pulling away. “you want this cock so bad, don’t ya, baby? look at you, drippin’ all over my hand.”

Stan can’t help himself; totally crazy about the way you’re gasping, moaning, whining, practically riding his hand as he slides one thick finger inside, then another, stretching you open, working you slow, feeling how you pulse and clench around him, desperate. he’s watching, that dark gleam in his eye as he yanks your panties in one quick, brutal motion, tearing them away, they’re useless anyway, leaving you bare, spread open, trembling under him, your needy cunt exposed to his hungry eyes. “that’s it, sugar.”

Stan’s fingers pump into your wetness, reaching deep, curling up to press against that sweet spot inside that makes you moan his name and beg for more, makes your thighs shake and he’s just eating it up, every little sound, every twitch, every shudder, enjoying how helpless you are. “you’re squeezin’ me so damn tight, doll, like this pretty little pussy’s just beggin’ to be filled. you want it, don’t ya? you want this cock filling you up ‘til you’re creamin’ all over me?” Stan just watches how your pussy takes his fingers, admiring how hot it looks, nearly salivating, oh how starved this man is.

“goddamn, what a beautiful fuckin’ sight.”he mutters, voice low, fingers tracing through your slick, swollen folds, spreading.

his thumb brushes over your clit, gentle at first, just enough to make you squirm and buck your hips. hell, you look so delicious lying there, all innocent and laid out just for him, for his fangs. Stanley doesn’t just want to taste your blood; he wants to drink down every ounce of you, to watch you writhe under his tongue, to fuck you senseless until there’s nothing left but trembling submission. you’re such a stunning sight, gazing up at him with that smoldering need, thighs pressed together as your arousal builds. your neck is covered in bites and love marks, smears of blood dotting your collarbones and throat. fuck, if he weren’t so obsessed with your pussy, he’d paint you in crimson. you’re just so damn sweet, so tempting.

you feel his hot breath against you, his mouth hovering so close, so achingly close to where you want him, need him. and then— oh, god, he’s kissing you there, pressing his mouth right against your wet entrance, sliding his tongue slowly over your slit, drawing out every sweet sound from your parted lips. the first taste makes him groan and he just goes feral from there, his mouth open, wet, hot, working over you like he’s starving, he’s devouring you, worshiping every inch, tongue dipping into your wet opening, making your thighs tremble.

he’s so lost in it, groaning against you as he buries himself between your thighs, tasting you, savouring every last drop. “fuck, you taste so good, baby,” Stan groans, pulling back, watching you with drunk eyes and glistening lips. “sweetest damn thing I’ve ever had.”

he sucks hard on your swollen clit, his lips wrapping around the sensitive bud, tongue rolling slow thick strokes against it until you’re gasping, your hips bucking against his mouth as he laps at you furiously. Stan lets out a low grunt, one hand sliding down, pressing his fingers into your hot soaked opening, working it slow, just barely breaching the entrance, collecting your juices as his tongue works relentlessly over your clit, making you see stars and tug his hair, your vision blurs from pleasure.

he slips his fingers out, just to watch the way your slick coats them, shining, glistening so beautifully and then he’s bringing them up to your lips, pressing them against your mouth with that devilish grin. “c’mon, open up, darlin’. taste yourself, yeah? wanna see you suck those fingers clean.” and when you do, sliding his thick fingers past your lips, tasting your own arousal as you suck them, he’s watching you hungrily, groaning, his hand moving to unzip, to free his cock — thick, veined, throbbing for you, so ready, practically aching as he strokes it, his gaze never leaving your flushed, needy face.

“get on your knees,” Stan commands and as you sink down, legs trembling, he fists a hand in your hair, guiding you to his cock, pressing the swollen, dripping head right up against your lips. “gonna make you choke on it, baby,” he murmurs as he pushes in, filling your warm mouth, groaning at the sensation. the taste of him hits you, salty, hot, intoxicating and when he reaches the back of your throat, he doesn’t pull back, but holds you there, buried deep, growling as he watches the tears prick at the corners of your eyes, feeling you struggle, feeling you take him like a good girl you are.

“ffuck, that’s it,” Stanley grunts, hand tight in your hair, guiding your mouth over him, setting a slow, torturous rhythm. “take it all, honey, don’t you dare pull back. i’m gonna fuck this pretty little mouth ‘til you’re drooling, ‘til I see those sweet little tears rollin’ down your cheeks, beggin’ for more.” and he thrusts slowly, but roughly, his cock filling you over and over, making your throat clench around him as you choke, drool slipping down your chin while he just groans, rolling his hips, pushing deeper, claiming every inch of you, feeding his length into that hot, wet mouth until you’re utterly, completely his.

࣪ ִֶָ🧪་༘࿐ scientist!Ford

that look in Ford’s eyes is downright terrifying, a hunger so dark it borders on obsession. standing above you in his lab, he’s like a predator cornering his prey, latex gloves snapping tight over his hands as he flexes his fingers, testing the restraint of each one. “just perfect,” he says, a sinister smirk tugging at his lips, his gaze devouring every inch of your body, laid bare on the cold examination table. “finally, I have you right where I want you.” Ford feels like watching some rare, elusive phenomenon, one he’s waited years to study up close.

he adjusts his glasses, looking down at you like you’re his own personal experiment. his six fingered hands itching to explore every part of you.

“such a rare subject, huh. . .”

the way you’re spread out on this cold table, vulnerable, open, ready to be ruined, it drives him insane. Ford drags a gloved finger along your needy entrance, feeling how wet you already are. “there we go,” he whispers, eyes glued to your exposed core, barely able to keep his composure as he leans down, his breath hot against your skin, even behind his mask.

he’s teasing you, tracing his gloved fingers along your inner thighs, ignoring the way you squirm, the way your hips lift in search of friction. "oh no, no. . . don't get ahead of yourself. we’re doing this my way, understood?"

then Ford pulls a small vibrator from his lab coat pocket, holding it up to the light, inspecting it clinically with that smart look of his before pressing it right against your swollen clit, flicking it on with a twist of his wrist. you don’t except this at all, the buzz jolts through you, sparking your nerves into overdrive and he watches, utterly fascinated, as your body writhes under him, chest rising and falling, lips parting in gasps and moans as you shake in pleasurable agony.

“no squirming.” he says seriously, even a little bit enjoyed as he adjusts the speed, pressing it harder against your poor little clit, holding you in place with one hand. “do you know how beautiful you look like this? squirming, desperate. . . jesus, and I’m the only one who gets to see it.” he presses it harder, moving it in small circles that make you bite back the desperate cries spilling from your lips.

“god, look at you,” there’s something cruel in his tone, something filthy and mocking that makes it all the hotter. “already dripping for me and I’ve barely began. pathetic.” he doesn’t even wait for an answer, he knows you can’t, not when he teases you like this as he just pushes the vibrator against you harder, grinding it all over your swollen sensitive bud until you’re mewling, “such a good little experiment, so fucking obedient, just look at you. . .”

you’re trembling and he’s right, you’re so damn wet, your thighs slick with arousal. Ford finally pulls the toy away and just when you think he might give you a second to breathe, his fingers are on you, pressing two thick gloved digits right into your drenched cunt so deep it makes your eyes widen. “ohh, you’re squeezing my fingers like you’re trying to keep me inside,” he chuckles darkly, curling them just right and you see stars, your walls pulse around him while you can’t do anything but lay there and take it. “this desperate cunt was made just for me to fuck with.” and he’s got that creepy insane grin which you can’t see through mask, but you definitely know it’s there, as he starts pumping his fingers in and out, dragging every inch until you’re whining again, hips lifting, needing it rougher, needing something much bigger than just his fingers. “just listen to those sounds,” he taunts, twisting his fingers as he buries them knuckle deep into you, pulling out to thrust in again, making the filthiest wettest noises echo through the lab. you’re a whining mess, helpless to the way he plays your body like a madman studying a phenomenon he’s finally captured.

then, without a word, his hand comes down against your clit in a sharp slap, making you jolt, a cry slipping from your mouth as the shock and pleasure blend together, you look down with eyes full of needy tears, sniffing. “oww, did that hurt, darling? is that why your stupid pussy got even wetter? little slut.” Ford growls, rubbing your swollen bud with his thumb, soothing only to slap again, delighting in the way you jolt, the way your mouth opens in a silent scream.

“my god, look at that,” Stanford finally pulls his fingers out and holds them up in front of you, you bite your lip, all humiliated as your juices dripping down his knuckles. “such a filthy mess you’re making of my gloves, dripping all over me and it’s just from my fingers?”

when you’re all dazed and ruined, with flushed face and body, all brain fucked out of you, he finally takes his fingers away. Ford undoes his belt with his free hand, pulling out his cock — hard, thick, dripping with pre-cum as he lines himself up against your soaked needy cunt. "you’re going to take every inch of this cock,” he guides himself at your leaking entrance. "you’re going to take it, let me fill you up, fuck you so deep you feel me for days.” his length slides against your puffy folds, pressing in slowly, groaning at how good you feel, your warm and soft walls squeezing him, until he’s buried to the hilt, stretching you open. “mmhm, barely fitting around me, but you’re taking it, aren’t you? good girl. . . there you go, keep squeezing me just like that.”

he doesn’t give you a second to adjust before he starts moving, driving his cock into you, thrusting hard, rough, hitting so deep, making your eyes roll back, mouth open as your body clings to him. “can feel you getting tighter— gonna cum for me already, aren’t you? barely even started fucking you and you’re already falling apart.”

and when you cum, your whole body shakes, gasping for air as a powerful orgasm tears through you because nothing compares to the bliss of cumming on Ford’s cock while feeling him so deep inside. but he doesn’t stop, doesn’t pull out; he keeps fucking you, barely holding back his own moans, lost in the incredible feeling of your little pussy squeezing around him, making it all too fucking good to resist. chucking, Ford pulls your leg up, shifting you to your side, thrusting into you from a different angle, his cock hitting that spot that makes you moan his name, lost to everything but the relentless drive of his hips. “oh, you like that, don’t you?” you can’t even a answer, your body so pliant in his hands as he pounds into you, watching the way your pussy hungrily sucks him in deeper. “feels that good, huh? can’t believe how fast you’re cumming, such a desperate little slut for me.”

he really is fucking every last bit of sense out of you, until the only sounds you can make are broken cries of ‘dr Pines!’ and ‘please!’ as Ford pounds into your dripping cunt, rough and relentless, your leg hooked over his shoulder as he drives deeper.

drool is spilling down your chin, your mouth slack, open wide as the lab fills with the sharp slaps of his hips against you, the sounds of your desperate cries and his ragged breaths. but it feels so fucking good, his cock stretching and filling you in ways that make your pussy squelch with every thrust. Ford smirks, eyes dark as he watches your slick drip down onto the cold lab table beneath you.

you’re so fucked out that you whine pathetically when he pulls out, your cunt clenching around nothing, left empty and throbbing, aching for more. that’s why Ford slips you over, bending you forward, one hand fisting in your hair as he slides back in, thrusting deep, filling you again, and that angle makes you gasp, makes you feel every inch, every thick, throbbing vein dragging against your soft walls. “you’re just swallowing me up, aren’t you? like this greedy little pussy was made for me,” he groans, his hand gripping your hip, pulling you back onto him with every thrust, filling you, splitting you open, slamming into you hard enough to make the table shake.

“look at you, cumming again, can’t even help yourself,” he pants, voice mocking as he feels you tightening around him again, finishing on his cock again and again, trying to milk him. and he doesn’t stop, doesn’t slow down, just keeps thrusting, filling you over and over, until you’re nothing but a moaning, trembling mess beneath him, totally, completely his.

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

Continuation to This Post :]

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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:

[acewithapaintbrush]

Saw @artsymeeshee hospital sketches of the sea grunks and thought to myself, is this finally my time to write some brotherly angst for these two? The answer is yes. Short but sweet, please enjoy.

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

The first thing Stan becomes aware of is the noise.

A constant beeping right next to his ear. Loud and high-pitched and repetitive and unfortunately very familiar to an old grifter with bad luck like him. He would be a lot more annoyed with this sound if his last clear memory wasn't of roaring waters rushing past his ears, stealing his hearing and leaving nothing but white noise behind.

He'd rather take the beeping.

Next comes taste, which, ugh! He could have gone without that! The feel of scratchy sheets is not much better but it tells him that he is in one of the better hospitals. Believe it or not, the better the hospital, the scratchier the sheets. Ford should cool it with the mystical beasts and research what's up with that!

Speaking of Ford.

Stan keeps his breathing even as he slowly opens his eyes. The light has been dimmed in anticipation and he blinks a couple times at a ceiling that is painted a nondescript beige color. He looks at it for a moment and for some strange reason he suddenly feels a fierce urge to video call Mabel.

But first things first.

Stan slowly turns his head to the side which actually hurts. Don't they have him on the good stuff?

Just as he expected, there is his brother. Ford has squeezed himself into the same bed as Stan, facing his brother's prone form. Stan can't help but smile. His brother must have bullied the nurses into letting him stay. The bed is way too small for two grown men but somehow the genius has managed to practically fold himself into a compact ball, leaving enough room for all those fancy machines connected to the patient. One of his hands lightly rests against Stan's chest which he hasn't even noticed until now.

Ford's eyes are closed but he is mumbling under his breath, reciting one of his journal entries from memory.

Stan winces. His brother must be really rattled by this little mishap.

‘Great job giving the guy another thing to worry about, Stanley!’

“I think climbing into the hospital bed with the patient is against the rules, Sixer? You are not supposed to do that.”

He was going for levity and humor but his hoarse voice kinda ruins that.

Ford's eyes don't snap open. He doesn't gasp or jerk upright or anything like that. Instead he takes a shuddering breath and deliberately opens his eyes. They find Stanley immediately and there is not a hint of surprise in them. Stan wonders how long Ford has known that he's awake.

“Same to you,” Ford says and his voice is so flat it causes a shiver to run down Stan's spine.

“Hey, s’not like I planned for this to happen.”

“I would be very cross with you if you had planned falling overboard, Stanley.”

Ford's emotions still feel weirdly flat. He isn't even lecturing and scolding Stan for his reckless behavior, just presses his six-fingered hand against his chest and stares at him with those blank eyes.

“I'm alright.” Stan shifts so he can face his brother and, damn, those ribs are definitely cracked. He briefly wonders if that happened in the fall or whether someone had to do CPR on him and quickly decides that maybe he doesn't want to know. Close call. Much too close. “I'm alright, Ford,” he repeats as if that makes it true.

For the first time an emotion flickers through Ford's face. He narrows his eyes and for a moment Stan thinks he's angry but then a single tear runs down an unshaven cheek, immediately seeping into the pillow.

“I thought I lost you for good,” Ford whispers, voice tortured. “I couldn't find you. For the longest time. I looked and I looked and you were just… gone. I couldn't find you!”

‘Same to you,’ Stan echoes with a bit of a bitter edge, mind replaying thirty years of hunching down in a dusty basement in a matter of seconds.

But this is not about him and Stan is, no matter what some might want to tell you, not an insensitive asshole.

“You did find me,” he says. He doesn't actually know if that's true. The time after he fell into the ocean during that storm is still a bit of a mystery to him. All he remembers is the noise of the water and how cold he felt and a voice screaming his name, over and over, growing fainter with each wave crashing over his head.

But Ford needs some reassurance right now. And the best way to reassure Ford that Stan is alright is by proving his alrightness with a good, old Pines hug.

He lightly pulls at the hand on his chest and with a cut off gasp Ford immediately obliges, scooting closer until they are entwined with one another just like they were as kids when the nightmares became too much to remain separated by a bunk bed.

“You found me.” Stan repeats and ignores the tears soaking into his hospital gown.

‘That's what we do,’ he thinks with a content smile, eyes falling shut with exhaustion. ‘We always find each other again.’

[sunniskyies]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐬 || 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐏𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 || 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟐

𝐑𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭: - 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Domestic fluff as you both settle back into life together <3 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Ford Pines x fem!reader 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: - 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬: Literally just fluff, a bit of being a guardian figure to the kids 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2.2k 𝐀/𝐍: You guys are SO SWEET about the last one, so here's more fluff for you beautiful old man addicts <3

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟏 > 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟐 > 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟑 > 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟒

The kids are in bed— well, mostly. You can hear the chirp of excited conversation through the ceiling. It was late, Stan and Ford’s explanation taking a long, long time. It didn’t help that the retelling got as thick and awkward as wet cement when it came to talk of Ford’s portal, and the events leading up to his departure.

Exhaustion tugs at every battered bone in your body, but you’re so content you might as well be purring like a kitten in front of a roaring fire.

You're curled up bridal-style across Ford’s lap, his arms enveloping you; warm, cradling, completing. He’s donned an old red knit jumper he fished out of his old chest of drawers. It smells like it belongs in a museum, sort of dusty and woodsy. Your face is pressed to his chest, and you feel much younger than your age. It feels like your first day in this house, the two of you huddled on a sagging mattress giggling and talking of futures and other such nonsense; youthful, hopeful, infatuated.

Now the two of you are more than thirty years on, enfolded together like the pages of a book left on an old yellow reading chair. You don’t speak, saving that long conversation for a lick of sunlight and mugs of coffee cupped in hand. No, right now you just sit in silence, Ford’s large hands stroking dust from your hair, a thumb gently soothing the bruise forming on your temple where you struck the wall.

Still unaware of the time except for the inky night hanging in the air, you feel Ford shift. His arms move, body ready to stand up with you. He stops when he notices two large pupils staring up at him curiously.

“You’re still awake, dear,” he smiles, voice quiet. “Let me take you to bed, I must lock up downstairs, make sure nothing vile is seeping through that blasted portal.”

“Ford, no, let’s go to sleep. You can do that in the morning,” you say, trying to ward off the edge of desperation edging into your tone. You can’t help but remember the miserable months of nights in a cold bed while your lover hid away in the basement, sleeping on his desk rather than with you. It has to be different— he’s better now.

Ford doesn’t share your fretting. “No, it’s not stable. Reopening the portal… it’s not safe to leave these things.” He continues to stand up, your body delicately draped over his arms. He seems to notice your expression. “I’ll join you soon, love.”

You doubt that. He’ll probably be there ‘till morning, his simple task snowballing as his keen eyes notice the slightest things amiss. “No, that won’t happen. No, no, I’ll join you. I’m rather accustomed to the portal myself after all this time with it.” You dismiss, stretching a leg to try and stand on the floor.

Ford bundles you up closer, “Absolutely not! You need rest, I swear I will join you.” He begins carrying you to the hall. Your fingers clutch the red fabric of his sweater. 

“Please don’t leave me,” you murmur plaintively, the corners of your mouth downturned. You miss the way Ford’s heart stutters, your eyes all hopelessly syrupy and mournful through your lashes.

He hesitates.

“Please? You can stay down there any other night I promise, just stay this time.”

His jaw tightens. “I don’t want that. Not again,” he says firmly. “Okay… I’ll… I’ll come with you.”

You immediately relax again, at ease in the rhythm of Ford’s steps as he carries you to your room. A stupid grin hijacks your face as he ever-so-gently places you under the sheets (he remembered what side of the bed). You watch from your nest of sheets as he gets ready for bed in the soft lamplight, lifting up the duvet for him to slide in next to you.

His arm around you, frothy sheets up to your neck— you think you might die here and now for how perfect everything feels. You feel his nose bump the top of your head as he presses a kiss to your hair.

“If you’d have told me this morning that… that today would be the day I would’ve never believed…” you say, heavy eyelids closing as you're interrupted by a yawn. You feel his chuckle reverberate where you lean into his chest. 

“Go to sleep, sweetness.” He murmurs, tone laced with a smile. There are his hands again, rubbing soft circles on your arm, your hair. He might as well be rubbing in anaesthesia, his touch lulling you to sleep. Darn you Pines.

Before sleep pulls you under, “I’m so glad your back, Stanford,” slips quietly from your lips. Ford’s heart skips again. Arms tighten around you as if you’re a precious photo about to float away on the wind; skin softly creased from a lifetime of loving, hair matte and grey like faded ink from thirty years of waiting.

“I’m more grateful than you could ever know, my dear,”

A stretch trembles through your warm limbs, the aches from last night dulled by a deep slumber and the warm morning sunlight soaking through the window. A thrill passes through you, your arm sliding through the sheets to Stanford’s side and—

A cry pours from you as your hand meets cold, empty space. Your body is jolted upright, perspiration glistening on your forehead. Your heart is hammering, lungs gulping in buckets of air. Where is he? Where is Ford? Did he come through the portal? Did it really happen? You don’t register the wail emanating from you, nor do you register the pound of heavy boots down the hallway.

“____ are you okay?!” Ford exclaims, almost slamming into the door as he hurries in. His hand is tense, hovering above the gun strapped to his belt.

The sight of him— the feeling you get is so overpowering it’s nauseating. Your paralysed limbs untense, body slumping in relief.

“Goddammit Stanford Pines, you just gave me the fright of a lifetime,” you bemoan, uninvited tears swimming beneath the sieve of your hands. You don’t see as his face goes from confused to slack with realisation.

“Oh,” He groans. “Oh sweetness I’m so sorry.” Feeling horrible, he leans on the bed to pull you into him, rubbing your back. “I should’ve waited for you to wake up, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay, it’s okay. I’m sorry, I probably scared you half to death.” You mumble, slightly embarrassed. As much as you are connected to Ford, thirty years has changed both of you, and you find yourself —embarrassingly— feeling like you need to impress him, like a teenager with a crush. God forbid he thinks ill of you!

You relish his rumble of a laugh. “I thought a monster slipped by me or something! I’m grateful you're okay.”

“Yeah, well, I think you might’ve just taken a year off my life, Ford.” You roll your eyes lovingly, a few of the last of those silly tears escaping.

After getting up and pulling on some summer-friendly clothes, you slip down to the kitchen to find the morning well underway. The sun is beating through the windows, and Dipper is sat cross legged on the floor reading a book. He’s reading with the cover down, but his furtiveness is wasted on you; you know he's reading A Good Girl's Guide to Murder. ‘Mature murder mystery books’ indeed, Dipper!

At the kitchen bench, Mabel is haphazardly balanced on a stack of books, multiple propped open at once. From the batter congealing the pages together and the fact that most of the books are iced, you know they are cookery books. And a cookbook in Mabel’s hands is either as dangerous as a matchbook to a forest, or as useless as shoes to a fish.

By the looks of it, it is the latter. Although, is there a faint… burning?

“Great Aunt ___!” Mabel squeals, revealing sprinkle-harbouring braces. “I'm baking, look I’m baking! See, I had this great idea to try and substitute the liquids in my Mabel Cakes with Mabel Juice because Grunkle Ford has never had either —can you believe that? Me neither, so I thought I could kill two birds with one stone and make them together… but I didn’t realise the plastic dinosaurs in the juice would melt in the waffle iron!—” You try to cut off the young girl’s 100-mile-an-hour babble, but that girl is unstoppable.

You wince as she holds up two fists of semi-cooked, eye-wateringly bright gobdules of cakey dough. You, pained, notice the half-melted dinosaurs, faces in liquified agony as strings of molten plastic drip from their bodies. Matchbook in forest, matchbook in forest!

“—So now it’s a bit of a Jurassic Park, another reason why I think Grunkle Ford will love it, even if it’s a bit of a.... disaster. But if you think about it it’s more like a Magical Mabel Disaster! And oh, I added extra sprinkles because you can never have too many sprinkles! Do you think the hardened dinosaurs will make up for the uncooked dough? Or should I cook it more? Doesn’t matter, it’ll taste great!”

You give her a wobbly smile, mostly because you fear what might happen if you open your mouth.

“I tried to stop her,” Dipper mutters from between his pages, voice smug and matter-of-fact.

“Oh don’t act like you're so grown-up, you’re reading a little girl's book,” she retorts in a sing-song. Dipper slams his book closed, the tips of his ears matching the cover.

“I think you’ll find it’s very sophisticated and easy to digest—”

You let the twin’s bickering fade into the background as you begin to tidy up the carnage Mabel’s baking attempt has left. Usually, she gets distracted by things quite quickly, leaving Mabel-messes scattered around for anyone to find. You don’t mind it though, all too glad to slide the Mabel Cake into the bin. You shiver. Those plastic faces… they haunt.

Ford was back down in the basement, the sounds of clanging and buzzing drifting up through the weary floorboards. You want to go down there, but that silly part of you doesn’t want to disturb him again today. No— that’s ridiculous! Ford loves your company, you don’t get in his way —it’s not like it was when Bill was around.

Five minutes later, you're standing in the small room in the basement holding a cup of coffee and a salvaged Mabel Cake. You see Ford through the glass, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, tools being used and replaced back onto his belt. He’s hauling colossal slabs of metal from the sides of the portal, the machine slowly being stripped down to bone. Like a massive carcass, it creaks and groans as Ford’s tools slice away at its flesh, and you hope he’s staying well out the way each time pieces of it fall to the floor like toppling trees.

After a few moments, Ford seems to notice you through his welding mask, though you can’t see his face through the tinted visor. He perks up though, dropping a massive saw to the ground and hurrying over.

“Hello, my dear! Is it too noisy?” He says as he slips through the door, pulling off his helmet and drawing you in for a sheepish kiss.

“No, just bringing you some of Mabel’s baking efforts— you don’t have to eat it, but she was awfully excited.” Ford surveys the cake with a smile, and you resist the urge to wipe the smear of soot from his cheek. 

“Thank you. For the sustenance, and for, uh, for checking in,” he says sincerely. Is that a flush you see? Your suspicions are confirmed when you set the coffee aside and bring him in for a deeper kiss, blouse-clad arms sliding around his neck, and you feel his pulse thrum beneath his skin.

The relief you feel! You’re not the only one navigating these unknown emotions, that the man who’s mapped the multiverse is also feeling the giddy nerves you are. Your skin prickles where his degloved hands bear your skin.

It feels strange to be held romantically after so long of loneliness. It’s not that you haven’t found love with the kids and Stan, but you could never bring yourself to even look at another in the way you used to look at Ford. Even if you never finished the portal, you would’ve spent the rest of your life alone, satisfied at least in the knowledge of how it felt to be loved, once. It excites you childishly knowing just by his kiss that Ford felt the same, the way he cradles you in his gaze and with his hands as if he’s trying to reabsorb every inch.

When you break away, his eyes open after yours, and he seems to be at a loss for what to say.

“Do you, um, want to go for a walk this evening? You haven’t left the shack yet, and we haven’t truly caught up…” you offer shyly.

“Yes! That would be… splendid! Spectacular. This evening. Perfect.” He blurts. The calm of last evening has clearly floated away in the daylight for both of you.

“Perfect.” You repeat.

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @sleeplessdreamer14, @2hiigh2cry, @taffycandyqt, @papi-machucha, @muffin1304

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