#this books will give us a lot about ford I KNOW

[fragilefirstchance]

I actually have thoughts about this! I think Ford is a specific type of character.

First of all: Let's talk about fanon!

Something I think that a lot of us forget when we're doing fan analysis is just how caricaturized all blorbos are in canon. This is true of any work of media: the characters aren't real people, they're figments who only exist as we see them on-screen.

Fanon is kind of like those AI image sharpeners that take a blurred photo and make it look like a person's face: yeah, technically that is an accurate way you can interpret the blur, but there are hundreds of faces that would be just as accurate, and not only are they all very different from each other, they don't even agree on the most basic and obvious traits. The same blurry headshot could be a scowling white woman with a square jaw or a smiling black man with sharp features. In a similar way, when we see a character become stressed because they just saw a mouse in a cage, we could say they're scared of mice, or morally opposed to pets, or that they have cage-based trauma - any option that works is plausible.

I think that there are characters who are good characters, characters who are uniquely good subjects for fanon, and a ven diagram between the two. For example, a lot of kids' shows from the nineties are bad, but they managed to produce a really fun and rich fandom. Meanwhile, some really beautiful and culturally important stories don't leave a lot of room for fan works because they've already said what they need to say. I think the absolute best works for fandom are the ones that are objectively good stories, but have really simplified characters: Undertale might be the best example of this, because every single character suggests a rich and beautiful personality while only being on screen for a relatively short time.

So that leads me to part two: Ford!

I think Ford fills a particular fandom niche that was empty for a lot of us.

He's extremely traumatized, and the more we learn about him, the more traumatized he is. He's kind of pushing the limits of what's acceptable from a kids' show, to be honest.

He canonically has a lot of difficulty making friends; this is partly because he's quirky and seemingly neurodivergent, but partly because he has poor social skills. He's not a cartoony, Eeyore-style "has trouble making friends but we love him anyway" character, either; there are tangible, in-story examples of him failing to make friends.

He behaves badly sometimes. This is actually my favorite trait of his - anyone who reads my fanfiction knows how much I love giving people with real flaws a chance to find love and be treated with respect. Most characters have a flaw to overcome, but in his worst moments, Ford actually lashes out and hurts others in a tangible way and not just a child-friendly way. Showrunners don't always like to show that sort of thing.

It is very, very easy to read some severe mental health symptoms into his behavior. Bill is a literal character, but he's also a pretty good metaphor: you can use him to explain hallucinations, dissociative fugues, sudden mood swings, manic episodes, severe depression, paranoia - the list goes on and on.

(That last one is really important. There's a pretty damn big difference between a good metaphor for mental illness and a thoughtful portrayal of that mental illness in a story. It's kind of like how many of us were so starved for queer representation growing up that we read queer metaphors into everything. Well, there still isn't good mental illness representation in most media, so we'll take the metaphors we can get. Ford is a really good metaphor even as he's presented, and there are a lot of holes in his narrative where personality disorder symptoms, manic episodes, delusions, etc. can slot in easily.)

None of those traits make a good Disney character. They only really work because he spends so little time on-screen; the books were only possible because of Gravity Falls's massive commercial success. So, he's a very rare example of a character who's from a light-hearted, positive, optimistic show aimed at children, but who has all of the template features necessary for us to read him as deeply broken in some ways that aren't sanitized or socially acceptable.

So, there are dozens and dozens of Ford AUs in which we project very specific experiences, traumas, and symptom sets into this one man.

How many Ford AUs out there are reflections of our own insecurities, traumas, and just general unresolved issues? Is that, like, his whole purpose in the wider multiverse of alternate Gravity Falls characters? 'Cause I KNOW it isn't just me

[inkskinned]

hello. you left a neon pink post-it with pgs 194-359 due 9/12 in the book, by the way. it is now May 23rd and the library's printer is running out of ink. it jammed and tore my passport application. one of the librarians dutifully blacked out all my information (front and back!) before proceeding to use every unmarred inch as scrap paper.

i think maybe our (plural, inclusive) lives are connected. all of them. i have been thinking a lot about borrowing. about how people move through the world in waves, filling in the same spaces. i have probably stood on the same subway platform as you. we held the same book. all of us stand in the same line at the grocery, at the gas station. how many feet have stood washing dishes in my kitchen?

i hope you are doing well. the pen you used was a nice red, maybe a glitter pen? you have loopy, curling handwriting. i sometimes wonder if it is true that you can tell a personality by the shape of our letters. i'm borrowing my brother's car. he's got scrangly engineer handwriting (you know the one). it's a yellow-orange ford mustang boss. when i got out of the building, some kids were posing with it for a selfie. i felt a little bird grow in me and had to pause and pretend to be busy with my phone to give them more time for their laughing.

i have a habit of asking people what's the last good book you read? the librarian's handwriting on the back of my smeared-and-chewed passport application says the glass house in small undercase. i usually go for fantasy/sci fi, but she was glowing when she suggested it. i found your post-it on page 26, so i really hope you didn't have to read up to 359 in that particular book. i hope you're like me and just have a weird "random piece of trash" "bookmark" that somehow makes it through like, 58 books.

i wish the concept of soul mates was bigger. i wish it was about how my soul and your soul are reading the same work. how i actually put down that book at the same time you did - page 26 was like, all exposition. i wish we were soul mates with every person on the same train. how magical to exist and borrow the same space together. i like the idea that somewhere, someone is using the shirts i donated. i like the idea that every time i see a nice view and say oh gosh look at the view, you (plural, inclusive) said that too.

the kids hollered when i beeped the car. oh dude you set off the alarm, oh shit is she - dude that's her car!! one was extremely polite. "i like your car, Miss. i'm sorry we touched it." i said i wasn't busy, finish up the pictures. i folded your post-it into a paper crane while i waited. i thought about how my brother's a kind person but his handwriting looks angry. i thought about how for an entire year i drove someone to work every day - and i didn't even think to ask for gas money. my handwriting is straight capital letters.

i thought about how i can make a paper crane because i was taught by someone who was taught by someone else.

the kids asked me to rev the engine and you know i did. the way they reacted? you would have thought i brought the sun from the sky and poured it into a waterglass. i went home smiling about it. i later gave your post it-turned-bird to a tiny child on the bus. she put it in her mouth immediately.

how easy, standing in your shadow, casting my own. how our hands pass over each other in the same minor folds. i wonder how many of the same books you and i have read. i wonder how many people have the same favorite six songs or have been in the same restaurant or have attended the same movie premier. the other day i mentioned the Book Mill from a small town in western massachusetts - a lot of people knew of it. i wonder if i've ever passed you - and didn't even notice it.

i hope whatever i leave behind makes you happy. i hope my hands only leave gentle prints. i hope you and i get the same feeling when the sun comes out. soulmates across all of it.

[littlebearbun]

Stanley Pines NSFW Alphabet

(Written for myself. lmao)

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

Tbh I think this depends. If it's with a one night stand, he's pretty “hit it and sleep” or he goes to the Stanmobile to sleep if they're being clingy or he's spooked. A quick “thanks, toots” and a slap on the ass and he's out. If he's with someone he cares about, he's very clingy. Will give them a sip of his Pitt from the side table and lots of kisses and his hands are everywhere. Does not care about sweat or wiping anything down. Wants to be big spoon to sleep.

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

His: His hands/arms. Knows he's muscley and knows his hands are huge. Also likes his crooked grin cause it's very different from Ford’s smile. Theirs: loves a good pair of thick thighs. Tbh I don't see him disliking any part of his partner but he loves them “with meat on their bones” as he says. More to grab and squish. (When they've been together for a while, will say he adores their eyes, too, but especially when they're looking at him.)

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

Comes a lot and it's pretty thick. Doesn't taste bad but not good either (his diet isn't great) Would prefer to come inside but is fine with it on their face/chest/stomach/ass/etc. He's not picky.

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

I could see him keeping panties in his pocket and randomly touching them or holding them against his face.

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

He's…experienced in one night stands. Knows what he's doing but only when it's rough/fast/etc. If it's slow and sweet he gets flustered and is easier to overwhelm.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Sitting against the headboard with them in his lap, their back to his chest, slow deep fuckin or using his fingers. Will whisper naughty things in their ear and watch his hand between their legs. Would never forget the image of his lover wearing his gold chain, riding him, the pendant swinging with their movements.

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

Once he's comfy, he can be both. I can see him teasing and picking lil fights and trying to make them laugh, but I could also see him just wanting their attention focused. Is very “keep your eyes on me”

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

Grey hairs around the base. Probably doesn't care about trimming it unless his partner asks him to, and will probably make a grumbly comment about the effort. He does not care if his partner shaves.

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

Again, depends if it's a one night stand or not. If it is, it's not romantic at all. He's there for one thing only, no strings attached. If it isn't, he's absolutely worshipful. Kisses stretch marks, moles, scars. Nuzzles everywhere he can get to tickle with his stubble. Calls them every pet name in the book. Says how lucky he is to have landed someone like them.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Probably doesn't do it much after he takes over the Mystery Shack, reminds him of how lonely he is. When he was drifting, he does it to forget but only if he can't find a willing partner to spend the night with instead. After he gets Ford back and has a partner, he would do it but only to a, tease his partner or b, cope with them being gone for a few days. Prefers them on the phone for it.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Definitely into edging/overstimulation. Stealth collars, makes his chest puff up in pride.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

His office or in front of a mirror. Or his armchair. Or his car. He has a lot of favorites, sue him.

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

For most of his life, he's only in it for himself. Likes when his partners beg and make him feel important. Later, when with someone for a while, domestic shit gets him. They brought him a Pitt and kissed his cheek and he's hard???? Still really likes feeling like the “big man of the house” tho.

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

Doesn't like handcuffs on himself, they remind him of prison. Doesn't like if he can't see/hear/move his hands. Will never involve another in the bedroom. His self esteem is too low for that.

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

Prefers to receive I think. Again, makes him feel in control. Much rather use his hands on his partner so he can look at their face easier and see their expressions.

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

Generally rougher for sure. Sensual is a once in a while thing if he needs reassurance.

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

Often. Hell yes. He loves em. Wants to see how quickly he can get them off on a back closet, or his office, or in the shower. Power trip.

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

Experimenting sure, I could see him trying a lot. Risks, depends. Doesn't want the twins to see. Doesn't want Ford to see. Doesn't want anyone to see, really.

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

He’s good for one round himself, but he's more than willing to use his mouth or hands until his partner is satisfied. Doesn't mind if that takes a while. Would absolutely lay in bed all lazily while fingering them after he's finished.

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

Some of them?? More into using them on a partner than himself. Would love collars, nipple clamps, maybe a flog. Would be strangely intrigued if they had different kinds of dildos. (What shape is that?? Let me watch you try it)

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Merciless tease. Whispers naughty shit all day. “I'm sorry, I couldn't hear you, babe, say it again? Louder?” Touches everywhere but where they want most.

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

He grunts and groans a lot. Will not shut up, talks for the entire time.

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

If you say he's a “good man” it breaks him. He still has a hard time remembering some things sometimes (can wake up missing pieces). Sometimes the bad things come back first and he needs kind words and to be reminded he's safe

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

Huge arms, very very strong. Prominent gut, obviously. His legs are skinnier than the rest of him. Very hairy. Brand on his back and maybe a few tattoos from his gang days, but nothing too serious.

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

Once he has a partner he loves? It's high. Wants them constantly, even if it's just their body near his. When he was drifting, I think it was only if he wanted a place to sleep or was really lonely. Sometimes he felt worse after.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He likes the after sex cuddles, so he stays up a bit. Will tease them about the sex in a rough, quiet voice.

[showstopper35]

the human form (bill cipher nsfw!)

a/n: don’t ask me why I wrote this. I’m losing all self control. may draw at least my bill design later. This could be an x reader or you could pretend it's Ford.

notes/cw: NSFW!! SMUT! oral sex, handjob, cumplay. reader is gn. unfortunately I am a subscriber to Twinkish Bill Cipher, so there’s that.

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

"How many holes do you have?" a familiar, grating voice asks as I am buried in a book.

"Excuse me?" I ask, peering at Bill's floating form over the top of my book.

"Holes. You." He points.

"Well, there's my mouth, ears, nose...that's five." I say slowly. "Do tear ducts count?"

"Yes. Seven, so far. But aren't there more holes down there?" He points to my lower region.

"Um..yes. Two or three, depending on the body." I say quietly. "For waste and for...um.."

"Cum?" he asks innocently.

"Yeah. That." I choke. Surprised he knows what that is, considering he refers to humans as "meat sacks".

"What's cum like? Is it yellow too?" he asks, sitting down in the air and crossing his legs.

"No...it's usually white and clear-ish. Why are you asking about...this?" I say tentatively.

"I want to experience more with my human form. You know, like, pain, but also pleasure. It'll help me understand how to manipulate you freaks better. " he muses, smirking somehow without a mouth.

"Oh. I guess that makes sense. Well, you could try...um..making that with your human form, I guess. If you wanted to." I had no idea where this conversation was going.

"How?" comes the new question, making me nearly blush. For all the weird shit he says, talking about sex was somehow weirder.

"You know where your dick is?" I ask. He nods. "You...can stroke it yourself. Or have someone stroke it for you if they want. Or they can use their mouth, or you can put it into someone else's...holes...and pump it until you cum." My voice progressively got quieter and more flustered as I explained to him all the different ways people came. He seemed to get gradually more excited as I went on.

With a flash of blue light, he transformed into his familiar human design. Gangly limbs, crooked mischievous smile, triangular eyepatch, and messy cowlicked hair. He immediately unzips his black pants.

"Woa! Woa! I'm right here!" I startle out of my seat, averting my gaze as he starts pulling on the waistband of his yellow boxers.

"I know. You're gonna help me." He states simply. He reaches over and loosely grabs my wrist. I jerk back, face flushed.

"Absolutely not! I'm not touching you." I all but scream.

"Please? Please? If you do this, I'll give you a small breakthrough in your research. I know you want it." His grip around my wrists tightens--a threat. I stall, a frown on my face.

"Fine." I say, before I can properly regret it.

"Really?" He lets go of my wrist, smiling.

"Just...just quickly. And you better keep your end of the deal."

He waves me away, already slipping into my chair. He points to the ground, and I slowly slide to my knees, my face between his thighs. He slowly pulls his length out of his boxers. His dick is relatively skinny, like the rest of him, but he definitely gave himself a generous length when designing this body.

"Are...you sure about this?" I ask, soft. He nods, watching me with intense fascination and almost greed. With that permission, I gently wrap a hand around the hilt of his length, slowly stroking up and down. He instantly flinches against my touch, and I can tell by his tension that it takes a lot for him to not pull away.

"Just tell me if you want to stop." I whisper, before kissing the top of his dick. I lick the beads of precum, a slight smile forming at my lips at its salty taste and the shiver that went up through his body. I place my whole lips around the head, sucking down and up in slow motions. I enjoy Bill's trembling, especially when he briefly closes his eyes.

I suck more, licking a thick stripe along the bottom of his cock, enjoying the soft whimper that escaped his mouth. He looked away, visibly embarrassed, but he runs a hand through my hair before tugging on it.

"Enjoying this?" I murmur, kissing the side of his dick. He just growled in response, his long, serpentine tongue flicking out between his lips. I feel his thighs twitch, shuddering. He's probably close.

I pump my hand around his cock harder, nearly choking as I try to fit more of it into my mouth with each suck. I go faster and faster, tears pricking at the edges of my vision. Finally, with a violent jerk, his hips buck into my face and he yanks on my hair so hard I whine. A nearly painful shudder runs through his thighs as hot cum spills into my mouth. I pull back, letting it drip onto my chin.

Slowly, still twitching, he reaches down to me and swipes at the cum on my chin, sticking his fingers into his mouth. "Salty." he comments, though it doesn't look like he hates it. He then wipes the rest of it onto my neck.

"Well? How was it?" I ask, touching his dick once again to cover my hand in cum. He takes my wrist and licks my palm, then presses my hand to his chest.

"I...I liked it. I see why it makes you ugly freaks go crazy." He sighs, leaning back, licking more of my fingers and ruffling my hair with his other hand.

"I'm glad. We aren't all bad, hmm?" I laugh, kissing his cock once more before standing up.

"No...not all bad."

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

[gfanlocalcryptid]

You're an angel, I'm a dog

Or you're a dog and I'm your man

You believe me like a god

I'll destroy you like I am

I'm sorry I'm the one you love

No one will ever love me like you again

So when you leave me, I should die

I deserve it, don't I?

I can feel it gettin' near

Like flashlights comin' down the way

One day you'll figure me out

I'll meet judgment by the hounds

People always gave me love

Others were never to blame after all

You believe me like a god

I'll betray you like a man

You believe me, like a god

I betray you, like a man

- Mitski, I’m Your Man

[the-east-art]

hello!! I hope you don’t mind me asking this, but do you have any good gf fic recs? I really like your sister’s one so maybe ones with similar vibes to that? :D

heck yeah! *to the tune of Stunkle Bunkle* East gives Gravity Falls Fic Recs!

idk if i can say for sure what does or doesn't have similar vibes to Pines Paradox, but I can tell you fics I like! Although legally if you like a fic I recommended you have to tell me 'I read that one and liked it' so I can feel like I'm getting a good grade in fics recs. One last thing: I'm not really a shipper so these should all if not mostly be gen. (if you want to see my entire list of bookmarks fics you can check out my ao3

Pines Paradox - BrownieFox

Ford's research is interrupted by his estranged brother showing up on his doorstep with a kid who claims to be time traveller. Meanwhile in the present, Stan and Mabel try to figure out how to get Dipper back to the right time. There will be secrets revealed, old wounds readdressed, and above it all a one-eyed demon watches with interest.

East: the primer. the blueprint. The one I do all the fanart for. Obv you have already read it, but in case this list gets around to other circles outside of my own, I want to put this one up first. Dipper gets stuck in the past BEFORE Not What He Seems.

Adrift - Jamesneatojourney

Stanford wakes up on the deck of the Stan O'War, concussed and alone

East: intense and dramatic - I'm kind of a sucker for Stan whump and that's what it is paired with REALLY good Ford POV

Pines! Pines! Pines! - hellmandraws

A collection of my various Gravity Falls fan comics, previously posted on Tumblr. The main focus tends to be on the Stan twins.

East: MUST READ COMICS. Hops all over the timeline, mostly focusing on Stan and Ford. Explores a bunch of aspects of their relationship, of the years they spend alone. It's the beast stuff out there.

putting the dog to sleep - parsnipit

ford can’t stop thinking about old yeller that night, staring up at the glow-in-the-dark stars on their ceiling. he couldn’t do it, he thinks. he couldn’t ever shoot his own dog, no matter what. “well,” stanley says pragmatically the next morning, pretending like he doesn’t care as much as ford knows he does, “since he was sufferin’ and all, it was really better for him to be dead, wasn’t it? not much point in being alive if your whole life is terrible and you’re a danger to everybody you ever loved.” something cold and sharp takes up residence in ford’s stomach. he doesn’t like hearing stanley say stuff like that. he doesn’t like it at all. “i wouldn’t do it,” ford insists. “no matter what, i wouldn’t. there’s always another way.” “heh. yeah, i bet you’d find another way, brainiac,” stanley teases, reaching over to muss ford’s hair. ford swats him away. stanley can make fun all he wants—ford still spends all night thinking about cures for rabies.

East: OUTRHGDSGD the old yeller analogy that runs through this one shot absolutely kills me - I'm such a sucker for these types of metaphors. It uses quotes from the book to set the stage the the different sections and it drives me crazy in the best ways.

Things You Can't Take Back - thesnadger

It's Nineteen Seventy-Something. Stan is running from his mistakes, when he suddenly encounters the last person he ever thought he'd run into out here. What is he doing in Columbia, so far from Glass Shard Beach?

East: dare I spoil the twist? I won't. Read it. One of my all time faves.

Persist and Dwell - fencesit

Wendy pauses with her hand on the door and then says, "Hey, Soos—you ever notice Stan doesn't really...touch things?" He probably should have seen this coming, but the problem with deliberately not looking at things is that they have lots of chances to blindside you. In hopes of avoiding this conversation, Soos says, "I haven't noticed that." "Okay," Wendy says. "So. I'm going crazy, right?" "Dude, you're too smart to be crazy," Soos says, "but he totally touches things. He handed you money like five minutes ago."

East: What if Stan was lowkey-highkey haunting the shack?! THIS IS SUCH A GREAT IDEA. I really wish that there was more for this au or this idea

Deja Vu - interlude

Stan and Ford get stuck in a time loop on the day of the portal incident and are forced to work through some things.

East: Through the lense of a timeloop, watch the brothers have their struggles, and find that with infinite time on their hands there is nothing else for them to do but to eventually work things out (and maybe deal with how to get out of the loop). ITS GOOD SHIT

The Sacrifice of Stanford Pines - Jugare

Instead of sending Stan a postcard, Ford leaves Gravity Falls to find his brother. But to his shock, Stan is not nearly as willing to help as Ford thought. Everything goes south quickly.

East: I love this fic. The act of Ford going and finding Stan rather than having him send a letter gives these characters more time to interact before they arrive at the Shack, changing the course of fate. A top tier fic.

Under The Ice - castielrisingabove

What if that phone call the Bill-possessed Ford made to Stan actually went through?

East: short but to the point. A fun thought experiment and I think does a good job portraying both Stanley and Ford.

Sleight of Hand - impish_nature

Stan the magician!

East: Stan, post weirdmageddon, shows off his sleight of hand and his magic tricks. Ford POV. If you like the idea of the things lost in the cracks of memory after the series finale, or at least while Stan recuperates, you'll like this.

Unexpected but not Unwanted - impish_nature

Ford struggles as Stan remembers.

East: the tentative movements towards being a family, being brothers again, post weirdmageddon. shamelessly soft.

I Am A Selkie On The Sea - scribefindegil

The twins may be able to use the same sealskin, but only the one born with it is the true selkie. At least, that's what Ford's been telling himself for the past 40-odd years.

East: This series in general is really good. I like how the selkie skin is used to unit and to tear apart. My one gripe is I wish we never found out whether the skin belonged to Mabel or Dipper, and it was left for the reader to decide (and to decide if that even matters)

Too Late, Too Soon, Not Enough - IncomingAlbatross

(Another take on the missing scene in the Fearamid, featuring protectiveness, promises, and some long-overdue emotional progress. Also Stan being annoying on purpose.)

East: one of my favorite depictions of this scene. Does a good job with Fords POV and writing Stanley

why can't we just teach kids swears? - untrustworthyglitch

“Anyway, what’s in my kitchen that needs kid proofed? I keep the liquor in the high cabinets, where the kids won’t be able to reach,” Stan says. “Plus, the gun in the breadbox isn’t even loaded. Probably. I think.” Soos sighs. “I have my work cut out for me.” Or, in which Stan's niece and nephew are coming, and it's up to Wendy and Soos to fix Stan's life and habits.

East: A good fic, but more than that I really love this idea of how Soos and Wendy helped Stan get the shack ready for the kids.

Protective Instincts - ShyEye

Stanford decides to do some out of house research one late full moon night. He returns home only to almost instantly be attacked by an unfamiliar monster that maybe isn't as unfamiliar as initially thought.

East: I just love werewolf Stan au okay?

The Other Portal - Haberdasher

AU where, when items are lost in the Bottomless Pit, they come to Ford… regardless of his current location in the multiverse.

East: A good fic, but more than that it's a really fun idea! I wish they had pushed the implications of this even more (especially with the bottomless pit episode)

Off-Season - anistarrose

Winters running the Mystery Shack are difficult, but two unexpected guests improve Stan’s day.

East: cute oneshot. I'm a big fan of timetravel oneshots that are from the pov of the person who ISNT the timetraveler. Dramatic (or in this case tbh just very cute) irony.

In the Shadow of Death - A_Zap

It all started with the grim. Now it seems like every time he turns around, Ford finds yet another death omen hanging around his brother. Seriously, what exactly is going on with his brother that death constantly seems to follow his footsteps? A 5+1 fic of the death omens that adopted Stan and he adopted back.

East: It all comes together in the final chapter, trust me.

Changing Tides - Ariasune

When their dæmons settle, they'll be grown up. At least, that's the general idea.

and

Post-script - Ariasune

Poindexter, your deed is in the safe -- Wendy can open it for you -- don't worry about the mortgage, that's been paid off. Sorry about messing your life up again. Bye. PS - the milk is about to go bad, so you should use that up.

East: DAEMON AU DAEMON AU I'm such a sucker for these kinds of aus. Changing Tides focuses on canon, flipping between when the Stans were kids and the time of the show. Post Script naturally happens after the show. They're both good and dramatic.

Raising Stakes - Mary P Sue

East: heck, my copy and paste stopped working for some reason, so no summary for you. This is a vampire au and it's good! Create characterization, pretty clearly written either while Mystery Trio was a big thing or inspired by it. Carla fans get your juice.

[winterrain-11]

some more gravity falls hcs :3

(a lot of these are sad)

cw for drug use, mentions of abuse, major character death, and other such depressing things

- mabel starts swearing like a sailor after the summer (ik that stan made an effort not to swear around the kids, but i don’t think ford did, and it made stan’s filter slip more) and gets in trouble for it at home. when stan finds out he tries to hard to pretend to be mad but he’s lowkey proud

- the twins have to fight tooth and nail to teach their grunkles to use a cellphone, especially facetime. they eventually get the hang of it, but the first few months at sea were two hour facetimes of the grunkle’s chins just bickering at each other and assorted “how’s it hanging pumpkin? how’s school?”

- stan and ford watched westerns nonstop as kids (though ford was more into star trek and doctor who) and they played cowboys often. stan was OBSESSED with cowboys and briefly tried to work as a ranch hand while he was homeless in his 20s

- dipper and mabel have a love/hate relationship with cw’s supernatural. mabel thinks the boys are hot and is definitely a destiel shipper. dipper loves the genuine supernatural-ness of the early seasons and now still watches it kind of as a joke but also because mabel got him on the destiel train. the last two episodes ruined their lives.

- the twins have opposite reactions to weed. it makes ford’s paranoia really bad and makes him nauseous, but it makes stan’s adhd brain quiet for once and allows him to relax for once. when dipper and mabel get older, they have very similar reactions. when stan catches mabel smoking, he tries to be responsible about it and tell her that smoking is bad for her and to not end up like him, but eventually they just smoke together on occasion.

- mabel is significantly better at guessing plot twists than dipper (in books, movies etc) and dipper DESPISES this fact (i think it’s the same for the stan twins too tbh)

- stan dies first, ford dies almost exactly a year later.

- stan picks up guitar while he’s homeless, uses it to make a bit of money on street sides. he teaches mabel in her teen years when his hands get to old to play.

- when ford and fiddleford rekindle, stan and fiddleford bond over regaining memory. they both relearn their instruments together (guitar and banjo respectively) and enjoy singing along to old outlaw country and appalachian folk rock (stan picked it up in his travels).

- (cont.) ford suggests music because it’s known to help dementia and alzheimer’s patients with regaining memories, and while that’s true, he really more just enjoys seeing his two favorite people happy again.

- both ford and stan think the other voted for trump (2016), neither of them did. stan thought hilary was hot (and thought trump was a loser) and ford voted third party (sorry he gives me centrist vibes). i imagine they both vote dem in 2020 and 2024 because they see trump as a much worse conman/asshole and a narcissistic sociopath respectively.

- (cont.) the twins have heard the stan’s complain about the other’s political ideologies and know that they vote the same but refuse to tell the other. wendy is also in on this and they all have to tackle soos on several occasions to keep him quiet before election day.

- nate and lee definitely explored each other’s bodies and when they finally came out to the friend group everyone was super confused because they assumed that they had been dating for years

- ford has a very addictive personality. while stanley does too, he can restrain himself (doesn’t smoke or drink around the kids, doesn’t lose himself in gambling), ford picks up smoking on the stan-o-war II and doesn’t stop until he dies. Stan has refused to go to Vegas with him even though ford begs, but stan knows an addict when he sees one. ford never acknowledges his problem.

- stan doesn’t tell ford about his homelessness and abuse at the hands of his father/pimps/drug lords until they’re several months deep on the stan-o-war II and certain things start to trigger his PTSD. Ford listens and opens up about his abuse under Bill and his life of crime in the multiverse. they definitely cry together for a long time.

- (cont.) Stan only tells the kids when they’re in college. mabel self destructs a bit during this period trying desperately to find herself and stan is terrified that she’ll go down his path of dangerous desperation for self-worth and wants her to know that he knows how she feels, they grow even closer because of this.

- stan did drag for a short period of time around the southwest in his homelessness. at first he was forced to do it to be degraded, but once he got his autonomy back, he began to do it on his own accord and really enjoyed it/was really good at it. he tried to convince himself that ‘he wasn’t queer or anything’ and was just doing it for the money, but he never really fully believed that. (where he learned to wear a girdle)

- once again. stan wanted to be a cowboy so bad okay i know this in my heart of hearts. this man LOVES clint eastwood and johnny cash and RAHHHH i know it.

[lostreverb]

RANDOM LUKE COOPER HC'S

a/n: writing a fic for him and he's just so cute and i keep getting ideas for him ahh my cinephile bf i need him might fuck around and write some NSFW ones later (SORRY THIS IS REALLY LONG I GOT CARRIED AWAY)

he's very quiet if he's not talking about movies

not audibly just like only gives one word or one sentence answers

which means he's a VERY dry texter (it's not personal he's just like that)

though he does post his every unfiltered thought to his twitter (which has SOO many followers like a shitton)

doesn't understand typing in lowercase and thinks it's dumb (but if you type in lowercase he won't call it dumb but he'll express he thinks it's weird)

has the worst handwriting ever but that's because it's almost like a kind of unreadable script (like doctor handwriting)

he listens to all kinds of music really aside from like pop or country

also really likes monty python

he really likes musicals (singing in the rain, phantom of the opera, the sound of music) b/c he was introduced to them when he was very young so they're very nostalgic for him

but he'll never mention it because his friends would make fun of him for it

(would LOVEEEEEEEE la la land)

used to read books a lot more when he was younger

is a superhero comic book fan

he can play piano really well (parents made him play) he just doesn't give a fuck about piano

he's also like crazy smart and would do super well in school if he applied himself he just doesn't care

he really wants to switch his major to film studies but his parents wouldn't approve (but he's thinking about doing it anyway)

became completely desensitized to gore and nudity at a young age because he'd always just watch whatever movies his dad put on

wrote a series of letters to quentin tarantino as a kid and got one letter back and it's his most prized possession

likes maintaining eye contact with people for too long because it makes them uncomfortable

just generally likes messing with people and being a little shit b/c he likes how easy it is to mess with ppls emotions cause they're so predictable (which is kinda a red flag but he's never really taken something too far)

b/c of this no one really takes him seriously which bothers him a bit but he knows it's his fault

which is why when you do actually take interest in what he says he finds himself falling for you

he never got "lost" in the forest with michael he just hates being in nature and michael was annoying him so he walked back to the car

after a bit he looked outside and saw everyone panicking so he got out and went back to the group and everyone was acting like he died

he thinks it was too far for his parents to cut michael off but he also didn't care

thinks michael's annoying at times but the things he does are funny and he uses him as content for his twitter

has been so engrossed in his own world his whole life he doesn't think about girls

though his main crushes are sarah connor (terminator), the bride (kill bill), storm (x-men), and mikaela banes (transformers - but he hates the transformer movies)

but he has very little or no experience at all

he's probably the first in his friend group to have a girlfriend too

his only knowledge about talking to girls is from movies so yk the james bonds, george clooney, harrison ford are his main influences

which means if he has a crush on you he'll just stare at you all the time, bother and tease you relentlessly and try to banter cause that's the only way he knows how to get closer

he'll also try by memorizing your coffee order

if you don't drink coffee he'll try to find out what you do drink (without directly asking you)

he'll never confess, you'll have to first and use the most straightforward language or else he won't take a hint

once you start dating he has no idea how to treat you anymore

he just constantly flips between being the sweetest bf ever and the bane of your existence

if he annoys you too much and you get upset his first response will be "what? i didn't even do anything" or some other cheeky response

you'll have to help him to unlearn that

though he's a very caring boyfriend and would help you carry things around the office and drive you places and get you presents

he just is so obsessed with you and loves being around you all the time

doesn't give a fuck about most things (other than you and movies)

he's not incredibly keen on pda but sometimes he'll hold your hand and kiss your cheek in public

if you kiss him in front of other people he'll get really flustered and be noticeably disoriented for a bit after

feels weird using pet names but he'll use the occasional baby or babe

he'll discover how good it feels to cuddle it'll be his favorite thing to do along with watching movies with you

run your hands through / play with his hair and he'll fold completely

the first time you do it he'll probably involuntarily moan and get so embarrassed about it it'll take a few weeks before he'll let you do it again

during those few weeks he'll think about how your hands felt almost obsessively he's never felt anything like it

he'll create a list of movies to watch with you and once a month he'll let you choose the movie

he's really good at gift giving because he makes sure to pay extra attention to the things you like (especially movie related things bc he has good contacts)

he's definitely one of the first people to ever use letterboxd

he loves being able to drop you off at home from work because more often than not you'll stop someplace to get something to eat or head to his place and watch a movie and he loves doing that with you

he also likes picking you up in the morning because then you get to go on his coffee run with him (you'll make sure everyone's orders are correct and he'll whine and groan about it saying it's not worth the time but he appreciates it)

will definitely get you to do his work for him

his work clothes used to belong to his dad which is why they're just a tad too big for him

outside of work he typically wears zip-up hoodies and jeans with a graphic t-shirt (probably related to a film he likes)

instead of a bookshelf, he has a DVD shelf in his room (that's very well organized and categorized)

and he has a really high end tv and surround sound system that he and his dad paid for

he researched how movie theatres make their popcorn and buys the special ingredients directly from one by his house

used to have the whole script of citizen kane memorized but it's been a second since he last recited it

he's written his own scripts before but he doesn't think they're any good (he's pretty hard on himself about it)

but if he does end up making a project he'll 100% cast you in it

[chillinglyadventurous]

Fresh Start - Stanford Pines

Thank you to @ultravioletqueen for the request! I know it’s not the headcanons you requested, but I hope you still enjoy!

I could definitely be talked into a part 2 of this.

Tags: Fluff, mentions of abuse

“Hey mom,” you son called from down the hall, “is it okay if I go hang out with Dipper? His Grunkle Ford is taking us to find a monster in the woods.”

You looked up from your book to see Jack, your 13 year old, looking at you with puppy dog eyes. You had moved to Gravity Falls a few months ago. The divorce was messy. Your ex husband was a prick. You needed to get that boy out of there. Of course, you had been worried about moving to a new town. You had a job. You made friends easily, but your son wasn’t the same.

He was a shy boy, too intrigued by the supernatural for his own good. You were excited he found a friend, even if Dipper was only there in the summers to stay with his great uncles that lived in the local tourist trap.

You nodded. “Of course, honey. You need a ride over there?”

You’d met Stan before, Mr. Mystery. He wasn’t a good influence, but he was nice enough. You knew you could trust him to keep your kid safe. No part of you doubted that, but Jack had been gushing over Dipper’s other uncle, Ford. Jack had referred to him as a mad scientist. That made you a bit wary.

Monster. Yeah, that freaked you out too. You had heard whispers around town about last summer. You’d seen some weird things around Gravity Falls yourself, things lurking in the forest near your home. Some had even told you that you were so lucky you weren’t there last summer. You wondered what had happened. When you asked, you were always met with the same response: Never mind all that.

You parked your car out front of the Mystery Shack where Dipper was there to greet Jack, “Hey, man! You ready to go?”

“Dipper,” you began, “can I meet your Grunkle Ford before you guys get going?” You just wanted to be cautious. There were a lot of creeps in the world. Granted your ex husband knew most of them, but you always felt more at ease when you met someone before letting your kid have sleepovers or hang out at someone else’s house. “Would that be okay?”

Dipper nodded, but, before you could get inside, a man came out with a large backpack strapped to his back. For a moment, you thought it was Stan. He stood a bit taller than Stan, just enough for you to notice. His back was straighter and his glasses were cracked.

He gave you a warm smile, “Greetings! You must be [Y/N], Jack’s mother.” He took your hand in his. His handshake was firm. When he caught you mentally counting the fingers on his hands he pulled away. “You’ve got a smart boy, [Y/N]. I’ve never seen someone so young recite the first hundred digits of pi so quickly.”

“I even won a contest at my old school, for it, Ford!” Jack beamed up at the man you couldn’t stop staring at.

Ford ruffled his hair, “There’s nothing more fulfilling than academic achievement.” He gave loud laugh. “Boy, do I miss those college days.”

“Can I talk to you?” You said. You pointed towards the door to the Shack, eyes on Ford. He muttered a quick ‘certainly’ before following you inside. You could see the boys gabbing over what they were going to do. Jack seemed so excited. You hadn’t seen him that way in a long time. “I’m really excited Jack found a friend, but, if I’m being honest, the whole monster-hunting thing freaks me out a bit.”

Ford gave a curt nod. He could see your hesitation and understood it completely. He gave your shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “I can promise you,” he reassured, “I would never put Jack or Dipper in any danger.” Another warm smile stretched across his face. The lines by his eyes creased with his grin, “I haven’t told the boys yet, but this isn’t going to be some grand adventure. They’ll be a bit disappointed. We’re just going to catalog the migration patters of a local creature I’ve named beard cubs.”

“Harmless?” You wondered, giving him a soft look. Okay, he was normal-ish. This was fine.

A curt nod was given. “Absolutely. The worst that could happen is your teenager comes home with facial hair. You’re welcome to come if you’d like!”

“No,” you declined, “don’t want to risk becoming the bearded lady.”

Ford gave you a hardy laugh, “Very well. I’m assuming Jack has your phone number. I will give you a call when we return so you know we’ve made it back safely.” He shook your hand again. “It’s very nice to finally meet you, [Y/N]. Jack talks speaks very fondly of you.”

You gave Jack a quick hug before getting back into your car. It was cute the way the boys trudged after Ford. What really melted your heart was the way Jack looked up to Ford, completely enthralled by the amazing man leading him and Dipper into the woods.

Of course, a flutter was in your stomach. Family of your kid’s friends never led him off into the woods before, but nothing about Ford set off any red flags. He seemed safe, capable. You made a mental note to invite the Pines family over to dinner soon. They’d really made Jack feel at home in this little town.

By the time evening rolled around, you were standing in your kitchen washing dishes. Your phone was right next to you. Nothing yet. You were about to pick up the phone and call Jack when you heard a car pull up. The door opened, Jack and Dipper’s chatter filling the room.

“In here!” You called. Dipper and Ford followed your son into the kitchen. “You guys have fun?”

Dipper beamed at Jack, but Ford’s gaze was fixed on you. “As promised,” he smiled, “and no children with beards.”

The kids ran off up the stairs to Jack’s room. You dried your hands, turning to the man standing in the middle of your kitchen. You sat at the table and gestured for him to do the same. With this grace about him, he sat comfortably at your table.

“Jack didn’t cause you too much trouble, did he?” You were trying to make small talk, something you had always struggled with especially after your ex. Then, you had learned it was always better to stay quiet. You couldn’t fight if you didn’t speak. “He gets carried away sometimes.”

Ford shook his head. “Jack has never been any trouble. He’s actually very helpful. He’s very intelligent. He created this-“ Ford paused when a clatter came from up their stairs, “Is that normal?”

“Boys,” you shrugged.

Over the next few weeks, you had seen a lot of Ford. Dipper hanging around was normal. One night, they were both sleeping at your house. The next, they were at the Mystery Shack. It gave you some peace and quiet which you appreciated, but, soon, Ford was showing up at your door just to talk to you, often when Dipper and Jack were out exploring with Mabel.

You and Ford had grown quite friendly over that time. You would sit and chat about mostly nothing over tea or coffee or the occasional glass of wine. You were enjoying his company.

Tonight was one of those nights. Ford had brought Dipper and Mabel over for a sleepover. “I promise I made her leave the grappling hook at home,” Ford assured as the kids ran up the steps with their sleeping bags in tow. “I can’t promise, however, that she didn’t sneak it in her bag.”

“Eh,” you grinned. You motioned for Stanford to follow you into the living room. “Luckily, there’s nothing she can break.” Crash. You laughed as you plopped onto the sofa next to Ford. “So, no experiments to conduct tonight or are you just playing chauffeur?”

“Chauffeur.” He stared at you for a moment. You noticed that a lot lately. He reached out, brushing something from your cheek. “Sorry,” he blushed, “you had some flour or something-“

Before you could respond, three kids came barreling by you, “Hey, no running in the house, Jack!”

“Sorry, mom!”

They kept running. Mabel, however, stopped in her tracks. She had seen that. She saw the blushes and Ford’s hand on your face. “What’s going on here?”

“Mabel,” Ford warned. One of your eyebrows raised as you noticed his blush grow deeper, “Go play.”

Her feet planted themself in your throw rug. Her usually sweet grin was wicked, “Is Jack about to be my new cousin?”

Your back straightened. Had Jack said something? You didn’t think he had heard you on the phone with one of your friends from back home, yapping on and on about Jack’s friend’s hot uncle.

“Grunkle Ford has a crush on you!” She ran off.

You stared at Ford and he stared at you. Both of your eyes were wide. You two were concentrated on the other, looking for some sign that Mabel was lying.

That was when the boys came running by again, but it was Jack who stopped then. His grin was just as devious as Mabel’s had been. “Mom has a crush on you!”

Your head fell into your hands in embarrassment as the kids laughed maniacally in the distance. Ford was on his feet. For the first time ever, he was at a loss for words. His attention was only on you. A part of him was hoping you’d confirm what Jack had screamed. You wanted him to do the same. But, the silence ticked on. Even when you finally had the courage to see his face, he stood silent.

“Please apologize to your husband for me,” Ford’s voice was curt and dry. “I think this has gotten out of hand.”

You blinked as you tried to comprehend what he just said. His words weren’t really registering until he was opening the front door. “I’m not married. Not anymore, at least.” That seemed to catch his attention. Suddenly? You couldn’t stop yourself. When the subject had been broached in the past, you had avoided it masterfully. Now, you couldn’t. “Jack’s father and I divorced a little over a year ago. The yelling, the emotional manipulation, I couldn’t do it anymore. So, I left.”

Ford stared blankly at you, but you continued. “Jack’s telling the truth. Its silly. We’re grown adults. I know-“

He kissed you, “I’ve wanted to do that for a while.”

“Awww!” Mabel cooed from the top of the steps, “Jack, you’re our cousin now!”

[noodles-doodles01]

Some Gravity Falls Stuff I Found

A lot of this could already be known, but I'm having fun and its a way to keep track. All is from thisisnotawebsitedotcom.com

So for computer passwords:

Dipper- a letter from Bill (his handwriting + he calls him Pine Tree) telling dipper to stare into the sun

Mabel- Places stickers all over the lab until the screen says "lab fully Mabelized"

Stanford/Sixer- Gives a Medical report on Ford's hand taken at 18, the report censors the mention of kidnapping him for cloning

Stanley- eBay for brass knuckles

MatPat- a video of MatPat saying "hello internet, this time, you're on your own"

Cipher/Bill Cipher- Eye of Providence Wiki

Bill- Sesame Street Video

Wendy- A letter from Wendy saying that she wrote a way to ward off evil triangles at the bottom right of the book (I have two ideas for what this could be), also a 👌 drawn in the bottom right corner upside down.

Blind Eye- A seeing eye test that repeats the letters WKHBOOVHH (anagram maybe?) with a colour code at the bottom (I'll include this later in this post)

Robbie- Shows messenger messages between Robbie and Thompson. Thompson seems to be getting real tired of the bullying (He wrote out "If you keep insulting me one of these days I-" and then highlights it as if he's about to delete it, followed by Yea :(). They discuss going to a site to see Bill, and later freak out about seeing him and knowing how they both die (Thompson gets mistaken for luggage and Robbie chokes on a mini skateboard). The end is this photo with Bill in the background:

Pacifica- A letter from Pacifica herself warning against Bill, saying that she dumped old Tapestries with triangles on it off a yacht with an unnamed friend. She seems to be super uncomfy about mentioning who the friend is (Dipper maybe?). She ends the letter saying that you should follow her on Platinum Paz

Platinum Paz: Details a story of Pacifica having a nightmare about blood being on her hands and everywhere. She then has a conversation with a statue of Nathaniel NW, who asks about her anger. She tells him everything was better before the Pines' came to town, and he says he will help her if she does something for him: go to the Pines' place and grab a small snowglobe that's new (the rift). He is about to shake her hand before she stops and wakes up. She then adds Dipper's number to her phone and sleeps well. Most likely what leads to the tapestries being thrown off a yacht.

Oneeyedking: a hypnosis tape where there is morse code in the background while Bill says "you want to sell your soul to Bill Cipher" three times. I didn't do this but the morse code gives a series of letters (explained below)

If you spam Stanley: you are a taken to something called “the Wheel of Shame” and it is Bill explaining that he knows all of Stan’s shames since he was in his head. They are listed as follows: Ex Wives, Fears, Secret Shames, Unreported Crimes, Stan’s Failed Products, Lowest Moments, Darkest Thought (pin all crimes on Soos), and How Stan Beat Me (He didn’t! I’M STILL HERE SUCKER)

Now for Codes:

When you click on the book of Bill, there is a letter from Ford to Dipper warning against the book. On the last page at the bottom right corner, this code is seen (this is what I thought Wendy might mean):

I tried all the existing codexes, but they didn't work. Until I typed MASON into the compuer (Dipper's acc name), which gives a sheet where Dipper talks about learning how to make codes. Ford's writing comes in at the end, and the words CRYPTOGRAM CODEX are capitalized at the end. When that was input into the computer, a folder file was downloaded and gave me multiple codes.

I used CypherFontA and flipped the message on the Vertical Axis and reversed the message to get: PER ASPERA AD ASTRA, which means "through suffering to the stars" in Latin

There is another hidden code on the candle, visible through the lightning, and it uses the Runes codex, translating to CURSED. When input into the computer, you get this "Just Say No" campaign poster against drawing triangles (RAD), the words Cool and Parties are both randomly capitalized in this speech bubble from Nancy Reagan (not applicable to the passwords tho)

Carved into the wall (visible when lightling strikes) on the left is the Latin phrase "VALLIS CINERIS", which translates to "valley of ashes", you get this image and a creepy voice that says "why did you do it?" (a reference to bill destroying his home dimension)

The morse code spells out NAITSUAF, and when input to the computer, gives an offer to sell your soul. At the bottom is a button that asks are you ready, when you click on it, it shows a contract that has the following code on it

This is also a codex given in the previously mentioned codex file, and it is the theraprism file. It states: "YOU ARE NOW TWENTY ONE GRAMS LIGHTER"

Below the theraprism is more CipherFontA code, which I have not fully completed but seems to list out the terms of the contract. However, I noticed these rectangles near the words and am wondering if it means to take the letter closest to it or if it is a period. I am too lazy to work it all out rn so feel free to lmk what that all says :)

When you sign the contract, it says "pleasure doing business with you" and the flame on the candle is now blue. When you mess with the toggle on the computer, you get a backwards audio message in the same creepy voice as the Vallis Cineris code. When reversed, the audio says: " Someone help, the murderer’s name is Bill”

The prism that sits beside the computer has a code with the following symbols: #?&&!, which reads out as SORRY (this code is in the Book of Bill). When you input that into the computer, you get an image of college Ford and McGucket :(

That’s all I have for now! Feel free to reblog with anything else you might have found! I know of a ton more but I didn’t include them since this post would NEVER end.

[juletheghoul]

Castaways (Part 1)

AN: Before I get into the notes for this - I want to say a quick thank you to everyone who took the time to send me a message / comment on my post, it meant a lot to me. 💜💜💜 As for this story, I started writing it in Sept of 2022, after watching the Harrison Ford movie, Six Days, Seven Nights lol. I had a lot of it down pretty quickly but eventually, I stopped. Now that new ideas aren't as bountiful as they once were, I started combing through all of the half-finished works in my docs and I fell back in love with this one. Hopefully you enjoy it. I have an ending planned out so there will definitely be a part 2! Shout out to @wheresarizona for betaing and just general wonderfulness, to @just-here-for-the-moment for screaming at me through comments in this doc. Enjoy xox. 

Pairing; Frankie Morales x f!reader (Princess as a nickname)

Warnings;  C o m p e t e n c y - a very brief snake…encounter?-piv sex (wrap it up), swearing, dirty talk, Frankie eats pussy with gusto (when doesn't he), creampie, longing, yearning, a helicopter crash (nothing too graphic), reader is spoiled at first and generally kind of snobby- enemies to lovers? Bit of a slow burn! let me know if I missed anything.

Word count; 13k 😅

reblogs are appreciated

Masterlist

The click of your heels sounded throughout the airy hangar with a purpose, the echoing sound of it heralding your journey to give someone—anyone hell. 

A quick flick of your wrist reminds you how late you already were for the retreat booked in your private slice of paradise; the private jet your father paid a fortune for had made an emergency stop in Puerto Rico- some nonsense about a storm. 

Unacceptable. 

An imperious sigh leaves your mouth -not a single person to lay into anywhere in sight, and it leaves you no choice but to head outside to see if there is a plane you could commandeer. 

—

He wipes the grease onto the legs of his well-worn work coveralls, his previous scowl gone and replaced with a triumphant smile - finally got that fucking bolt off-

“Excuse me-” He turns toward the sound and is greeted by a very annoyed-looking woman. “Hi, do you know where I can find a pilot? There’s no one in the hangar.” She drags a very expensive-looking suitcase behind her with one hand, the other holding a ridiculously large hat onto her head. 

“Hi, yes I’m a pilot - most of the staff have gone home, a big storm coming soon-”

“Perfect, can I hire you to fly me to this island?” Her fingers flew across the no-doubt latest model of smartphone in her hands - ignoring the shocked expression on his face at being so rudely interrupted. “This one here, I need to be there like three hours ago, and I would be there now if we hadn’t stopped here - you know where this is, right? Can you take me?” She all but shoves the phone into his face. 

“No.” He carefully moves her manicured hand away from his face, and a tiny, cruel little part of him enjoys the shock in her expression - he very quickly gets the impression that this girl is not used to hearing the word. “As I was saying - everyone has gone home, a lot of people were grounded here, myself included. There is a big thunderstorm coming. Not safe to fly until it passes. Shouldn’t last too long - a quick squall - come back tomorrow, and I’ll happily fly you there.” He then turns to continue his work. 

“Money is no object, but I need to leave now,” she says it through a huffed breath, and his eyebrows raise. 

“And yet, my answer is still no.” He’s annoyed now. In truth, it was a fairly quick flight - he knew the island she’d shown him, had made the trip before, and it would be less than an hour, but her attitude was a black mark against her. Her phone trills then, a cheery tone, momentarily snatching her attention from him. 

“Hi, Dad, yeah, I know. I’m at the hangar, looking for a ride.” She taps her foot, and it sets his teeth on edge. “There is a pilot here, but he says he won’t fly me.” She narrows her eyes at him when he turns to look at her, listening to the other half of the conversation he wasn’t privy to. “I’ll tell him- Sorry-” She inspects his name tag, “Francisco, my father says if you get me to the island within the hour, he’ll make it worth your while. Name your price.” 

“I don’t know what part of it isn’t safe isn’t registering-” She raises her voice and speaks over him. 

“He’ll pay you ten thousand dollars.” Her tone is loud but bored. “Besides - the skies are gorgeous - I’m sure we can make it before anything happens.” She waits a moment, “Plus another five grand when you land. And you can have accommodations until tomorrow - room service, the works. Just please - get me there.” Her eyes are hopeful, and for a brief moment, he acknowledges how pretty she is, or - would be, if she wasn’t such an insufferable princess.

He knew he should have said no. Knew he should have turned her down and followed the guidelines, but that kind of money would change his life. Change their lives- it would have been insane for him to turn it down. 

“Fine.” He relents, shoving down the heavy feeling in the pit of his stomach. “I’ll be your pilot. We’ll be out of here in ten minutes.” She almost jumps with joy, and he can’t hide the annoyed expression on his face.

“Done - okay, I’ll be there soon, Dad! Bye.”  

-

He was covered in grease. 

You had to remind yourself not to wrinkle your nose at him. You supposed he could be handsome, in a scruffy, working man way, but that's beside the point. He was your saving grace right now, and that counted for a lot.

He fiddles with the engine of the helicopter for a moment more while he leaves you to wrestle your suitcase in by yourself, thankfully without breaking a nail. 

“Alright - just going to perform a couple of checks, and we’ll be in the air.” He got in and began flicking switches, turning knobs, and checking over all manner of gauges while you made yourself as comfortable as was possible in the cramped little aircraft. It was hard, though, with your suitcase practically digging into your back behind you. 

It’s fine. I’ll just have to get a massage once I land.

“Okay, we’re off.” He has his headset on, and you are in the air within a few moments. That, unfortunately, seemed to be the end of your good luck. 

Whether by some cruel design, by the fates or gods, or whatever entity dictated the events of your life - it didn’t take twenty minutes in the air for the sky to turn a foreboding gray. 

“That doesn’t look good,” he says, the words loud enough to be heard over the noise, his eyes quickly scanning the horizon, no doubt taking in the dark clouds flanking either side of the already rickety helicopter. 

“It came out of nowhere.” One minute, the sky was blue, and the next, lightning forked the sky in the distance. 

“No, it didn’t - I told you a storm was coming. This is too dangerous - I’m going to have to turn around for our safety.” He maneuvers the controls, and you have no choice but to agree despite your annoyance.

It all happened so fast. 

Something strikes the aircraft, the sound of it booming in your ears so loud it hurts, and then he’s frantic. Manically pressing buttons and calling through the radio, but from the frustrated and frankly terrified expression, no one is answering. 

“Fuck, tighten your seatbelt, we’re going down!” He grits his teeth, and all of a sudden, you are spinning, a scream being ripped from your throat - your heart falling out of your ass. “Impact coming - brace yourself!” he screams before the world goes black. 

-

Someone is making noise, a low groaning noise that pulls him out from the depths of unconsciousness, he’s only mildly surprised to realize it is him.

The helicopter - his helicopter wasn’t making any noise, which was bad. 

Under normal circumstances, it would be broadcasting out a signal beacon that would bring in a rescue team, but as it stood right now - without blinking lights or a working radio - it had gone completely silent. 

Lighting must have fried it. Fuck.

He took stock of his situation. Luckily, he doesn’t feel any injuries aside from horrible whiplash. No blood, no broken bones. A softer groan comes from the woman beside him; she’s still out, and he couldn’t see any injuries- he’d know when she woke up. 

I could kill you right now.

He thought the words, sighing loudly to himself before finding a way out of the cockpit. He’d managed to move most of what he had in the helicopter out onto the sand by the time she woke. 

“Jesus Christ - what the hell happened?” She stumbles out, barely managing to stop herself from eating shit in the process, unfortunately.

“What happened is the storm I warned you about many times caught us in the air and grounded us here.” He’s laying out his supplies, lengths of rope, his toolbox, and empty water jugs. He has a small case with a flare gun, an emergency kit filled with first aid supplies, and a massive tarp. There are a few more things to go through, but it is important they find a source of freshwater soon, or they won’t last two days, especially with the heat making his clothes stick to his body.

She sighs loudly, struggling to make her way through the sand in those ridiculous heels she’s wearing

“And now we’re stuck here, on an island when, where I should be, is home with my-“ 

“Can’t you call mayday or something? My father is expecting me. I’m sure he’ll have an army looking for us.” She’s digging through her purse frantically, ignoring the scathing look he’s giving her.

Spoiled little brat, you only care about yourself, huh?

“Wow. You know what? That’s a great idea! Why the hell didn’t I think of that?” He can’t hold back. “Oh! I know, it’s because we were struck by lightning, and it fried everything, so whatever army your father sends won’t find us -there is no signal to hone in on.” He scowls at her, annoyed that she isn’t paying attention to him even now. “Doesn’t help that a lot of these islands that are usually full of tourists are uninhabited after the hurricane that hit a few months ago.”

“So we’re stuck here???” Her eyes are wild as they look past him, to the beach just beyond, and then to the thick greenery behind them. “This cannot be happening right now,” she spoke to herself. 

“Where the fuck is my phone??” She moves and makes her way back into the cockpit, all but ripping the aircraft apart before- “Fuck! You have got to be fucking kidding me! Don’t you have some kind of satellite phone or something??” She’s tapping at the deeply damaged screen, it completely destroyed. 

He couldn’t help but bark out cruel laughter. 

“I don’t know what planet you’re on. People - regular people don’t just have satellite phones, sweetheart.” He got up from his place in the sand, making sure to put the flares back in the helicopter.

“Great. Just great.” She sighs loudly, “So we’re stuck here. Do you even know where here is?” She fishes into her bag once more, pulling out a bottle of what looks to be sunscreen, and squeezing out some to spread over her exposed skin. 

“No. I don’t, but the heat is going to kill us if we don’t find water soon. Grab one of those jugs, and let’s go find water. You might want to change your shoes.” He pushes her suitcase at her, ignoring the shocked look on her face. “Chop chop, princess, let’s move.” 

-

This couldn’t be happening, this could not be happening!

Right now, you should have been mingling with Louis, the gorgeous, billionaire bachelor your father invited to your private resort. You could almost picture it, the classy yet sexy outfit you’d be wearing while you flirted over a drink by the infinity pool. Broadening your horizons and nailing down the rich husband you deserve.

Instead, you’re here - stuck in the sand with the world's grumpiest pilot, trying desperately to get your phone to work, but it’s no use. 

You can almost see the frantic look on your mother's face now that it was obvious that you hadn’t made it at the scheduled time, she and your father were probably coordinating with the military right this second, with the Navy.

What the fuck am I going to do-

The jug hits your lap, scaring you half to death.

“Come on, princess, let’s get moving. We have to find fresh water before we die of dehydration out here.” He’s standing a few feet away, staring at you with his perpetual scowl. “Change your shoes, and let’s go.”

“What’s wrong with my shoes?” They were pretty sensible as far as your sandals went, respectable heels, and relatively comfortable. His scowl deepens.

“You cannot stumble around the island in those, you’ll break an ankle, and I am not fucking dealing with that.” His eyes narrow. “Tell me you brought a pair of runners in that giant trunk.”

“Of course I did,” your tone is icy as you get up with a huff. You quickly changed into them, and then you were off. 

The terrain got more and more treacherous the further you got from the powdery white sand of the beach. Dirt and bramble gave way to thick, almost jungle-like vegetation, making the trek harder and harder as time slogged by. 

The sound of running water greets the two of you like a siren song, spurring your tired, sweat-soaked body to move quicker, and the sight that meets you once you break the dense treeline could've made you moan. You jump into the water to cool your heated skin, ignoring the warning from Francisco. 

“You should get out of there.” He’s at the edge of the clearish water, filling the jugs quickly.

He seems to be determined to infuse his sour attitude into everything, your mouth opened to tell him to relax when something brushes past your leg. At first, you think it might be a piece of underwater flora, but it becomes apparent very quickly that it’s something far worse. 

“Francisco.” His eyes met yours, “Francisco, something just swam into my shorts, I-I think it’s a snake.” Your voice trembles slightly, hands itching to pull whatever it was out, but his voice cuts through the urge.

“Don’t move- are you sure it’s a snake?” He put the jugs down beside him, moving closer to you, descending slowly into the water.

“Yes, It’s coiling around my thigh, moving up - I need it out right now, I wanna just grab it-“ Your head tilts down, but he stops you.

“Don’t move! It could be venomous.” He wades into the water towards you slowly, too slowly. Your heart’s racing, hands shaking as you wait for him to reach you.

“Help me, get it out, get it out!” your voice is almost manic, desperation colouring every single inch of you. 

“Okay, okay, calm - deep breath.” You followed his example as best you could, trying yet failing to ignore the slithering against your skin. “Slowly pull your waistband away from your body, and I’ll see if I can grab it,” his tone had lowered, a soothing timbre reminding you for a moment of how a teacher would speak to a student. 

It helps.

You did as he asked, pulling at the waistband of your shorts, all thoughts of propriety forgotten, and within a moment, his hand was shoved down deep - a rather large hand fighting with whatever it was that had made camp in your pants. 

He bit his lip in concentration, bodily pulling you towards him as he struggled. A moment later, he was raising it up triumphantly.

A huge shiver went down your spine at the sight of it, spurring you to get out of the water as fast as humanly possible. 

“Jesus Christ, it’s just one fucking thing after another,” you spoke as you made it out without incident, ignoring the huge sigh he let out behind you. “Thank you for that.” He was following closely behind you, not interested, it seemed, in having a similar experience.

“Don’t mention it. Let's fill these and get back to the beach.” He hands you a couple of empty jugs, and you reluctantly got to work.

-

All things considered, they were lucky. Frankie knew that. His helicopter - albeit small - was surprisingly well-equipped to handle being stranded. He had an emergency survival kit, purchased partly under the insistence of his mother but mostly so he never had to relive what had happened to him a few years ago. He’d tried not to think about it, but walking through the foliage back to the crash site had brought it all back. Vividly. 

He pushed it away, shoved it down deep where he kept the rest of his issues - instead choosing to focus on what they needed to do. They needed some form of shelter, and soon. 

“I am sweltering,” her voice was low behind him, whiny with the distinct tone of someone who had never truly been uncomfortable a day in her life. “Fucking starving.” 

“Most likely, you’re dehydrated. Once we get back to the beach, we can figure out the water,” he spoke over his shoulder. “Have to make camp if we’re going to be here for a while.” They broke through the treeline, seeing his helicopter on the beach like a pile of old bones broke his heart a little - his only connection to home, to his little girl. He pushes it all away again. 

“So how do we get this water drinkable?” she huffs out the words, dropping the jugs next to his laid-out supplies with great effort. 

“We have to set up a purifying system, filter it, and then boil it.” He crouches down towards his supplies, looking for something clean he could use as a sieve. Luckily, he always kept an overnight bag with him, in case of being grounded somewhere, but he only had three shirts in there, he couldn’t burn one since he didn’t know exactly how long they’d be stuck there. 

“I don’t have much in terms of clothes - you got anything we could use?” He looks up at her, “Something simple, a cotton t-shirt? Something we could use to strain the water.” He walks towards her trunk, waiting for her to open it up. 

She opens it reluctantly, rifling through her things for a moment before handing over a simple white shirt. “Any chance I’ll be able to wear that again?” her voice is vaguely annoyed. 

“I’m sure Daddy won’t mind buying you a new one.” She gives him an expression that could curdle milk. He ignores it. Instead, he busies himself, setting the jugs of water somewhere relatively level. He felt her eyes on him, and it compelled him to explain what he did as he worked. “We have to let the water settle for about an hour, let the sediment sink to the bottom, then strain it, then boil it.” Not for the first time in his life, he was happy to have his military gear within reach. 

-

He works fast - you have to give him that. 

As much as he grumbles and looks at you like you are the devil incarnate - you couldn’t deny that he was incredibly intelligent. Within a few hours of getting back to the camp, he had built an impressive fire, filtered the jugs of water, and had boiled most of it. 

“Tomorrow, we’ll get to work building some sort of shelter,” he spoke after he finally sat down, the first break he’d taken all day. “Have to go about looking for food too, I saw some fruit trees - we’ll grab them on the way back from getting more water.” His eyes are heavy, you can see it in the way he blinked slower and slower. 

“We have to make that trek again?” your voice is shrill, he sighs loudly. 

“We’ll have to make that trek every single day until we’re rescued. Water is the most important thing. No delivery service here, princess,” his voice is sleepy, the usual bite in his words softened by the need for sleep. 

“How will anyone find us?” The worry is evident in your voice.

“I have a flare gun and three flares - we’ll be able to signal someone. Go to bed, we have a lot of work to do tomorrow.” He gestures to the helicopter–lovely, this will be comfortable. 

—

The knock on the helicopter window ripped you out of sleep, your heart racing as you clutched at your chest. 

“Wake up, princess.” He taps on the glass and through bleary eyes, you take note of the smile on his face as he wakes you up, “We have work to do.” He taps one last time and then leaves you. 

You flash him the middle finger as he turns and laughs, annoying you even more.

You join him on the beach a little later, ignoring the ache in your body from sleeping in a half seated position. God I really need that massage.

“I’m going to make the trek for more water, while I do that you are going to gather palm fronds.” He had a jug in his hand as he moved towards the treeline. For a moment you panicked, the thought of being alone causing your heart to sink. 

“Wait, you’re leaving me alone?” You moved a few steps towards him, catching yourself before making it to him. “I mean–um,” You raised your chin at the surprised look on his face, ignoring it. “How many fronds?” There was an abundance of them, both on the ground and in the trees just beyond the sand. He paused, giving you a curious look. 

“As many as you can, we’ll need way more than you think.” He turned then, and left you to it. 

Time crawled by while you were alone, with only your thoughts and the sound of waves to accompany you. Sweat dripped down your brow as you gathered, gathered and gathered some more. Enough fronds that it made a huge pile beside the fire pit Francisco had made. Your stomach growling almost constantly now–the hunger so intense it was making you light headed. 

Branches snapped, drawing your gaze towards his form. He had the jug in one hand and a stalk of bananas in the other. It was enough to make you moan. 

“This is good, but it’s not enough. We have to gather more - have to cut down a bunch of bamboo too.” He put the jug next to the others before joining you where you sat. “Here, you must be starving.” He ripped off a handful of the glorious fruit and tossed them into your lap. 

Nothing had ever tasted so good. 

“Jesus Christ, I thought I would pass out.” You knew you had fruit on your face, but you couldn’t be bothered to care. “Thank you.” You peeled another, eating it just as quickly as the first. 

“Don’t mention it. Okay, let's get to work.” 

-

Your fingers were sore, your back was sore, every single part of you was sore. Hours crawled by with the sun beating down on you both as you weaved fronds together. He had you create sheets and sheets of it, had you help him cut down enough bamboo to build a house. He did the heavy lifting and made what looked like a crude rope tying together the bamboo in layers strong enough to hold both of you. 

Wordlessly, he worked, the sweat dripping down his face, soaking through his shirt like a marathon runner until it was a hindrance and he took it off, used it as a rag that hung limp over his shoulders. This was much worse than a marathon, though, much worse than any workout you’d ever done in your life, and although you’d never say it out loud, you were incredibly thankful he was here. 

I probably would have died by now. 

It was a terrifying thought that without him, you wouldn’t survive - you shoved it away. It wouldn’t matter soon because your parents would be looking, and they wouldn’t stop until they found you.

“Come lay on this, I want to see if it’ll hold both of us.” He stood over the platform, laying on it as you came closer. It held. “Perfect. We’ll be elevated off the sand, less chance of bugs or crabs biting us, and it’ll be cooler than the helicopter.” He let out a weary, tired sigh.

“You’re expecting us both to sleep on this?” You couldn’t help your tone, and instantly you felt bad. He’d worked very hard on this. His brow furrowed. 

“You’re welcome to sleep where you want. I’ll be on this.” He got up, his scowl now back in place, “I’m going to finish here and then go fishing. Keep weaving.” 

Quietly, you got back to work.

-

In all his years, Francisco had never met someone so spoiled and self-serving - even though he’d expected it from her, it still hurt. He didn’t know why - why it would matter that some spoiled rich brat was acting like a spoiled rich brat; maybe it was the lack of gratitude. He was useful, he was smart and he had skills that he knew for a fact she’d die without. 

He stewed over it as he swam towards a large boulder protruding out of the water near the shore. A perfect spot to catch the fish that swam around in the reef below the surface. 

I should let her starve. Find her own food and her own water.

He wouldn’t, though, he couldn’t. All his life, he’d been taught to be a good person, to help where he could and after what had happened in that jungle - he shook it off, pushed it down. Ignored the cruel, petty voice in his head and set about catching something to eat. All the while keeping an eye on the horizon for a boat - for any sign that people were looking for him. That his people were looking for him. 

He let himself think about them, really think about them for the first time since the crash. His parents, his little girl, let himself feel the emptiness of being without them. He let the waves of it crash over him just as the ocean around him crashed into the shore, and then he put it away. 

She was still working when he came back with his catch, her face scrunched up in concentration - ignoring her, he went about doing what needed to be done.

“Is this enough?” Her voice cut through his concentration, and he nodded noncommittally - leaving the prepped fish on a relatively clean piece of driftwood he’d found.

“Hold this.” He stood at the corner of the raised bed and had her hold a tall, sturdy piece of bamboo. His plan was to make a small frame around the base, use the tarp in order to waterproof it, and lay the fronds all around to protect them from the winds that blew through here in bad weather.  

She watched him work in silence, standing where he told her to stand, holding what he told her to hold and eventually, finally - they finished. It was as solid a structure as he could manage without planks of wood or nails, strong enough to survive against a moderate storm and to keep them off the sand. 

He’d used the tarp to cover the roof and three sides, leaving one open for them - him to enter. On top were rows of fronds to catch rainwater and prevent it from pooling in the tarp, the rest of the unused woven sheets she’d made laid inside to use as bedding. With the emergency blanket and his military bedroll this would make a decent bed.

All in all, he was proud of himself, he took the raw materials he’d found on this island, and fashioned himself – themselves a shelter. 

His stomach growled. It was time to start that fire.

-

Your stomach was screaming out in hunger. The bananas had been wonderful, but they weren’t enough. 

“Are you sure that’s safe to eat?” You watched him wrap the fish in banana leaves and put it into red hot embers; you couldn’t help but be slightly dubious about eating something he’d just pulled out of the ocean. He sighed loudly before answering.

“You don’t have to eat it,” he sounded tired, and you supposed he must have been with how hard he’d worked. “It’s edible. I’ve caught this fish before.” He wiped at his brow with the shirt around his shoulders, his skin slightly pink from the sun. 

You didn’t say anything, still unsure, but when the time came for him to unwrap the blackened leaves, your stomach growled loudly. It looked very good. 

He didn’t offer any, instead, he snatched a piece of the steaming, flaky fish and popped it into his mouth, relishing the taste with a loud groan and a big smile. A nice smile, in truth. 

“Maybe I’ll try a little bit.” You scooted closer to where he sat in the sand, unable to resist it.

“Here, careful - it’s very hot.” He tore a piece of a fresh banana leaf and gave you a decently sized filet, and with singed fingers and zero patience, you took a bite.

It was, without a doubt, the most delicious thing you’d ever eaten. 

“Good?” He ate quickly, his expression amused at your very obvious enjoyment of the ‘dubious’ fish. 

“It’s the best fucking thing I’ve ever had.” You meant every word, and licked every last morsel off your fingers.

It was incredibly dark by the time the food was eaten, and the fire had died out. Francisco was attaching a piece of netting to the open side, and once he was done, he climbed in without another word. 

The helicopter felt safe, enclosed and a space you could lock, but the shelter would have airflow. It would be infinitely cooler to sleep in. You knew that, eventually that helicopter would turn into a greenhouse that felt more like an oven. Not to mention how horrible it was to sleep sitting up. 

Every second that passed made the shelter look more and more appealing, and after quickly changing into clean clothes, you slipped in silently, but it didn’t even matter, he was already asleep.

—

He woke to the feeling of soft breath on his back, the air was significantly cooler than it had been during midday, and now, in the early dawn of the morning she was seeking him out for warmth. It was in him to pull away, to deny her, but instead, he stayed motionless. Let her even breath comfort him for a few moments before he eventually rose to bathe in the ocean. Her hand was draped around his middle, pressing herself flat to him while she slept, completely oblivious.

He thought about how scandalized she’d be to know she was being so intimate with him; it almost made him laugh, but soon, that internalized mirth shifted to something bitter, something close to anger. He was only too aware that when she looked at him, she saw ‘the help’; someone like her could never see him as anything other than someone else to pay off, the person hired to do things below her. She shifted in her sleep, burrowing closer, her soft puffs of air ruffling the hair curling at the base of his skull. 

Why does that bother me? I don’t even care about this person.

He sighed, confused with himself over these baffling feelings of inadequacy, frustrated that being close to another person felt good. Annoyed that he didn’t want to pull away - no matter how much of a brat she was. If she woke now and saw them tangled, she’d be embarrassed, perhaps even disgusted, he knew this for a certainty. So he left her.

-

Dawn found you almost frustratingly well-rested, as well as alone. All doubts that may have lingered about the craftsmanship of the shelter evaporated like the morning dew. A long, much-needed stretch is the catalyst that moves you out of the shelter, making sure to close the netting on your way to grab your toiletry bag when he catches your eye from his place in the water. The early morning sun lit up the surface like diamonds. He was running his hands through his hair, wringing out the shirt he’d been wearing the day before. His skin was golden, the high planes of his face kissed by the sun's rays, his shoulders too. You watched him for a time, unable to ignore the breadth of his shoulders - the pleasant sight of his thighs and it was hard not to stare at him when he rose out of the water, the droplets from his golden skin casting a sort of spell on their way back down to earth.

His hands were something else altogether, weaving their own magic the closer he came to shore, from the way they wrung out the shirt easily to the way they adjusted his considerable bulge as he walked, and you looked away quickly, ignoring the curious heat crawling up your chest. 

He found you brushing your teeth, pointedly looking away. 

“I’m going to go look for more fruit.” He spoke as he put the wrung-out shirt to dry next to some of the other things he’d washed before changing out of his wet boxers behind the cover of the helicopter. “You should gather more firewood, things to burn for tonight.”  When he came back around, he was dressed in a clean white tee and a pair of shorts. Looking for all the world like a man on vacation. 

“I’m coming with you.” You rose from your place in the sand quickly, shuffling to reach him before he left you. “I’d rather not wait around.”

“Fine, come on then.” With that, you both set off into the trees.

The morning was full of birdsong and sunlight, bright buttery shafts of it cutting through the trees while the former echoed around you. 

“This would be a gorgeous place to vacation.” He echoed your thoughts as you followed a faint path in the brush. 

“I guess, would need a vast improvement.” Like a hotel, and an actual landing strip maybe. He laughed low, his eyes looking high into the trees.

“I don’t know, I don’t mind it being a bit rustic.” He pointed ahead, a few coconut trees catching his attention.

“This is more than a bit rustic I’d say. God I can’t wait until my parents find me. I should be by the pool right now, mingling with Louis.” Your palm smacks against the first of surely many bites rising on your skin. 

“That your boyfriend?” He’s serious now, scooping a couple of coconuts from the floor and dropping them into your arms.

“No, but he should be. He’s an insanely wealthy man my father invited to our private island, where I should be right now.” You sighed loudly, annoyed at the situation all over again. “Soon. Soon, I will be back where I belong. God, my mother is probably worried sick, you know?” You stood there, holding onto the coconuts he stacked in your arms before moving on to find more fruit.

“Sure.” He all but grunts, moving carefully through the brush. “I get it-“

“I wouldn’t be surprised if the military is out searching for me right now.” An image of handsome Louis frantically joining the search with your parents makes your stomach flip. 

I wonder if he is worried about me?

“Focus.” His voice rips you out of your daydream. “Let’s grab some more bananas, and head back.” He seems annoyed - he’s always annoyed.

“I hate this.” Your arms ache from holding the heavy coconuts. “Shouldn’t we be building a signal fire or something?” You can hear the whining tone, but you can’t stop it. Must everything be so hard?

“And just what are we meant to signal? Seen a bunch of planes, have you?” His tone is icy, his expression angry. “Cruise ships sailing by us every hour?” He finds a banana tree and cuts down a stalk, his movements aggressive.

“Well no-“

“Exactly. We’re on our own, which means until the military or whoever is looking for you finds this island- we have to work.” He props the bananas against his shoulder and turns back towards the camp, pointedly ignoring the way you struggle to keep up with him. 

-

You’re already covered in sweat by the time you make it back to camp, breathing hard and soaking through your clothes.

“Jesus Christ, I cannot with these things.” You dump the coconuts next to the water jugs, shaking out your aching limbs. He sets the bananas next to them before moving to grab some firewood from the tree line. Your eyes scan the beach, the waves gently lapping at the shore; it would be pretty enough without the eye sore that is the helicopter.

“I cannot wait to be away from this hunk of junk.” His movements stop at your words.

“That hunk of junk was my entire fucking livelihood. I don’t have a rich daddy to just buy me a new one.” He tosses the wood pieces angrily into the pit, ignoring the recoil his tone inspired. “Not everyone has it so easy, princess.”

“No, I guess they don’t, sorry-“ he spoke over you.

“Forget it.” He let out a sigh. “Let’s just do what we can to survive until someone finds us.” His expression was cold, and you can’t help the guilt that blooms in the pit of your stomach.

“Sounds good.” The rest of the day passed by in silence.

—

The days both fly, and crawl by and Frankie works each and every one of them. He works to find them food, he works to reinforce their shelter - to make them as comfortable as he possibly can, all while trying his hardest not to lose his mind. The picture of his little girl burned a hole in his heart when he looked at it each night. He only hoped she knew he’d come back to her.

Being stuck on an island by himself would have been bad enough; the loneliness, the isolation would no doubt be detrimental to his mental health, to his hopes of being found, but this? This had to be worse.

She helped, but only because he pushed her to. He knew that if it were up to her - they would have long since starved. He watched her as he braided more palm fronds to pad the sleeping platform, she was washing some of the clothes she’d worn as best she could, and he couldn’t help but admit that she was pretty. Her face was pleasant to look at when her nose wasn’t turned up. He can’t help but like the shape of her, imagining her skin would be soft and silky - he’d definitely been on this island too long. 

Doesn’t matter how attractive she is, she doesn’t want you, and you don’t want her.

He didn’t know if he was reminding himself, or convincing himself. 

A noise in the treeline behind him stops him mid-braid and for a moment, he thinks there might be someone else on the island, but he realizes what it is and grabs his knife. If he plays this right, tonight they’d eat like kings. 

-

A new appreciation was born of having to wash your own clothes, for electricity, for washing machines and dryers, for Tide pods. For the maids who did your laundry and for the people who did your drycleaning, for the neat drawers full of clean clothes waiting at home. 

For now, these would have to do. They wouldn’t smell like your favourite fabric softener, but they’d be clean enough to wear here at least. Francisco had set up a makeshift laundry line from the helicopter to a leaning palm tree, his things hanging as you added your own, and you briefly considered folding his things for him when his absence caught your attention. 

“Francisco?” you called out to him, ignoring the way your heart raced. Usually, when he went off to get water or fruit, he let you know; it was unlike him to leave without a word. There had to be a reason. He wouldn’t just abandon you, would he? 

Grab a hold of yourself, where the hell would he even go?

He crashed through the trees, triumphant and laughing, and you shoved away the altogether too-big feeling of relief that washed over you to see him. 

“Good news, Princess, there’s wild boar on the island.” It was the happiest you’d seen him, well, ever. “It’ll be hard, but I think I can catch one.” He was making his way towards his supplies, and very quickly, the relief turned to dread. “We’re going to feast-”

“You’re going to kill a wild pig?” It was very hard to keep the worry out of your tone, or off your face. 

“What’s the matter, never had pork chops?” He frowned now, his hands on his hips facing you. 

“I mean, yeah, but this is a little different than going to a butcher and grabbing a few chops. You’re going to hunt down the animal and kill it? I’m not into that. I don’t know if I could eat it.” He narrowed his eyes at you, no doubt preparing to rip you a new one. “It’s also incredibly dangerous - they have a tendency to gore people.” His expression changed at that, real consequences seemed to get through to him. 

“I mean, it’s not that different, but fine.” The wind had gone out of his sails, “I’ll see if I can catch something in the water - you okay with that?” He grabbed his fishing gear, raising an eyebrow, and you nodded before he made his way towards the water. You knew he was probably cursing you for ruining whatever he imagined cooking, but still, you couldn’t help but consider it a victory. 

Babe, the pig wouldn’t be dying on your watch, and neither would he. Instead, he returned to the camp a few hours later with a fish, a few crabs, and a look that said you better not have any complaints. You didn’t. None that you’d say out loud anyway.

Dinner was a quiet affair, tasty and filling with the fish and the added protein; you both went to sleep full, and ungored. 

-

Something loud dragged you up and out of the haze of sleep. It was still dark, and the sun had not risen yet. The sound was definitely something loud - probably just a plane. You shot up, scrambling out of the shelter to see if what you were hearing was real, Francisco barely moved. 

It was high up, but it was definitely a plane. 

“Francisco! There’s a plane. Where are the flares?” You all but barrelled into the shelter to shake him out of his dreams. 

“Hmmm, tired baby.” He was out of it but strong when he pulled you closer - you ignored the way your stomach flipped on its ass at his pet name. 

“Francisco, let me go, there’s a plane!” You smacked at his face lightly, just enough to wake him up.

“Huh? A plane?” your words broke through his sleep-addled brain, and he shot up. “What kind of plane?” He was out and grabbing at his bag momentarily before he swore loudly, a sigh filling the quiet of the dawn. “You called me for a commercial plane? You didn’t actually fire a flare, did you?” The blood drained from his face momentarily.

“No, I would have, but I didn’t know where you put the flare gun.” You frowned at him, annoyed. “I thought they’d see it.”

“Thank Christ.” He took a deep breath, his hands on his hips, “That Is a commercial flight, and if you’d fired the flare, it would have not only been a waste of a flare, but you could have burned the shelter down, could have ruined our supplies.” He seemed angry, and that, in turn, pissed you off. 

“I didn’t think about that, I was trying to help-“ You crossed your arms, ignoring the annoyed look on his face.

“With the altitude that plane has, it wouldn’t matter if we had a thousand flares; come to me before you try to signal anyone, got it Princess?” He didn’t wait for a response, instead, he got back into bed and didn’t mention the incident again. 

You got back into the shelter, laying in the pre-dawn glow - conflicting feelings fighting for dominance within you. You stared at his back, at the soft curl of hair he wore like a halo, and the fluttering of your stomach won out for just a moment. The solid press of him holding you close while still asleep was strangely welcome, although you’d never admit it. His condescending tone came to mind then, he had a habit of speaking down to you, and while you could admit you weren’t the most knowledgeable in survival, you still deserved to be spoken to like an adult. 

You fell asleep fighting the urge to both press yourself close, and smack him upside the head.

-

When morning well and truly came, it found you both in a terrible mood. 

He was quiet, much like he always was when he was annoyed, so you left him with his thoughts and set off to find more fruit through the path you’d both taken to traveling every few days. Luckily, the island was bountiful, and there were plenty of bananas, coconuts, and even some mangoes, but there was only so much you could take and you decided to venture out a bit further, keeping your eyes peeled for something different. 

After a while, you found a berry bush, a small variety you didn’t recognize at once, but they were a very gorgeous, deep purple colour. Thinking he might appreciate a change as much as you, you picked a few handfuls and wrapped them up in a banana leaf before continuing your scavenging. 

This was where your luck ran out, however, and if there were other varieties of fruit, they weren’t for you to find. Instead, you picked up a few mangoes and a coconut on your way back. 

You found him looking through his things from the helicopter, a scowl on his face. 

“Hey, I found some berries-” He looked up at the sound of your voice, his brow furrowed at the smile on your face. “I figured you were probably getting sick of the same fruit we’d been eating. I was hoping to find something else, but no luck.” You set them down in front of him. 

“You didn’t eat this, did you?” his voice was curt and you frowned. 

“No, I thought we could share them-”

“These are toxic.” He tossed them into the sand, burying them with a heavy sigh. “Do me a favour and don’t grab shit you don’t know for sure is edible. You could have made us really sick.” He turned then and continued with his inventory. Embarrassment and annoyance burned through your veins. 

“You don’t have to be such an asshole about it, you know.” The words came on almost by themselves, bubbling up in your throat at the sanctimonious look on his face. 

“What?” He paused and turned to look you in the face. 

“You don’t have to be so fucking mean to me all the time.” You crossed your arms, holding in the frustration that seemed to expand in your lungs like a horrible balloon. “All you do is talk down to me. I said I was sorry about almost using the flare-” He huffed out an almost amused laugh and it boiled your blood. “It’s not funny! I’m stuck out here with you and all you do is yell, or talk to me like I’m stupid. I’m a person, and I deserve basic human decency-”

“What’s my last name?” He crossed his arms, his voice calm, but his question stole the words right out of your mouth. 

“What?” 

“You heard me - what is my last name? What do you know about me? Aside from the fact that my first name is Francisco, and that I’m a pilot.” He stood, knocking the sand off his shorts. 

“I don’t think you told me-”

“No, I haven’t - do you know anything about who might be looking for me? Do you have any idea if I have anyone waiting for me to get home?” Your stomach sank, the anger slowly bleeding away and being replaced with shame. “Any idea if I’m married, or if I have kids?” He’s angry now, the scowl bigger than ever before. 

“No, I-I don’t know.” You took a step back. 

“No. No, you don’t. You don’t know that I’m divorced, that my parents are probably worried sick. You don’t know that I have a daughter, that her name is Tatiana, and that she’s probably thinking her dad abandoned her, or worse - that he’s dead.” You recoiled at that. 

“I didn’t know you had a daughter.” Your voice feels small, and the shame in your belly grows, vines of guilt wrapping themselves around your throat.

“How could you? You’ve never fucking asked me a single thing about who I am as a person! All you’ve done is complain. Complain and talk to me endlessly about how much money your parents have, how you should be on a private island, and how much of a fucking eyesore my livelihood is, and any time I’ve opened my mouth to respond or explain how we’re both stuck here, you’ve spoken over me.” His words cut at you - you don’t know this man at all, and you never ever cared to ask. You don’t respond. 

He was well and truly angry now, kicking sand away from himself in his frustration. 

“I’m sorry-” He put his hands up. 

“Don’t. I don’t need you to apologize. I need you to pull your weight, and maybe realize that I’m also a person, and that all your money means jackshit to me. I need you to treat me like a human being, not just a sounding board.” He walked away, leaving you with your guilt - a sad balloon deflating alone.

-

They were both quiet that night. With Francisco, it was mostly out of anger. The feelings of inadequacy and frustration he’d been bottling up had finally been spoken aloud, and now he was processing them, all while still being stuck on this godforsaken island.

For her, he could see it was pure guilt. From the subdued expression, from her quiet words and general withdrawal, he knew no one had ever been so honest with her before. He would have almost felt guilty, if he hadn’t been so annoyed and hurt at the way she’d treated him. Instead, they both avoided each other for the rest of the night - a silent shared meal before wordlessly falling asleep in the shelter.

He woke the next morning to the feeling of her pressed against him again.

Her deep, even breaths against the back of his neck were embarrassingly welcome, and he ignored the way his body responded. He let out a low, deep sigh, grateful that he was facing away, a shudder passing through his body at the thought of having to explain why he was as hard as a rock. 

His hand traveled down to where her leg was draped over his hip, unable to resist feeling her skin for just a moment before he slowly untangled their limbs, and made his way towards the water. 

—

Days passed, and they passed without much conversation. This particular morning was somehow even more quiet despite the constant sound of waves lapping at the shore. The anger had fizzled out, and what was left was more akin to silent resignation. The two of you danced around each other, performing what were now everyday tasks without uttering a single word. The hours slipping by wordlessly, that is, until your scream cut through the silence. 

“What is it?” He was at your side quickly, his eyes wide with something that looked suspiciously like worry. 

“I think I stepped on a shell-” The sand around your foot was turning pink, your eyes widening at the sight.

“Okay, take a deep breath and sit here-” He guided you with surprisingly soft hands towards one of the logs around the burned-out fire. “Don’t move - try to keep your foot out of the sand.” He stood then, walking away.

“Where are you going?” Your voice sounded strange, almost whiny, and you ignored the little pang of despair. 

Get a hold of yourself.

“Just going to get the first aid kit.” The cut throbbed as you waited, and soon he returned with one of the water bottles and a big red case. He walked with purpose, the look on his face shamed you to have been so clueless. This was a man that had obviously dealt with many a scraped knee. “Okay, let's see what we’re dealing with.”

He kneeled on the sand before you, taking your foot into his hands. You hissed when he softly brushed the sand away.

“Tsk, come on now Princess. I know you can be braver for me than that.” His hands were soft, and so was his tone, and it filled you with something, comfort amongst other, less wholesome thoughts. You shook them away, chewing on your bottom lip, watching as he played nurse. “Nothing too crazy, just a little cut.” 

He rinsed the sand carefully, his brow furrowed in concentration. 

“Okay, this might sting a little.” He rifled through the open case beside him, grabbing a little pack of what looked to be antiseptic. “Deep breath for me.” He watched you then, waiting until you let the breath go before wiping the wound clean. The sting almost slapped you across the face, every instinct screaming to pull your foot away from the mean man. 

“Okay, okay - you’re okay.” his hands engulfed your ankle, holding you firmly in place. “Good job, we’re almost done.” he spoke low, opening up a waterproof bandaid and carefully covering the tiny wound. “There we go. All done.” He pressed a small kiss to the top of your foot, his eyes widening after. “Sorry- force of habit.” He laughed awkwardly. 

“Thank you. It feels much better.” You felt the heat in your chest and in your ears and ignored it, ignored the whole mess of feelings blooming in your gut for him. 

“Yeah, sure.” He collected his things before scratching at the back of his neck and it thrilled you to realize that he looked as flushed as you felt. “I’m going to go catch something.” He got up quickly, moving with purpose away from where you sat, curtailing any further discussion. 

-

He hadn’t expected it, but she’d taken his words to heart. He’d felt terrible after going off on her. The embarrassment on her face at how she’d treated him, although completely warranted, pulled at his heartstrings. He couldn’t exactly say why - it wasn’t something he could explain, not something he wanted to delve into. Whether that was for his benefit or hers, he couldn’t be sure. 

She no longer had to be told to fetch fruit, or water. She did her best to keep the camp organized, she no longer spoke about her wealth, or Louis. She was quiet most of the time, in fact, and he wasn’t sure if it was better, or worse. 

Where she mostly avoided his annoyance throughout the day, she still clung to him at night. He never told her, convincing himself it was to spare her further embarrassment, ignoring the little part of him that knew it was because he was terrified that if she knew, she’d stop. 

-

Things were different, that was for sure. The days passed and you had to admit to yourself that you’d been such an ungrateful, horrid little - well, Princess. He’d been completely right about you, and he’d had the patience of a saint. You saw him with different eyes now. You saw a competent, strong, intelligent man who up until now, was the only reason you’d survived on this godforsaken island as long as you had. It was well and truly humbling. 

Instead of complaining, now you did your best to pull your weight. The goal was to show him that you were grateful, that you weren’t just some spoiled rich girl, that you could be something other than that, anyway. You wanted - needed to prove to him that you weren’t a burden. 

-

It had been a particularly hot day, the sun beating down on the both of you with a vengeance. Sunset couldn’t come fast enough, and once it did, you cherished it like never before. 

He dug around in the helicopter while you sat on the log, enjoying the tiny, but very welcome breeze coming off the water. 

“Oh wow, I forgot about this,” You heard the smile in his voice, “How would you feel about a drink?” He held a bottle in his hand, making his way over to your place in the sand. 

“I’d feel great actually, if you don’t mind sharing.” 

“Bottle’s almost full, more than enough for both of us.” He sat next to you, taking a generous sip of the amber liquid before handing it to you. It was warmer than you would have liked, but the burn was pleasant enough that you didn’t care. “Good, right?” His smile is as breezy as the ocean, and just as welcome. 

“Very good,” you couldn't help but admit before taking another long sip, “I can already feel it.” You smiled, handing it back to him. 

“We’ll be cheap drunks tonight, that’s for sure.” He took another long swallow, and you couldn’t help but stare at the way his throat worked. You watched the fire instead, focusing on the embers as the drink settled in your stomach. The heat spreads through your limbs, making you feel heavy where you sit beside him. 

You both sat in silence for a time, passing the bottle back and forth until most of it was gone, and your head felt like a balloon barely tethered to your body. 

“This would be such a beautiful place…without the whole ‘being stranded’ thing.” He held the bottle loosely, his eyes no doubt taking in the gorgeous sunset.

“You mean you don’t love being stuck out here with me?” You bumped his shoulder, and it vaguely registers how much you missed physical touch. He laughed, full-throated. 

“Oh yeah, this is definitely heaven.” His expression is exaggerated, “You know what I mean.” He gestures to where the water laps at the shore. “This is a paradise, just needs a resort, and an airport.” He sighed, his mood is the friendliest you’ve ever seen. 

“Yeah, it would definitely make a difference.” You leaned back and listened to the water. “Happy you’re here though, woulda died without you.” You didn’t mean to say it, but it’s absolutely true.

“Oh, I don’t know-” He shrugged, modest and much kinder than you deserved.

“Yes, you do-” You shoved at his arm softly, “You’re the only reason we’re still alive, super nice to me despite the fact that I can be a spoiled little brat.” You laughed. 

“Can’t argue with that.” He laughed, “I like brats, though.” He smiled, and something that feels very much like butterflies fluttered around in your stomach. He didn't say anything else, and neither did you, the butterflies lingered, though, well into the night, and they only seemed to get stronger whenever his eyes found yours. 

“It’s getting late-” He puts the bottle down, “-we should get some rest.”

You nodded, not trusting your voice, instead, you just followed him towards the shelter. 

It’s a strange, unfamiliar dance you’re both doing - the polar opposite of how things have been between you. Shy smiles replace cold stares, and a curious longing takes hold of you. It would embarrass you to fall prey to your baser instincts - there’s something in the way his eyes tracked you that says you weren’t alone in your feelings. 

-

Something has shifted, he can feel it in the tense energy between them. A pleasant buzz flowed through his veins, danced along his nerves like a current, beat through his heart, and into his loins. She was so close, he could practically feel her warmth. 

She sighed beside him, her legs rubbing together like a cricket and he knew in his gut, she felt the same energy. 

“Good night, Frankie.” She whispered the words, as though someone might overhear. His eyes clenched shut at the feel of her breath ruffling through his hair, closer than she’d ever let herself get, awake anyway. 

“Night-” Everything in him wanted to turn over, to feel her fingers ruffle through his hair, but something held him back. He stayed still, his body tense despite how relaxed the alcohol had made him. 

“It’s a bit cold–” Her voice is a bit closer, so close he felt it in the shell of his ear, “-okay if I scoot closer?” Her hands pressed against his back, her legs tangled with his, and he knows in his bones, it’s just a ploy, but he stayed still nonetheless. 

“Sure-get close.” He took her hand and wrapped it around his middle, holding it well above his waist, letting out a deep breath.

“Oh-okay.” She pressed her face into his shoulder, and every cell in his body screamed at him to turn around, to kiss her, bury his tongue in her mouth, and then trail it down, bury it between her legs, but he shook his head, convincing himself she just wants this.

“Night.” His voice cracked, but he said nothing more. He felt her staring at him, letting out a little sigh of her own. 

“Night, Frankie.”

—

The days following your drunken night passed by in mostly silence, with a polite avoidance from him, and an annoyed quiet from you. 

It was no secret that you had the power to annoy the hell out of him, but you’d thought there’d been something else. The look in his eye when he’d told you he liked brats, the sound of his voice when he’d held you close, the considerable boner pressing against your ass when you’d woken up to him wrapped around you that next morning. 

Maybe you’d misread him, maybe it wasn’t flirting, maybe he’d just been stroking your ego, being nice to you, and you’d practically thrown yourself at him only to be.. What? Ignored? 

-

The wind whipped around as you both ate dinner a few quiet days later, the sky dark and pregnant with the promise of a heavy rain, filling you with worry. The shelter was sturdy, you knew that, but you didn’t think it would hold up against a storm like the one that had blown you both onto the island to begin with. 

“I don’t think we’ll be enjoying a fire tonight,” His eyes stared at the sky, same as you, “we should bring the clothes into the shelter; it’s going to pour soon.” He got up, tossing his banana peels into the fire pit just as the first few drops of water sprinkled down on top of you.

A nervous current flowed through your body as you made yourself comfortable within the shelter, making you acutely aware of his closeness. 

The rain came down in sheets as you both lay there, filling the silence with its rhythmic pattering against the tarp. Lightning flashed, illuminating the space between you. A shiver ran through you at the look on his face. 

“You okay?” His hand shot out, landing softly on your arm, raising goosebumps as it slid down towards your elbow.

“I’m fine.” You shudder, but all at once, annoyance springs up at his rejection the other night - you turn to give him your back. 

“Are you… angry at me?”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes.

“Why would I be angry at you? It’s not like I threw myself at you or anything.” 

“What?” His voice sounded incredulous, “You mean, when we were drinking?”

“Yes!” You sighed, “I was all over you. I guess I was wrong.” All at once, you’re embarrassed, and desperate to get away from his incredulous expression. The storm, however, holds you both hostage.

“Hm.” He sounded almost amused, and your stomach dropped, “Well, if I’d known that all you needed was to be fucked, things would have been different.” 

Your stomach did a backflip onto its ass, shock, and pure adrenaline coursing through your body at his words. You turned slowly to face him.

“Sorry?” It came out almost stupidly, and he smiled a very self-satisfied smile.

“I said, if I’d known, that in order for you to stop being such a brat,” He moved in closer, forcing you to lay back and make space for him between your legs. “All you needed was for me to fuck you, I would have done it sooner.” He hovered above you, close enough that he must’ve surely felt your heart pounding where his chest met yours. It’s with Herculean strength, that you composed yourself, albeit nervously.

“Well, I guess I just thought you were more perceptive.” The bold words were completely at odds with the tremor in your voice; he laughed, full-throated, and it sent a current across every inch of you. 

“Or maybe, I thought you’d open that pretty mouth of yours, and say what it is you wanted.” He pressed forward, dragging his lips across your jaw before capturing your mouth in a kiss. It started soft, and for a moment, the storm disappeared, your hands finding themselves tangled up in his messy waves, and then his tongue pressed forward, and it pulled a moan from somewhere deep inside you. 

There was no more talking. Only the feeling of your heart racing, your cunt aching, and his comforting weight pressing you into the shelter, that is, before he shifted his hips and the considerable heft of him was slotted perfectly against where you needed him most. 

The slip of his warm palm from the trembling skin of your belly raised goosebumps in its wake, and pulled a gasp from your mouth into his when it glided under your shit and landed on your breast. Those deft fingers you’d seen working away on all manner of things on this island, now plucked deliciously at your nipple. 

It was almost violent, both the storm outside, and your haste to divest him of his clothes. The need to feel that golden skin on yours was a hunger pang, both terrible and euphoric, that burned as brightly as the flashes of lightning that lit up the shelter. His eyes shone with the same intensity you felt, and instantly, he moved away to help you, too, the two of you scrambling with a ferocity that bordered on anger. 

“God, you’re so fucking hot–” He hissed the words onto your face before kissing you again, and any softness was gone, his teeth clicked against yours before his tongue took yours and laid down the law. Your skin burned with want, your fingers digging into the muscles of his back before you moved your hand down between you to finally grasp his cock. He pulled away from your mouth to stare down where you held onto him, drunk with the sight of just how big he looked in your grip. 

“Is this what you’ve been wanting?” He held himself above you, watching as you stroked him slowly. 

“God, yes, I wanted this - I want you to fuck me–” you swiped your thumb over the head, fat pearly drops of his own arousal making it slippery, “I want you to come inside me, make me feel good-” You didn’t get to finish your sentence before his mouth claimed yours once more and pulled your hand away in order to slip himself between the lips of your sex, coating himself in you for a moment before he finally slipped inside. 

“Jesus Christ, man.” You breathed the words onto his face at the stretch, at the way he seemed to have taken up every inch of space inside you, making you overflow with him. He didn’t give you any time to adjust, his hips snapping in a toe-curling rhythm. For a few minutes, there were no more words left, the only thing you can manage is to whimper, then moan in earnest when he ducked his head down to capture a nipple in his mouth. Your fingers like talons in his hair, keeping him close to your breast while your cunt soaked him in your want.

He let go of the perky bud with a pop, his eyes glazed. 

“Fuck baby, I’m gonna come so fast,” he almost slurred his words, pussy drunk, “your tight little cunt is gonna make me fucking come–” He sped up, his cock punching into you hard enough to make your breasts bounce, hard enough to make a lewd noise where you’re joined and you desperately wanted him to slow down so you can catch up. 

“Wait–” Your legs squeezed where they’d hitched up high on his hips, “Frankie–” His rhythm stuttered for a moment before he thrust again, deep, filling you with his come, and you almost cried at the thought that he might be done so soon.

“Fuck-” He ground himself as deep as he could, milking himself inside you for a moment before pulling away abruptly, hissing through the oversensitivity to look at his handiwork, “that’s so fucking pretty baby, look at me dripping out-” He smiled at you, almost laughing at the look of anguish on your face at the emptiness, “what’s wrong?” His hand rubbed at your belly for a moment before it slipped down, and two big fingers filled you back up. “I know you didn’t come, but you don’t think I’m just going to leave you like this, right?” He pumped slowly, making you keen when he pressed against something holy inside of you. “No, I got you, baby.” 

One moment he was kneeling between your legs, and the next, he was flat on his belly, his face pressed up against your pussy, tongue right on the button of your clit. 

The moan you let out was obscene. His tongue circled your clit with devastating precision, over and over again, until you were staring down at him with your mouth open, begging and praying incoherently for him to keep going just like that. His eyes were bright, laser-focused on you just like his tongue, and his free hand came up to hold onto your breast, pinching at your nipple, and all of a sudden, the sting snapped, the wave crested, and you practically folded in half, swearing loudly as you gushed around his fingers.

-

You weren’t sure how much time passed, but the storm got a little stronger, and louder as you both lay in the shelter, quiet and content to hold each other. Lightning turned the darkened skies into day for a moment before the boom of thunder shook you to your core. 

“It’s okay, just loud.” He said it softly into your ear with the same patience he’d had when he bandaged your foot, the comforting words dads usually used for their children.

“I know, it just startled me.” 

“Force of habit.”

“Your daughter, is she scared of thunderstorms?” You turned towards him, making yourself comfortable in his embrace.

“Only at first.” His smile was wistful, “She always jumps from the first big boom but then laughs,” his eyes crinkled, and it was hard not to notice just how handsome he is, the care and love he has for his daughter shining out through his eyes. “Sorry, I just miss her a lot.” It faltered, that handsome smile, and it made you sad for him.

“Don’t be sorry. I can’t imagine how hard all this must be for you.” Guilt swirled in your chest at the way you’d treated him before, at your general attitude towards everyone up until getting stranded. “I’m sorry about how I was–” He shook his head no, much too kind, kinder than you deserved, and you pushed through. 

“No, let me say it. I’m sorry about how I treated you - I was horrible.”

“You weren’t that bad.” 

“Yes, I was, so spoiled and insensitive, I didn’t even give your situation a second thought. All I cared about was myself and I can’t even believe it now. I’m sorry. I’m really lucky to have you here.”

“Thank you,” he smiled, one of his palms rubbing your back soothingly, “you’ve definitely had a big turnaround.” He laughed, and you smacked his arm playfully. “I’m lucky you’re here too. I would have been miserable by myself.” He pressed a kiss to your shoulder, and you couldn’t help but sigh at the simple comfort human touch could bring. “Not sure you would have ever agreed to go out with me had we not been stuck here together.” 

His words were light, and for a moment, you wanted to protest, but you didn’t think you could, and it shamed you further.

“Oh god, what a moron I was.” You groaned, pressing your face into the warm skin of his neck. 

“You weren’t a moron, maybe a little oblivious, and I don’t mean that in a cruel way. You and I are in very different circles. I doubt our paths would have even crossed, but I’m glad they did because as much as you have the power to drive me nuts, I really like you.” His hands continued their comforting sweep across your skin, lulling you into the most relaxed state you could remember being in, in a long time. 

“I would have been an idiot to not give you a chance. You’re so sweet and smart, and so strong, so fucking handsome, too. You take care of me and make me laugh, and you have done your best to keep us both safe and sound and I’m just - I’m ashamed that maybe in the past I would have been too shallow and stuck up to notice.” The storm abates as you confess some feelings you’d been harboring. 

“Don’t beat yourself up about it. I think I probably would have dismissed you just as quickly for similarly shallow reasons. As gorgeous as you are, I most likely would have written you off as some rich trust fund-baby.” He half-shrugged.

“I’m still sorry. It’s because of me that we’re here.” 

“I could have said no.”

“I pressured you with money. I pushed even though you’d said it was unsafe.”

“I still could have said no. Let’s just forget it all, everything that happened before we got here. Point is we’re here, and we have to keep it together until someone finds us.” His hand kept its rhythm, sweeping over any and all skin, casting its spell of comfort until both it and the storm lulled you into a deep, dreamless sleep. 

-----

Tag list: @frannyzooey @greeneyedblondie44 @lola4pedro @ezrasbirdie @221bshrlocked @artsymaddie @supernaturalgirl20 @sleep-tight1 @sherala007 @cannedsoupsucks @thirstworldproblemss @ilikechocolatemilkh @freeshavocadoooo @hrk-fic-recs @maxwell--lord @the-feckless-wonder @kirsteng42 @thisshipwillsail316 @feministfanboi @dihra-vesa @stevie75 @readsalot73 @pedrostories @tobealostwanderer @mandocrasis @elegantduckturtle @diogodxlot @alczysz17 @evyiione @absurdthirst @beskarboobs @andruxx @littlemissoblivious @1800-fight-me @maievdenoir @gracie7209 @omlwhatamidoinghere @magikfanatic @frankiecatfish @pedritoispunk @studythoreauly @missswriter @pintsizemama @mswarriorbabe80 @a-trial-run-on-paper @la-le-lu @chickadee-djarin @dobbyjen @rosiefridayrogersunday @ajeff855 @johnsrevelation @the-witty-pen-name @zombiesnips-blog @sarahjkl82-blog @fan-of-encouragement @queenofthecloudss @deadhumourist @felicisimor @sophiefatale2495 @toomanystoriessolittletime @what-iwish-you-knew @pedrostories @athalien @bi-thewayy @literallydontlook @pedrosbrat @gamingaquarius @localddreamers @luxmundee @iamafadedmoon @nakhudanyx @littlemisspascal @grogusmum @recklessworry @heyitmelexie @killyspinacoladas @gothicxbarbie @evildxad @dragonslarimar @spideysimpossiblegirl @chemtrail-mix @maievdenoir @breezythesimp @altarsw @artooies-scream @staygolddindjarin @softsweetedbeauty @littlemisspascal @yuiopiklmn @squidwell @just-blogging-around @bbyanarchist @girlofchaos @maddiedrmr @frasmotic @acourtofsnakes @buckybarneshairpullingkink @astoryisaloveaffair @harriedandharassed @swtaura @send-me-to-valhalla @shirks-all-responsibilities @androah @alwaysachorusgirl @dindjarinsmut @captain-jebi @gallowsjoker @oliviajdjarin @actuallyanita @tusk89 @dadbodfanatic-x @naiomiwinchester @blazedprince @rosymythologies @avidreader73 @mr-underhills-things @avengersfan25 @tastygoldentaters @nyotamalfoy @mymindfuckery @txtattoostark @its-nebuleuse

[im-so-normal-iswear]

Hi!! I love your writing!! Would it be possible for your thoughts on Ford/stan with a girlfriend who is a therapist or psychiatrist? (I’m studying psychology so this is a totally self indulgent ask!) thank you!! 🫶🏼

A/n: Ok! I'm sorry these took long

Stan/Ford pines x therapist!reader

Ford Pines:

Ford is instantly intrigued by your profession. He’s always been interested in how the human brain works, and having a girlfriend who understands the mind on such a deep level excites his curiosity.

He loves asking you questions about psychology, sometimes treating your discussions like he’s learning from a textbook.

“So, if someone were to experience prolonged exposure to isolation, how do you think that would affect their psyche?”

Ford absolutely loves to hear your insights on everything from mental health to obscure psychological theories, often adding his own knowledge of psychology.

Ford greatly values your calming presence. As someone who has gone through trauma from his interdimensional travels, Ford finds comfort in how you can guide him through his anxieties and ground him during his moments of overthinking. It’s not that he’s asking for therapy, but the way you talk and listen to him brings him a lot of peace.

Sometimes Ford gets lost in his head, overanalyzing everything or diving too deep into his research, and you’re the one who pulls him back. You know just how to approach his worries without invalidating them, and he’s beyond grateful for that.

“You always know exactly what to say to bring me back to reality. How do you do it?”

He’s particularly interested in your take on the psychological impact of interdimensional travel or exposure to anomalous phenomena.

He’ll often turn to you for discussions about the mind’s adaptability and resilience. You’ve become his go-to person for talking about the human condition in the context of the strange.

Ford is also incredibly supportive of your career and education. If you’re studying or need quiet time to work, he’ll make sure you have the perfect environment to focus. He’s always ready to offer encouragement when you’re feeling stressed.

“I know it’s a lot, but if anyone can do this, it’s you. I’ve never seen someone so dedicated to understanding the complexities of the mind.”

Ford loves sharing intellectual moments with you, like reading papers or discussing recent psychological studies. Sometimes, he even helps you with your work by giving you unique perspectives from his travels, and in turn, you help him manage the more stressful parts of his past.

Stan Pines:

Stan doesn’t fully get what a therapist or psychiatrist does at first (he’s used to handling things by “toughing it out”) but he quickly comes to appreciate how insightful you are.

“So, you talk to people about their problems? Gotta hand it to ya, you’ve got a lot of patience. I can barely deal with the customers.”

Stan is amazed at how you can listen to other people’s issues all day and still come home well. He’s constantly in awe of how much you care for others and how you help people through their darkest moments.

“You’ve gotta be some kinda saint to listen to people’s problems all day and not go crazy yourself.”

He loves that you don’t push him to talk, but when he does, you listen attentively. You’ve taught him that it’s okay to share his feelings without making him feel weak. Sometimes he’s caught off guard by how much better he feels after talking to you.

“Huh, I guess it’s not so bad… all this feelings stuff. You really know how to make a guy feel better.”

Stan appreciates your ability to see through his tough-guy act. You can read him like a book, and while it’s a little intimidating, it’s also a relief. You pick up on the small things, like when he’s more stressed than usual or when something’s bothering him.

“How do you always know what’s goin’ on in my head? It’s like you’re a mind reader or somethin’. Say how bout we put that to use in the shack? I'm joking, unless you want to.”

He loves to brag about your career, even if he doesn’t always understand it.

“Yeah, my girl’s a therapist. Helps people sort out their problems. She’s smart as hell. I dunno how she does it, but it’s pretty impressive.”

If you’re ever feeling overwhelmed by your work, Stan is the first to encourage you to take a break. He might not know all the details of your job, but he knows how important it is for you to recharge. He’ll pull you away from your books or laptop and suggest watching a movie or doing something fun together.

“You’ve been workin’ hard all day. Come on, let’s kick back and relax. You deserve it.”

He’s a little protective of you, especially if you’ve had a rough day. If you come home stressed after dealing with a difficult client, Stan will be there to comfort you in his own way, whether that’s making you laugh, cooking a simple meal, or just sitting beside you.

Stan will occasionally ask for advice, though he’ll frame it casually. “So, let’s say someone I know has a lotta stuff from their past they don’t like talkin’ about. What’d you say to help ‘em out?” He trusts you more than he’ll admit and values your wisdom, even if he’s not always ready to face his own feelings head-on.

A/n: you give them therapy they need, the end ^^

[ef-1]

Transcribed Excerpts from Christian Horner's hour long Interview that are batshit insane and so narratively dense you'd think they're lifted wholesale from a book, featuring:

The most in depth, behind the scenes view of what transpired in 2018

Fords CEO getting in touch with Dax to gush about how much he likes Daniel

Christian feeling vindictive towards Daniel

Christian comparing Sebastian and Max

Christian comparing Daniel to Roger Federer

How Christian had to mitigate Helmut's shitshow and personally asking Dietrich to give Daniel everything he wanted

Hilarious rapid fire in the end and his perspective on the failure of Ferrari

●●● <- indicates a time skip

Dax: In tennis you see guys when they lose steam, they break apart.

Christian Horner : you see that with checo.

●●●

[Dax mentions that in Christian's position, a lot of people would not have invited Daniel back into the family. "Because Daniel turned his back on the family." ]

Christian: Daniel's a great guy. Very badly advised in his early career. Everybody fucks up at some point. I think he recognizes that he made a mistake. He didn't have good advice around him at the point he left us. Having spent time outside the family he realized what he had here was actually good. It was horrible to see that it got worse and worse after us. It was actually this time last year in Mexico where I sat down with him in my hotel room, I told him you need a complete reset- take a year out. Come back to us.

Dax: He's such a win for you guys.

Christian: Totally.

Dax: you sent Daniel to Jim Farley [ CEO of Ford] and I know Jim Farley and he got in touch with me and told me "That Daniel Ricciardo guy is the greatest!" I'm like to him: he's the dream, send him anywhere.

●●●

Christian: He's [Daniel] a confidence driver, when he's got his mojo, he one of the fastest guys on the grid.

Dax: he's lethal.

Christian: yep.

Dax: he's got that magic thing that people either have or don't have in my opinion which is: there are winners and there are not winners

[you're not ready for this lol]

Christian: He came to us, he's one of our juniors, I remember going to watch him in formula 3, he really stood out. Very smooth. Just great. Naturally. Like a Roger Federer kind of style behind the wheel, very very classic. Light touch. Great, great skill. And then he came through the system [RB program] when we had Sebastian Vettel, 4 time world champion- Mark Webber retired. We chose Daniel as the Junior, with no expectation on him and he started beating Vettels ass. he won 3 races in 2014 when we had FAR from the best engine, Sebastian never won a race that year.

Dax: Even his time at Mclaren, it sucked for him but he's the only one who won a race.

Christian: He IS the only one who won a race.

Dax: and for a long time now.

Christian: and Renault he had great performances. [...] he's got to feel the love. He's got to feel comfortable in the environment that he's in. Some of his races for us were- absolutely outstanding.

●●●

[Christian about the 2018 negotiations]

Christian: I asked Dietrich to show Daniel love. Helmut was obviously pro Max, I said if you could just balance things out, let him [Daniel] know you want him. Dietrich said "no problem, I'll talk to him" so he took Daniel upstairs after the race in Austria to talk to him, and they were there for well over an hour.

Dax: To the point you were nervous?

Christian: I thought SHIT! But they reappear, and they're both smiling, I tell him: "Dietrich, how did it go?" He says,"No problem, don't worry about it. It's not even a question [that daniel would leave]"

Christian: Then we went to Germany, and his engine blew up. His engine kept letting him down, letting him down, letting him down. But from there, we went to Hungary, and we got his paperwork [Daniel's contract] for a TWO year deal all sorted out. Daniel's manager came to me and said 'listen Daniel is nervous about the engine' because we were going to switch to Honda so his manager said: 'he'll do ONE year' I thought wow. That's not really what we talked about, because in 6 months we'll be having the same conversation. So I remember I went back to Dietrich, and I said, "it's about relationships. It's NOT about contracts. If he wants a one year contract, give him a one year contract," so at this point: he's got everything he wants. Also, at that point, Daniel was doing a test for us after the Hungarian race, I thought Daniel will sign the paperwork on Monday, suddenly Monday goes and he's in the car on Tuesday. I'm starting to smell something because this is an enormous deal, you'd have thought he'd be in a rush to sign this contract. And he didn't sign the contract before he got in the car in the morning and I thought he'd sign by lunchtime but it didn't happen. He had to get out of the car and go straight to the airport because he's flying from here to LA and I thought he'll call me. I'm feeling something at this point.

Dax: you know you're about to be broken up with.

Christian: yeah.

Dax: if your girlfriend didn't show up to lunch then dinner-

Christian: exactly. So- he [daniel] rings me, I was in the car with Geri, he tells me "I just got off the plane, I arrived in LA, and I've been thinking on the flight, all the way here- I'm not going to sign the contract. I'm going to take another contract. [...] he tells me Renault? The engine that let him down for 2 years? I was convinced, I was CONVINCED- because Daniel has got a sense of humour- I thought- he's taking the piss. I thought come on. I told him: come on. There is no way. You're not going to Renault, stop fucking about, just sign the contract. After 10 minutes he finally persuaded me that he was going to Renault. It was disappointing.

Dax: I wanna applaude you, because a lot of people who go through that experience think: fuck you.

Christian: there was an element of that. I thought: go and suck on a lemon for a bit. But actually during the pandemic, I remember he called me and said "Christian I hate to say this to you but you were right"

•••

Christian thinks Max > Vettel

Christian about Alex and Pierre being teammates with Max: he broke them

[Very confused in this part because Christian like? Says the best thing for Checo to perform is to forget about Max, stop trying to compete with him, stop looking at his data? Girl you are NOT selling it rn]

•••

When Christian is asked to analyse Red Bull's champions, he thinks Sebastian and Max are diametrically opposed . Sebastian is your stereotypical German, he would be at the track until 11 to analyse data. Max is not interested in all the detail [devasting news for all the bitches who spent years trying to dunk on Daniel by calling him not technical, Christian seems to think that Daniel and Max share a natural ability that doesn't rely on data.] He [Max] Gives you just what he needs to go faster. Max hates testing, has no interest in it.

●●●

Christian confirms he has a lucky toilet.

●●●

Christian says in 2014-18 Red Bull came this 🤏 close to selling to Audi.

●●●

Christian: Drive to Survive is the Kardashians on wheel

●●●

Christian: You get characters like Gunther Steiner. How scary is he. He used to work for us, I had to be the one to fire him.

●●●

Christian on why he believes Ferrari have failed over the last 15 years: Ferrari is a national institution instead of a Team. It needs to become a racing team again. Too many people have input at the top.

[uzumaki-rebellion]

An Alex Cross Joint Mission

Alex Cross & The Heartbreak Brotherhood Part 1

Main Cast: Alex Cross, John Clark, and Terry Richmond, Black Female OC.

Warning(s): 18+, Explicit Sex, Violence, Murder, Mystery, Thriller, and Drama. Grown Folks Shit.

Summary: Homicide Detective Alex Cross must join forces with former elite Navy SEAL John Clark, and former marine MCMAP instructor Terry Richmond to solve the mystery of a murderous stalker seeking revenge on all three of them. The only connection the men have to each other is a sexy femme fatale they each had an intimate relationship with recently.

Word count: 1.8K

Dedicating this one to @nahimjustfeelingit-writes !

"Six minutes

Six minutes

Six minutes Doug E. Fresh

You're on…"

Doug E. Fresh—"The Show"

Alex Cross bounced around in the front seat of his Ford Explorer in time to the old Hip Hop song blasting on his radio. From the rearview mirror he glimpsed his nine-year-old son Damon and seven-year-old daughter Jannie rolling their eyes at him.

"Y'all don't know nothing about this. Nana Mama used to play this for me when I was little to hype up my day."

Both of his children ignored him as he bobbed his head in time to Doug E. Fresh and the Get Fresh Crew's "The Show". He told a little white lie to them. It was his mother who used to play it for him when he was four years old, before she passed away from a drug overdose. Alex avoided mentioning his mother because it would remind his children of their own mother, who died in a drive-by shooting a couple of years ago. The pain was still tender, yet he wanted to get them excited about going to a church picnic with Nana Mama and other children from the community center he volunteered for.

Alex had other plans for himself that afternoon. He was going to meet a beautiful woman he'd been spending time with for the past six weeks whenever she was in town. A fellow doctorate in psychology, Sasha worked for a global PR firm and traveled a lot for her job. They'd recently become intimate, and the sex was mind-blowing for him. Nothing interested him more than a sexy, intelligent woman with a body for days. He'd been reluctant to take the next step with Sasha, preferring to keep their sporadic dates platonic and fun. Spending time with her without a commitment allowed him to dip his toe back into the dating scene without pressure. She was flexible, not put off by him being a widow with children, and seemed to always know when to give him space for his home life. After four weeks of seeing each other, he crossed over into intimacy easily with her. Sasha was hard to resist. Forty-two days in, he had an itch for her that needed scratching.

He pulled into the parking lot of the Holy Comforter- St. Cyprian Catholic Church. Nana Mama stood by her Blue Honda Accord with her best friend Mrs. Whitman, waiting for them. He turned down the music and watched his children jump out from the back, grateful to be freed from Dad's old-time music. He stepped out of the car for a minute.

"I'll see you guys later…hey, have fun today," he said.

Damon and Jannie nodded, running over to Nana Mama's car. Alex's grandmother had to do some earlier prep work at the church kitchen and he agreed to drop his children off later, before he met up with Sasha at the National Mall.

"Are you sure you and Sasha don't want to hang with us? We'd like to meet your new girlfriend," Nana Mama said.

She gave him a teasing grin, and Mrs. Whitman chuckled.

"No, I'm not ready to bring people around the kids yet," he said.

He leaned over and kissed Nana Mama's cheek. Jumping back into his car, he waved at Damon and Jannie. Changing the music on the radio to something more adult contemporary, he headed for a grown-up picnic on the National Mall. He'd also been a little proactive in reserving a luxury hotel room. The four times they'd had sex had been in hotel suites that she booked while in town. She lived in Maryland when not traveling, and they both stayed cautious with their personal lives interacting just yet. They were still in the getting-to-know-each-other phase with fucking thrown into the equation now. He made plans to wine and dine her later that evening after a long "nap" at the hotel. Nana Mama knew not to wait up for him because he wanted to spend as much time with Sasha as he could before she jetted off to solve some other public figure's national reputation.

Traffic slowed him up, but he didn't fret. It was a sunny day with blue skies and he was on his way to have some adult fun after a stressful week of work. He had some vacation time stacked up, and he wanted to convince Sasha to run off to Vegas for a weekend. Janet Jackson would start her music residency there and he snagged some tickets because Sasha was a huge fan.

He parked his car in the visitor parking lot on Ohio Drive and strolled toward the spot where they would meet, carrying a fancy bottle of wine in a bag. Sasha texted a picture of herself to his phone, blowing him a kiss, letting him know she provided all the goodies for their day. All he had to do was show up. This was part of Sasha's routine on their dates. She'd plan something special or spontaneous and give him the locations to meet her where she'd make him feel like a king. He reciprocated when he could, but Sasha was part of the jet set, often overseas. Most of their time together had to be centered on her schedule of availability.

Alex wandered past other people who had the same plans to picnic in the sun. He looked around for the familiar gorgeous face with the dark mocha skin as soft as a rose petal and those lush lips he so wanted to kiss right then and there. Sasha was so fine that it made him step up his dating game, which had always been above solid before he was even married.

Checking the location pin she sent him, Alex surveyed the surroundings. She had to be late, or moved to a different spot. Quite a few tourists meandered about taking pictures. Perched on a picnic table, a light brown-skinned Black man in expensive maroon jogging fits stared at his smartphone. He glanced at Alex with green eyes and gave the international Black man head nod of "W'sup." Alex returned the nod and moved past him, keeping an eye out for his date.

Another Black man glanced around the area near Alex, checking his phone, too. He eyed Alex and dropped his gaze back to his phone as it dinged a message for him. The man grinned at his phone and faint dimples popped in his cheeks. He had on comfortable tan cargo pants and a tight, long-sleeved white shirt.

Alex sported a light blue sweater with pale blue drawstring casual pants. D.C. weather was always fickle later in the fall. Warm one minute, chilly the next.

Ten minutes went by and Alex started fidgeting while waiting. He finally pulled out his smartphone from his pants pocket and called her number.

"Sasha, I'm at the spot for our picnic. No worries if you're running late. Just wanted to make sure I'm in the right location," he said.

The green-eyed man on the bench stared at Alex when he said Sasha's name out loud. So did the dimpled dude near him. He heard a distant sound of something popping like a firecracker or a whip snapping suddenly. One woman let out a terrifying scream as her companion, another woman, fell face forward onto the ground. Dead.

A sharp, hot pressure radiated in Alex's left shoulder and several more people screamed as a blood stain bloomed like a rose and ruined his good sweater. The shock of being shot hadn't registered in his brain yet as he noticed the dimpled man near him take a grazing on the hip from the same bullet that exited Alex's body. Another shot tried to take the stranger down again, but the dimpled man jumped behind the picnic table as the green-eyed man dove over the side joining him, just missing getting struck himself by another two bullets that went through the picnic table and bench.

Alex dropped to the ground and yelled at other potential victims to run and hide. From his position on the ground, he pressed a hand against his shoulder, using his sweater to help staunch the flow of blood.

"You okay, man?" the dimpled man asked.

"Yeah, clean shot through me…you?"

"I'll live. Bullet that hit you nicked me."

Green eyes used his phone to call 911. The dimpled man looked in the direction of the gunshots.

"That's a roof shot with a high caliber rifle. A good mile away. I'm guessing the museum over there from this angle," dimples said.

Police sirens blared in the distance, so did fire trucks.

No more shots were fired.

The green-eyed man glanced at Alex's wound.

"Keep putting pressure on it," green eyes said. "I think we should stay here until help arrives. Those shots weren't random. The first shot that hit that woman was meant for me. It looked like she got in the way by accident. You were next…and then you. This was a planned hit. Someone aimed all those bullets at us."

"I'm Alex," Alex said, lifting himself to rest against the picnic bench.

He needed to collect information from these men.

"I'm Terry," green eyes said,

"John," the dimpled man added reluctantly.

"Who would want the three of us taken out? We don't even know each other," Alex mumbled to himself.

"I heard you mention a name when you made a phone call before the shots happened…Sasha," John said.

"Yeah, she was my date today," Alex said.

"What she look like?" Terry interjected.

Alex grunted and pulled out his cell phone with his right hand. He swiped a screen to the last text photo he received.

"That's her," Alex said.

Terry's eyes narrowed, and John's lips curled down into a frown. They each pulled out their phones and showed Alex the same photo and text from Sasha.

"What the hell is this?" Alex said.

Cops and paramedics arrived on the scene. Alex left Nana Mama a message on her phone, and then contacted his best friend and partner on the force, John Sampson, who arrived soon after the paramedics lifted him onto the back of their ambulance. Terry stayed around to answer questions, but John had disappeared.

On the ride to the hospital, Alex wracked his brain trying to figure out who his lover Sasha really was. Had she set them all up for murder in one fell swoop? What had he done to warrant her plotting something like that? Or was someone else behind it? John vanished without a trace, and that seemed suspicious, but would he take a chance of getting wounded like that if he were part of the nefarious plot?

Alex closed his eyes.

The first chance he got, he was going to investigate the two men that were marked for death with him.

A.N.:

Giving y'all a taste now. I'll be working on adding updates in spring of 2025, so bookmark it! I have so much to write in other fandoms, lol! I haven't watched the series yet, but Aldis is that dude and I have been waiting to write something for him. So combining him with two other hot men is a treat!

[beauty-and-passion]

TBOB PART 3: OF BILL'S SOLITUDE AND BILLFORD (1/3)

What can I say? I’ve always loved the canon ship in almost every fandom I was in.

Welcome, everyone. Welcome to the third part of my endless rambling about Bill Cipher, The Book of Bill and Gravity Falls in general. Now it’s time for the ship, so sit back and relax, because there is a lot to talk about here.

Yes, I was one of the people who shipped these two eight years ago. And I shipped them as soon as I finished watching the series, because… well, there was more than enough proof that something was going on between them.

Unfortunately, the mentality at the time was “Bill tries to kill Dipper as soon as he has the chance? True love. One trillion proofs that Ford and Bill have something going on? How dare you think that, you are a Bad Person™”.

And yes, I know I could’ve written one post years ago and tried to explain Billford back then but… it would’ve been so, so tiresome. Especially considering that pedophilia was a-okay, but Billford shippers were terrible people Because Yes.

But hey, times change, people change and TBOB gives us enough proofs even a blind person can see them. So. it’s finally time to extensively talk about this ship - this time, from Bill’s point of view.

(For the disclaimer and everything else, refer to the first post. And read the previous ones too, if you like! They will help you understand some things I take for granted here.)

<- Previoust post - Masterlist

_______________________________

Billford has always been canon

The thing is: now as then, Billford has never been a ship about “and they ended up happily ever after”. There was never an intent to glorify abuse or to say that Bill and Ford had the healthiest relationship and everyone should have the same.

What was so captivating of this ship was the tragedy of it. The clearly evident infatuation. The obsession these two had for each other.

This is what pushed people (me included) to ship them: because it’s interesting. The dramatic possibilities, the angst, how deeply an obsession can go to the point you lose yourself to your partner… and yes, of course also the interesting images that can come up by imagining such different beings having something physical (if you’re not a coward and give Bill a human form). It’s not the typical fluff with a couple being lovey-dovey 24/7: it’s a lot more. There is a lot that can be explored. It’s wonderfully challenging, both on the writing plane and purely mentally.

… and yes, it's funny for crack and parodies. These two being cringe and pathetic or married and divorced at the same time is always funny.

Sure, at first we had just the show to support this ship. But oh boy, if there weren’t enough proofs already:

Ford’s house was filled to the brim with images, pictures and stuff of Bill. His goddamn windows are triangular-shaped. Not even the Vatican is filled with so many images of God - and I can assure you the windows are not Jesus-shaped.

Ford made a deal with Bill to be together “from now until the end of time”. Until the end of time. That’s basically a marriage, only even more extreme, because fuck death, we will be together until the last supernova evaporates. And before you ask: yes, it takes such a stupidly long amount of time, it’s bonkers. That’s real infatuation.

Ford consensually gave his body to Bill for possession. Just imagine the sheer trust you need to surrender your whole self to someone else. Not even a married couple can reach this level of trust. And definitely not “just friends”. Maybe BDSM couples can come a bit closer to what these two had.

As soon as Ford returned home after 30 years, Bill greeted him in a dream, called him “his old pal” and was all nice and friendly. No hard feelings, no reprimands, nothing but flattery and threats because, as we learned from TBOB, these two things go together in his head.

Bill asked Ford to join him 200 times more or less.

Bill gave Ford 200 nicknames more or less.

During Weirdmageddon, right after Ford tried to kill him with one of the things that could’ve destroyed him (the quantum destabilizer), Bill welcomed him with a smile, offered him a place among his freaks for the umpteenth time and, when Ford refused again, he turned him into his literal golden trophy wife and carried him around.

By comparison, when Preston Northwest offered his help, Bill shuffled the function of every hole in his face and ignored him completely right after.

Also: Ford tries to shoot me and fails by sheer luck? Please please please, be one of my freaks. Dipper tries to throw me a punch that will literally do nothing? Death. Bill doesn’t have double standards, nope nope.

To convince Ford to give him the equation, Bill’s first thought is to bring Ford into a private suite, serenade him and ask him to join him for… what? The 220th time?

When Ford refuses, Bill puts chains on him in the kinkiest possible way known to mankind, with an iconic image that screams of BDSM.

Somehow, all of this wasn’t enough. And so, we had Journal 3, in which:

Ford called Bill “his Muse”. Oh, my mistake: he called Bill “his blessed Muse”.

Literally lavishes Bill with compliments. So. Many. Compliments.

Says Bill will “seduce” you with never-ending flattery. Interesting verb choice here, Ford, are you sure there’s nothing else you want to tell us?

Ford named a constellation after his Muse.

Once he went through the portal, instead of hiding away forever and good luck finding him, Ford held a 30-years-old grudge and decided HE would’ve killed Bill, no one else. That’s not a simple obsession between friends.

But after all of this, something was still missing.

Until now, it was quite certain that Ford had a COLOSSAL obsession about Bill. The religious fervor, the sheer trust, the depth of his grudge all made it very clear that Bill carved a deeply rooted place in his heart and mind - a place he kept for most of Ford’s life.

But what about Bill? Did he even care about Ford?

We had no idea. Sure, he showed some kind of care: he gave Ford special treatment during Weirdmageddon and seemed to value him enough to offer him a place among his freaks multiple times.

But when did this care start? Was it just because he needed Ford? What about their pre-betrayal relationship? Did Bill even care before?

The most plausible explanation at the time was that pre-betrayal Bill was simply flattered by Ford’s lavish adoration. Maybe he liked the guy a bit (otherwise, why waste time with him?) and humored him in his fervor, but nothing more than that.

But then the betrayal happened and Ford switched from adoring him to opposing him. He actively ran away, found ways to keep Bill away from his mind and came back with the sole intention of killing him.

At the time, I thought this was the moment when Bill started to be truly interested in Ford. Before Ford was just an adoring pet. Now he was more. Now he was interesting. Now he was worthy.

And that opened the door to even more angst possibilities! If Billford was just a “one-sided relationship” before, now it could’ve been the story of two beings who loved/cared about each other, but at different moments in time: Ford in the past, when Bill didn’t love him yet. And Bill in the present, when Ford wasn’t in love with him anymore. The perfect tragedy, ton of angst, love that.

But now, with TBOB and thisisnotawebsitedotcom, the tragedy that is Billford gets a new, angst layer. A beautiful, angst layer.

Because it’s not that Bill never cared about Ford or cared at the wrong moment in time: Bill cared right from the start.

_______________________________

Deeply alone

One detail about TBOB that people aren’t talking too much about is the sense of solitude that permeates it. There are parts in which you can literally feel Bill’s loneliness.

One example? The Bill Tells All section. I know it’s supposed to be a funny parody, but it’s also a perfect image of how alone he is. He’s so alone, he has to be host, interviewee and audience at the same time, because no one else is willing to listen or talk to him.

And in light of the information we got about his past, I think this is an extremely important part of Bill’s character and personality.

Let’s come back to Euclydia: the anthem/poem on the website emphasizes how close people are (“LOVED ONES WILL BE EVER NEAR”), so it’s very possible Bill grew up surrounded by his loved ones.

And then, one single event and everyone disappeared. All the people who surrounded him one second ago, were gone the second after. “There was no one left but me, covered in blood, alone in the universe.”: if this line means solitude for us, just imagine how much, much stronger that same solitude would be for someone who, until that moment, has always been surrounded by others and knew no other reality than that.

That’s another level of solitude: it’s a black void of emptiness, something all-encompassing and all-consuming. It’s a hole carved inside you that nothing will fill ever again. And it was you, the one who carved it.

Of course Bill became insane. Of course he chose to find a justification for his action, by saying that he liberated his dimension and that his people were holding him back. I don’t know what he would’ve done, if he hadn’t. Probably, he wouldn’t have found a way to survive.

But he survived. He repressed his trauma, justified it and kept going towards the stars he was aiming for.

Still, that void was inside him - and we know he tried to fill it. He tried by dating a literal void, for god’s sake. And he tried by surrounding himself with people.

That’s probably why he became who he is: a flashy, flamboyant figure, someone who loves to be the center of attention, because that means having people around. It means people listening to him and being with him and surrounding him again. It means not being alone again.

I mean, just look at this book: every page has something new and interesting, every page is a different attempt to keep you involved, to keep you around and listen.

But an audience can always leave. An audience can stop being around. And that’s probably why Bill searched for someone closer, someone who wouldn’t leave him so soon.

He searched for new loved ones.

_______________________________

Love and hate

Bill’s love advice put a real smile on my face, because sure, they’re funny, but at their foundation, they all share the same goal: to show to your potential partner your qualities and how you would be able to carry/provide for them and your offspring.

Why is it so funny? Because that’s exactly what every single living being does to attract a potential mate: showing off your colorful feathers, singing louder than others, fighting other rivals, showing how clever you are, using pheromones and special smells. And, for humans, something like, idk, showing how wide your hips were as proof that you would carry healthy babies. Or showing off how wealthy you are, to prove you can take care of your partner and your offspring.

Bill himself follows this mentality, considering advices like “have two of everything to show your wealth” or “show how much calcium you have (aka how healthy you are)”. Heck, he even has a seduction hat which is basically one huge phallic shape!

And, again, this makes me smile, not just because it’s a clear parody of those men who keep showing off their huge, large vehicles. But also because he usually wears a tall top hat. And how funny it would be, if a tall top hat was indeed a way to win a partner in Euclydia? What if that’s how his father got his mother? Please, I want a fanfic or Mr. Cipher entering a place with a top hat big and wide enough to win Mrs. Cipher’s heart (while not accidentally piercing through another shape). I bet it would be hilarious.

Funny love advice aside, I would also point out these two things Bill says:

Love and fear are right next to each other in the brain and, like most humans, Bill also can’t tell the difference (he doesn’t even think there is a difference)

“love is the pupa stage for hate”

The fact Bill mixes love and fear explains why he is like that in general - and with Ford too. If love and fear are the same thing, then there is no difference between flattering someone and threatening them. There is no difference between partying with his friends and scaring the shit out of them. There’s no difference between helping Ford and hurting him. And there’s no difference between allowing him to see Fordtramarine and “joking” about someone coming to steal his eyes.

Also: if “love is the pupa stage for hate”, then Ford coming back after 30 years hating him was completely normal for Bill. It was just how things were supposed to go: first he loved him, now he hates him. Still, same thing. Still worth a place among his freaks. Still worth flirting. For Bill, nothing has changed - just evolved in a natural way.

And yes, this is uber duper fucked up and great material for toxic Billford. But it also makes me think: how did Bill get this mentality? How did he manage to mix love and fear so much? When did it happen?

Inevitably, I think about Euclydia. And inevitably, I think that “the incident” is when Bill mixed the two things.

When he still lived in Euclydia, Bill clearly experienced both love and hate: his mother at least seemed to love him, the other kids didn’t. Bill doesn’t like his optometrist either and we have no clue about his feelings towards his father. Later in his life, Bill recognizes his family and his world tried to blind him/”snuff out his potential” - so, again, something more similar to hate than love.

Then, Bill destroyed his place. He had to deal with a trauma so huge (i.e. experiencing solitude for the first time in his existence), it left a void inside him. A void he decided to suffocate with lies - lies that, in the end, are just half-truths. His place was bad and his family was holding him back! But that was also the place that showed him love for the first time. His people were flat minds in a flat world with flat dreams! But among them, there was also the one who loved him right from the start.

I believe this is when the two feelings got mixed in his brain. In his attempt to justify and cope with his mixed feelings regarding the universe he just destroyed, Bill ended up mixing love and fear together and believing that love is just one stage of hate. Unable to deal with the vastity of solitude, Bill put together justifications for his actions and messed up his own perception of feelings.

The result is someone who is deeply, deeply alone and who desperately keeps searching for love to fill that void… but is unable to do that, because he cannot distinguish between love and hate anymore.

That’s why he has a lot of exes. And that’s why they’re all exes.

But hey, at least there are friends, right? Right?

_______________________________

Bill’s friends are full of potential (especially one of them)

The perfect friend for Bill should be:

alone, outcasted, rejected by society, possibly an orphan looking for a purpose in life (so exactly like him)

completely devoted to him

Which you can see by yourself that this isn’t exactly how a friendship should work. The friend exactly like you can still work, but the friend completely devoted to you who should do everything you want… well, that’s not a friend. That’s not even a pet, because even pets do not follow you around with such lavish adoration.

But somehow, in the vastity of the Multiverse, Bill managed to find some friends. And oh boy, what friends:

Pyronica is a beauty queen AND she has a twin sister AND she dated Hectorgon. Cool, but not enough. I need details. But, like, a lot. Her entire story would suffice (maybe).

Amorphous Shape is invisible to most of the Henchmaniacs. How? Why? Who is she, really? Where is she from? Where is her backstory? Why isn’t it here? I need it here.

Hectorgon was a goddamn sheriff and Bill just throws it like that?! I want his backstory too! I want to know everything about him!

Keyhole hates Pyronica? Why? What happened? Where is all the juicy gossip, Bill? We need the gossip!

And most importantly: a certain someone was part of Bill’s gang. Someone with a photo that has been covered, but it’s still partially visible. And as soon as I saw it, I jumped up on my bed and asked: “Wait… is this Jheselbraum?!”

The answer is yes and thisisnotawebsite confirmed it: she was one of Bill’s Henchmaniacs. And now the right question is: how much do you want The Book of Jheselbraum, from 1 to 10?

I mean:

In the partially crossed-out part about her in TBOB, Bill says she figured something related to dimensions

In the shaman page (TBOB) there is a code: WHICH HENCHMANIAC RATTED ME OUT

In Journal 3, Ford has been saved by her, who sucked him out of the 2D world of Exwhylia

Jheselbraum told Ford that Bill’s “thirst for power caused him to destroy his home dimension - including his parents and everyone else he’d ever known” (Journal 3)

Still in Journal 3, Ford says she spoke of Bill “without anger, but with a calm, steely, clinical resolve to see his reign of terror end”.

In addition to that, let me add this part from thisisnotawebsitedotcom under the code TANTRUM:

I KNOW YOUR CRIMES, CIPHER. TAKING A NEW HOME WILL NOT MAKE UP FOR THE ONE YOU’VE LOST. WHAT YOU DID TO THE COUNTLESS SOULS OF EUCLYDIA- Cipher stopped in his tracks. YOU CHOOSE YOUR WORDS VERY. CAREFULLY. Ciphers henchmen murmured amongst each other, confused. They seemed to have heard conflicting stories about Bill’s past. “You said you liberated the people of your dimension-” LIBERATED THEM FROM THEIR BODIES! DONT LISTEN TO HIM! HE’S A BABY!

Can you see how HUGE the potential is?

What I believe for now is that:

Jheselbraum figured out what Bill really did to his home dimension (i.e. destroying everything and not “liberating” it, as he said to his Henchmaniacs)

She started to actively find ways to stop him from doing the same thing again

She “ratted him out” with Bill’s new potential puppets on Earth

Bill found out she didn’t just rat him out, but found out the truth about Euclydia too and that’s what led to her escaping

She settled closer to a 2D world - maybe to learn more about Bill, maybe because she knew Ford would’ve appeared there

And speaking of that, we have the message on thisisnotawebsitedotcom under the code SEVENEYES:

This is something someone else wrote to her. Someone who told her to escape to a crossed-out Dimension (who guesses that the crossed-out thing was the number 52?). Someone who told her it was against the rules, but it was also the only way to escape him (aka Bill).

And from her code, you can find out the other criminals found new homes as well.

In other words, we have a hidden spy story, in which someone helped Jheselbraum escape from Bill and, in turn, she helped all others escape Bill.

If you don’t want a book about her, about her story as Bill’s henchmaniac and about this whole thing, you are a huge. Fucking. Liar.

_______________________________

And with that, let’s close part 1 of this umpteenth endless analysis. The next one will come soon and it will be all about Billford.

Yes, I know I already talked about Billford here, but we still haven’t talked about the details in TBOB and Bill’s perspective on it. Also, it’s always nice to talk about Billford.

See you soon~

-> Next post

(How about a coffee? ☕)

_______________________________

📌TAGLIST: @mudpuddlenl @allmycrushesaredead @aquatedia @whatishappeningrightnow @effortiswhatmatters @bella-in-a-bag @doydoune @forever-third-wheeling @payte @hypnossanders @idontreallyknow24   @imcrushedbyarainbowoffical @patton-cake-and-crofters​  @hereissananxiousmess @purplebronzeandblue​ @cynicalandsarcastic​ @lost-in-thought-20 @andtheyreonfire @riseofthewerewolf @rosesandlove44 ​​@arya-skywalker @csi-baker-street-babes @reesiereads @dracayd-universe @starlightnyx​ @stubbornness-and-spite @averykedavra @joyrose-fandomer @mihaela-tbg @igonnatalknothing @thatoneloudowl @grayson-22 @softangryfuckingdepressed @theotherella @nevenastark @coldbookworm @boopypastaissalty @varthandiveturinn @roses-bubbles @cuter-on-the-inside @snixxxsmythe @charmingcritter @analogical-mess @emphasis-on-the-oopsie @selfdestructivecat @yangwalkerao3 @the3rddenialist

[tiredandoptimistic]

Buckle up, it's Mabel Pines hours.

I keep thinking about her choice at the end of Dipper and Mabel vs the Future, when she takes "Blendin" up on his offer of creating a time bubble. I know there's been a million words typed about this, but she really had nothing waiting for her back home.

I know the show tends to act like Mabel was the popular one while Dipper was the outcast (like in the Valentine's flashback), but I genuinely can't believe that Mabel was 100% accepted for her freak self in middle school. Yes, she's bright and bubbly, but she's also deeply strange and borders on disturbing in a lot of ways (to be clear, I mean this as a compliment, but most seventh graders probably wouldn't appreciate her grappling hook and Mabel Juice). Maybe people liked her on some level, maybe she was social, but she didn't have friends like Candy and Grenda in California. Think about it, she never mentions anybody specific back home; almost like there isn't anybody she actually feels close to on a deep level.

She was probably okay like that for a long time. She didn't need friends who understood all of her quirks, because she had her brother for that. Dipper might be pretty different from Mabel on the surface, but in every way that mattered he was there for her 100%. Nevertheless, I think there was a lot of loneliness building within Mabel for a long time, whether or not she was aware of it. She may have thought she had everything a person needs, until she got to Gravity Falls and experienced for the first time what it was like to be genuinely accepted on every level; that moment of "oh this is what friendship is supposed to be like," the realization that all those previous dynamics provided company but not companionship.

So then, it's the end of the summer, and Mabel has to give up that safe space and go back to the real world. It sucks, but at least she's got Dipper to go through it with her. No matter what, she's always got her twin as her anchor, to keep her steady in any situation. Except; this time, he's not coming along. He gets to choose to stay in the adventure while she has to return to reality; he chose the part of him that's a scientist over the part that's Mabel's brother.

Now, Mabel's left with the prospect of returning to a life that's seeming evermore unfulfilling since she's finally got to experience a place that embraces her for all that she is. She's gone through a whole summer of the most incredible adventures, and has to go to a place without a single person who'll even believe her stories. Adding on to all that, we know from The Book of Bill that Dipper and Mabel's parents have been fighting. That's a rough as hell thing to deal with as a kid, but having a sibling like Dipper would have taken so much of the pressure off. Family is supposed to be the most stable thing in a kid's life, but now Mabel's parents have thrown their whole family dynamic into doubt, and she doesn't even have her brother to rely on as a point of consistency. It'll just be her, alone, unsure of what will happen next.

This isn't even touching on Stan and Ford, and how Mabel is literally living with an example of the worst that can happen when twins drift apart. Maybe once upon a time she could have had faith that even living in different states wouldn't weaken her bond with Dipper, but now she's seen how Ford prioritizing his science over his sibling lead to the two of them basically hating each other for over forty years (vast oversimplification, and I do completely get Ford's decision to go with West Coast Tech over treasure hunting with Stan, but it was undeniably the inciting incident in the complete implosion of their relationship). If Stan and Ford used to be just as close as Dipper and Mabel, then maybe a bit of separation is all it'll take for them to end up like their grunkles.

All this to say that I really, really get why Mabel was so desperate for anything that could make summer last a little longer. She'd just spend a day being beaten over the head with the fact that growing up is gonna suck (no more friends, no more brother, no more Gravity Falls; just high school hell), and she's lost the person who could have kept her steady through the transitional phase. Also, she was twelve. Middle schoolers are not known for their objective decision making.

I know we all love Mabel for what a weirdo she is, but it's important to remember that the world is not kind to weird little girls. We've literally seen it play out within the fandom. She needs someplace safe from the judgements and cruelty; and while summer can't last forever, she deserves to at least keep her brother by her side.