classic older ford going to 1980s & being with 30yo stan except!!!!!! instead of ford protecting stan, stan protects ford like in a fistfight or a knife fight and ford is sooooo in love and also so horny his knees go weak🤗
ok so this poast about mabel seeing fords handprint on the wall while descending basement stairs in nwhs, right.
my thing is that . like. did stan know it was there. did he purposefully keep it there? did he make sure it stayed.
did he press his own fingers into those indents in the dust. is the 6th finger dustier than the others because stan presses his hand to it whenever he passes? is that why it's smeared.
sweetie & cute stancest :). shapeshifter!stan, 100% inspired by dark lord's shapeshifter!stan stuff but i'm not gonna tag them cus they're in gen fandom🙂↕️.
After the reveal and the long conversation that followed, the two brothers had made it to Ford's livingroom and practically collapsed onto the couch.
Stan was drifting off, thinking about how he'd maybe go about asking for food. Well. Hm. Maybe Ford would just let him take some.
Wait. ...Does Ford even have food?
He was just about to start thinking about that, mentally trying to take stock of what he remembered of Ford's kitchen without getting up to actually check.
That was when his attention was drawn out of his thoughts, as Ford cleared his throat quietly.
"Stanley. Does this mean you can..." Ford trailed off, raising his hands from his lap. He didn't seem to notice they were just barely trembling.
Stan glanced at Ford's eyes. Oh. Fuck. A brief thought of attempting to lie to his brother formed, but.... no. He- just couldn't. Not about this.
He bit his lip. Nodded.
"Yeah, I can," he whispered, and his fingers went from ten to twelve as he lifted them towards his brother's. It was seamless. Practiced.
He chanced another look at Ford, who was clearly torn between staring at his hands or his face.
"You've-" done this before, went unsaid. Ford's bottom lip trembled.
There wasn't even a full thought to the movement. Stan's fingers brushed Ford's, and suddenly they were intertwined. Twelve with twelve.
"Stanley," Ford warbled. His grip was tight. "I'm- I'm so s-sorry. I didn't believe you, I c- I-"
Tears slipped down his cheeks, and he gasped for air.
"Moses. Hey, hey, Poindexter, it's okay. I get it," Stan murmured, thumbs rubbing along Ford's skin.
"C'mere," he tugged gently, and Ford followed, into his lap, burying his face in Stan's shoulder.
One of Ford's hands escaped the hold and his arm snaked around Stan's back, grasping desperately, just as the other held onto his brother's hand.
Stan, perhaps a little selfishly, pressed a kiss to the top of his brother's head, and continued to reassure him. It wasn't his fault, and Stan had never blamed him. He'd been hurt when those curtains shut, no shit, but he was here now. Figured that was the most important thing.
Thankfully, it seemed like Ford was beginning to calm down a little. He sniffled and shifted his head, nosing into Stan's neck.
"Sorry," he croaked.
"What, for getting my shirt wet? It's okay, Ford. I'm serious."
Ford let out a shaky breath, relaxing into Stan's hold. "I still... I wish it would've gone differently."
"Even if you did make a time machine to make that happen, why would you need to, huh? Hard part is over with. No reason to do it all over again in a different way."
His brother mulled over it, and Stan began to gently stroke up and down his back.
"Right," Ford murmured. "I just- I..."
"...I missed you," he finished.
Stan was not going to cry. He wasn't.
"Fuck. I- yeah. I missed you too," he sniffled, and pressed a kiss to Ford's forehead.
--
"You remember when.. we were really little, we'd just made the first Fort 'o Stan, technically, and I showed you- I showed you the six fingers?" Stan murmured.
"....Yes," Ford replied sleepily, head shifting where it laid on Stan's chest. "I had always thought I had made it up, in my head. And all the instances after. I always thought you'd been joking, but..." he yawned, "you were telling the truth, because..."
"Because I thought you knew," Stan huffed out a laugh. "Not sure how I messed that up."
"It was.. was on both of us," Ford murmured, cuddling ever closer.
Stan hummed. "Yeah, I guess. It is kinda funny it took you so long to know you'd been living with one of your anomalies since you were born, though. I thought you had some kinda nerdy internal, uh, weirdness radar."
"...You were my first anomaly," Ford said, suddenly more awake than he'd been in the last thirty minutes.
"Huh. I guess I kinda was. The blueprint, eh?"
Ford smiled, leaning up to kiss at his chin and neck. "You're.. my original inspiration. My muse."
"Alright, no need to butter me up that much," Stan muttered, heat rising to his face. "Go to sleep already, will ya? Otherwise at this rate I'm gonna burst into flames or something."
Ford chuckled lowly, but acquiesced and returned to his spot, head on his brother's chest, arms wrapped around him comfortably.
They'd both have body pains from sleeping on Ford's sad excuse for a couch in the morning, but it was definitely worth it.
need moar artnwriting of ford being comfy..... waking up in the morning and walking arounf the boat/shack in a pair of briefs + coffee mug. glasses are nowhere to be seen. clings to the nearest person purring cutely.......yeah<3. i have to be the change i wants to see in the world...............auuu
old ford being sweetly and braiding/brushing mullet stan hair🥺 ouuauauuuuuuuuuuu dont talk to mw ever again im going to turn into a bubble and float away into space
okay so this post (link) about stancest where autistic ford uses stan like his own personal stim toy, and stan is lowkey into it.
basically that concept, but it goes both ways. regardless if either of them are autistic (personally, i see stan as autistic and ford as auDHD, maybe more for them both, but nothing really has to apply for this context. it just makes it easier for these two to stay in Denile River! "why are you touching me like that" "im just stimming" "oh okay" type of behavior)
also this turned into a small ficlet, whoopsie! so i'm putting it under a cut. some smut at the end :))
maybe it starts as soon as ford comes back from the portal. he punches stan and then holds him by the shoulders to look him right in the eyes because: "For everything in the universe, Moses, what were you thinking, Stanley?"
stan isn't one to be outdone, so he grabs ford's arms too and, honestly, it takes a herculean amount of strength to not hug his brother right then and there, because ford's obviously furious (and that punch did kinda hurt).
"You're my brother, Ford. I didn't have to think about it." (he did, sometimes, but that's something he'd take to his grave.)
so they kinda skirt away from eachother after the whole "i want my house back, and i want my name back" (that was so dangerous, this realm is in danger, this realm isn't the same anymore oh god, are you okay?) and "as far as i'm concerned, they're the only family i've got left" (i still see you in my reflection, i want you to meet our family, are you okay?)
but dipper is concerned about ford not eating, talks to mabel, and she tells stan.
ugh. so now he's gotta feed the brother that punched him, too. how annoying. (just like old times, eh, poindexter?)
so he goes down, obviously. with a plate of something or other, you know. something that ford used to like. and, i mean, it's not like stan made it for him or anything, he just wanted the kids to try something new (they're sleeping over at soos's or someone else's tonight).
so he has an incredibly strained talk with the guy, touches his shoulder and feels ford jolt under his hand (and, ouch, does that smart), but is able to leave the plate downstairs. it's in the sink come morning, which is good, stan thinks.
and that, somehow, kickstarts it. stan comes down to bring the nerd food, and begins to yap about whatever. sometimes he manages to stay in there for a full 20 minutes, talking, fingers tapping on ford's shoulder, before he gets waved out.
and it only spirals from there. they keep absentmindedly prodding at eachother, until one time stan turns at the wrong time and ford, going for his knee or something, accidentally presses his entire palm to stan's crotch and absentmindedly squeezes, and of course, because of his own fucking dumb luck, stan moans a little.
they both freeze. ford's face goes beet red.
"...um, Ford, are you gonna-"
ford jumps and draws back as if fire just sprouted from stan's clothes. "RIGHT! YES! i, uh, i just- well, i didn't- oh god," he says, and genuinely scrambles to the elevator as if he'll be chased.
stan blinks and watches the doors close, then watches the dial turn from 3 to 2. wow, stan almost forgot the 2nd floor was there.
he waits maybe 30 seconds before taking the elevator to the 2nd floor.
"hey, listen, Ford," he starts as he walks in, preparing to apologize.
he stops. ford is masturbating. or, was, because now he's staring at stan with wide eyes, 6 fingers neatly wrapped around his leaking cock.
"wow," he murmurs.
"Stanley," ford says. "get out."
he jumps. "RIGHT! shit- sorry, i thought- yeah, fuck, okay."
he swallows, mouth dry, and leaves and spends the rest of the night in bed, staring at the ceiling, touching himself and cumming harder than he has in what feels like over two decades. he does not think about why ford's reaction to accidentally touching stan was to jerk off (it's definitely, absolutely not the only thing he thinks about as he shoots off and dirties his sheets).
the next day, stan drags himself through morning tours, then skips the afternoon ones to bring ford lunch, snagging it from dipper before the boy goes down and fawns at his brother (stan feels like he does enough of it as is, so dipper definitely doesn't need to add). thankfully, he gets wrapped up in something mabel's doing and leaves it be, this once.
which is good anyway, because ford doesn't like triangle-cut sandwiches anymore. he's okay with squares and "other fun 'wich-shapes" (coined by mabel, who does crap like cut pb&j's into spirals only to feed the excess to the pig).
so he brings squares down, because he's not mabel and doesn't feel like pretending. (he's done enough of it already, hasn't he?)
ford tenses as soon as stan announces himself. stan sighs and sets the plates down; crosses his arms.
"listen, ford, i don't care if you were yanking your own chain, alright, we're brothers, i've seen it all before. doesn't matter to me, okay? we can just forget about it."
he doesn't he realize he's started pulling at the hairs on the back of ford's neck until the nerd doesn't respond back for a lingering moment.
"oh- shit, sorry. do you want me to stop?" he asks, already pulling away.
"n-no," ford says, then clams up.
stan blinks. ford's face goes pink.
....huh.
slowly, cautiously, stan puts his hand back, sliding fingers into ratty hair. some of it pulls just because it hasn't been brushed in a while. ford's eyes close.
"...you like that?" stan asks, quiet.
ford swallows and cracks an eye open. he does a very small nod.
stan pulls a little harder. ford's mouth drops open, just barely.
a pit of lava opens up in stan's abdomen. holy shit. he's just taken ecstasy and it's starting to kick in, because, fuck.
that's how they end up fucking for the first time in almost half a century (moses, they're fucking old, stan thinks).
"Lee! oh, god, fff-fuck! Lee!" ford sobs, pushing his forehead onto stan's bare shoulder and rubbing onto him like a cat.
stan groans and readjusts his grip on ford's hips again and again, feeling him.
"Ford," he responds, breathless. "Ford. you- hahh, fuck, brother," he says.
ford shouts and comes, hands sliding over stan's back- up, down and out, repeat- and rubs his face into stan's neck.
stan keens and rubs his thumbs into ford's skin and comes inside, filling him so completely that it starts spilling as soon as he slips out. quietly, he pushes it back in with two fingers, then starts feeling around when ford's dick shows an interest.
ford moans and grabs and pulls him close, nails scraping into his hair and kissing him as stan's fingers explore and feel. ford comes again. stan keeps feeling until ford asks him to stop, and he does. wipes his fingers off on the nearest piece of clothing.
they manage to stumble into the next room, fitted with a small bed. at ford's request, stan gets on top and crushes him with bodyweight. at stan's, he slides back in, soft, and plugs ford up as they drift off.
they wake up with their hands in each other's hair.
