Ford keeps a picture of you in one of his coat pockets ALWAYS. Even when he was in other dimensions it was always with him. (He lined the pocket with steel so it couldn't get destroyed. He didn't want to forget what you look like.) When he came back he was OBSESSED with taking pictures of you/drawing pictures of you.
Stan keeps one of you in his wallet, he shows it off all the time. It's a terrible picture of you that he took with a polaroid camera when you first woke up one morning, Mabel has a copy of it in one of her scrapbooks. He also keeps pictures of you and the rest of the family throughout the house/gift shop.
They're so cutie patootie.
When Stanley first sees you in the outfit, he would have to do a double take before he eyes followed you out of the room. He would get up and follow you into the kitchen where you would begin making dinner, before you know it you can feel his hands on your hips which results in them getting slapped off by you.
He would be baffled by the sudden attitude at first then resume with trying to hold you again, once he got slapped off once more he’d get a bit frustrated and ask why you’re doing that only for you to respond with “nah, don’t touch me.”
He didn’t realize why you were acting this way until the quick flash of a little argument from earlier ran through his mind. Oh you are petty.
Stan wouldn’t stop no matter how many times you tell him to quit it because he knows you love it. Next thing you know, you’re sitting on the counter glancing at the stove to make sure it’s turned off all while Stan is hammering his cock deep within your cunt. He’s racked two orgasms out of you already but if you know Stan, two is barely enough for him.
Maybe just maybe, you should be petty more often..
-
You and Stanford got into a little bickering session earlier due to him continuously forgetting to eat because of how zeroed in he is on his current research project. He claims he’ll always remember and missing a meal or two won’t kill him but you just want him to stay healthy and not miss out on what’s important for his body. He claims he’ll eat when he’s done but then he never does which resulted in you finally trying to talk to him about it.
You left him to his work after that and decided to start cooking dinner, you always did bring it down to him anyway so he could make sure and eat. You had bought this cute little piece earlier in the week so you decided to make use and wear it. It was comfortable and fit your body perfectly, it was amazing.
Ford actually ended up finishing a part of his research early so he decided to head upstairs and make himself some well deserved coffee. As he strolled into the kitchen, he’s met with the sight of you in that outfit, when did you purchase that?
He would walk up behind you and slowly run his hands up your sides, feeling the fabric under his palms. Before his hands could rest anywhere comfortably though, you slapped them off much to his surprise. He gave you a puzzled look only for you to say those petty words “don’t touch me.”
He raised his eyebrows as he tried to figure out where this attitude came from only to have the realization slap him across the face, that petty little minx.
One thing led to another though and he had you sitting on the edge of the counter as he’s eating you out with vengeance, his tongue lapping at your folds before dipping inside your heat to explore further. You’re a mess and that’s exactly what he wants. As his mouth is working down there, his hands are snaking their way up to grope and feel you up.
You’re definitely paying another visit to that store tomorrow..
headcannons or something idk i like old men read my stanford x readers here too x
- you’re probably a family friend, you come over every once in a while to supervise morty and summer while jerry and beth try to rekindle their failing marriage
- you do a horrible job because the kids always end up sneaking out with their grandpa to kill some god or something absurd like that
- your oblivious, rick isn’t necessarily cold towards you, just indifferent
- he would rather be elsewhere than in the living room talking to some random person that beth insists on having in her house
- one day you catch them sneaking out and probably hide inside of the trunk of ricks car(?) because curiosity killed the cat or something like that
- the cars system would probably inform him that he has an unexpected visitor and your caught red handed, now inside the passenger seat with morty and his grandfather
- awkward would not be enough to describe what that whole journey was
- rick would berate you for being so stupid, telling you that you had no survival skills getting into strangers cars like that
- morty sat in silence, disappointed that he couldn’t go to “boob world” or whatever he called it
- you see, you’re a professional glazer
- it’s not even unintentional like you’re genuinely super impressed by this guy what the fuck do you mean he’s fucked a planet?? crazy work me next
- he decides to keep you around to stroke his ego, it’s refreshing to have someone who’s not always busting his balls about morality and space laws
- and having someone as attractive as you worship him like a god sounded good to him
- after a while he’ll definitely enjoy your company but pretend he’s super cool and suave , pretending that he’s not excited to spend some time with you
- morty gets a little concerned at the fact that his grandpa has taken a liking to you, with with beth
- they know what he’s like, he’s brash and cold one minute, and a little normal the next
- they eventually give in though, they’ve never seen him so calm before, maybe you’ll change him and his chaotic ways
- (you can’t and you won’t)
- he’s super distant when he realises he might have genuine feelings for you, it’s not like him at all to feel all mushy
- truth is, he’s lonely, he’s sad, he’s afraid that things won’t work out, something bad happens to you etc, then he’s back to being lonely
- yeah he’ll probably be a little mean to you at first, to try and scare you off
- doesn’t work, so he gives up with the sass
- definitely builds you little trinkets and machines now and then
- you have no time to mow the lawn? he’s going to build self mowing grass for you (it’s a little sad)
- always stuck in traffic? he’s tinkered with your car and now whenever you drive by a traffic light it’ll always be green (so many casualties)
- too cold today? he’s going to discreetly push the sun a little closer to the earth, juuust a smidge
- he definitely butt dials you when he’s drunk only to cry on your lap until he sobers up and then pretends nothing happened, if he tells you anything particularly sensitive then your memories about it are going bye-bye
- it would take a lot for him to confess, for real
- normally though you’ll probably find a bunch of voice mails from him, he sounds rough and panicky, like he’s about to die in some stupid mission (you could always near morty crying in the background)
- he’ll tell you that he loves you, and that you make him forget about how much he hates himself
- forget about that though because in the very next voice mail he sounds normal again and is telling you to ignore what the last message said
- do not ignore it pls
- do something subtle but nice, like bake or cook him something, or buy him a new lab coat, anything
“Ford … Ford … STANFORD! Hi yes I um well I had a question I was hoping you could answer? It’s very important … um … I was wondering … Are Those Astronaut Pants Youre Wearing Cuz Your Ass Is Out Of This World!”
I’m gonna go now, thank you for your time *runs away.
𝐑𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭: -
𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Reader forgets she has Ford’s mind reading device on…
𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Ford Pines x fem!shy!reader
𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: -
𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬: Makeout, fluffy shy stuff
𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2k
𝐀/𝐍: This is so so so out of my league with this kind of thing, but I had a vision and had to try, so forgive me if it’s not the best !! ( you can read this as young or old Ford by the way ! )
“Are you going to tell me what exactly that is?” You ask shyly, perched neatly on a wooden stool in the deepest room of Ford’s laboratory. The man in question is bustling around the benches, plugging in wires and fiddling with dials and buttons.
“It’s a mental-strengthening device, able to encrypt one’s thoughts to prevent dream demons like Bill Cipher from entering.”
You purse your lips. “Ah. Of course.”
Ford looks briefly over at you while he tinkers. “I don’t want any chance of that creature making his way into our world. The damage he causes is… irrevocable.”
You fall silent, quietly studying the scientist’s practised hands and that little furrow in his brow you doubt he’s aware of. You see it often, in your stolen glances as you set his coffee down in the mornings, or when his eyes linger for a moment on his work when you call for his attention.
You let yourself sit in the warm feeling that spreads through your skin, toying with the fantasy of him for just a moment. Before you know it, Ford is approaching you with a gadget in his hands, and you’re pushing those silly thoughts from your mind.
“This is the receiver,” Ford explains, gesturing to the sieve-like helmet in his hands. “May I put it on you?”
All you manage is a ‘mhm’, and you hope your ears aren’t bright red when Ford places the bronze contraption over your hair. As he adjusts it here and there his fingers often brush your skin, you’re mortified as goosebumps shiver over your skin. Luckily, from what you know about Stanford Pines, he isn’t the most observant man unless you happen to have three eyes or an off-on switch.
Being Ford’s assistant has been the best opportunity of your life, but childishly you often wish for something more. To see those lips say your name not just to thank you for your helping hands. To have the confidence to show Ford the book of research you’ve been privately gathering, his eyes catching yours as he realises the potential he’d never seen in you before…
For the millionth time reality pulls you from your daydreams. Ford crouches down slightly, your faces level, your eyes on his while his are at your hairline. A six-fingered hand gently tucks loose strands back from your face.
“There,” he says, eyes catching yours. “Equipped. How does that feel?”
You swallow, voice a tad too squeaky, “All good!”
“Perfect. I’ll begin the calibration, inform me if you experience any discomfort,” he nods, satisfied, before sweeping away again.
As you wait, you silently tap on your knees, looking around. You look over the table behind you to see a television screen with—
Your thoughts.
A string of your most embarrassing ideas visualised on a ceiling-high collection of screens, unarguably clingy and desperate desires paired with Ford’s name scrolling everywhere.
You whip your gaze over to Ford, dew already appearing over your skin. He seems to be engrossed in whatever's in his hands, but it’s only a matter of time before he sees all… that!
Fuck, fuck, fuck! The screens mirror the chant in your mind.
You try vainly to think of other things, random words and imagery slowly but surely creeping onto the televisions. Polar Bears. Adjectives. Pencils, pens, markers. Dates and historical impact of various civil wars. Charity raffles. That one catchy jingle. Discombobulation. Ambystoma mexicanum.
Ford looks up. “Finished!” He says with a quick smile.
You quietly clear your throat. “Uhm. Wow! This is very clever, Ford, although I must admit didn’t realise it displayed the user's consciousness?”
His eyebrows raise at your question, before his face softly twists with confusion as he stares at the reading. He glances back over at you with the face of someone just realising how stupid something is. Yet, you almost slump with relief. At least he only thinks you're simple, not a freak.
“Well, yes, it does. Did I not mention that?” He says slowly. “I was going to suggest you exercise your brain to ensure the program reaches every aspect of your cognition… but it seems you’re… already… doing that?” He questions hesitantly. Your smile is too-bright.
“Oh, yes, that is what I am doing. Yep.” You squeak.
“Right.”
The silence is palpable, a thick sludge that clings to your form. Sometimes both your wandering stares slide over each other, awkward blips before you both avert eye contact. You hear the hum of machinery, the soft tap of your shoe on the floor. Your fingers itch to grab your journal from your pocket to give yourself something to do with your hands, but you’re embarrassed at what Ford would see as you ponder over it. The silence stretches on and on, until you can’t bear not to break it.
“So, you, uhm, said something about exercising the mind?” You blurt sheepishly.
Ford’s eyes are immediately on you. “Yes! Yes, just try to keep your mind active, it helps the protection process.”
And the silence is back. Perhaps even worse than before.
Desperate for relief, you pull your journal from your pocket. You wave it weakly, “Mind if I do some work?”
Ford adjusts his glasses. “No, no of course not. Go ahead.” He gestures at the various desks stationed around the room. You shoot him a quick smile and spin on your stool to the table next to you, propping open the journal and continuing an essay you plan to submit as a paper in your current university course.
This works, taking your mind off your vulnerability as you focus on your work. This is what you love about science, about academia, the ability to lose yourself in something so complex, so worthwhile. You really can’t wait to get your research out there and make a name for yourself.
You write for a while, pen often times balanced between teeth. You don’t quite register Ford coming up behind you until his tilted head is in your peripheral.
“Fantastic,” he mutters absently, his face well and truly absorbed on the open page. Embarrassed, you half-heartedly cover the page with your hands.
“Oh, no, it’s really not anything special.” You mumble, eyes averted.
“No, really, I love it. You’re studying quantum physics, right?” He insists, head tilted trying to catch his eye. When you do, he has a soft smile painted on. Your cheeks glow pink.
“Yes, I major in quantum physics and forensic science. I minor in biomedical engineering, and I’m additionally doing an online paper on parapsychology with the only university that does it, in, uh, Finland.” The sparkle in Ford’s eyes grows as you timidly recite your areas of study.
“Parapsychology? That’s brilliant!” He remarked, awed. “Why didn’t you say that, I would love to take you out on my field days. I study all sorts of paranormal and supernatural activity here. It'd be great to share it with someone.”
“Oh, I don’t want to trouble you,” you say hushed, fending off a stammer. Internally, your heart is soaring. Yes yes yes!
“It’d be no trouble,” he says earnestly, soft features returned as if coaxing you out of your shell. “I knew you were smart, but I had no idea the extent,’ he says, almost to himself.
Your eyes lock on him immediately. “You think that?”
He seems surprised. “Of course I do. You’re an exceptional assistant, and you’ve been in study for ages. I’ve heard nothing less than great things about when I send my own work to our local university. Not many scholars live out here, you know?”
You can’t drag your eyes away from him, and you're sure Ford can see every star in the galaxy swirling in your pupils right now. This is everything, everything you’ve wanted.
You’re not sure whether it’s the surge of confidence, or the way Ford’s looking so gently at you, but you’re acutely aware of how low Ford has bent down to talk to you. It would only take a small movement to bring your faces together.
And so, heart fluttering with this moment of bravery, you rise slightly up on the balls of your feet and press a small kiss to Ford’s cheek.
“Thank you,” you breathe, the sensation in your chest borderline sickening. “It, uh, means a lot.”
Ford doesn’t say a word, eyes wide but painfully unreadable. The silence is once again, stifling.
“Not a lot of fellow scientists in this area, like you said,” You hastily ramble on after a long moment. The gap doesn’t last this time, though.
In a swift motion Ford’s hand is at your cheek. You barely have time to inhale before his lips are on yours, their warmth sinking against your mouth.
You’d never imagined them to be so firm, although his proximity doesn’t give your mind any room to think about anything. It’s all happening so fast, your mind dizzied as you reciprocate his intentful kisses.
Your pen clatters slightly on the table as your hand releases it, quickly gripping to Ford as his arms snake around you and lift you up. He spins, setting you on the table in the middle of the room. You’re sure at some point you have or will let slip an embarrassing sound, but you’re wholly focused on Ford and how you’re sitting at his level on the tall table; him standing before you with his hands at your waist. Your knees brush either side of his thighs.
Your hands bury themselves in his hair, his hands in turn pull you closer. It’s eager and messy, making your pulse thud wildly. You never thought a man would want you like this, never catching an eye. Let alone the genius that is—
Abruptly, his lips leave yours, the emptiness not lasting long as they move just beneath your lip, then down to your jaw. They trail down to the side of your neck, lips brushing over the shiver on your skin. Small breaths leave your mouth when you feel a glimmer of teeth against your collarbone.
You tilt your head, resting against his where he’s kissing your shoulder in the crook of your neck. Your hands remain tangled in his hair, your eyes closed.
Your bodies are so close together, his lips are all-consuming. It’s bliss. The man you’ve loved for so long, holding you like he’s besotted. Like he’s just as infatuated as you. The thought thrills through your mind; He wants me.
“I can assure you, I most certainly do,” Ford murmurs breathlessly against your skin. You pause, the statement uncannily sounding like a response to your thought…
Oh. Oh no.
The machine. The mind reading. The television directly behind your back.
You haltingly turn your head, face pale. The screen is, in fact, still reciting your thoughts. Every thought. And Ford’s facing it.
“Oh my god,” You groan, palming your forehead. You sink into yourself, drowning in humiliation. But Ford’s hand fishes beneath your chin, tipping your glowing face to look at him. His face is one of endless kindness beneath his mussed hair.
“It’s really not a bad thing, sweetness.” He says gently. You shake your head slightly, eyes squeezing shut.
His thumb creeps up the side of your face, face dipping level to yours. “No, seriously. It’s a very encouraging thing for a man to see.” He jokes warmly. You peek an eye open. Heavens, did he have to look so irresistibly handsome all the time?
“Should I, uhm, remove…” you gesture at the contraption atop your head, teeth worrying your lip.
Ford hesitates for a moment, thinking as his thumb strokes your cheek. “No. No, it’s too important. I can’t have Bill infiltrating your mind.”
You wilt slightly, but Ford once again brings you back to him. “It’ll only take a moment. Half an hour at most.” His eyes flicker fleetingly at your lips. “And besides, it’ll be sunset by then. I hear you can see a meteor shower tonight? If you drive up the hill a little.”
You hum a soft confirmation, smile melting onto your flushed features as Ford presses a last kiss to your cheek. “Good,” He murmurs. “I’ll go fetch the coats.”
so startled whenever he and someone else accidentally touch
close proximity makes him really nervous
he so isn't used to it
at first it's because he doesn't really know how to behave around other people in a normal setting anymore; but once he develops feelings for you, that mans brain just shuts down once you're too close to him
full on blushing, stammering, no thoughts head empty kinda thing
i mean how could he not, did you look at yourself??
his nicknames for you would be 'darling', 'dear', 'love' and something science-y and/or geek related
(imagine when he starts writing in his journals he calls you 'prince/ss unattainabelle' because he thinks you could never like him like that)
will not recover from seeing you in his red sweater
can't stand seeing you get hurt, blames himself when you do while on missions/adventures with him
will take great care of your wounds and checks on you regularly while recovering
if he only cared that much for his own well being
designing and gifting little things to show his love; definitely welds you a bouquet of you favourite flowers
loves the way your hands fit into his
makes space in his work room for you to hang out there (both doing your own thing but being together)
at first insecure about his kissing abilities, but gets sooo addicted to kissing you not soon after
literally melts when you run your fingers through his hair (extra points when his head rests on your lap or chest)
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thank you for reading <3 reblogs are appreciated
