Pre-portaled Ford, My Beloved

couples therapy)? I doubt it, Teresa doesn't get paid enough to put up with these two HAHHA

Bill Cipher x Bounty Hunter!Reader Concept

Wherein Bill escaped the Theraprism, and Dimension #5150 sends their best bounty hunter after him. YOU!

But none of them ever expected you to fall in love with him.

The Theraprism was a place built to rehabilitate. But with the Great Axolotl's sudden disappearance, a lot of convicts used the opportunity to slip away and disappear. Among them, was the infamous Bill Cipher.

~~~

You pick up his book after finding the last human who read it. Your mind is hungry for information about him- the first ever convict to escape the Theraprism, a space outside of time, a place of redemption.

How evil and powerful do you have to be to escape such a place?

You convince yourself you're reading it to find out where he is. To know the scale of Bill Cipher's crimes. But deep down, you knew better than that.

It was helpful in tracking the triangle down, but also for entertainment.

"Slow days? Why don't you come on over for a drunk at O'Sadley's, my favorite pub in the entire Rock Bottom Asteroid Belt of the Vicious Spiral Nebula! Their "I'm Fine" juice is guaranteed to keep you coming back."

The book entertains you on a boring day.

"Ever think to yourself, mystery reader, what would happen if two warring planets collided in an epic, world-ending display? Ya ever pick up any romance novels? I'm a sucker for Enemies-to-Lovers fics, myself. So I made two planets kiss once, it was COOL! FIXED THEIR LITTLE WAR PROBLEMS TOO AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!"

There was a lot of filler pages just filled with "AHAHAHA"s, you noticed.

The contents were indeed disturbing. At least, to a mortal or any normal person. You've seen worse in your line of work, really. But so far, all you saw were funny little stories of mischief and shocking antics. Nothing of a dimension or planet killer.

Perhaps, that was all that he wanted you to see.

"SAY PAL, I KNOW I ASKED YA LIKE A BAJILLION TIMES ALREADY... BUT D'YA WANNA MEET UP FOR A DRINK? I COULD USE A NEW DRINKING BUDDY AFTER THAT LAST ONE GREW A SPINE AND TRIED TO ZAP ME OUT OF EXISTENCE!"

The book spoke to you. Tried to befriend you. You knew deep down it was a ruse, that it was manipulating you. It even asked you to give it some of your blood, once. Ha! No one would ever fall for that. So you decided to take a break from it.

The next time you opened it, the words written there weren't so funny.

"Y'know, I wish I could see the look in your face while you're reading this", the book wrote, its ink fading into splotchy letter.

"Why are you stalling? What's taking so long? Can you really not find me, or is it that...."

A singular, giant eye flashed through the darkened pages of the book, startling you.

"...You're having fun reading my book? You're enjoying my stories, aren't you. Ya sick little freak! We're not so different, you and I."

"You're not as good and moral as you think you are, [REDACTED]."

Upon surrendering the book to the Wardens of the Theraprism, you were tasked with hunting Bill down.

You closed the book after that, heart hammering in your chest. You couldn't look at it for days.

~~~

Shaken yet determined to do your job, you set out after him. It needed to be done, the book was made of lies. The book was made to manipulate the reader.

You needed to do your job, before Bill destroys more lives. You needed to be a Warden, and bring him to justice.

You needed to go back to your monotonous, violent, and bleak life, where all you did was spill blood and-

You needed to find Bill.

He asked you time and time again to have a drink with him.

And you knew just the bar to find him in.

Psst, thanks for reading!

Pitching an idea into the void here. The reader isn't human, still fleshing out what she is. But she is an entity whose SOLE purpose is to be a bounty hunter and warden to the Theraprism.

Rating: SFW

Type: One-shot

Tags: Ford Pines x Reader, Young Ford Pines, Fluff, Female Reader, Reader is a flirt, confident reader, Forced Proximity, First Kiss, Kissing, No use of y/n, Teasing

Word Count: 3,274

It started raining.

Ford, who had been entirely lost in thought prior to this, looked up at the sky with a look of pure shock as the first drops fell on his head. Very quickly after that, the rain began pelting the two of you, falling down hard from the dreary gray clouds blocking out the sun.

“Oh dear,” he said, frowning up at the offending clouds. “Well, I suppose we should try to find cover and wait out the storm. I believe I saw a cliffside near here; there may be some alcoves we can—”

Before he had begun speaking, you were already reaching into the messenger bag on your hip and pulling out an umbrella. He stopped short when you deployed it.

“Oh.” He cleared his throat, looking a little embarrassed. “Well, I suppose that will… work just as well.”

Find the full fic here

Header style inspired by @/stupidlittlespirit btw. It is so neat and I love it, and you should go check out their fics

kabedon!

Bill starts using a lot of slang words from different planets and dimensions and the future and such and Ford tries to play it cool but secretly freaks tf out because he can't tell what Bill means without knowing the words he's saying

Stanford really went for 12 PhDs just to find a moment to brag and tell someone he has a PhD for every finger he had.

Hi!! I love your writing!!!!! Could I request some totally self indulgent headcanons or a small Drabble/fic? Ford x reader on their birthday! It’s my birthday in a few weeks and I just really want my fictional man there 😭😂 but I thought I’d ask early in case your inbox was full! Thank you! ❤️

when the scientist loves you | Ford Pines x reader

hii angel, happy birthday!! ♡ i hope your day is as lovely as you are, may this year bring you endless inspiration, happy moments and everything your heart desires! ♡ ♡ ♡

tags: birthday, fluff, sfw, established relationship

Ford's voice carries softly from the kitchen, muttering as he reads measurements off an old recipe card. You sit at the table, watching the back of his head tilt toward the stovetop. The apron Mabel gave him, the one with "may the fork be with you" scribbled across the front in obnoxious block letters, look ridiculously cute tied over his sweater.

“You look very dignified in that, professor,” you tease, propping your chin on your hand.

Ford turns his head to shoot you a dry look, though there’s a tug of amusement at the corner of his mouth. “Sweetheart, you know, my culinary doctorate doesn’t let me cook in anything else.” he teases you back.

You laugh and Ford straightens a little, pushing his glasses up his nose with the back of his wrist.

“You didn’t have to go through all this trouble,” you look at the table where a neatly folded napkin waits beside a single glass of wine. “it’s just a birthday.”

He glances over his shoulder, his face expression changes into serious one. “Just a birthday?” he repeats incredulously. “this is the day the universe decided to grace existence with you. The fact that you think it’s ‘just’ anything is absurd.”

You're staring at him in silence right now because, to be honest, you can't find the right words to respond to such a compliment. And as if satisfied with your surprised cute face, Ford turns back to the stovetop, missing the way your lips press together to suppress a smile.

“Besides,” he adds, stirring whatever’s in the pan, “i’ve run calculations. The probability of me burning this is well below fifteen percent.”

“Comforting.” your answer makes Stanford smirk, but he keeps his focus on his work.

Minutes later, he places the plate in front of you with both satisfaction and concern on his face. “honesty, no pressure, but if it’s terrible, i might die of shame. . .”

You roll your eyes at your husband because how does a man that smart always doubt and criticize himself?

Taking a bite, your lips turn into smile, the taste becomes warm and pleasant, pulling a hum of approval from your chest. “Ford, this is amazing?”

He exhales with relief and pulls out the chair beside you. “Good, i wasn’t sure if the seasoning would—”

“You’re incredible,” you interrupt and Ford stops mid-sentence as the tips of his ears turn red.

“Believe me, my love, you deserve nothing less.”

You eat together and at one point, he picks up the fork himself, offering you another bite. Once the plates are cleared, he stands abruptly, holding out his hand. “Lets go, sweetheart.”

“Where?” you ask, letting him pull you to your feet.

“You’ll see.” you barely have time to grab your coat before he’s leading you toward the door. His six fingered hand feels so warm in yours as you step outside into the cool air. “Close your eyes,” he says, and when you hesitate, he squeezes your hand. “trust me.”

You huff but obey, curling your fingers against his. Ford proudly guides you through the woods as he starts talking enthusiastically. “You know, if we were walking blindfolded through the quantum multiverse instead of this forest, you’d have a thirty-five percent chance of stepping into a dimension where time runs backward.”

You grin, keeping your eyes closed. “Fascinating.” you're parodying his catchphrase. “should i be worried about that here?”

“Unlikely,” he deadpans, though you can hear the smirk in his tone. “but if you hear an oscillating sound, let me know immediately.”

You laugh, squeezing his hand. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously well-prepared.” some minutes later the ground beneath your feet changes texture, the soft crunch of dirt giving way to grass, and Ford’s pace slows.

“Are we there yet?” you ask impatiently.

“Almost, darling. Okay, stop. You can open your eyes.” you hesitate, preparing yourself before letting your eyelids flutter open. The sight in front of you makes you gasp.

Ahead of you, nestled in the clearing, is a flower that glows, it's long and translucent petals, curved outward, are made of the thinnest glass. Luminous veins, similar in color to silver, pulsate through them. The center shimmers with different colors, like the aurora borealis trapped in a single bloom.

“Ford. . .” you take a step forward, the damp grass pressing under your shoes, but you can’t look away. You turn your head slightly, glancing at him. Ford is staring at the flower too, the bright light from the flower is reflected in his glasses, but his expression isn’t the detached curiosity he usually wears while talking about his discoveries. It’s different now, gentler.

“A luminaria eximia,” Ford explains, predicting your question. “it’s rare, very rare, it only blooms under specific conditions.”

“You brought me here to see this?”

“Of course,” he replies with intonation as if the question confuses him. “you deserve extraordinary things.”

Your chest tightens and the tears you’ve been holding back sting at the edges of your vision. You don’t want him to see, don’t want to ruin the moment with your sudden wave of overwhelming emotion, so you turn away and close the space between you and him, wrapping your arms around his waist and pressing your face into his chest.

Ford stiffens, caught off guard by your reaction. Did he do something wrong? That's his first reaction, worry and concern for you, but then he relaxes, settling his hands settling your back, hugging you too. The time he spent with you made him know exactly what to do without you needing to ask and explain.

“Hey, hey,” he says gently, leaning down. “now what’s this?”

You shake your head, tightening your arms around him. “You—” you hate how your voice trembles, “you didn’t have to do all this.”

Ford chuckles. “sweetheart, of course i did, i wanted to.”

You lift your head slightly, still not letting him see your face, and his hand moves to your chin, tilting it upward until you have no choice but to meet his attentive gaze.

“You deserve this,” his thumb brushes a stray tear from your cheek. “you deserve everything.” his words unravel you completely and he must see it because his brows knit together with concern before softening again. His six-fingered hands cup your face gently, treating you like his precious artifact he’s vowed to protect. “you mean so much to me, i don’t know how else to say it except—”

But you don’t let him finish. You lean up, standing on your toes to close the small distance between you, and kiss him. The first reason is just because you want to, and the second is because that smartass needs to shut up with his touching speeches before you flood the whole field with your tears. Ford freezes for a moment, startled, but then his hands find your face and he deepens it carefully, afraid of breaking the moment.

You don’t know how long you stay like that because you're ready to spend eternity with his lips on yours, kissing you slowly, so sensually, softly, so damn tenderly, trying to memorize the shape of your mouth while his thumbs moving in slow arcs over your cheeks.

When you finally pull back, his hair ruffled from your hands, Ford looks at you as though you’ve just rewritten the laws of the universe. “oh, you really do have a way of surprising me.” he raises his eyebrows.

“Takes one to know one,” the corner of your mouth lifting as you run your finger over his jawline.

He laughs at that and after one last lingering glance at the luminous flower, he takes your hand again. “come on,” his voice changes into more teasing. “i haven’t even given you your present yet.”

“This wasn’t it?” you ask, gesturing back toward the flower as he starts to lead you out of the clearing.

“No, this was. . . an extra. A bonus, if you will.”

“Ah, an extra,” you repeat teasingly. “you’re ridiculous, Stanford Pines.”

“You already said that.”

By the time you step inside the Mystery Shack, the lingering chill of the evening has melted away. The warm glow of the lamps greets you and Ford’s hand lingers on yours before he releases it. He takes off his coat and drapes it over the back of a chair. You follow suit, watching as he rubs his hands together nervously, before giving you a soft lopsided smile.

“Wait here for a moment!” and though you’re still glowing from the earlier surprises, his tone piques your curiosity again. He disappears, leaving you standing there, before you can ask any questions.

When your husband returns, he’s holding a small wooden box, polished as though he carved it himself. Its edges are rounded and there’s a mark burned into the top: his initials, alongside yours.

“This,” and for all his brilliance, his voice sounds so nervous as he holds it out to you. “this is for. . . you.”

You take the box carefully and lift the lid. Inside, on a piece of dark fabric, is a necklace. No, calling it a necklace doesn’t do it justice. It’s far more otherworldly, the pendant a swirling prism of beautiful colors that change, reminding you of the starlight caught in a bottle.

You stare at it, not daring to find the words.

“It’s called a crystallite shard,” Ford explains again. “i found it on one of my expeditions. It only exists in one dimension and it’s said to reflect the thoughts of the person wearing it. Not their memories exactly, but their essence, in a way.”

You look up at him, wide-eyed. “Ford. . .”

“I thought,” he continues, “that if anyone deserved to have something so unique and unrepeatable, it would be you.”

You’re speechless, brushing your finger over the pendant as it gleams under the light of the Mystery Shack.

And before you can say something, ”b-but that’s not all,” Ford gestures to the box. You tilt it slightly and see another layer beneath the fabric: a small, intricately detailed wooden charm, shaped like a constellation. More simple compared to the necklace, but so beautiful in its own way.

“I carved that,” he admits, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s. . . it’s the constellation we saw the first time we stargazed together. I wanted you to have something from me, personally.”

Your heart swells and before he can say anything else, you throw your arms around his neck, clutching him tightly. “Ford, you didn’t have to. This is. . . this is so perfect.”

Stanford smiles softly, wrapping his arms around you. “you deserve perfect,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your temple. “you deserve more than I could ever give, darling.”

“This is more than enough,” you pull back to look into his eyes.

Ford akes the necklace from the box. “May i?” what a damn gentleman, you think and nod, turning around as he drapes it carefully around your neck. When he’s finished, you touch the pendant lightly, marveling at the way it seems to shift with your movements. “It suits you, matches your beautiful eyes.” he just stands there and can't stop admiring you.

You both end up on the couch not long after, wrapped in the softest blanket he could find. Ford's arms wrap tighter around you, pulling you against him. But some time later, blanket is forgotten as his hands desperately, but gently explore every part of you they can reach, your back, your arms, the curve of your waist.

“You’re so beautiful,” Ford brushes his lips against your hair. “i hope you know that.”

You laugh. “well, you tell me often enough.”

“Not often enough,” he says firmly, cupping your cheek. “i don’t think i could ever say it enough or show you enough. You're everything i don’t deserve but can’t let go of.”

“Ford—” you start, but he doesn’t let you speak, kissing you, stealing the words from your mouth. Ford tilts your head gently, threading his long fingers into your hair as the kiss grows with aching intensity, damn, he’s been starving for this moment. Your hands find his chest, his shoulders, clutching at him.

“Every time i touch you, i can’t believe you’re real.” he breathes out between kisses, trailing his lips down to your jaw, then your neck. He pauses there, pressing another kiss just below your ear. “your skin,” his hands trace the line of your shoulders. “so warm, i could stay like this forever.”

You can’t even reply, not when he’s kissing you like this, pressing open-mouthed kisses down the column of your neck.

Then he leans back only to take your hands in his, bringing them to his lips, kissing each knuckle. “these hands, they’ve done so much. They’ve built a life for us, cared for me in ways i never thought i’d experience again. They’re precious to me.” you bite your lower lip when his mouth finds the delicate skin of your wrists. “and this heart,” he presses his lips where your pulse beats steadily. “so full of love, so generous, i’m in awe of it every single day.”

“So beautiful, every part of you. I could spend a lifetime just looking at you, touching you, loving you. I just love you, love you so much it terrifies me sometimes.”

You can’t find the words to respond, so you just lean into him, burying your face in his neck as he holds you. His hands never stop moving, caressing and holding you, trying to reassure himself that you’re here, that you’re his. Because you damn deserve to be cherished, every inch of you deserves to be kissed, to be loved. And Ford Pines will spend the rest of his life making sure you know that.

“Come here, darling, closer, need you closer,” he pulls you deeper into his embrace, his lips are on you again, kissing your cheeks, your eyelids, the tip of your nose. You giggle when he presses another kiss to your temple, then to your ear. “do you know how long i’ve waited to hold you like this? to touch you, to love you? it’s not enough. It’ll never be enough.”

You feel tears prickling at the corners of your eyes, but he doesn’t stop, cradling your face in both hands. “youre extraordinary, every part of you. your mind, your heart, your body. I don’t know how i got so lucky, but i’ll never stop trying to be worthy of you. You're everything to me and i’ll spend every day reminding you of that. Happy birthday, darling, thank you for letting me love you.” Ford kisses you until you’re dizzy, your fingers tangling in his hair as you try to keep up.

Do you think those 12 fingers make for a comfy bed

i swear i have actual things im working on, but in the meantime you get studies and doodles