Reader Inserts (Requests Closed)

Ford x Reader (1)

REVELATIONS

The well of conversation had been beginning to dry up as you and Ford slipped into a comfortable silence. Tiredness was beginning to take you two over, your sentences becoming more quiet and movements more lethargic. Ford had already taken his initiative in your bed, laying across from you like he would do whenever he slept over at your house. He would call back more pleasant stories from his time in the portal as you listened, tracing over the scars on his arms, now visible from his short-sleeved t-shirt he had been more partial to wearing now that he was comfortable with you. Sometimes Ford would add in details (sometimes false ones) for shock value, only to elicit a reaction from you. All the while Ford admired the reaction he manipulated. 

"I love getting reactions out of you," Ford mumbled on this particular night, another night wherein he decided to elicit another reaction from you. This time he decided to frighten you. He succeeded, and as he mumbled that declaration he pulled you closer into him.

"You're a jerk," you mumur into his chest, though the grin on your face is a mile wide. The satisfying heat surrounded you as Ford secured the embrace. "Scaring me half to death like that."

He laughed. "All part of the experiment, darling."

Before you could counter him an abrupt crash of thunder shook the house. The bed beneath you vibrated, and you could hear some distant objects shaking out of their place. The pure force of it frightened you even more than what Ford had done. As a result you clung to him tighter. He only laughed again.

"Shut up," you spat at him. But the way he returned your embrace you knew that all was forgiven.

"I wouldn't blame you, though. A crack of thunder like that would've sent me running when I was younger."

"You're lying."

"No lie. I was as terrified as you are now."

The corners of your lips twitch up, resisting a full on smile. The thought of Ford, his heart racing, eyes shot with fear, trembling limbs and a scared disposition somewhat amuses you but then the amusement guilts you, knowing very well that Ford probably did feel like this at one point. In fact, you knew that he once did. Ford was, at one time, a paranoid young man locked up in the shack he calls home. He nearly shot his brother with a crossbow. It was a terrible experience to hear about. At this revelation your smile faded.

"What's wrong?" You looked up and blinked, realizing Ford was still there.

"N-nothing," you stated quickly, the motivation to elaborate fading.

"Something's troubling you," he states. The knot of guilt in your stomach tightens at his words. "What is it?"

"Eh, it's dumb anyway." You hope that Ford doesn't push it further.

He doesn't, but rather sits in silence, still in your embrace, listening to the rain. The thunder still cracks, but it becomes increasingly quiet. The silence between you and Ford grows rapidly, so much so that the only thing you can focus on is Ford's heart, beating right under your ear. The rhythm is strange; irregular and fast-paced. A melancholy washes over you, because you're pretty sure you know why. He's still a paranoid old man, tortured by his past, never to be released from the bounds of his mistakes, even if everyone else has forgiven him. Then a thought escapes the dark corners of your mind and makes an echo through your consciousness.

What if his heart stopped beating, right now?

A cold filled your lungs. The thought of Ford dying while you were still with him crossed both your minds. It had brought difficulty to your relationship, especially on Ford's part. Ford often pushed you away, trying to not get too attached so that it wouldn't pain you when he was gone at 92. Now, after some reassuring words and a borderline month of being apart, he was a little better. While Ford still had a habit of putting his foot in his mouth at the worst times and often buried himself so deeply in his work you couldn't even get to him, the paranoia had eased up a little. Ford's gun count had gone down and he took his coat off more often. He was insensitive still, and it had merited you anger than normal, but you didn't stay angry for long. Questions of things like commitment and the permanence of your relationship came up. Neither of those questions could be answered without a trace of doubt. You hadn't even told each other you loved the other yet. The reason? You didn't know what that kind of love felt like. You had read about it and seen it on TV, but you didn't think you had experienced love, romantic love, for yourself. So how could you know? You didn't.

Ford shifts in his sleep, and it stirs you from deep thought. The silence must have lulled him to sleep. He had shifted to lay on his side, so now he faces you. The sight was still very new, seeing Ford next to you while sleeping. There was a time in your life where you didn't think you'd ever see him again, and you knew that the situation was similar for Ford. He didn't think he would ever see this dimension again. You wonder what Ford must have been like in his younger years, when he visited Gravity Falls for the first time. He told you little clips and phrases of his past, but not enough to connect an entire timeline or form a complete profile. You knew that Ford made powerful enemies, rattled the biggest cages, and had done terrible things. While he told you it was for a noble cause- and while you believe him, you're sure that it wasn't just you he was reminding. But overall, Ford found himself here, at your house, in your bedroom. It must have been a relief, you conjecture, to end up in a place of understanding (but Stanford Pines sure was a mystery at times). You smile at the thought and absentmindedly bring a hand to his cheek. The stubble is rough beneath your touch, and it feels strange, like those extra fingers of his. They were a good kind of strange. A kind of strange you could learn to appreciate, if you hadn't already.

And then it occurs to you.

Maybe this is what love feels like. Maybe it's about sitting here, with a person you care about, appreciating someone for who they are.

And then another thing occurs to you.

You love Stanford Pines.

You really are in love with Stanford Pines.

And that? That's probably the best revelation you've turned over in your mind all night. You shut off the light at the side of your bed and drift off to sleep.