Bill X Ford X Reader Headcanons

👁️⃤ Bill x Ford x reader headcanons

minors don’t interact

༄ Bill calls you “IQ’s little distraction”

༄ Bill loves to tease Ford about his preferences. “Oh, so you like it when she does that, huh, Sixer? well, you always were into the weird stuff.” 

Ford tries to ignore him, but you can tell Bill’s getting under his skin. Sometimes, when Ford’s especially worked up, he’ll respond back, gritting through his teeth, “Shut up, Bill, or I’ll—” 

But Bill cuts him off with a laugh. “You’ll what, Sixer? id love to see you try.”

༄ Bill has absolutely zero sense of boundaries. Like, none. You’ll be trying to have a moment of peace with Ford, just laying your head on his chest, his hand in your hair and Bill will appear out of nowhere. “Wow, Sixer, you look real cozy. Hope you don’t mind if I join— oh wait, I don’t care what you mind!”

Because Bill lives to make Ford suffer.

༄ Bill is constantly whispering the dirtiest things into Ford’s ear, especially when you’re around. You could be standing in the kitchen, preparing breakfast for yourself and Ford, and Bill will float beside Ford, murmuring, “She looks good, doesn’t she, Sixer? Bet you can’t wait to—” 

Ford immediately cuts him off, snapping, “Shut up.”

༄ Ford is always a mess when it comes to you. He’ll stumble over his words when he’s trying to say something sweet or get all flustered when you catch him staring at you. Bill loves to point it out too. “Oh, look at you, Sixer, so pathetic, just how I like ya.” Ford tries to brush it off, but you can see the faint blush on his cheeks every time.

༄ Ford tries to plan a romantic dinner at least once a month. Tries. Because Bill always crashes it. One time, he even possessed the waiter at the fancy restaurant you both went to. Ford didn’t notice until halfway through dessert when the waiter leaned over and said in Bill’s voice, “Enjoying the cake, Fordsy? hope you don’t choke on it!” Ford nearly did.

༄ Bill loves interrupting intimate moments. Anytime things start getting heated between you and Ford, Bill finds a way to make it weird. One time, Ford’s lips trailing down your neck to your collarbones, your hands gripping his shoulders, but with the corner of your eye, you saw Bill’s faint yellow glow in the room. Ford didn’t notice right away, continuing kissing and sucking on your skin, but the second you did, you pushed him back. “B-Bill’s watching.” you muttered awkwardly.

“What? Can’t a guy enjoy the view? You two are putting on quite the show!”

Ford practically growled, grabbing the nearest book off the nightstand and throwing it at Bill’s levitating form. 

༄ When you and Ford are eating, this damn triangle just can't calm down.

Ford groans, immediately looking up. “Bill, I swear, if you—”

“Didn’t think you’d get away that easy, did ya, Sixer?”

The lights blink out and Bill’s yellow triangle form appears right above the table.

“Ooh, candles? How romantic! What’s the occasion? Your last meal before death?

༄ Bill constantly steals Ford’s stuff. Research notes, pens, even his glasses. You’ll come into the room to see Ford anxiously searching for something, only for Bill to pop up, floating lazily in the air with Ford’s glasses. “Looking for these, IQ?”

༄ Ford writes in his journals about you sometimes, sketching your face in the margins with messy notes like, “her smile is distracting”, “must focus on the dimensional rift”, but you catch him sometimes, staring at the page for way too long before slamming the book shut when you ask about it.

༄ Bill teases Ford relentlessly about his age. “You’re still alive, huh? Good for you, Six Fingers! Still got all your teeth?” Ford just glances at him like he's seriously considering whether to fight or not. In most cases, he doesn’t.

༄ Ford is not always good at showing affection, but sometimes you wake up with Ford’s arms wrapped tightly around you, his body curled into yours like he’s hiding you from the world, his face buried in your hair.

༄ Ford’s sitting at his desk, hunched over some kind of cryptic manuscript, muttering to himself. You’re lounging on the bed nearby, half-listening, when Bill suddenly materializes out of air, hovering right over Ford’s shoulder.

“You missed a line, Sixer! And that equation? hmm, totally wrong.”

Ford doesn’t even look up, just lets out a frustrated sigh. “Go away, Bill.”

“What? I’m trying to help! This is what you wanted, isn’t it? You need me, admi—“

Ford slams his pen down, spinning around to face Bill. “The only thing I need is for you to leave me alone.”

Bill’s eye narrows. “Can we talk, pretty please?”

Ford doesn’t respond, his glare doing all the talking for him. Just not again. And more than all, not when you’re around.

༄ It’s late and Ford’s already fallen asleep beside you, his arm rests across your waist. You’re awake though, staring at the ceiling, mind racing with thoughts about. . . You don’t want to name that. It’s quiet until—

“Awww, look at that old man. So cute when he sleeps, huh?”

You sigh, turning your head slightly. Bill’s floating in the air, glowing as he speaks. “Bet he couldn’t keep up with ya, could he? Poor guy’s probably gonna need a cane soon.”

You roll your eyes.

“Come on, baby, why do you need him? Leave this old man to me, I know exactly how to take care of him.”

Only if, in Bill's understanding, hitting a person's head against a wall can be called care. 

but Bill keeps going. “y’know, you could be having a lot more fun if you ditched the nerd.”

༄ Ford tries to teach you about all the different dimensions he’s been to. He’ll pull out these ancient-looking charts, pointing at interdimensional pathways and explaining them in painstaking detail. You just nod and blink, but half the time, you’re just watching the way his hands move or the way his voice softens when he gets really excited about some fact or thing. Sometimes, you’ll lean in and kiss him just to make him pause, just to see that little flustered smile that creeps onto his face when he realizes he’s rambling again

༄ You know those quiet nights where it’s just you and Ford, snuggled up under the stars, everything peaceful for once? Bill hates that. He can’t stand the silence. He’ll show up, glowing bright as ever and start blasting some weird, otherworldly music from whatever dimension he’s been in. Ford’s patience is already thin and after the third or fourth time Bill crashes the mood, Ford practically yells at him to fuck off. You, on the other hand, can't stop laughing.

༄ Bill loves messing with Ford’s coffee in the morning. Because Stanford has his whole routine, wake up, brew a fresh pot, pour a cup, add just the right amount of sugar. But Bill ruins it. Every time. One morning, Ford took a sip and immediately spit it out, glaring at the cup. You didn’t even need to ask. 

“Bill.” 

“Hope you like your salt with a side of caffeine, Sixer!

༄ Bill can get really handsy when he’s in control of Ford’s body. It's a real entertainment for him, feeling Ford’s frustration as he takes liberties, running his hands over you in ways Ford would never dare. “Oh, come on, Sixer, relax. You’re so uptight.” Ford is fuming, but it’s not like he can stop it. Bill leans closer to you, whispering in Ford’s voice. “Bet you like this better, don’t ya, doll?”

༄ Ford tries to give you a normal day sometimes, without any interdimensional nonsense or Bill’s interruptions. It usually lasts about five minutes before Bill pops in with some sarcastic comment or weird fact about some dimension neither of you cares about. Ford grits his teeth, muttering something about wishing he could just get five minutes of peace. You’re just used to it by now.

༄ Ford pretends he isn’t jealous when Bill flirts with you, but you can tell by the way his hand tightens around yours when Bill materialises in the room. Ford says it’s nothing, but then he’s pulling you closer, glaring at Bill.

༄ Bill’s a creepy little bastard who likes to float inches away from your face, his single eye blinking too slowly. You tell him to fuck off. He does. For ten seconds. Then he’s back, upside down this time, asking why Ford hasn’t kissed you yet today. He hopes you two will break up?

༄ Ford’s hands are huge and you always feel tiny when he wraps them around your waist. Bill makes weird comments about Ford having six fingers and how "it could be useful for so many things, don’t you think?" Ford doesn’t know whether to laugh or cringe. That’s just awkward.

༄ Ford kisses you like he’s solving a problem, taking his time, all intense and focused, his lips mapping out every curve of your mouth like he’s studying it. Bill interrupts by floating in and asking, “Wow, are you gonna write a dissertation on that, Sixer?”

༄ Bill has absolutely tried to possess Ford while he’s with you. You’ve learned to spot the signs: Ford’s eyes glowing just a bit too much, his voice having that eerie echo. You have a spray bottle ready now. “NO, Bill. BAD DEMON.” It works. Sometimes.

༄ Bill once tried to show you visions of all possible realities, like, “Hey, wanna see how the universe ends?” You told him to go fuck himself. Now he keeps showing you weird alternate versions of Ford where he’s a pirate, a robot or a cowboy. Bill insists this is "important research."

༄ Sometimes when Ford will just be lying in bed, and Bill will pop in like it’s the most natural thing in the world, floating above him. “What’s the matter, Sixer? Trouble sleeping? I know a thing or two about nightmares!” Bill laughs, but Ford turns away, pulling the blanket over his head like that’s going to stop a literal demon. It never works. Bill stays, talking until Ford either gives up on sleeping entirely or throws a pillow through him in frustration.

༄ Ford always gets lost in his work and you have to drag him away from his research to eat, sleep, or, you know, be a human. Bill offers to "fix" this by “removing” Ford’s need for sleep. You kindly suggest Bill remove himself from existence instead.

༄ You found one of Ford’s journals full of sketches of Bill, with little notes about weaknesses and possible ways to destroy him. One page, with drops of blood on it, just had “FUCK YOU, CIPHER” written over and over. Ford insists it was an experiment. 

༄ Ford gets insecure a lot, especially after everything that happened with Bill. He’ll pull away, like he’s afraid to get too close. You have to remind him that he’s not alone anymore, that he doesn’t have to carry everything on his shoulders. Bill, of course, loves to swoop in during those vulnerable moments, whispering how fun it was to watch Ford break.

༄ Bill absolutely reads Ford’s journal when he’s not looking. He’s stolen a few pages too. Once, he asked you if you wanted to see what Ford wrote about you.

༄ Ford, surprisingly, can be rough and dominant sometimes. His normally gentle side disappears when you get him riled up, and soon enough, he’s pinning you against a wall as he mutters in your mouth, “You’re mine, understand?” 

Bill, ever the asshole, floats by with a sing-songy, “Ooh, Sixer’s got a dark side, huh? Fucking hot.” 

༄ Bill, in all his chaotic glory, shows up at your door with a gift — a jar containing what looks like a preserved monster eyeball. He insists it’s a “conversation starter” and jokes about “keeping an eye on things.” You freak out, but Ford looks like he’s used to it.

༄ It’s not just Ford who gets jealous; Bill throws tantrums when he sees you and Ford getting too close. One time, he sulked in the corner, muttering about “human emotions” while eyeing you both, his form turning red.

༄ Sometimes you wake up to Bill floating above you in a dream, whispering, “interesting fact! did you know I could bend reality just to keep you awake all night?” there you wake up screaming, while Ford, half-asleep, grumbles about needing to “banish that triangle for good.”

༄ You know that Ford is obsessed with his research and you love to stay up late, sitting on the floor next to him, watching him scribble furiously in his journals. He looks so cute when he’s all focused and excited. But there’s always that moment when you catch him staring at you instead of the pages. 

You smirk, “are you going to take notes on how beautiful I am?” Ford stutters, not knowing what to say, but you see a smile on his face. 

༄ Ford’s hands grips your waist, holding you against him while his lips slide down your neck, showering kisses, making you gasp softly, your fingers in his hair. But just when things are about to get real, Bill pops in with a, “Geez, Sixer, are you gonna bore her to death with foreplay or what?”

༄ And of course, let's not forget about the usual, “Doll, you sure you’re satisfied with this? nerds aren’t exactly known for their stamina, if you know what I mean!”

Ford doesn't want you to know how Bill knows this.

✮⋆˙ how they kiss (x reader)

Stan — fire

Stan’s kisses are not something you just forget

They’re all-consuming, passionate, fiery, rough sometimes, sometimes quick, but they always leave you wanting more even when you think you’ve had enough. No, you’ll never have enough of Stan. His kisses are always so sudden, intense, noisy, leaving you breathless and dizzy, because he is greedy not only for money, but also for you, for your attention.

Stan is especially fond of casually kissing you when you’re resting on his lap while he’s snuggled up in his favorite armchair, the TV playing in the background but neither of you paying attention to it. He relishes in the way you hold onto him while he lazily captures your lips with his. One of his arms is wrapped around your waist, pulling you close while the other rests on the armrest, his thumb gently caressing your skin. 

Or small, but promising kisses when he needs to give a tour to newly arrived tourists. “Hey, sugar, I gotta go now. But before I go-“ there he cups your face in his hands, his thumbs caressing your cheeks. Stan smiles as he leans in and presses his lips to yours in a brief, yet tender kiss.

When the two of you in his car, seats pushed back, his hands pulling you closer until you’re practically on him. He’s so fucking impatient.

Stan never just kisses, he claims you. His lips crash against yours, forceful, as if he’s trying to pull every breath out of your lungs. He kisses you until there's no air left in your lungs. Stan loves to touch you a lot, just feel you next to him is important, one hand gripping your waist, the other buried in your hair, pulling, demanding. He can cross the line sometimes, being too rough, touchy, but you love it. Stan’s hands slide up your waist, gripping, pulling, pressing you closer, as if there’s not enough skin-to-skin contact in the world to satisfy him. Stan knows how to kiss, where to touch, what parts of yours are sensitive, where you need him the most.

His touch is a flame that burns through you. And you swear that kissing him is hot. In all ways possible.

Stan’s mouth drops to your neck, kissing and sucking skin here too. He kisses the curve of your collarbone, leaving marks on your skin, proof of what’s his. “Mmhm, baby,” and just when you start to lose yourself in his warmth, he suddenly pulls away, leaving you gasping, eyes wide and filled with longing. You’re so lost. 

“What’s the matter, sugar? need more?"

He can’t help, he just adores that confused and needy face of yours, yeah, he’ll stop right when you’re aching for more. “Gonna beg for it?” he laughs, his smirk cocky, that asshole is so proud of himself and that makes you whine because he’s so fucking unfair. Stan knows exactly what he's doing, he just enjoys seeing how much you need him. And when you finally break, when you plead for his touch and kisses, nearly crying only to feel his hands and mouth on you again, he gives in, and it’s messy, tongue and teeth, like he’s starving.

Stan’s kisses are possessive, he claims the rights, which say that you are his and no one else will ever kiss you the way he does.

Ford — ocean

Ford is different. So different. Ford is a scientist and he kisses like a scientist. He doesn’t rush. No, Ford likes to study you, take his time like you’re an equation he’s solving. When Ford kisses you, it’s like he’s discovering something new. He’ll pause, looking into your eyes with that analytical smart gaze of his, as if he’s making sure you feel it too, making sure he’s not missing a detail. When he kisses you, he’s trying to memorize the taste of your lips, the curve of your smile, the way you breathe.

Ford loves to brush his thumb over your bottom lip, staring directly into your eyes. “Fascinating,” he’ll murmur. He watches the way your lips part, how your breathing stops when he leans in, eyes half-lidded, he can tell you’re nervous too. 

Ford kisses like a man who’s spent years alone, longing for connection but afraid to reach for it. 

Ford kisses you like you’re a secret only he’s allowed to uncover.

His kisses are slow. His lips linger, barely there, just a ghost of a touch before he pulls away, making you chase him, sometimes it makes you angry because you feel like his damn experiment, while you just want a normal kiss. But Ford is methodical, careful, like you’re something precious to explore. “You’re reacting just as I predicted.” 

And then, when he’s learned everything he can from those soft, little, slow kisses, his grip tightens. Ford becomes more insistent, as if the ocean’s current is pulling you under, deeper into him. His hands slide to the nape of your neck, fingers firm, holding you as his lips finally claim yours fully. The kiss feels like drowning, but in the most beautiful way, slow, consuming, the kind of kiss that leaves you weightless. 

Ford doesn’t leave you breathless the way Stan does. No, he leaves you calm, like waves crashing on the shore in the moonlight, powerful but never rushed. His kiss is something you think about hours after, lingering on your lips like the taste of saltwater after a swim in the ocean.

He’s wanted this for too long, and now that he’s finally allowed himself to have you, he’s going to savour every second, every shiver, every single breath of yours, every gasp of his name.

Sketches for a deal I made

heavenly, beautiful, amazing

Classic

thats my man!!

I want his mystery sack

Ford x fem!reader x Stan

minors dni

Stan’s grip on you tightens, pulling you against his frame as he crashes his lips against yours. There’s no hesitation, just raw, impatient hunger, the kind of kiss that takes your breath away and leaves you wanting more. His hands roam with a boldness that leaves no room for doubt, fingers digging into your hips as if claiming you.

From behind, Ford’s approach is way softer. His lips ghost along the curve of your neck, pressing tender slow kisses to your skin. Such contrast between them makes you dizzy, overwhelmed by the intensity of their touches. You groan softly, caught in the heat of it all, and instinctively lean back into Ford’s embrace. There Stan's face visibly frowns.

Stan pulls back just enough to mutter, “Don't let him think he's in charge here.” his tone is rough, tinged with jealousy, his hand slides over your side, possessive and demanding as if trying to take you away from his twin.

Before you can respond, Ford’s voice cuts through, quiet but confident. “She can decide for herself, Stan,” he murmurs, his lips grazing the shell of your ear, sending a shiver through you. “can’t you, darling?”

The tension between the brothers is palpable, but so is the way their hands explore your body. Stan’s touch is firm, always a little too eager, while Ford’s fingers trail gently over your skin, savoring every inch. They both can’t get enough of you. Stan’s lips crash back into yours, but Ford’s kisses never stop, his mouth pressing slow, sensual kisses along the sensitive skin of your neck, you literally melt between them. 

A loud moan escapes your lips when Stan's hand slaps your butt, you sob from a little pain and feel Ford's body tense behind you as he glares at his brother. “What? Are you trying to make me look bad?” Stan huffs.

Ford smirks softly, nipping at your skin gently before whispering, “no? Im just appreciating how beautiful she is.” his touch is feather-light, contrasting with Stan’s more possessive grip. “and I'm trying to please her, Stanley, not hurt her."

“Yeah? well, I’d like to appreciate her too,” Stan bites out, jealousy bubbling inside him. “don’t forget who’s been here longer.” he murmurs into your mouth and leans in again, capturing your lips.

You whimper softly, overwhelmed by their attention, your face all flushed as you try to hold yourself. Both men vying for your attention. Ford smiles against your skin. “Good girl,” he praises softly.

Stan, at the exact same time, mutters, “Atta girl.”

They both fall silent as their words intersect in the most unexpected way. They pull away, looking at each other over your shoulder, realizing what just happened. There's an awkward silence for a moment, but then Stan huffs in annoyance, his grip on your waist tightening. “Seriously? you gotta steal my lines now?”

Ford, always calm, arches an eyebrow, and the corner of his mouth twitches in a smirk. “Didn’t realize praise was trademarked,” he remarks dryly.

You laugh softly, but the sound breathy from arousal. "Are you really arguing about this right now?” you ask them, needing their attention and kisses so badly, you don’t want that to stop.

Stan shoots a half-grin your way, nodding. “You better believe it, sweetie. I’m not lettin’ this nerd outdo me.”

Ford still remains calm and patient, although his hand slides up, cupping your chin, gently turning your face towards him. “Outdo you? Stan, we’re not in a competition.” his lips gently touch yours as he murmurs, “we’re both making her feel good.”

Stan’s cocky grin widens, and he leans in, his voice rough as he rests his hands on your thighs. “Speak for yourself, i think she likes me better.”

Ford chuckles smoothly, rolling his eyes and pressing another kiss to your shoulder, his breath tickles your skin pleasantly. “Is that so? Why don’t we let her tell us herself?”

Your heart pounds, your body burns at their touch and it takes your breath away when their eyes focus solely on you, waiting, watching. “I. . . I like both of you,” you admit breathlessly. “please, just- just continue, I need you both.”

Stan’s eyes light up, his fingers slide lower, his thumb brushing teasingly along your hip. “That’s my girl.”

Ford’s touch remains soft still, his lips pressing a delicate kiss to your neck as he murmurs against your skin, “You’re perfect, darling.”