#analogical oneshot

[etherealily]

​🇱​​🇮​​🇹​​🇹​​🇱​​🇪​ ​🇸​​🇮​​🇸​​🇹​​🇪​​🇷​, ​🇩​​🇴​​🇳​❜​🇹​ ​🇾​​🇴​​🇺​ ​🇩​​🇴​ ​🇼​​🇭​​🇦​​🇹​ ​🇾​​🇴​​🇺​​🇷​ ​🇧​​🇮​​🇬​ ​🇸​​🇮​​🇸​​🇹​​🇪​​🇷​ ​🇩​​🇴​​🇪​​🇸​

Based on this request <3

Nate Jacobs + Fem!reader. Warnings : Dark. SFW but discretion advised. Drugs.

I made this slightly dark because you know me.

A.N: No way I managed to write something with a happy, non-cliffhanger ending. Are you guys proud of me?

P.S : My love for Elvis makes a cameo AGAIN.

You do NOT have permission to repost and/or translate any of my fics.

Desc.: "Hello, You."

════════════════════ 🔭 ═════════════════════

Joe Goldberg had it all wrong.

Sure, stalking people when you know nothing about them is rewarding, yes, but hard, and time-consuming. Good on you, Joe.

But Nate didn't have time. He wanted quick and easy.

And let me tell you something, nothing is easier than stalking a house you already know inside and out.

Nothing is easier than stalking an Instagram profile that you already follow.

Nothing is easier than stalking a girl you already know.

He hadn't exactly prayed for this, okay? But when it did happen, it hit him all at once, like a freight train. Obsession - love - is tricky like that.

What started as a way to check on Maddy after being blocked ended up with scrolling past pictures of her on others' profiles and zooming into yours. Hands in his pants.

It's not even like you reminded him of her, so it was genuinely starting to disgust him, as well, to give him the creeps. You were a junior, it was weird, but it's not like love cares. Heart wants what it wants and all that.

The last name you shared with his ex was the only thing that haunted him. Like actually, haunted him. Like, he'd have dreams about trying to erase your last name and put his instead but it stayed on, like a stain, like a reminder.

Not to mention, he was exactly the opposite of your type.

He'd liked to have tried to say he didn't fit that bill, that he was quote-unquote, not like the other guys, but he genuinely couldn't say that. He was a dick. And he knew it. Badge of honour, baby.

Fucking yay.

The badge didn't really do that great in landing him a date, though.

Yeah, a date, not even a hookup. That's what he'd been reduced to. A simp.

You weren't even all that great, either, and he was genuinely wondering if he was secretly being roofied, the way all great Kings are before attempted regicide. Sure you were hot and not a cunt, but like, that was it. Was Nate attracted to the bare fucking minimum? Is that what your sister had done to him?

No, but then you weren't just not-a-cunt. You were also genuinely kind. Charitable. Genuine.

Fuck. Fucking Perezes giving him migraines and whiplash.

════════════════════ 🔭 ═════════════════════

He was about ninety percent sure you'd be there. You were always there, he'd noticed, at about four thirty sharp, at the bus stop. Your stupid fucking wired earphones on.

Get airpods, you fucking nerd.

Knowing you, you probably didn't want to, lest someone think you were ignoring them when they were talking to you, but you actually had earphones on. Ugh.

The sheets of rain barely let him see you, let alone allow you to hear him, as he leaned with an umbrella on the side of the bus stand, his elbow almost recoiling thanks to the sharp cold. "Yo, Little Perez!"

What the fuck did he just call you? Okay, whatever. He slipped up. Happens to the best of us. Luckily, you didn't hear.

"HEY!"

You frowned, taking out one earbud and trying to look around for the source of the sound. The source waved at you with just his fingers. 'Cause he was cool like that.

"Hey!" Jesus, even with the thunder and the incessant shattering rain, he could swear your voice just changed his brain chemistry.

"You're wet as fuck!"

"That's not how you catcall someone! You fucked up the line!" Ha. Fucking amazing. THIS kinda humour, he could get by.

"Are you womansplaining how to catcall to a guy?!"

You rolled your eyes, chuckling. "What do you want, Jacobs?!"

"Having a little moment?!", he asked, nodding at your phone. "Or do you need a ride?!"

"Bus!", you called back.

"Which one?", he asked, before looking at the sign on the side of the bus stand. "Wait, 4A through Kemper?! It's cancelled 'cause of the rain!"

"What?!"

"Yeah, check it out!", he said, whipping out his phone as you moved closer, tilting it so you could see the bus schedule update. That he totally did not find from months ago and edit to pass off as today's.

Your eyes widened and your fists clenched. "Motherf--!", you cut yourself off, kicking the bench slightly. "Still offering that ride?"

"Sure, I'm going through Kemper, anyway."

"Why are you going through Kemper?"

"My Dad owns the apartment complexes past there, so I'm just doing the routine drop-ins and shit. Keep 'em scared of the boss or whatever."

You were being uncommonly attentive to his reasoning. He had not expected that. Good thing he didn't slack off on alibi prep.

"So. Whaddaya say? Need a ride?"

You nodded. "Of course I need a ride. This fuckin' town, man. Stupid bus schedules.", you muttered, following him - and his umbrella - to his car.

════════════════════ 🔭 ═════════════════════

"You sure it's okay?", you asked for the second time since you entered his car and graced it with your scent. "Like, it's all muddy."

He sighed, looking down under your feet. No, it irked him and if it were anyone else, he'd have tweaked out. Not you, though.

'And besides', he realised, grumbling as he looked down at his own feet, "I'm makin' it muddy, too.", he assured, completing his thought by saying it.

"Just this right.", you instructed, and he turned right. Where the fuck were you going?

"Where are you takin' me? Got a ransom or something?"

You smiled, rolling your eyes. "Left, then second right."

Okay, you wouldn't answer that, apparently. Fine. Elephant needs to be addressed, then.

"Aren't you supposed to hate me?"

You frowned, scoffing softly as you turned to him. "What?"

"I dated your big sister. All the shit that happened with us. No way she didn't tell you."

"Yeah, she did."

He waited for elaboration, but found none.

"So? You don't care?"

"Look, Nate, I think you're an asshole for what you did to my sister."

Yeah, you'd be weird as fuck to think otherwise.

"But I know my sister. She's not... she's not a complete saint, either."

Obviously, you're referring to the multiple times she's cheated on him. You're being deliberately vague because you think he doesn't know and it's that kind of concern for others' wellbeing that makes him want to tell you to do whatever the hell you want to him right now.

"So I'm just not getting into it, okay?"

Okay. "Okay."

"Yeah, right here. Right here's good.", you said, and he came to a stop, watching you gather your stuff and practically fly out.

"Rue Bennett?", you asked the - could he say receptionist? Or was this guy just out there with a ledger? - receptionist, breathlessly.

"She just signed in. Sponsor?'

"Escort."

Huh. Huh. WOW. You were charitable enough to fuck around with RUE BENNETT? Jesus, who were you, Mother Teresa?

"Hey, is this an AA meeting or something?", he called, elbow leaning out the window.

"Yeah, my friend doesn't have a good track record of attending, I gotta make sure she's there! But thanks, Nate, I owe you one big time, man!", you called back, scrawling your name onto the ledger before running into the building.

He watched you disappear until the ledger guy cleared his throat. "You an addict, too?"

Nate snorted softly, scoffing and shaking his head as ledger-dude started laughing. "Fuck off, man.", he replied, key in the ignition again.

"Don't blame you, kid!", he called, and Nate wanted to punch him. No way was he watching you go in, too. That shit was creepier than Nate wanting you. "Have a good one!"

Oh, he would.

════════════════════ 🔭 ═════════════════════

"Yo, hey. Little Perez." Fuck, why did he keep calling you that? It was fucking retarded.

"Hey, Nate."

"I think you owe me something."

"You know that's just a thing people say?"

"Mm, yeah, but...", he muttered, shrugging. "I'm a man of my word, so I think everyone else should be too. Unless you think not keeping up your promises is good?"

You rolled your eyes. "You don't need to guilt me into it. Just ask."

"There's a party. You're coming to it."

"Nah, no parties."

"What are you, gonna give me some bullshit 'I-don't do-parties-I'm-not-like-other-girls' excuse? Or the 'they're-so-overwhelming' excuse?"

"Next week's finals week."

Oh. Okay, well, now he just feels like a dick.

"Oh, shit, my bad. Forgot you little juniors have it a month earlier than we do.", he muttered, watching you for a moment before he decided enough was enough. He'd just ask.

"What are you even doing?", he asked, watching you take the last sealed box from your friend and place it in front of the notice board at the school entrance.

You looked back up at him, before unrolling the chart you'd been working on during study hall yesterday. "Hm? Oh, fundraiser."

"For this hellhole of a school?"

"Uh, no.", you replied, shaking your head. "For the soup kitchen, through the school."

He snorted. "Right. Who's even gonna sign up?"

"Hey, they signed up for the ASPCA thing last fall. Must be the community waking up.'

Or guys wanting to dick you down.

"Yeah, but that's 'cause it's you who asked them to."

"Hey, you wanna sign up?"

He scoff-laughed, raising a brow. "Me? For the soup kitchen?"

You knelt down, ironing out the poster with your palms, looking up at him expectantly.

No way you weren't doing that shit on purpose. No way. Wait... you- you weren't. That was a genuine fucking question and you didn't understand that there's no way he could say no to you when you look at him like that? Jesus.

He sighed, magnanimously. "What do you need me to do?"

"Well, you're tall. So just help us hang this thing up. Ladder's not tall enough."

Humming, he took the poster from you, giving it a once over. Jesus. "You made this?"

"Hm? Oh, yeah.", you nodded, hands on your hips. "Cool?"

"Couldn't make this shit if I tried."

"That a compliment?"

"Supposed to be. But you're right, it's a toss-up. I'd never try in the first place.", he mumbled, nodding subtly at you before he climbed up a couple rungs. "Here?"

"Mhm. Maybe like a tiny bit higher?"

He'd climb Everest for you. He just wished you'd know that.

"Here?"

"Yeah, perfect. You need tape, or do you think you can hold it up long enough to use a couple push pins on each corner?"

"I think I can handle it.", he replied, unamused, but he hid a grin at your laughter. Not to call the Lord's name in vain, but Jesus, were you fucking with him.

He leaned down to get the clear plastic box of colourful pins from you, placing it on the top rung of the ladder for a moment and taking a couple out. "So like, two on each corner?"

No response.

"Yo, Little Perez?"

"Uh... maybe three?"

That wasn't you. Who the fuck was this dweeb?

"Who the fuck are you?"

"I'm Cole.", the kid said, still holding the ladder down securely, as if that was his life duty.

"Did I ask your fucking name?"

He's a dick, but this was too much, even for him. But you'd just gone AWOL, so yeah, he was kinda pissed.

"No, I...", the kid muttered, kinda pathetically.

He huffed. "Where is Y/N?"

"She's over there.", he mumbled, and Nate's gaze followed his scrawny little hand to see you talking to Maddy. Huh.

Yeah, Nate was the problem. Maybe he always was.

Why, in his stupid little mind, you guys were totally different universes, he didn't know.

Why his stupid little mind didn't expect for those universes to clash, he had no clue.

You were sisters! Stayed in the same fucking house, maybe even sometimes the same fucking room! What sort of idiot would hope for the opposite? Him, apparently. He needed you as far away from her as possible.

Hard task, but if Joe Goldberg could do that to a girl and her best friend, he could do it to a girl and her sister.

════════════════════ 🔭 ═════════════════════

"You're tweaking out, man, what is up with you recently?"

He rubbed his hands across his face. "The little sister asked me, okay, I didn't want beef with both Perezes, yeah? So just shut the fuck up and come."

"At least can we bring booze?"

"No, they're including East Highland Middle School, too."

Yeah, convincing an entire football team (plus Chris McKay, in hopes that he'd bring his college football gang) to take part in some soup kitchen fundraiser wasn't exactly simple.

Definitely not as simple as, say, mapping out your room in his head so that when the time came to inevitably kiss you against the door, he wasn't losing face looking for the bed or bumping into your snazzy little swivel chair.

Which he, of course, did a shitty job of. He refused, for his pride, to become one of those binoculars-using creeps. He considered himself more subtle than that. And sophisticated.

But anything was better than the mess he was making of this.

"What is this, like, a bowling thing? A raffle?"

"Car wash."

"With the cheerleaders in it?"

Maybe he should've led with that.

"I mean, maybe? I'm sure Y/N could convince them..."

"Shit, I'm down. It's one of those wet, soapy ass ones you gotta get into bathing suits for, right?"

Yeah, definitely should've led with that. He nodded.

He fist-bumped, dapped-up, and took as many shoulder pats as were thrown at him, before he raised a brow. McKay was still in there, his arms crossed.

"Was this what your whole question was about?"

"Huh?"

"You texted me last night."

Oh, yeah. Drunk.

"Shit, yeah. Just ignore that."

"Yo, McKay. Ever fallen for an ex's sister? How 2 deal with it? Lmk.", he read out, sarcastically trying to imitate Nate's voice.

"I was shitfaced, man."

"Right."

Nodding, Nate shoved his hands into his pocket. "You'll show up? To the fundraiser thing. I really am tryna be a good person, 'kay? Don't want to disappoint Perez Number Two."

"See, Nate, what's throwin' me off is that you're not saying you wanna fuck this sister, you're saying you're falling in love with her."

"Uh-uh, no, no, I said falling for her."

"Same thing, man."

"No, it's not."

McKay chuckled, and Nate couldn't help but reciprocate. "Seriously, Nate, I don't know if it's a good idea."

"She's completely fucking different, man, I'm telling you, she and her sister are, like... fucking worlds apart." Who the fuck was he trying to convince?

"That's dangerous, Nate, there's so much could go wrong--"

"Man, I just need some advice. I don't know how to do the boyfriend thing, clearly. I actually like this girl." Ew, what the fuck had you done to him?

"What are you, sweet on Lexi Howard, now?", he scoffed, clenching his jaw. "As if you haven't fucked up the Howards' life enough."

It's good that McKay thinks the ex he's talking about is Cassie. Actually kind of dumb.

He'd just tried to convince footballers to join a fundraiser for you, and he thinks it's Lexi Howard he wants.

Maybe this dumbassery is why he lost Cassie.

"Hey, Lexi did that on her own with that stupid fucking play of hers."

"Yeah? And it was the play that fucked Cassie for months?"

He fell silent. Yeah, McKay and him had never actually spoken about the whole fucking-his-ex-girlfriend thing, but he figured they weren't technically still together.

"Man, look, I'm not with her anymore. I- we're done. Yeah?"

"Yeah, I know.", he spat.

"She's all yours, man.", he muttered, before McKay scoffed.

"Like I want your sloppy seconds. And who the fuck are you, giving me permission?"

"If you think I still want Cassie, you're a fucking retard, McKay."

He scoffed, shaking his head. "Chill, man, okay, I'm not gonna--", he cut himself off, rubbing his hands over his face. "We're cool, I just wish you'd have told me, and I didn't have to find out about it fucking... months later."

Huh. Wow. McKay was a better man than Nate was, for sure. If McKay had been fucking Maddy, he'd have committed double homicide.

"Alright, look, my advice is just don't put up a front. If you're a dick- which you fucking are - just own it, and make it cute."

"Cute?"

"Self-awareness. Girls love it. Pearl of wisdom, brother, you owe me with your life."

"Wait, so I'm just gonna have to continue being a dick?", he called, as McKay shouldered past him.

"Yeah, but consciously make an effort not to be. It's a delicate balance. But you'll find it!"

Either McKay had just ruined his life or given him the best advice in the world.

════════════════════ 🔭 ═════════════════════

"Jesus Fucking Christ."

Yeah, he was going to hell.

But what the fuck else could he say?

Who the hell would have thought the turnout for a fucking soup kitchen car wash would be this huge? Who even were half these kids?

Of course, nothing would beat the ASPCA thingie you'd organised in the fall, even Nate came to that. But that was just 'cause Maddy liked cats. Or whatever.

The fucking vibe of the place - you wouldn't think this was a school, no, it was some sort of car-washing-frat-party-cult. And you, absolutely fucking oblivious to this miracle you somehow conjured up, stood in the middle, with a clipboard and a very stressed out look on your face.

"Yo, Little Perez, you seeing this shit?", he mumbled, unable to force the awe out of his tone as he nudged you.

"Yeah, your little football friends are literally supposed to be vollunteers. Instead, they're paying more that actual customers."

"Money's money, hon."

"I suppose that's true. Horny teenagers are the best market."

There we go, you were a quick study, he'd give you that.

"Why do you look like you got a stick up your ass? Relax, maybe bring your car to be washed? It's a success!"

Normally, he'd have asked you to go topless and get to work. But something told him that kind of joke wouldn't fly with you. And besides, why the fuck would he wanna see middle aged men in cars grinning at you cleaning?

"People leave without paying sometimes."

"It's for charity, no one's gonna cheap out."

You snorted, loudly at that. "You'd be fucking surprised, man."

"Still, no need to be this stressed. You're fine. See? All that? You made it happen. Little Orphan Annies throughout the state owe their lives to you, or whatever.'

"It's not just for orphans, for like, anyone who's hungry and needs some food, so, like the--"

"Okay, so homeless people. The less fortunate. My bad." Dick, but consciously trying not to be.

You smiled softly, nodding. "Yeah. Precisely. And I just hope this is enough, y'know?"

He rolled his eyes, watching the footballers wolf whistle at the cheerleaders turning on the hose. "Money-making-machine right there."

"You know what would get more female customers?"

"I don't know, Brad Pitt? Penn Badgley?"

"The 6'5 star QB giving 'em a show."

He chuckled incredulously, raising a brow at you, arms folded. "Nope. No fucking way. You want me to strip? I already brought in so many people!"

"You're right, you're right. You've done enough. I was just kidding."

He grunted softly, though it was more out of amusement than frustration. "I do this, you'll come to the party?"

"Finals week. And I was kidding, man."

"If I host a party after finals week. Will. You. Come." , he asked, battling a grin. Yeah, he sounded annoyed but that's the last thing he could be when you stood there in flip flops with a pen tapping anxiously on a clipboard you've scribbled on.

"Sure."

"No bullshit?"

"No bullshit."

"And you'll drink and actually fucking participate? You won't try to turn the whole thing into an AA meeting?"

"Jesus, no!"

His hands moved to opposite ends of the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his body. "You are a fucking genius. Getting me to do all this.", he whispered, shaking his head before flipping you off as he jogged over to the next car in the lineup.

"You volunteered!", you called back, and he could hear the laughter in your voice. Fuck, RIP his brain chemistry.

════════════════════ 🔭 ═════════════════════

"What? No! You don't get it. None of my guy friends get it."

He's gonna pretend that didn't sting. 'Guy friends'. May very well be 'gay best friend'. Being reduced to a non-dateable-option wasn't the best feeling, but part of you was better than none of you.

And he couldn't blame you, even if it was you putting your guard up.

Everyone who asks you out is turned the fuck down. And they are all a very specific genre of human - sorry, subhuman. Jocks. No, sorry, that would make him fall into that bracket.

Idiot jocks. Who couldn't think about anything but fucking and fighting.

But luckily for you, he had the looks, the physique, and the smarts and sophistication that came with being a Jacobs.

Whole package.

However, the way this shit was going, he'd have to watch as some hippie tweaker who 'believes that animals are people, too, dude, go vegan or go home!' got to date you.

It's weird, right? How someone can change you so quick.

He just wanted you. Like, he wanted you.

He wanted to know your darkest secrets and never use them.

He wanted to know how tall your walls were and break through them.

He wanted to know why you were so fucking nice to people like Rue motherfucking Bennett, and he wanted to exploit it.

But most of all, he wanted to know what made you tick. What turned you off a dude. What could possibly make you blow a gasket.

What made you... You.

"I just think that you guys don't get how much like, potential Loki has. As a boyfriend."

"Yeah, but Thor's jacked, he's not fucking evil, and he's, like, a superhero!"

"Loki isn't evil, he's just--"

"If you say misunderstood, I'm going to crash out.", he muttered, pushing some hair behind your ear. With his luck, you'd ignore it, because of course friends help you when hair's getting into your eyes!

"But he is misunderstood, okay? Like, he was constantly made to feel inferior in every way!" See? Ignored.

He watched you take a bite of your pasta before taking a bite of his burger. "I swear, girls always do this, they go for the worst possible option and then justify it instead of going to the best option and enjoying it."

Shut up. Yeah, the irony wasn't lost on him. Hardy har har.

"Loki changed at the end. Okay? He'd just assumed that Odin's mistreatment was something Thor believed in himself, even though Thor thought of him as a brother!"

He groaned, a slightly pained laugh escaping him. "Next you're gonna say you're Team Cap."

"What? No! No, Tony was right."

He tilted his head. Huh. Brains. "Yeah. Good. 'Least you got something right, but now you got me thinking you have an aversion to blondes."

You chuckled and he swears he's going to lose it from your smile alone.

"How's finals going?"

"Good. Kinda scared for results, though.", you mumbled, shaking your head. "I'm so scared that every second I don't spend studying is another mark lost, and I'm losing it."

"Jesus, there's the fucking stick again. I swear, you should just--"

But it's like the universe was not okay with him winning, because in came your gang of nerds - sorry, your fellow student council members - to whisk you away.

"I'll see you later, Jacobs, okay?"

"Nate!", he called back, almost warning, before he was affronted with the sight of Maddy rolling her eyes at him. "Did you just call out your own name?"

"Shut up, Maddy. I was talking to someone."

"That's literally fucking pathetic."

Look who's talking.

════════════════════ 🔭 ═════════════════════

You didn't seem to actually do much to give him enough insight into your life, seriously.

You came to school, talking with your sister on the way.

You spent your school day doing nothing but going to classes and occassionally talking with Nate (fucking yay), and then you spent an extra hour and a half at school for some after school bullshit you did, he didn't care enough. And then you came home and studied.

Like, what a fucking nerd. What a sexy fucking nerd.

But finals week was over, and he'd even given you another week to wait for results, and now he was hosting a party.

Well, McKay was.

And you weren't coming.

One thing he couldn't stand for was you lying to him. Which was exactly what you did.

You had a date, you said, and that would have resulted in him getting into a car accident - that wasn't really an accident - on the highway if he believed you.

But he knew you weren't going on a date. You were going back to the fucking AA meeting for fucking Rue Bennett. There should be some limit to your charity.

But like the calm, level-headed individual he was, he didn't crash out, he simply schooled his face, took deep breaths - and maybe a can of beer - and parked his car gracefully.

His hand stilled on his seatbelt, and he looked down at the buckle for a moment, lost in thought.

No, no, fuck it. No second thoughts. He undid the buckle, getting out before locking the car with a beep.

The trees shrouding his sight slowly gave way as he walked, and right there, to his left, on the stairs, was you.

Ledger-guy wasn't there, and so you were aimlessly playing with the pen that hung from the spring tether attached to his table.

You watched it bobble around each time you pushed it away and then watched it swing right back to you, regardless of how hard you'd pushed it, albeit unknowingly.

There was a metaphor there. He was sure of it.

"Hey.", he said softly, carefully. "Thought I'd find you here."

You looked up at him, but didn't even seem to have the energy to act guilty. "Hey."

He sat down with a low exhale, his knees bending uncomfortably as he nudged your shoulder with his own. "Yo."

You turned to him, nodding.

"What's going on? How come you're out here? She could've snuck out by now."

"She won't. She's doing really well. She's been sober for almost two months now."

He let out a soft whistle, nodding, before looking back at you, frowning slightly. "So why do you look depressed?"

"Her withdrawals, y'know, um. They're gone, but like... this two month mark is usually where it goes downhill, so I'm, like... worried, or whatever."

"It's gonna stick this time."

"Told myself that last year."

"Look, we've all grown up together. Small town. I- I'm not, like, fucking 'BFFs'... ", he muttered, using air quotes, "...with Rue, but she's strong.", he continued.

You shrugged lightly. "I guess."

"Hey, look. She's been through a lot. Her Dad kicked the bucket a while ago, her little sister found her ODd, rehab, lack thereof, relapse, all that shit. She'll get through it. And she's doing well enough right now. I saw her at school yesterday, she looks good. Like, healthy."

He was seriously wondering if he'd been hexed, because here he was, admitting he'd noticed Rue Bennett's sobriety, and spoken in favour of her, all for you. To alleviate your worries. To get that sadness off your face.

You nodded. "But I'm just... I hate that I can't be there with her through every bad moment."

Like he wanted to be with you.

"Hey.", he sighed, shuffling closer, brushing hair from your eyes and moving your head to his shoulder both in one swift motion. "She's here, isn't she? In there? Talking about her sobriety? She's going to school, too. You got her there."

Scoffing, you shook your head. Your humility would be the death of you, he's sure of it. "No, her family did. Mr. Ali did."

"You escorted her to every single meeting, without fail. You don't miss a single week."

Please don't ask how he knows, please don't ask how he knows-

"I guess."

Phew.

"Right. Trust me, one step at a time. Okay? She'll be fine."

You hummed and he looked at his reflection in his phone screen so he could analyze what a fucking simp he'd become.

"Thanks."

"Oh, shut up.", he scoffed. "'Thanks' like hundreds of people - and animals - don't owe you one already."

"Why do you do that?"

"What?"

"Put me up on a pedestal?"

"You'd rather I treat you like everyone else?"

"How do you treat everyone else?"

"How you'd expect me to."

You bit the inside of your cheek. "Why did you strangle my sister?"

If he had a beer in his mouth, he'd spit it out. "Anger issues."

"Did you get help for them?"

Who the fuck were you? He tells you he strangled your sister 'cause he was pissed, you want to know if he went to a shrink to get that shit out of him. He shook his head.

"Why not?"

"It's just about the only defence mechanism I have."

He didn't like how your stupid questioning made him feel as if he really was talking to a fucking shrink. He'd never admitted that before.

"Oh."

He took a long, deep breath, before patting on the tops of his thighs, standing. "C'mon."

"What? Where? Rue's still in there.", you asked, looking up at him as he stood over you.

"We'll be back before it's over."

════════════════════ 🔭 ═════════════════════

The waves threatened to devour your feet, but didn't seem to have the power to actually make good on their threats.

"I'm driving Rue back."

"It's PBR. It's impossible to get drunk off it, trust."

You shrugged, taking the can and popping it open.

He watched your lips wrap around the edge of the can, and your throat as it cascaded down it. Holy. Shit.

Taking a sip himself, he shifted so that his elbow was resting loosely on his knee. "Never have I ever...", he mused, grinning as he watched your eyes roll.

"Oh, sweet Jesus.", you scoffed.

"You skipped out on the party. I refuse to let you spend tonight without a little bit of fun."

"And 'never have I ever' is the way to do that?"

He shrugged. "Never have I ever.... kissed a girl.", he finished, taking a sip.

He was pleasantly surprised to see you take one, too.

"Oh, this I gotta hear."

"Keep your panties on, it was my best friend, and we just wanted to practice kissing, get my first kiss over with."

What a liar.

"Your best friend?", he scoffed, raising a brow.

"...'s sister.", you admitted, biting your lip.

"There we go. Cassie Howard isn't a bad choice for a first kiss."

You shook your head. "Yeah, I know. Just felt weird. Like I was betraying Lexi or something. You never go for the sisters, y'know?"

Oof. Right in the heart. It was like it was directed at him.

"Yeah, but you weren't dating her."

"Well, yeah, but it's the principle."

He exhaled, before taking another sip. "Tell ya what. I'll drive Rue and you home. Get the stick outta your ass.", he muttered, pulling out a packet of pre-rolleds.

"Wh- no, what? You want me stoned in a car with a recovering addict?"

Okay. Fine. Fair.

"Fine, then here.", he replied, handing you his pocket flask. "It's whiskey, not poison."

You looked at it, contemplating for a while before sighing. "You know where she lives, right?"

"Uh huh."

"And where I- well, yeah, 'course you know where I live.", you mumbled, still gazing at the bottle.

"Don't you trust me?", he asked, softly, tilting his head.

════════════════════ 🔭 ═════════════════════

The door swung open and he stood face-to-face with Maddy, the ex he hadn't seen for almost the entire school year. Well, that she knew of.

"Hey."

"Jesus.", she muttered, gently grabbing you from his arms. You were - surprisingly- still coherent, but you couldn't really be trusted to stand on your own. "The fuck did you drink?"

"Whiskey.", he piped up, handing you over carefully.

"And you just happened to be walking by?"

"No, we were waiting for Rue's drug meeting thing to get over, and we just went a couple blocks away to the beach."

Maddy scoffed, still stroking your hair as she glared at him. "Where you gave her whiskey."

"Well, yeah, she's been stressed the whole week, which you'd know if you cared."

"Oh, please, like you care more about my sister than I do." she spat.

He shoved his hands into his pockets. "I'll see you around, Maddy. Bye, Y/N.", he mumbled, turning around.

See, this was why he had to get you the fuck away from your sister. She'd never trusted anybody in her life, but you were different, you had a heart.

"What did you say to her?", she called as his key turned in his car lock.

To Rue? He'd said that you'd told him to tell you that you had an urgent emergency at the soup kitchen, and to walk herself the fuck home.

"What?"

"She'd never drink while waiting on Rue."

Huh. Okay, fine, so she knew some things about you. But she was your sister, so it was less impressive than how much he knew. So there.

Not that it was a competition.

"I didn't say anything. Told her to get the stick outta her ass."

"Did you like... how did you convince her?"

I asked whether she trusted me and gave her the most solemn look ever.

He shrugged. "Dunno. Guess she needed a break that bad and I'm the only one willing to give her one.", he responded, getting into his car.

That was so badass. Write that down.

════════════════════ 🔭 ═════════════════════

"What now? Does UNICEF need your help?", he groaned, barely holding himself back from yelling.

"I got grounded for being drunk. Maddy tried to sneak me up, but my mom caught me."

He doubted that. Maddy probably took you upstairs slowly on purpose so that you wouldn't be able to come to this party, either.

"Just sneak out. Come on. You've already skipped out on, like, two parties."

"Hey! The first one doesn't count, I wasn't coming to that, anyway, it was finals week!"

Rolling his eyes, he wrapped his arm around your shoulder. "If you come I'll donate to charity.", he whispered in your ear, breathing in the smell of your hair.

You laughed at that, exactly like he wanted. "Is that all you think my life is?"

"Come on. Do it for the kids."

"I've never snuck out before."

"Maddy'll teach you, I'm sure.", he scoffed, shooing you off to your next class. "She's coming anyway."

"You're an ass."

"Badge of honour, baby!", he called, waving. Okay. This was good. Finally.

---

Watching McKay do a keg stand wasn't exactly on his bucket list for the night, but hey, he had to do something until you arrived.

He looked down at his watch. When he'd passed by your house, he'd watched you getting dressed through your window. Maddy was doing her makeup in the room next to yours.

That was a half hour ago. The drive from your place to McKay's wasn't even fifteen minutes. So where the hell were you? He was looking around - had been since he'd arrived - for your blue dr-- oh.

What an idiot. It's possible you'd changed after he had left. Right. So blue dress not counted. Now he was left just looking for you.

Logical deduction suggested you'd already showed up, but then again, you could be in a bathroom, seeing as you seemed so nervous about sneaking out perfectly that you hadn't really had the time to put on makeup yet.

Not that you needed it. But still. Would look nice.

And he was right.

You were right there, cutting uncomfortably through the crowds, beelining to the bathroom. He called your name, but the music drowned him out. Fine. Whatever.

He stopped the bathroom door from closing behind you. "There you are."

You watched him through the mirror, before turning around. "Have you seen Rue?!", you called, your phone to your ear.

Unacceptable. Un-fucking-acceptable. You cannot be this selfless. It's actually unhealthy.

"No, why?" He fought a frustrated eye roll. Let her OD, at least the rest of the town could have some semblance of peace once she's dead!

"She's here, that I know, but she isn't responding to any of my texts! Or calls.", you added, gesturing at the phone by your ear. "Straight to voicemail."

"She's probably just having fun, like you should probably be doing.", he reasoned, gently taking the phone from you and ending the call, shoving the thing into his back pocket.

"I told her not to come."

"Then she should have fucking listened. Hey- hey, it's not your fault that she doesn't take care of herself.", he whispered, his thumbs rubbing arcs on your cheeks. "Why are you so... just relax.", he murmured, kissing your forehead.

"No, Nate, you don't get it, she came because she thinks she's ready, and that she knows if anything goes wrong, I'm right here."

"Look, you can't let people depend on you so much, you're going to lose your shit. Trust me, I know. My mother doesn't have anything but me and my brother, and it's hell. She doesn't take care of herself, she lets our Dad walk all over her-", he muttered, still wondering how you're, yet again, effortlessly making him say shit he's never told another soul.

"But what if something goes wrong?"

"Nothing's going to go wrong."

"Hey, last time she was at a party, she met this weird kid Elliot, who got her hooked again."

"She won't relapse. It won't happen. You're right here."

"I'm not with her, though."

"You don't need to be. She's a big girl, she'll take care of herself. And besides, you won't be there with her her whole life, will you? Making sure she's sober. She'll graduate this year and go to college. She isn't going to depend on a high schooler to keep her safe all the way in college, is she?"

He can tell that you fully understand what he's saying, and that you even agreed, to an extent, but he certainly didn't blame you for not accepting it. You were just unnecessarily caring, almost to a fault.

This was all you knew.

"You need someone to take care of you, too, sometimes.", he said, bending his head so he was now looking up at you, from where he had you perched on the countertop. "Yeah?"

"What? What are you even- look, you're wasting time, Nate, I don't want her relapsing, I cant- I know it's selfish, but I can't go through all that with her again, Nate--"

Selfish? You were the antonym of that word, and it was disgusting that you couldn't even see it.

"I get it. Sometimes you need a break, too. Need someone to love on you. Need to know that what you're doing isn't thankless."

You looked down at him, a soft frown on your face that he wanted to hug off you.

"I can see it. You're not denying it.", he teased sing-songily, tapping your nose.

You grinned softly, trying your damndest to hide it. "Shut up."

"You're a good person, whether you're on Rue-watch 24/7, or looking out for your sister so that she doesn't get abducted by the guys she fucks, or being the most charitable bitch this side of... well... Earth.", he chuckled.

"Do you have a point? Or are you just doing the pedestal thing again?"

"My point is this."

Kissing you was exactly how he'd imagined it would be. Smooth, slow and correct. Not correct as in he was doing it correctly - god, he fucking hoped he was - no, correct as in this was probably the only purpose he'd had for his life.

He could feel you shifting away, and he shook his head. "No. No, no, no. Don't. The sister card's not gonna work."

"But it's valid.", you murmured, trying to pull away as he pulled you closer.

"No, the fuck it isn't.", he replied against your lips, pulling you toward the edge of the counter. "Shut up."

"That's mean."

"Yeah? Well, so are you. How's that for a pedestal?", he asked, his lips on your shoulder. "Look.", he sighed, finally, finally able to bring himself to look at your face. "Just say yes."

"To what?"

He scoffed. "World peace. What do you think? Me."

"You?"

He nodded, attempting to fix your hair as best he could. "I care, see?"

"Oh, sorry, yes, messing up my hair is, like, peak boyfriend."

"Fixing it is. I don't do that for anyone.", he retorted, kissing your forehead again. "One date."

"'One date' is wild. Because that'll totally convince me.", you laughed, and he tsked, shaking his head.

"You're not funny. Seriously. Like, one date. And it's gonna be completely secret. No Maddy messing with us. No Rue messing with us. No Cassie. No... no one else."

It had just occurred to him how many people really had messed with his life so far. No longer.

"One date?"

Huh, wow. You were considering it. That's more than he'd expected from you.

"One.", he assured.

"One."

════════════════════ 🔭 ═════════════════════

"I am?"

"Yeah, like, way different than what I thought you'd be like. Your whole thing was like, asshole."

One date had turned to a second, a third, and now, here he was, on the same beach with you again, watching you smoke the pre-rolled cig you'd declined a couple months ago.

"Can't say you're that different than I thought, though. You're exactly who you seem to be."

"Is that good or bad?"

"I don't know, you tell me.", he grinned, taking the blunt back from you.

"Aren't you the expert on all this personality stuff?"

He chuckled. "There's only one thing I am - and want to be - the expert on."

"What's that?"

"You."

He was, and, if his plans went well, he would continue to be. He could one-up your sister, he could one-up Rue Bennett, he could one-up every single loser in town.

Because he'd know everything about you.

He'd know you.

[estro-gem]

Jax x Ragatha: Eyes

The Amazing Digital Circus AU: Oasis

Author's Note:

When he looks at me... and I look at him... and he looks at me... aNd I lOoK aT hIm - I'll stop now I was meaning to write about the other characters, but these 2 were stuck in my head! Blasted!

I craved fluff, so I give fluff. This is a simple, short and sweet scenario. It might take a bit for me to write again, but we'll see how it goes. Let's hope there's no mistakes in the grammar! No warnings; other than the fact that the characters belong to Gooseworx~

Sorry if I disappear for a while, I'll try not to make it too long. Final year degree stuff...

SUMMARY:

Ragatha hand-embroiders something under Jax's merciless stare.

Please enjoy!

EYES

Watching someone repeatedly poking a needle through fabric shouldn’t be so interesting.

Ragatha decided to blame it on the obvious; Jax was stuck in a digital world where every day was a chaotic deadline with the pressure of your whole family coming for a visit this coming evening and your house was still a mess, because you didn’t have the time or energy to clean it this morning, since your cat decided to shred the last toilet paper you had in you house and you had nothing to wipe with, thus it cost you an early trip to the store, but you missed the bus and it was raining, so you ditched the store to just walk to work, only to realize that you haven’t changed out of your pajama’s yet and you had no spare clothes, forcing yourself to attend a meeting with water dripping down your legs and you clothes sticking to your body.

That was oddly specific…

The point is that everyone craved some form of normalcy. Jax was allowing himself to just exist her presence, who was caught in the slow, tedious process of embroidering a purple piece of fabric by hand. He didn’t make an effort to keep a conversation going, but the ragdoll wasn’t bothered by it. Her hands tingled where his big eyes were fixated, watching intently.

They were situated on a two-seater couch that they randomly found back stage. It's been a while since the group first carried it out to place it off to the side, near the main area. It was rarely used, unless it was a scenario such as this one; Jax watching Ragatha embroider quietly.

At first, she thought that he was looking for an error to point out, or even just to mess with her by trying to make her self-conscious with his unblinking staring. To counter whatever she thought he had planned, she would just discard the fabric and thread, while she wasn’t too far into her progress. In doing that, this would be a practice trail to complete her embroidery project away from prying eyes in the future and she would have the satisfaction of seeing Jax’s face when he saw how unbothered she was losing her progress or messing up.

But the snarky comments never came.

That’s alright, Ragatha could work with that! He was just being patient, until she had something to show for her time and effort. Until her work was something of value to lose. It was only a matter of time before the bunny brought up his old schemes again, so in the meantime, she would just have to continue. She was actually making great progress; it was starting to really look like something.

Oh no…

Ragatha didn’t think that she would make it this far. What started as two big dilated, black pupils, evolved into two large golden eyes staring up from the purple fabric. She was currently hyper-focused on the black rim surrounding the brilliant golden sclera of the second eye, almost completing the set. It was coming on so nicely.

The doll wasn’t nearly as brave as she was before. She wanted to curse her patience with herself, with this project, with Jax being Jax...

A mysterious flush of heat and tingles dragged itself up the red-head’s face. She couldn’t understand why – she was annoyed, but she wasn’t angry. She wasn’t even human, so the sensations, though otherworldly, was not the strangest thing to happen to her – she could take and axe to the face without so much as a squeak – but it was still puzzling her. It was making her feel lightheaded, as she suddenly became very aware of her steady calm breathing and abruptly fumbled to consciously control it. It was like she was a flustered mess that suddenly forgot how to breathe. All her well-practiced hand motions briefly paused as there was a moment of deep contemplation.

The tingling heat instantly evaporated from her face, only to flare up onto her now frozen hands, hovering closely over the embroidery.

Ragatha almost twisted her neck with how quickly she whipped her sight to Jax sitting next to her.

She was probably hallucinating, but she almost believed that she saw him lean back slightly, as if reigning himself. The bunny was comfortably sitting back with his one arm hanging over the back of the couch they shared, bending his elbow to rest his cheek on his hand. If the doll shuffles closer, he would practically have his arm draped around her shoulders, and she would be able to rest her head in the crook of his neck.

His eyes were fixed on her hands that was now folded atop one another, covering the golden orbs she spent so long on. He didn’t look bored, per say, but he did sport his usual smug, unbothered expression. If anything, he looked content, but Ragatha knew Jax better than that. She could feel that the intensity of his gaze prickling over her now heated hands meant that he was deeply invested – interested. If she felt his eyes so prominently fixed on her hands…

Was he focused on her face before?

“Ya makin’ somethin’, Dollface?” Jax asked nonchalantly, lazily trailing his gaze up to her face. He was wearing that smug grin - and the poor dolly suffered the severe rush of heat bite into her cheeks again, desperately trying to focus. She missed the fierce flash in Jax’s eyes as she tried to keep her darn breathing steady; not quite able to just let it manifest naturally anymore – too slow, then too fast… then too slow…

“You tell me.” She bit back without thinking, “You’ve been staring this whole time.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes!” Ragatha huffed out, “What? Are you waiting for me to mess it up?”

“Only you could mess this one up.” Jax mused through his Cheshire grin, “I didn’t even touch you!”

“You didn’t have to touch me to make me- eh- nevermind!”

“To make ya what?” The sparkle in Jax’s eyes seemed to blaze into a raging fire. His eyes seemed to pin her down for a moment, before his tone suddenly shifted, "You give me too much credit, Doll."

Dangerous.

Jax felt dangerous when he was eyeing her like that. It’s a danger that Ragatha couldn’t help but get lost in, as she let out something between a huffy sigh and an incredulous cackle. Her hands were shaking. The tension was getting harder and harder to endure. When Jax was like this – when she was like this - they always ended up like gasoline on fire.

The doll would always somehow unintentionally, yet willingly tempt him by looking like his personal feast.

Jax would always somehow resist the urge to kiss her breathless.

“What exactly are ya makin, Raggs?” Jax strained his smile as he tore his gaze away from her siren-call she has for a face. Things must move along before the bunny does something he would instantly regret.

Ragatha took a few seconds to cool herself off, then followed the rabbit’s lead to look to the golden eyes she was embroidering.

“I wanted to make a plush.” She mindlessly trailed one finger along the rim of the eye, “I figured that I could embroider the face before cutting the fabric into the shapes I need. It's a bit upside down, since it'll probably by easier to stuff the plush first, but I didn't think this would turn out so well. It was meant to be a practice-run.”

“Those are my eyes.” Jax gave her a cheeky glance, “You miss me in bed or something?”

It was supposed to be a joke, but the doll decided, she had enough.

Screw it.

“I thought this would be a good alternative, yes.” Ragatha said plainly, effective shutting the rabbit up, as her voice seemed to wilt slightly, “I wouldn’t bother you as much. I know you don’t like me touching you.”

“Ragatha, I don’t like anyone touching me.” Jax turned to face her fully, tone shifted uncomfortably serious. He almost sounds upset.

Maybe she shouldn’t have said anything. In attempt to save the situation, she kept het mouth shut. No more words.

Dolls are seen, not heard.

“Why me?” he asked, a simple question.

It only required a simple answer.

“I trust you.”

Ragatha wanted nothing more than to leave. She was embarrassed and uncomfortable; and she was convinced that Jax felt the same. She didn’t consider that she ripped his heart out of his chest by saying that.

She shouldn’t trust a snake...

Just when Ragatha got up to retreat to her room, she jolted upon feeling a desperate hand grab at the hem of her dress. She stood in place, but didn’t look at Jax. She wanted to forget that they had a conversation in the first place.

“Make me one when you are done with yours?” Jax spluttered out unplanned. There was a beat of silence, before the doll gave in to look at the bunny once again. At least he got her attention-

“Make you a plush… of yourself…?” Ragatha asked slowly, confused.

“Make me one of you.”

He had to be joking. There was no way that he would ask something like that and be serious about it, right? He would just wait for the moment she let her guard down to start laughing, right? Right?

The room just wailed in silence.

It weighed down his larger-than-life persona to dangle at his knees. Ragatha was dumbstruck as she searched his face for something wicked, only to find a troubled man stare back at her.

He was being sincere.

“Why me?” She asked, confused; a simple question.

It only required a simple answer.

“I trust you.”

Oasis: TADC AU list

Masterlist

[emeraldhazeart]

Listen.

That WIP isn't dead.

We've just put it out to pasture.

Yeah, we could tell it just wasn't feeling it's usual self this season, so we've decided to give it a rest to take the pressure off.

When will it be back? We don't know. Rest and recuperation takes time. It'll tell us when it's ready to return.

And hey, if it ends up having to retire, that's fine too. We've had a good run with this WIP. Would be a shame to work it into the ground if it's really not a doer. Not all WIPs are born to be winners, after all.

And there's always the possibility of producing a new WIP from it. Who knows, its offspring could just go on to be the next big thing.

[analogicalreasoning]

There's a common headcanon that Virgil hates the idea of the sides shapeshifting because it characterizes Deceit (I think it's common anyways??) and I absolutely love that.

However, consider Virgil using that ability to shift himself into a cat whenever he gets too anxious or stressed out. How about that? How about him being Logan's little pet cat, huh? Huh???

(If you have oneshot suggestions, do share!!)

[lorisidirgiichi2002]

I really wish I had the skills and computer space to make a Analog series based on OneShot. It would have been about the Author and a Analog original character working in a fictional company based on and created the World Machine to create some test demos before releasing OneShot. Though the World Machine starts waking up and starts screwing with the game and give clues on what is going on behind the scenes.

[moonbeam-dragon]

High school AU. Virgil is a Freshman. Logan and Patton are seniors.Virgil gets left at school during the winter. He can't get a hold of his mom or dad and is starting to panic. Luckily, there are a couple more people he can rely on.

[romansgoodluckcharm]

NBLW Virgil with their trans wife logan

SO FUCKING REAL theyre both objectum lesbians and they're fucking nasty rn. Trust me I'm an objectum lesbian myself

[ceraea]

The suffocating feeling of petals and pollen

(a metaphor for toxic relationships or however you perceive it)

By me /_ceraea_

"I've always loved daffodils; The way they looked and their rich gold color was always so beautiful. I'd love nothing more to lay in a field of daffodils

But, That was back then

I always laid in fields of daffodils despite them suffocating me. The pollen was too much to bear but their beauty and the way they made me smile made me stay despite not being able to breathe

But now I've stopped laying in fields of daffodils or even going near one. I once loved them so dearly but now they give me a feeling of dread

Even as I stopped loving them I still feel the unnecessary want to roll around in a field that may as well be my death"

[luna-kaat]

The parasite

You were a ray of sunshine that was muffled by a rain cloud.

A bacterium, a virus, a parasite.

Since you could make your own decisions, you were always the same. So why did you have to give in for something that never did anything good for you?

He intruded into your life, slowly infecting every aspect of you like a vile parasite. An infection which cure you ignored, or rather, were forced to ignore.

Your friends never liked it, your family when they found out about the existence of this parasite at first they didn't think much of it but after the first time the bastard made you cry they wanted to burn it.

Why didn't you spit it out?

The parasite entered your system in disguise. Like the Trojan horse.

How could you know that its words were false? The parasite wore a good disguise.

Before attacking, it watched you from a distance to find your weak spots.

The parasite was not an idiot, at first you were not bothered by its existence, "It hasn't done me anything bad." That was your excuse.

After a while, it moved into your brain, making you believe in false promises of eternity. Promises that made you want to stay with the parasite, blinded you at the same time.

The moment that it took control over your brain is when the bastard began to execute its evil plan.

It cut off the circulation of what brought you happiness, your friends. At first it would only let you see them as long as it was present, but if your friends told you something bad about the parasite, it would then cut off circulation to them.

So many people that the parasite forced out of your life. But blindness wouldn't let you recognize it.

The infection made you believe that you needed it to feel happy, a complete being. What a lie.

It fed on making you hate what brought you happiness. Did you like to eat French fries? It made you hate them because "salt hurts me, no, it hurts you, you."

Reading romance novels made your beautiful heart beat so hard that it seemed to make you cry.

The parasite choked your bloodstream just because it didn't like them.

It didn't like them because "They give you the wrong idea of ​​love." It wasn't that, it just didn't want you to realize the toxicity of the bastard. It didn’t want you to know there was better, that you could thrive without it.

I could write an entire novel devoted solely to the horrifying details of the parasite, but that would be the same as acknowledging its existence.

It made you dependent. It cut off circulation to your independence, he clung to everything that defined you as your own person.

Finally, when you least expected it, it  hurt you. It was no longer enough for it to damage your mind, it became greedy and damaged you.

When you wanted to rip off the parasite it made you believe in more lies. "Without you I could die." It was true, but it was a worm, something worse than a fly, yet it manipulated you so much that it made you believe that it was a bad thing to kill the parasite.

You suffered in silence, just because it made you. Crying. Your beautiful being broke.

However, today, you cut off its head. You couldn't stand its bestial torture anymore.

It writhed on the ground, and once more the world turned color.

Your friends congratulated you, your family hugged you.

The parasite is dead and we all truly hope it stays that way forever.

[lordsukunas]

HE WANTS TO LEAGE KUGISAKI'S SEAT OPEN???? NOOOOOO WHAT

JUJUTSU KAISEN [UPDATED] CHARACTERS DESCRIPTION ON ITS 4TH POPULARITY POLL ⭐

💫 ITADORI YUUJI

💫 FUSHIGURO MEGUMI

💫 OKKOTSU YUUTA

💫 GOJO SATORU

He's my love, yall 💗

💫 SHOKO IEIRI

[504py]

A day in a life with Ivan. [ONESHOT]

Warnings below the cut 。。。

⚠️ NSFW, yandere content, alcoholism, reader got tradwifed, stockholm syndrome, domestic violence, Ivan is very blatantly sadistic, size difference, dacryphilia, vague breeding kink, no use of Y/N, forced feminization(?), gender neutral reader.

hey yawll!! i drew this since i wanted to play more with the painting style and color palette i did in my last post, but since i hit 800 followers recently, i decided to write something to go along with it too!

thank you guys so so much for putting up with my bs and enjoying the slop i create LOL. hopefully this will be enough to thank you all and to satiate you guys till i come back from hibernation again 🩵🙏

also!! while this is a gender neutral reader, ivan still refers to you as a housewife. this is pretty much an extension of the headcanon post i did on him.

MAN I NEED TO RECONNECT WITH NATURE AFTER THIS 😭😭😭

┊͙✧˖*°࿐

The average heart rate of a rabbit is a hundred and eighty beats per minute. Much, much faster than a human's at only a hundred, the little hearts of rabbits pump virile blood into their vulnerable bodies in order to outrun the cursed life of a prey animal they have no choice but to live.

Living with Ivan feels the exact same way. You, a human, were reduced to nothing but a prey animal whose only line of defense was either freeze or flight. Ivan prefers the freeze response. Tries to squeeze it out of you as much as he can.

The morning begins normally. You wake up next to his large, minimally clothed body, while you're bundled up as much as physically possible. You don't understand how he's so comfortable in the cold, but you've learned not to liken him to humans. You gently wake him up before you leave the bed– you learned that he doesn't like waking up to an empty bed without any prior notice. It takes a while for Ivan to wake up, he's a heavy sleeper, but when his violet eyes finally open and dilate at the sight of you, the first thing he does is smile and pull you in to trap you in a strong bear hug. Don't struggle, he'll just tighten his grip. Then he kisses your cheek, and just holds you there without saying anything. He'll grumble a little when you tell him you have to leave bed to make breakfast, but he eventually will let you go.

It's a little sick how your current living situation makes chores the best part of your day, given how it allows the most proximity between you and Ivan. Cooking in the early morning is your favorite, since it takes Ivan a long time to recover from his hibernation. Thinking about what to cook is a bit of a meditative process as well, allows you to think thoroughly about anything other than your way of life and the man keeping you here.

Today, you decided to make something simple and similar to something you ate growing up. Luckily, Ivan is not a picky eater, even though he rather obviously prefers Slavic food. He'll eat whatever you make happily, but he'll be in even better spirits if you make something familiar to him.

You do not cook in silence. Silence has quickly become one of your biggest pet peeves since your captivity, and you do anything to drown it out. This damn empty mansion, the way Ivan is so terrible with his words and chooses instead to crush you with his actions, the bleak snowy landscape that greets you if you dare try and find any solace outside of this cage and your captor– It's enough to drive anyone insane. So, you pass the days by drowning out your thoughts with music and movies.

Ivan doesn't allow you a cellphone, or anything remotely modern at all. His home has a terrifying dedication to being so analog, you'd think you'd been transported to the 90's if not for the TV with a few streaming services on it, the only modern piece of technology he allows. He likes to collect cameras, radios, and old phones. Ivan's menagerie of antique goods is so expansive that it earned itself its own room. It's almost like a small museum, and you're very glad he allows you to look at and touch them as you pleased– with care, of course. He can actually be rather charming when he acts as your "museum guide" in this room. One of the few times you find yourself thinking anything remotely positive about him.

Ivan's voice is soft, it always is, but when he talks about these things he's so passionate about and so engrossed in, it takes on a bit more of a stern, confident tone that is easier for you to listen to. And when he's looking at the objects he's explaining, you can admire his side profile more openly. He's caught you multiple times (he has surprisingly sharp senses), and you're met with a flustered smile instead of the usual so-sweet-to-the-point-it-looks-fake type of smile.

"What are you looking at?" He'd ask, his voice quieting back down to that syrupy tone.

"Just you." You'd reply, which makes him pause in surprise for a second, before it earns a soft giggle from the towering man.

"Why? Is something wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong, Vanya." The nickname makes him melt. "You just looked pretty."

The smile falls from his face, and his cheeks redden even more than you thought possible, before his grin returns tenfold. He laughs and looks away.

The memory of such interactions make you feel like buttering up to the man instead of rejecting him so much, then you realize you're just describing stockholm syndrome. As crazy as it is, it feels like, at this point, it'd be better to let it happen than to be aware and hateful every day you live here.

As if your thoughts had alerted him, you hear Ivan's deceptively soft footsteps descend the stairs. He doesn't say anything, and just makes his way to the kitchen to watch you.

He's dressed in more clothing now, a dark blue sweater and gray sweatpants. His neck is left bare around you. When you first met him, his clothing that purposefully covers his neck always went unnoticed by you, because such clothes fit him so well, like they were always meant to be there. It was only after your capture, when he took off his scarf and you saw the bandages around his pale neck did you start to question it.

You've never outright asked him, you worry the subject is too volatile. He just... decided to stop hiding it one day. It was after a shower when you first saw it, the ligature marks around his neck and a few faded pink scars on the front of his adam's apple. Ivan noticed you staring, and you've never seen him look so small and insecure before.

"Is it bad?"

"No." You shake your head. "Does it hurt?"

"Not anymore."

And that was that.

You finish plating up two dishes, one with a significantly heftier portion than yours considering how much he eats. You quickly place the chopping board and all the pans you used in the sink to wash later, and you bring the dishes to the table.

Ivan yawns, rubs at his eyes, and without much event, just picks up a knife and a fork and starts eating. You do the same only after fetching some tea from the samovar.

Breakfast is always quiet besides the background noise of whatever media you chose to play.

"Mm. Ёжик в тумaне?"

"Yeah. I like this one."

"A little somber, isn't it?"

"The hedgehog is cute. I relate to it a little bit."

Ivan takes his eyes off of the television to look at you, and ponders what you said a little more. He doesn't say anything, and continues eating.

"What will you be doing today?" You ask, in case you needed to iron some clothing or prepare extra food for guests.

He hums in thought for a moment. "I'll be going out in the evening to drink with the other nations."

"What will you be wearing?"

"What I usually do."

You nod, "I'll have it ready soon."

"What about you?" He asks.

"Hmm... I'll wash the dishes, then iron and press your clothing. After that, I'll think of what to cook for lunch while cleaning the house, and I'll prepare a meal for you before you leave. Then while you're away, I'll clean up some more and prepare dinner. And if I have some time, I'll sit and watch some more movies."

Ivan hums in satisfaction. He enjoys how strict to routine your lives were. Familiarity and stability are what he desires most, and he believes you're the only one who can grant him that wish.

"Perfect." He smiles, petting the crown of your head with a large, broad hand.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

You adjust the dusty pink scarf around his thick neck after finishing wrapping the scars on his throat with bandages. You do it neatly and comfortably, as opposed to how Ivan does, quickly and efficiently, learned from decades of routine, yet it's still so much more uncomfortable compared to when you do it.

"How is it?" You ask. Ivan replies by taking your smaller hands in his and leaning in to press a kiss to the corner of your mouth.

"You do it perfectly, любовь моя." He sighs, before pouting slightly. "I wish I could just stay home."

"You'll be alright, Vanya. Alcohol is like water to you anyways."

He snickers and rolls his eyes. "That just means it'll be boring for me, then."

"Just try to have fun and relax. I'll be safe and quiet here."

A mousy smile appears on his pink lips. You've said exactly what he wants to hear. "Alright. I'll just get it over with." He presses one last kiss to the top of your hair before leaving.

"Don't cause any trouble!" Ivan sings, before exiting the living room and closing the door behind him. You get a glimpse of the blindingly white outside world, and a gust of stinging cold air brushes against your skin like a warning.

You let out a taut breath, finally feeling like you're able to breathe without his crushing presence. You dust off your hands, from nothing in particular, before going off to do just as you said to him earlier. It bothers you how much he still affects you without even being around.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

The sky is dark, and all that is heard is the droning of soft music and the burbling of something boiling on the stove. Its tranquility is broken by the door opening with more aggression than usual.

"Vanya?" You call out, hoping the sweet usage of his nickname would quell whatever spawned this roughness within him.

All you hear is something vaguely resembling a groan and a sigh, and his heavy, thudding footsteps. Your heart starts to race a little.

"Is something wrong, Vanya?" You ask meekly, approaching him with caution. He reeks of alcohol, and his movements seem all sluggish. Jesus, how much did Russia of all people need to drink in order to get this wasted?

"I'm alright." He huffs, taking off his gloves and his coat with slight difficulty. You step in closer to help him undress, taking off his scarf. You don't miss how he tenses up, so you freeze and meet his constantly intense stare to gauge his expression. His eyelids are low, pupils contracted, eyes darker than usual, and cheeks flushed like they always are. He seems to be pouting a bit. He doesn't do much else, so you continue, stripping him of his large overcoat. All he's left in now is a black sweater and thick brown slacks.

"I've made dinner. You can just sit wherever you want and I'll bring it to you–"

Ivan leans in so quickly, you couldn't even register it in order to dodge or deflect his kiss in time. This time, it lands on your lips. He doesn't do this usually at all, unless he was planning something. The blood drains from your face when his large hand finds the back of your neck, and holds it stiff, preventing any chance of backing out.

His skin and the inside of his mouth are impossibly warm, and the bitter, sterile taste of vodka is the only damn thing invading your senses. You grip the fabric of his knitted sweater, it makes him part from your lips to pant like a dog and take said piece of clothing off, now left in a dark gray shirt.

"V-Va– You taste like alcohol–"

"Get drunk off of me." He whispers, before grabbing the sides of your arms and kissing you tongue first, lapping at your lips, and at this point, you learned better than to deny him. With all the mental fortitude you could muster, you rigidly part your lips. Despite all your efforts to be as pliant as possible to try and guarantee your safety, you can't help the shiver of revulsion when his tongue invades your mouth like a parasite and rubs against yours.

It feels like time slows down, you can feel the milliseconds before your instincts kick in, and each millisecond feels like a year of dread. Unable to stop raw instinct, you bite down.

Your heart stops when you hear him grunt, and feel his grip around your arms tighten before he shoves you away. He gasps, cursing under his breath in his mother tongue before setting his sights back on you.

Doe-eyed and trembling like a leaf in a hurricane, you begin to plead.

"N-No, no, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it. Vanya, please–"

He approaches, kicks the back of your knees, before you are grabbed by the scruff of your shirt. The collar of your blouse is yanked back and presses the fabric tightly against your throat as he drags you to the front door. You're coughing and struggling to regain your footing, and the moment you can breathe, you beg.

"Please! Nonono– Vanya please don't do this I'll be good–" The words tumble out like unorganized clutter using the one short breath you were able to catch.

With one more harsh tug, you fall to your knees again, and the door opens. The sight of the snow immediately triggers something within you, and you begin sobbing.

Ivan takes a peak at you, seemingly taking pity.

"Only for a few minutes."

You shake your head in a frenzy, not believing a word he says. Even if he was saying the truth, you'd much rather continue to humiliate yourself over being outside for even a few seconds. What if he forgets about you? What if that door never opens again? What if you die a miserable death, separated from your survival by just a few inches of wood?

That's why, the moment he throws you out, you scramble to your feet and shove that damned door open before he can fully close it. You know you're in deeper shit when you hear the door slam against him, and the deep yelp that follows it. You run for your life into the confines of his house.

You quickly make way to one of the bathrooms, the only rooms in the house you're still able to lock from the inside. You knew even that meant nothing, since you're sure Ivan could and would break them down without a second thought. Yet, it was still your best shot.

You lock the bathroom door and sit on the flooring right next to it. You try to calm down your heartrate and your heaving so you could try and listen in on whatever was going on outside this room.

Eerie silence is what greets you. You hate it, hate it so much. Shuddering, you hold your breath and strain your ears just a little more.

And that's when you hear it.

Soft footsteps.

You have to bite back a scream from how much raw fear that little sound sends shooting through your nervous system. Makes your skin crawl so bad that it almost hurts.

Ivan's clearly not in any rush, but FUCK did you wish he'd just get it over with and sprint right at you. You're sure he knows where you are, he just likes to freak you out, you can tell. That sweet smile he always puts on is nothing short of sadistic, constantly has this look in his eyes, some kinda weird sparkle that tells you he enjoys watching you struggle beneath him. Knowing you'll be face to face with those very eyes shortly makes your ribs squeeze around your quaking lungs and heart.

The footsteps approach. You brace yourself for a rough kick to the door or a pipe slamming through it.

Instead, he knocks. This was wrong, what was happening? Oh, god, this was so much worse.

"I won't ask again."

Scrambling to the door, not even sparing any time to actually stand up, you open it. You wince when you strain your neck to look up and see the damage done to him by your outburst. A nasty, bloody bruise on the bridge of his tall nose and that same crimson liquid streaming down his nostril. Your chest shakes like a dying sparrow's.

"I-I'm sorry. Please."

And he smiles.

Ivan is actually, genuinely, extremely pleased right now. He's wanted this all along, for you to fear the outside world so much you'd do anything in the world to stay here, right by his side. He doesn't give a single shit about the injuries you've caused him now and in the past, he's strong, he can take it, and he'll always forgive you over and over again. Of course, it makes him annoyed, because what good housewife would beat their husband like that? But he understands that your circumstances aren't exactly normal, so he'll endure it with irritation. At the rate he's breaking you in, though, you'll soon be as pliant and obedient as he expects you to be. Perhaps you'll even start to love him back. Just the thought of it raises goosebumps on his porcelain skin and makes his hands tremble in excitement.

You don't understand why he's giggling right now.

He sighs your name, and crouches down to meet your stare. You flinch as a droplet of blood hits the tiles. Ivan's grin only widens when your shaking hands reach for his face and try to wipe the blood away.

"O-Oh, Ivan," You whine uselessly, getting up on boneless legs to grab the first-aid kit. He watches with bright, amused eyes. He knows you won't try anything anymore. He's confident in your compliance to him.

As carefully as you can, you wipe off the blood with paper towels, crying harder when it smears instead of going away completely like you'd hoped. It felt like your mistakes were going to be impossible to fix.

Ivan's cheery gaze never falters. Maybe this is the happiest you've ever seen him, despite the blood streaming into the gaps of his teeth and forming a grotesque image. Dusty eyelashes frame his smiley crescent moon eyes, cheeks ruddy as little alcohol-stained puffs of air pollute the cold atmosphere. You jolt when he chuckles throatily.

"What's wrong?" His voice is as sickly sweet as it always is.

"Y-You're mad– I made you mad. I'm sorry." You choke on your own words, trying your best not to drop the bottle of disinfectant in your weak hand.

"What did you do?"

"I–" You hiccup, "I d-didn't– I didn't listen to you. I wasn't good."

Unable to hide his pleasure, he laughs and leans in to give you a chaste, bloody kiss.

"It will be okay. I love you."

You're glad your crying masks the gag reflex that almost makes itself apparent when you know what you have to say next. You steel your nerves and dryly swallow the taste of Ivan's blood.

"I love– I love you too."

He gives you a pleased, closed-mouth smile, and presses a kiss to the top of your head before taking the bottle of disinfectant from you. He begins to tend to his own wounds.

"This does not mean I forgive you, though."

Just as you felt your whole world crashing down around you, Ivan saves you.

He breathes out a laugh, "No, I won't throw you outside again. It's much better staying inside with me, yes?"

You nod in a frenzy. "Yes! Y-Yes, much better. Please don't."

"Well," Ivan prefaces, disinfecting the cut on his nose before placing a bandaid on it. He turns his head to the side and spits out the blood left in his mouth. "You will have to tend to this wound. Kiss it better." And before you could even wonder what he meant by that, his tongue lolls out, brandishing the red bite mark from earlier.

Disgust registers for only a second.

Like an automaton made solely to serve, you lean forward, grasp onto his biceps, and press a needy, desperate kiss to his drooling tongue. He laughs while you lap at his tongue like a wounded dog, warm, alcoholic breaths brushing against your face.

After relishing in the feeling of your worship for a little longer, he gently pushes you to the ground and crawls over your jittery body, placing a hand against the small of your back to hold you up and closer to him, with the other gripping the outside of your thigh.

"You will not bite me this time?"

Nodding fearfully, praying the conviction in your eyes will be enough to warrant his forgiveness, you wrap your arms around his neck.

Sighing happily, he presses his cold lips against yours, taking the lead happily as he moans into the kiss. The sound was more out of the satisfaction of establishing his dominance rather than the actual physical pleasure.

Ivan doesn't usually indulge in sexual fantasies or acts, which surprises you considering how touchy the man is. His mind usually favors daydreams of a stable, domestic life with you. Ivan prioritizes establishing your relationship over anything else, so he doesn't really find the time to lull over menial things like sex. Marriage is one thing, but your total submission is another.

Then again, this doesn't mean that he fully doesn't have any carnal desires when it comes to you. It's you, for christ's sake. When his fantasies of dominance come into play, it seems only obvious that sometimes his thoughts wander into the bedroom.

Ivan fantasizes a lot about having you desire him as much as he does you. He wants you to need him like air. Wants to have you mewling his name and clinging to him like your life depended on it, which would quite literally be the case right now. Wants to see your pretty, pretty tears reserved only for him. Wants to see you fall apart in his arms over and over again while comforting you so meanly and kissing your crying face.

Ivan tries his best to not let these thoughts make themselves apparent, but fuck, do you make it so hard sometimes. How could any man not be affected by the sight of their adorable little housewife in an apron? Takes so much for him to not just grab you by your hair and bend you over the counter. Whenever you cry for whatever reason, he almost feels guilty over how instantly horny it makes him. Almost feels guilty when all he can think about is licking those tears off of your face and making himself the cause of them. God, he wants to play the role of a nice doting husband so bad, but he can't help but feel you up and breathe down your neck when you try on the dresses and lingerie he buys for you. He can't help grabbing your waist and pressing his erection against your ass– not on purpose, he just wanted to be close to you.

While aggressive in his approach, Ivan never forces any sexual acts that you refuse. Even if he's left high and breathing heavy, he still wants to be someone you don't completely hate. Be a good husband, be a good husband. He always chants to himself. All his prayers proved fruitful when he quite literally cried tears of joy during your first time together.

Ivan doesn't know what was different that day, he didn't expect anything, just to make out and have you reject him after a bit, but you just... kept going, until he was ramming into you, hands tight around your sweaty waist and fucking into you like you were just a fleshlight. He's never seen himself like this, moaning and gasping like a girl and feeling so fucking good that all that he wanted– all that he could think of was breeding you like a bull and how beautiful your family would be. God, the memory of you struggling, doing your best to take his thick cock and crying so cutely just trying to bottom out is engraved into the grooves of his brain. It makes his stomach feel all warm whenever he thinks of it. He wants to carve it under his eyelids so he can see it every time he blinks.

Ivan laughs a lot during sex, call him creepy, it's genuinely because he is just so damn happy that he can't hide it. Why should he hide it from you? He wants to show you just how much he loves you and how good you make him feel. You make him feel so damn happy and complete that all he could do was chant IloveyouIloveyouIloveyou– while whimpering, giggling, his tears dripping onto your face.

Maybe he'll get lucky again.

Without parting, Ivan carefully lowers your back to the tiled floor, straddling your body and snaking his long fingers under your blouse, resting them against your heated abdomen. He smiles into the kiss when you jolt away, tickled by how frigid they are.

The ends of his feathered gray hair tickles your wet face, your body shivering at all the different sensations attacking you simultaneously. The cold tiles, his freezing hands, his hot tongue, the faint taste of blood, the warm drool seeping out the side of your mouth, his arid breathing, the smell of alcohol–

Your hands, still by the back of his neck, reach up to ever-so-slightly tug at his hair to signal you needed a breather. Ivan makes a small noise of surprise, before pulling away.

He looks absolutely dazed, lips shiny with remnants of a spit trail, and lavender eyes heavy and glazed over with a feral lust. His breathing is labored, muscular chest rising and falling as he intently watches every minute expression your face makes. Despite the blatant lack of nudity, this might be the most erotic sight you've ever seen. Fuck, why does he have to look so good when you're supposed to hate him?

Right now, you were so exhausted you couldn't even remember what reason you'd have to hate him, despite there being enough that you could spend the rest of your life listing all of them down.

And just when you try to refuse by backing up, your thigh brushes against his boner and he lets out the most heated, breathy, shivery moan you've ever heard. The vocalization sounded like it was tailor-made to tantalize you, to tempt you into biting the fruit. And you know what? You were a sinner anyways.

"Bed– B-Bedroom."

A toothy grin appears on Ivan's face, and he exhales a breathy laugh. He looks absolutely delighted, and starved.

Without a second thought, he picks you up, and carries you to the closest one.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

The next morning begins normally. Your body is sore, and covered in bite marks. That was one of the best sleeps you've had in recent memory. Ivan seems to think so, too, with his arms cradling your torso and a hand resting over your lower abdomen. The ache reminds you about what happened yesterday, you can still feel him in there somehow.

You woke up a little later in the morning compared to usual. Since you're still a little too exhausted to get up and begin cooking, you lay there for a while, listening to the quiet howling of the wind outside. You wonder when was the last time you heard any birds chirping.

Thinking of the outside world brings you a bit of dread, don't really like doing it. But when your life is so isolated and so alone, misery can become a form of entertainment.

The more and more days go by, the more and more do you forget what your life was like before meeting the Russian. The longer you live with Ivan, the more does it feel that he was just always there, and that your life before meeting him was a falsified memory. You're not even sure how much time has passed since, it's always snowing outside, every day feels the same.

That's the one thing you remember from before this life, the feeling of warmth. You're not sure you remember the feeling of it, really, but you're well aware of the absence it leaves behind. Maybe when spring finally comes around, you can open that door, and...

Eyebrows furrowing as a migraine starts to set in, you shake your head weakly. You didn't like thinking about the outside.

Turning over to face Ivan, you gently wake him up before you leave the bed– you learned that he doesn't like waking up to an empty bed without any prior notice. He eventually stirs from his sleep, hugs you, and you do not struggle.

┊͙✧˖*°࿐

[browniefox]

I asked for fic recs so it only makes sense that I provide some.

The Invisible Stan by The Last Speecher (HeidiMelone)

Simple, short, but elegant. You know how hanahaki disease is a trope? I feel like this should be a trope, but idk what you'd call it - Ninny disease sounds bad, but like it's clearly based off of Ninny from the Moomins. Anyway, great fic <3

An Outreached Hand by WDW

Ghost trick au! Love a good ghost trick au! I reread this recently and it still holds up so well, still so good even if unfinished. Haven't played ghost trick since, some of the twists make a hair more sense - especially the twist in the last chapter posted and being like 'OH IT'S *THE* GHOST TRICK'. Shoutout to undead creepiness and cute kitties :3

Retrograde by scrawling_stardumb

Kissing this one on the mouth. Only one chapter and unfinished, but it's a long chapter and really makes you go 'whoa'. It's interesting because the summary *technically* gives you more info than the chapter itself, but it's that kind of dramatic irony that fits the writing so well. A good solid McGucket POV too, which there really isn't enough of. Tbh, it stands okay almost as a one shot? I wish this became a whole popular au like all the others, bc it kicks ass as a concept.

Finding the Right Frequency by impish_nature

A pretty cute one! Ford trying to figure out how to deal with Bill, and Stan having found a stable job, and someow their two worlds intersect. Cute moments between the two, and some good Stans getting to reconnect.

Things You Can't Take Back by thesnadger

Classic by the Snadger! I always appreciate people who take Stan's memory less and make it more complicated, or at least have there be aftershocks to have your whole life erased :D So well written.

like they were a perfect fit by hapful

Stanford Pines and the photo he never looses. A beautiful story about Ford throughout the ages and his opnions on family, specifically Stan.

putting the dog to sleep by parsnipit

Old Yeller is such a sad story, and also some of this made me think of Mice and Men, and ugh just Stan and Ford and beign willing to kill something you love - sometimes because you love it - and it's such a perfect analogy to them I could die.

none of those phds is an md, you dumb idiot by untrustworthyglitch

I always love a fic that acknowledges language barriers. It reminds me of a really old fic where I did something similar, but like, being away from Earth would lead to you forgetting a lot of things, including language.

Too Late, Too Soon, Not Enough by IncomingAlbatross

Ah, gotta love a good fic that shows the missing scene of Ford and Stan switching places. Who came up with the idea? Who needed to be convinced? What swears do they get to use while off camera? Stan I love you so much, and Ford I lov eyou for beig nso complicated.

Raising Stakes by MaryPSue

Mwah! A Classic if I've ever seen one! While I'm partial to werewolf!Stan, Vampire!Stan does have so much potential and MaryPSue puts it to use so well! A great look into what Gravity Falls was like back in taht time period, and I love when people utilize Susan in fics that take place pre-portal <3 Also, Carla! I miss you so much Carla <3 It's drama, it's action, it's everything!

Lost and Found by PengyChan

Tate & Fiddleford have a lot of untapped potential, and while I think going the angst route makes a lot of sense, this one is almost more fluff and catharsis, I guess? I love it, near and dear to me.

Off-Season by anistarrose

Time Travel fic, but not a timestuck au? More likely than you think! A cute oneshot with particular focus on Stan, Mabel, and Dipper. Just a fluffy little thing with a couple strangers helping Stan out through a difficult winter.

Persist and Dwell by fencesit

A bit of Soos's trust in Grunkle Stan, and a mystery that isn't so much mystery as it is simply just not explicitly said. One of the final scenes has still stuck with me, and this is defo a concept I'd love to see explored more.

flee from your ghosts (burn your house down) by thepolysyndetonaddictsupportgroup

While typically OTGW x Gravity Falls crossovers are, like, Pinescone, I'm partial to this version where Wirt is their dad. There'a few details that didn' sit well with me, but over all so incredible and well written. Some of the metaphors are just so evocative I could eat them. The descriptions are to die for. And I love the depiction of a dad struggling to get his kids to open up to him that feels like it's part dads struggle with teens and part those pines twins just won't tell the truth.

If you have any Gravity Falls fic recs, feel free to comment them!

[04thz]

Migraines - an Analogical oneshot

Logan's had issues with migraines for a long time, but never told the other sides about it. During a particularly bad one, Virgil comes to check on him.

Mild TW for mentioned vomit/throwing up - this is based on my own experience with migraines, and I basically always end up puking so Logan does now too lmao

Word count: 2444

Also! Just a quick FYI, I have an AO3 now! This one and the two NaruMitsu fics I made recently have been posted there. Will potentially move my older fics there as well, so in case anyone wants to read more of my writing without having to scroll through the wall of random that is my blog, I am 04thz on there as well. Anyways, enjoy the fluff lol

It was just one of those days. Hardly the first Logan had dealt with, but they never got any easier. He squeezed his eyes shut as another jolt of pain went through his skull and rolled over in bed to face the wall, where less of the light creeping in under the door could reach him. The movement caused a swell of nausea, and he forced himself to take a few deep breaths to suppress the urge to vomit, pulling the marine blue duvet up to further cover himself. 

God, he hated migraines. Tension headaches weren’t all that uncommon for the logical side, nor were caffeine headaches, but those were usually manageable with water and a couple painkillers, and if nothing else he could at least work through the more subdued pain. Whenever he felt a migraine coming on, that was it for the rest of the day, he would most likely not be getting anything else done until it was over. If he was lucky, the pain would be gone within a few hours and/or after a quick nap, but sometimes – like today – he’d wake up with a dull ache radiating out from one or both temples, which would steadily worsen over the course of the day, until it felt like one side of his head was being repeatedly wacked with a sledgehammer. And as if the throbbing pain weren’t bad enough, it was more often than not accompanied by crippling sensitivity to both light and sound, full-body chills, and such intense nausea it was nearly impossible to move without throwing up.  

Logan never told any of the other sides about his problem. Not only did he not want to appear weak, but also as long as he kept up with his work it was unlikely they’d think it odd that he'd stay couped up in his room for a day or two every once in a while; that was hardly unusual for him anyhow. Besides, it’s not like they could help with his predicament, actually there was all likelihood they’d make it worse. When he felt the aura of an oncoming migraine, he’d simply excuse himself from any social situation and bunker down in his room with a water bottle, painkillers, and a large bucket, in case he’d fail to quash the relentless waves of nausea. This time there hadn’t been any social situations to excuse himself from; he never even made it out of bed, much less out of the room. After trying and failing to go back to sleep to avoid the issue all together, he’d simply taken a pill and steeled himself for the dreadful day ahead.  

He’d managed to eat a couple bites of the breakfast he summoned for himself, and even done some reading before the gnawing ache became too intense to focus on anything else. But when it came time for lunch, he’d barely gotten the first mouthful down before it violently came back up, along with his breakfast. With throat burning and eyes running, Logan was forced to admit defeat, and he’d spent the next few hours subsisting on small sips of water, while trying to block out what little light seeped into the room and willing the day to just be over already.  

It was in this state that Virgil found him that afternoon. The alarm clock on Logan’s nightstand read 17:15 when he heard soft footsteps in the corridor outside. The three quick knocks on the door weren’t loud, but nonetheless agonizing, and Logan had to grit his teeth to suppress a pitiful whimper that threatened to escape his still sore throat.  

“L? You in there?” 

Logan sighed and tried his best to keep his voice steady. 

“Yes, Virge, I’m here. What is it?” 

The brief reply had sounded more abrasive than intended, and a minute passed in silence before a hesitant question came through. 

“Can I come in?” 

Logan took a deep breath and weighed for and against before turning back towards the door. 

“Yes, you may, just... please keep your voice down.” 

The door was slowly pushed open and Logan had to put his hands up to cover his eyes as the room was suddenly illuminated by the bright light spilling in from the hallway. Virgil stepped into the room, hands buried deeply in the pockets of his hoodie and shoulders pulled up; Logan’s blunt manner had clearly put him a bit on edge. Logan pressed his hands against his face. 

“Shut the door, please...” 

Virgil used his foot to push the door shut and Logan sighed with relief as the room was once again shrouded in blissful darkness. He lowered his hands and pulled the covers tighter around himself. Virgil leaned against the door, looking at him uncertainly as his eyes quickly adjusted to the dark. 

“Everything okay? Haven’t heard from you all day, and you don’t look so good.”, he said quietly. 

‘Not so good’ was rather an understatement. Logan had caught glances of himself in mirrors on better days and knew all too well he must look terrible; pale and shivering, hair a mess, eyes hazy, these kinds of days typically made him look like he was half-way to the grave. Not to mention his pajamas – consisting of indigo flannel bottoms and an old, faded Doctor Who t-shirt – were in desperate need of a wash. Reluctantly he reached for his glasses, sliding them on and looking at Virgil tiredly, though he could hardly make out more than a silhouette. 

“I have a migraine. Nothing to worry about, just... highly unpleasant.” 

The last two words came out as a sigh. Virgil tilted his head, taking a step towards the bed. 

“Oh, I see.” 

He slowly made his way over, pausing for a second and wrinkling his nose as he was hit by the rancid smell from the bucket on the floor. He looked at Logan, who wearily motioned for him to sit down on the bed. Virgil carefully sat down at the edge of the bed and started fidgeting with the drawstrings on his hoodie. They sat in silence for a while, until Virgil started finding it intolerable and softly spoke up. 

“Do you uh... need anything? Like an ice pack or something?” 

Logan went to decline the offer, mostly wanting to be left alone, but stopped himself. 

“That... would be great actually.” 

Virgil nodded, summoning an ice pack and a small towel, handing them to Logan. 

“Thank you, Virgil.” 

He gingerly placed his glasses back on the nightstand before laying the towel over his forehead and placing the ice pack on the side of his head that was throbbing the worst. He exhaled slowly, finally feeling some blessed relief as the chill of the ice somewhat dulled the burning pain. Virgil watched him, a small smile creeping onto his face. 

“Did that help?” 

Logan nodded ever so slightly, gently shutting his eyes underneath the towel. 

“Yes, thank you.” 

“Don’t mention it.” 

Virgil looked around, having no problem seeing in the very faint light from the door, though he’d know the room like the back of his hand even if he couldn’t see it. Out of all the other sides’ rooms, Logan’s was probably the one the anxious side had spent the most time in. If he’d had a nightmare or just couldn’t sleep, it wasn’t unusual for him to make his way over, and Logan was typically happy enough to let him in. For all he harped on about circadian rhythms and healthy sleep schedules, it was not uncommon to find the logical side sitting by his desk or reading late into the night. Sometimes, if he was feeling especially anxious, like after a bad nightmare, Virgil would ask Logan to read aloud to him from whatever book he was currently working his way through. Many nights he’d fallen asleep listening to various detective stories and scientific theories, curled up under the large, galaxy print blanket on Logan’s bed. Logan was a constant, a steady presence in Virgil’s life, even more so than the other sides, and seeing the normally - at least outwardly- unshakeable man in his current state was honestly a bit unnerving.  

“... Do you get migraines like this often?” Virgil asked softly, turning to look at Logan’s half-covered face. 

“Once or twice a month at most. They aren’t always this bad.” Logan replied tiredly. 

The anxious side chuckled quietly, mostly to himself. 

“Just bad luck today huh?” 

He could just about make out the slight movement of Logan furrowing his brows under the towel. 

“Wouldn’t call it ‘bad luck’ exactly. I have admittedly exceeded my own limitations by quite a large margin over the past couple weeks, it’s hardly surprising it would end like this.”   

Logan wasn’t sure if it was the pain, the drowsiness or just the fact that it happened to be Virgil sitting on the bed with him that made him inclined to share “unfavorable” information like that so freely, but he had to confess it was rather nice to not keep it all to himself for once. He was aware he was working on an unsustainable schedule, despite his best efforts to keep Thomas and his fellow sides from doing the same, and it felt – yes, felt – good to say so out loud. Like giving the thought some sort of external presence was a step in the right direction towards amending the issue. Virgil returned to fidgeting with his hoodie strings, watching Logan’s chest slowly rise and fall for what seemed like an eternally long minute before breaking the silence: 

“You haven’t been taking care of yourself?” he said, concern apparent in his voice.  

Logan sighed and moved the ice pack slightly to the left, before he let his hand fall to his side 

“I suppose not, no. There’s been so much work to do lately, everything else sort of got left by the wayside, so to speak.” 

“L, you can’t do that. You have needs too, you can’t just work and work and ignore them. That’s not healthy.” 

Virgil moved a bit closer to Logan, turning his body so his knee just barely touched Logan’s outer calf. The latter shifted slightly, somewhat unused to physical contact of any sort.  

“I know that, Virge. I am trying to find a better balance, but it’s easier said than done.” 

Virgil placed a hand on Logan’s knee, resting it lightly so that the other man may move away from his touch if he so pleased. Logan didn’t move his leg away, instead he slowly lifted a corner of the towel off his face, looking at Virgil questioningly, though the anxious side knew he probably couldn’t actually see him in the dark and without his glasses. Virgil bit his lip softly and ran the fingers of his free hand through his bangs.  

“I care about you, Logan. I know you hate the feelingsy stuff and all, but I really care about you, and I don’t want you pushing yourself like that. I’m worried about you, dude.” 

Logan drew in a breath, slightly taken aback. Virgil usually wasn’t much more forward about this sort of thing than himself. And that word; Worried. Virgil was worried about him. He noticed that Logan didn’t leave his room that day, he cared enough to come check on him and at least attempt to help with his splitting headache. None of the others typically even noticed he wasn’t present unless it happened to be for an extended period of time. As much as he hated to admit it, that hurt, and the fact that Virgil had sought him out and expressed concern for his wellbeing meant more to him than he knew how to properly verbalize.  

“Thank you, Virgil. I... appreciate that.” was all he could muster up through suddenly knotted vocal cords. 

Virgil gently rubbed Logan’s knee. There was, as always, an implicit understanding between them. Even if Logan didn’t know how to say it, Virgil understood that his concern was important to him. 

“I mean it. Just... I’m here for you, okay? You can always talk to me if something’s going on.” 

He was half expecting the conversation to be over at that point, and was just about to leave Logan alone to sleep off his headache, when the logical side spoke up again: 

“Virge? Could you maybe... read to me?” 

Virgil stopped in the middle of getting up, sinking back down on the mattress. Logan shifted the towel back over his eyes and continued: 

“I was reading Murder on the Orient Express earlier, but I didn’t get past the first few chapters before my migraine got the better of me.” 

Virgil smirked playfully. 

“Again? Don’t you have it memorized by now?” 

Logan scoffed, rolling his eyes despite the agony it caused. 

“I am too tired for musical references right now.” 

“Sorry, couldn’t resist.” 

Virgil snickered and reached for the book on the nightstand.  

“Can I lie down?” 

Logan nodded ever so slightly, and Virgil carefully nestled himself in between him and the wall, leafing through the book until he came across the ornate bookmark Roman had gotten for Logan’s appreciation day a few years previous. He smiled; half convinced Logan would have gotten rid of it by now. He cleared his throat and began reading. Though he wasn’t as big a fan as Logan, Virgil did enjoy Agatha Christie’s writing, having heard both Murder on the Orient Express and a couple of her other books read out multiple times, and he did find some pleasure in being able to return the favor after being read to restful sleep so many times. A few chapters in, he glanced over at Logan and noticed that he’d drifted off. He put the bookmark in place and carefully returned the book to its spot on the nightstand before removing the thawing ice pack and wrapping it up in the towel. Propping himself up on his elbow, Virgil watched his companion’s relaxed face with an adoring smile, and soon found himself dozing off to the slow, almost hypnotic rhythm of his breathing.  

When Logan woke up in the morning, finally free of the excruciating migraine, and found Virgil sleeping with his hand resting on Logan’s chest, he couldn’t help but smile to himself. Careful not to wake the other man, he got out of bed and put on his glasses. Before leaving for a much-needed shower, he made sure to tuck Virgil in properly and – much to his own surprise – gently stroked his cheek with the back of his hand. Virgil smiled contently in his sleep, and Logan quietly left the room with a warm, pleasant feeling in his chest.  

[too-much-yike]

oh they’re so

i need them to smooch rn

glad to have another analogical artist help feed this poor community 🫡

Hey did I ever tell yall I make art too not just oneshots haha yeah

Yeah im so cool guys yeah

[sheepwavehdg]

Implantation is very analogous to marriage to the affini. what if they were literally combined into a single ceremony? A oneshot, written in second person about "your" wedding to an affini surgeon.

[unreadpoppy]

Fic recs

In light of some stuff I saw, I decided to make this post to briefly talk about some fics I really like and recommend them. All are BG3 related and most are Raphael. Also, there's some authors that write a lot of great fics, I'll try to keep one fic per author or else we'll be here forever (but definetly go check everyone and their other works out!)

...

Cheerful Oblivion by @sassyandsodone - Read the tags before reading this but Love me dark stuff, the writing is amazing (legitimetly gasped at a few points) and the mix of Tav not remembering what happened and the dehumanization aspects were the cherry on top. It

I Don't Think About You Anymore (But I don't think about you any less) by @sky-kiss - This fic put me in a lot of different feels, ESPECIALLY SAD (which i do like, love when stuff makes me feel) and the ending was unexpected to me but it made it all worth it. Shed a tear or two

Devil's Debauchery by ChildofYugotth - One of the first fics I read on the Raphael tag, the first chapter lives in my mind rent free for many, many days, and I really like how the three chapters kinda go like regular raphael, haarlep and then ascended fiend, like a progression. Also read the tags.

Fallen in Flame by @cambion-companion - Love the dynamic between the two characters and how their relationship developed and the conflicting feeling that Tav has of like, being an aasimar and dealing with a devil

The Devil that knows you by @timesthatneverwere - Cat!Tav was not something I knew I needed before reading this. The relationship between Tav, Raphael and even Haarlep in this one is VERY interesting to me (and has lowkey inspired me some times) and I love seeing Raphael keeping secrets and manipulating people (also i have to mention, this fic gave us the mephisto fuck chamber)

Let the dream begin by DiscordsMuse - POTO inspired, this has hit me in the feels with relating to Morrigans struggles of feeling rejected, and honestly, Raphael as the Phantom was amazing.

finirà bene by @inaconstantstateofchange - A Halsin/Astarion/Tav one for a change, this is such an interesting and heartbreaking concept, but there's also this sense of mystery that I think is really well done. Also, beware the ANGST

Her soul will burn all the way down by khapikat222 - Read the tags, another dark fic that I loved, and this one had this manipulation and fucking with someone's fears that I really liked. Also, props to the author for making the lullaby fit, it was a great cherry on top.

Baldur's gate 3 infernal oneshots by @hrefna-the-raven - chapters 1-4 are a little story between Raphael and Tav that I really liked. The dynamic of raphael being more protective and the cat and mouse analogies were really fun!

The Intimacy of Pain by @bearhugsandshrugs - This is an Abdirak/Tav fic which I found so delightfully good, like the descriptions of how Tav was feeling and the mix of pleasure and pain were really well done

The Devil's Hour by @adarlingwrites - Also one of the first fics in the tag that I read, and what made me like OC x Canon, love the complicated but also interesting to read relationship between Fortune and Raphael, and another aspect that I really liked was Fortune's relationship with art and her parents being brought up like (like idk why but those two things really stuck with me)

Sweetening the Deal by @adevilyoudo - I have to admit that I'm a bit behind on some chapters BUT it's a great work, love seeing this side of Raphael of trying to convince Tav to take this deal (and in a way, almost confusing her even more) and I loved to see the side of the Emperor constantly being in Tav's head, I think it really conveyed well how that feels like when playing the game

The Devil You Share a Room with by @djmorn - Really fun concept and the shennanigans between the two in the beggining, when Tav is reluctant to share a room with Raphael, was a delight to read and really really fun.

Damaged by @dark-and-kawaii - This is a Rolan/Tav one, it's dark but it also tugged at my heart in a sad way, with Rolan feeling all these things and doing what he does because of the abuse he suffered and Tav also trying to understand that. Like aaaa it just, it's some good stuff this fic

Who's the Daddy by Follyfall - This fic is the definition of fun and a good time, I legitimetly laughed a lot while reading it. The writing is fun, the concept is hilarious and the relationship between Raphael, Tav, Haarlep, the baby and Wyll is really really fun.

...

Also, keep in mind that there's A LOT of amazing writers in the bg3 community and i haven't read every single written work in the tags ever, so feel free to also reblog and add reccomendations of your own, or make your own post!