there are many many many good fics in this fandom that are currently updating(!!) that I would like to give shoutouts to so I am making a rec list of actively updating(!!) fics for everyone to go read and comment and encourage these authors. letâs go
Wayfinding by avouchichi (last update: June 16, 2026)
Historical AU. Arthur Kirkland is a peasant who works for a psychopath and lives next door to the most irksome neighbors imaginable: Francis, who insists on inserting himself into everyone's life, and the Beilschmidts, who seem to scrape by on volume, grit, and alcohol. Meanwhile, Alfred Jones is an up-and-coming member of the nobility, prepared to take on the world. But when Alfred's lineage is called into question, Arthur suddenly finds himself the guardian of an unknown teenage half-brother...and realizes perhaps this was the part of him that's been missing, all along.
A rose by any other name by BunnySoap (last update: June 10, 2026)
Prince Matthew is arranged to marry the elderly Czar of Russia. Alfred takes his place.
American Pie by TwilightCyclone (last update: April 5, 2026)
Amelia Jones is running a chess club after mysteriously withdrawing from the competitive chess scene seven years ago. Ivan Braginsky is a Russian immigrant who is intimately familiar with the Soviet Chess Machine that makes a chess club impossible to avoid.
The Botanist's Rose by perile (last update: June 14, 2026)
Arthur Kirkland is a botanist. A botanist with a peculiar rose bush. A peculiar rose bush with a curious bloom that one day bears something so unexplainable that Arthur thinks he must have finally, truthfully gone mad.
au vainqueur by 316_frogs (last update: June 17, 2026)
The Seven Years War ends differently. Instead of Matthew becoming British, Alfred becomes French. The learning curve for reality is steep.
Cold Blooded Country by LuciaHarkness12 (last update: May 19, 2026)
Lizard creatures have seized control of some of the worldâs most powerful billionaires, and their plans for domination are already in motion. It's up to college student Alfred Kirkland, and biologist Ivan Braginsky, to rely on one another to stop their plans and make sure the country doesn't end up in total monster apocalypse.
Ribot's Law by Anonymous (last update: April 14, 2026)
Itâs up to Matthew to make sure no one at the 1956 Winter Olympics finds out Alfred just gave himself retrograde amnesia with his latest stunt, and somehow hide the fact Alfred thinks and acts like itâs the year 1790. Above all else, Matthew has to make sure Americaâs current rival, the USSR, doesnât uncover this fact.
I feel very very strongly that the way to get more long fics in fandom is to read long fics as they are updating and encourage the authors as they go and these are all fics that I am subbed to :) you guys have all been very kind to me so if you are looking for something new to read and see one on here you havenât yet, please go spread that kindness to these people <333 and feel free to reblog with your own recs for active fics if I missed one of your faves
and also, donât be afraid to comment on older completed fics, or fics that seem abandoned. itâs very likely that the author will still see it and it will make them very happy
RusAme fic <3 TW: Codependency, mentions of slight self harm
Hope you enjoy!
Ivan had watched the boy from the frozen edges of awareness long before the ink on any declaration had time to dry.
Alfred was young, dangerously so for a fully formed nation, just barely stepping into the world on legs still shaky from war. Yet there was something magnetic about the way he charged into his first international diplomatic meeting, cheeks flushed pink with excitement, blue eyes blazing like the summer sky over his vast plains.
His smile was wide, determined, almost blinding. He spoke too loudly, gestured too boldly, and pushed his ideas with the raw, unfiltered enthusiasm of someone who still believed the world could be made better if only people listened. No one took him seriously.
England scoffed, face red with embarrassment. Spain offered a patronizing smile. Even France, his closest ally at the time, tilted his head with fond exasperation.
"Mon petit, you are adorable when you dream, but the world is not a tavern brawl you can win with loud words and good intentions."
After the formal talks dissolved into polite murmurs and clinking glasses, Alfred refused to retreat. He bounced from delegate to delegate, grin never quite fading, eagerly suggesting they continue negotiations over simple food somewhere outside the stuffy halls.
Rejections landed like soft slaps.
France waved him off, irritation leaking through his tone. "Perhaps another time. I have... other engagements."
England didn't even glance up. "Grow up first, boy."
The others dismissed him with polite smiles that never reached their eyes.
Ivan watched from the edges of the room, arms crossed, a faint smile playing on his lips. The poor fool. So painfully, wonderfully human in all the best and worst ways: loud, hopeful, and desperate to belong.
It was entertaining. And strangely beautiful.
Something dark and sweet uncoiled in his chest as he watched the light in those blue eyes dim, shoulders slumping just a fraction at each rejection.
When Alfred stood alone, Ivan finally stepped forward.
"You look like you could use some company, little one," he said, voice low and calm, carrying the faint accent of endless winters.
Alfred's face lit up again, that smile returning with such force it could have outshined the sun. Warmth radiated from him, bright and deadly. Ivan felt it like a spark against dry tinder. He couldn't wait to crush him. Couldn't wait to watch that radiant smile shatter into a million broken pieces beneath his hands.
But Alfred grew stronger faster than Ivan had anticipated.
Maybe it was youth. Maybe it was that ferocious need to prove he belonged among the ancient. Whatever the reason, every time their paths crossed, at conferences, border talks, or chance encounters, Alfred would spot him from across the room and beam that devastating grin.
"Ivan! Hey, big guy! Come over here!" he'd call, waving enthusiastically before launching into an endless stream of conversation about his railroads, his inventions, his dreams of freedom and opportunity for everyone.
Ivan would nod, half listening, while his mind wandered darker paths. He imagined those calloused, tanned hands pinned beneath his own, how it would feel splitting under his grip as he broke bones one by one. Picturing the way those bright blue eyes would fill with tears, that plump lower lip bitten bloody and trembling as Alfred begged for mercy he would never give.
Then Alfred would say something particularly earnest, âDon't you think the world could be better if we all just gave everyone a fair shot?"
"Da," Ivan would murmur, forcing his focus. "Your dreams are... interesting. Very American."
He almost smiled, genuinely, when news of the Civil War reached the frozen heart of his empire. Grief would suit the boy, tearing the young nation apart from the inside. It would soften those sharp edges, make him smaller, more breakable. Ivan arrived at their next quiet meeting with unusual anticipation, scarf wrapped high, snow still clinging to his boots.
Alfred looked lost.
Shoulders hitched, eyes distant and hollow, the usual boundless energy replaced by a quiet, trembling fragility that made him look unbearably human. When Alfred spotted him, he didn't wave or shout. He simply crossed the space between them and all but collapsed into Ivan's chest, arms wrapping around him in a crushing embrace. His skin was fever-warm, seeping through Ivan's thick coat like sunlight through frost.
"I thought winning meant we'd all just... get along. Why does it hurt so much?"
Ivan stood frozen for a long moment. Then, almost against his will, one large hand rose to rest on the back of Alfred's head, fingers threading gently through soft hair.
"Shh, little sunflower. Breathe. The pain passes. Even for ones like us."
Alfred clung tighter, face buried against Ivan's shoulder, and for the first time, Ivan felt something dangerously close to tenderness crack through the ice.
"Don't let go yet, okay? Just... stay."
After the second great war, everything shifted.
Alfred had seized the power he had lusted after for decades. He moved through the halls of victory with a new confidence: eyes still soft at their core, but now hardened by unimaginable loss and the weight of leadership.
He shook shake hands and signed treaties, that once bright smile turning cold and calculating when anger surfaced. There was a ruthlessness in the way Alfred climbed, fingers metaphorically crossed behind his back, ready to crush obstacles on his path to the top.
Ivan watched the transformation with an ache he refused to name. He found himself missing the innocent boy who had looked up at him with wide eyed hope and wonder, who had dared speak of a world where everyone could live and love in harmony. Stupid, impossible dreams. But they had been his dreams, voiced so boldly no one else had dared.
"You've changed," Ivan said quietly one evening during postwar talks, when they found themselves alone in a dimly lit corridor. "That boy... where did he go?"
Alfred glanced at him, smile sharp. "Had to grow up sometime, Ivan. World doesn't wait for dreamers, does it? Sometimes you take what you want. Sometimes you make sure no one can take it from you. You of all people should understand that."
Ivan said nothing. But that night, he lay awake missing the warmth that used to burn without calculation.
The Cold War swallowed them soon after.
They saw each other constantly now, two superpowers circling like wolves. They made each other bleed in proxy wars and tense standoffs. They laughed through gritted teeth as they pinned one another against brick walls, cold ground, knives pressed to throats, guns to heads, blood trickling warm between them.
âYou think your bombs scare me, comrade?" Ivan would snap, pinning Alfred down, his scarf loose around his neck. "I have buried empires older than your little republic."
Alfred would grin up at him, blood on his teeth, eyes alight with something feral and bright. âBig talk from the guy who's always one step behind. Come on, Ivan, admit it. You need me to keep things interesting. Without me, you'd just sit in the snow feeling sorry for yourself."
Yet neither ever truly aimed to kill. Something always stopped them. A shared understanding of the darkness that lived inside both of them, a darkness neither would ever run from.
That old, stubborn humanity flickered back into Alfred's eyes during the space race.
When Sputnik slipped across the night sky above American soil in 1957, Ivan made sure to be there. He stood beside Alfred on a quiet rooftop, breath fogging in the cold night air, ready to brag.
"Beautiful, isn't it?" Ivan said smugly. "My people reached the stars first. How does it feel, little hero, to watch your 'land of the free' playing catch up?"
Alfred didn't snap back. He only tilted his head, breath catching in quiet awe as the tiny blinking light crossed the darkness.
"It's... incredible. Really. Even if it's yours." He laughed softly, almost breathless. "We'll get there too. But damn... look at it. We're actually touching the sky."
Ivan's gaze never left Alfred's face, tracing the wonder written there like new starlight.
"Da," he murmured, softer than intended. "It is incredible."
The feelings inside Ivan festered and grew like frostbite he couldn't amputate. He clawed at his own chest in the privacy of his home some nights, desperate to tear his heart out if it would stop aching.
But nothing changed.
Not when a smile like endless summer kept haunting him. Not when eyes as warm as open skies continued to pull him back from the edge.
One bitter night, years into the endless tension, Ivan found Alfred just outside his border.
The younger nation sat on the frozen ground, back against a barren tree, face a devastating mix of regret, exhaustion, and a brokenness that should never have touched something made of so much light. A cigarette burned between his fingers, embers eating into his skin without him seeming to notice. Fresh, angry marks marred his wrists, red and raw.
Alfred looked up slowly. His voice came out rough, cracked at the edges.
"Was it even worth it, Ivan? Becoming this cruel, twisted version of myself just to grab power... only to lose everything I used to stand for? Who the hell am I anymore?" His eyes shimmered, but he refused to let tears fall. "Why can't I look in the mirror without hating the guy staring back? All those dreams, they're gone. And I helped kill them."
Ivan stood silent for a long moment, snow drifting around them. Then he reached into his coat, pulled out his lighter, and passed it over without a word. Alfred took it with trembling fingers, lit another cigarette, and they sat together in the freezing dark until the horizon began to lighten.
"Light another," Ivan said quietly. "Sometimes the burn is the only thing that feels real."
Decades of push and pull later, Alfred was beneath him.
Warm skin pressed against unrelenting ice, nothing between them but sweat and trembling breath. Ivan's hands were locked tight around that throat, tears he refused to name dripping onto Alfred's face as he demanded, voice shattered and furious:
"Why do you keep taunting me? Why do you drag me back into this burning light that feels more like hell than heaven ever could? Why won't you just let go?"
His grip tightened, thumbs pressing against the frantic pulse beneath his palms. Alfred's hands rose, not to push him away, but to gently grasp Ivan's wrists, holding on as if Ivan were the only steady thing left in the world. His face wore that soft, impossible look again. The one that should never, ever be directed at a monster like Ivan.
"It's funny," Alfred rasped, voice strained but steady, blue eyes never leaving Ivan's. "You call yourself smart... but you still haven't realized it. I've always been chasing you. Two steps behind, maybe... stumbling through the dark. But now I'm finally here. In the darkness with you. And for once, it doesn't kill me. It comforts me."
His fingers tightened around Ivan's wrists.
"You're the only thing that makes sense anymore. The only one who won't look away from what I've become. I want to keep you. All of you, even the parts that scare you."
Ivan's hands trembled violently. He realized with a sick jolt that Alfred wasn't going to fight him off. He was going to let him do it. Let him squeeze until the life went out.
A desperate, broken sound tore from Ivan's throat, before his strength collapsed. He fell forward, burying his face against the curve of Alfred's neck, hands sliding from throat to shoulders as he clutched him like a drowning man. Strong, warm arms immediately wrapped around him, pulling him impossibly closer. Alfred held him tight, one hand stroking slowly through Ivan's silver hair, the other rubbing soothing circles along his back.
He didn't whisper that it would be okay. It wasn't. It probably never would be.
But in the quiet aftermath, with Alfred's heartbeat steady beneath his ear and the distant sound of wind howling outside, Ivan felt something dangerously close to peace settle over the both of them.
Maybe that fractured, painful understanding was enough.
Cabin Life | Past Life Cabincore (implies Etho x Bdubbs and Scott x Scar)
Summary: The cabin boys live cabin lives and unwind after a long day of living the cabin dream.
Crunchy footsteps chimed in asynchrony, accompanied by their timber and melodic voices. The Cabin Boys walked single file through the snow covered trails after a long day of trying to find dry wood and some game to fill their stomachs. The trip was one of many that they embarked on. Scott had surveyed for the best deer population. Etho set up snares for smaller game. Bdubbs often departed on his own to scavenge the finest wood for the expansion of their cabin, and what dry kindling they could find for fire. Scar, the sniper of the group, was responsible for shooting to kill.
Scar and Scott dragged a young buck that Scar had pierced with his bow. Bdubbs carried a rack of logs and dry kindling on his back. In Ethoâs bag, he stored rabbits, opossums and small fox kit carcasses. Bdubbs harvested a hearty conversation as they trekked to keep their moods up. The boys arrived to a small hunting outpost they set up, where they kept some spare bows and arrows, swords and a dog kennel. There was a shed adjacent to the kennel where Etho had built a dogsled for lugging the game back to the cabin to be smoked.
âIâm gonna grab my horse, Iâll follow next to the dogs,â Bdubbs said.
Meanwhile, Etho prepared the sled, while Scott and Scar fastened the game to the back.
The sun sunk into the horizon, a bright incandescent yolk drooping down behind the mountains, beams of light speckled the ground through the maple and pine branches. As the sun peeked over the sky, it left a radiant plum and scarlet shadow.
Scar and Scott sat next to each other on the deck of the sled while Etho held the reins.
âAlright guys, hold on tight,â Etho said.
Scott and Scar held tightly onto the rail as they jerked forward, the dogs treading through the snow. The clopping of horse hooves against crunchy snow crescendoed from behind them. As they gained momentum, the ride was smoother, less jostling and bumps.
Scar dozed off on Scottâs shoulder, his face resting against the flannel that poked from under Scottâs pullover. Scott welcomed the body heat, leaning his head back on Scarâs head. Scott inhaled his scent, taking in the traces of his lemongrass shampoo with a smell of woodsmoke and snow that was permanently present in his scalp.
It was nice having Etho take them back to the cabin after hauling the hundred and something pound buck to the outpost. The ride wasâ for the most partâ pleasantly silent, save for the occasional bickering and laughter.
âYou up, Scott?â Etho nudged him with his boot. He stifled a laugh.âYou look a little comfy there.â
âIâm doing great, I call this sharing body heat,â Scott cheekily replied, nestling his cerulean locks into Scarâs.
âItâs called cuddling!â Bdubbs deadpanned. âI call it like I see it!â
âYouâre an expert on that, huh, Bdubbs?â Scott said, stifling a smile.
âWhatâs that supposed to mean?!â He shouted. Etho and Scott bursted into laughter. The cabin came into view, appearing from the lush tress that surrounded it.
âAh, weâre home!â Etho interjected.
âAlright, youâve have your nap, time to rise and shine.â Scott shook Scarâs shoulder.
Scar groaned, bringing his hands up to his face and pressed his hands to his eyes. He stretched and let out a loud yawn. âScott!â He said delightfully, as if he didnât notice him there. âThat was a quick ride, huh?â
âYep, now we have to roast this big guy before the sun sets.â Scott slapped his palm on the flank of the buck.
Bdubbs dismounted his horse and boarded it in the stable where the dogs slept. âThat hot tub has my name written all over it!â He yelled, grabbing his achy back. âIâm sick of working!â
âGo help Scott with the game,â Etho suggested. âScar can focus on warming up the hot tub.â
âHey wait!â Bdubbs said. âDo you see that?â He grumbled, clenching his fists.
âSee what?â Etho replied, glancing over the terrain.
âThose freaking emos keep crossing on our lands!â Bdubbs shouts, gesturing to some stones lines across the horizon.
âItâs hard to imagine the Rejects as the bad guys when you were terrorizing wolves like an hour ago!â Etho replied, adding in a finger pointing at his flint and steel. âAnd donât let Smokey the bear catch you with that!â Etho reaches over Scarâs shoulder to yank the lighter from Bdubbsâ hand.
âHey, hey, thatâs not very cabin core, guys,â Scar scolded.
Bdubbs mischievously grins as he swoops his hand away at the right moment. âBeing emo is an unforgivable crime.â
âI concur.â Scott said. âNow Etho, youâre on fire duty, we need a smoking pit a fire to roast some of the game you caught. Weâre low on lighter fluid so try not to use any!â
âBecause we all know Bdubbs canât be trusted with fire duty,â Etho muttered.
âWhat was that!?â
âBdubbs, youâre gonna help me prepare the game, Scar is on hot tub duty.â
âSounds like a solid plan,â Scar said.
âIâm really proud of us, guys,â Scott said, âwe got some great firewood, and this deer should last us a while.â ïżŒ
âYeah, we make a good team,â Bdubbs said.
The cabin boys toiled until sunset, when the game was roasted, and the buck they caught was buried to smoke overnight. Scar turned the heat up, officially opening the hot tub for the night. It bubbled with jets he installed himself, steam lifted off the surface of the water like their breath in the cold. Condensation blurred the windows making it pleasantly humid in comparison to the cold and dry conditions outdoors.
As the fire under the pool simmered the water, the boys sat down to eat over a lingering campfire just outside the pool room. Their cheeks were rosy and spirits euphoric with the endorphins of effort spreading like a contagion among them. Woodsmoke had been etched into their clothes, no matter how much they washed them, and this was why.
It made its way into all of their food, their clothes, itâs what they associate with peace and serenity. They heard it crackle under the surface of the hot tub and warming their cheeks as they slept around a dwindling hearth before dozing off for the night. Woodsmoke reminded them of each other.
Dinner had been devoured quickly, the rabbits Etho caught replenishing their worn bones and flesh.
âHard work has never failed us, has it?â Etho said longingly at his dinner. He picked it apart slowly, taking note of the different ingredients Scott had added.
Scar dug his teeth into the flesh, and sighed. Rabbit is characteristically protein dense, lacking much fat to give it flavor, but Scott clearly had supplemented this deficiency with a thick layer of butter and herbs. âIf this is what the rabbit tastes like, I canât imagine how the deer will be,â he said with a full mouth.
âWow, Scott, that was amazing.â Bdubbs had practically swallowed his portion whole. He leaned against a long, patting his stomach.
âThank you, thank you,â Scott said, âwe couldnât have done it without Ethoâs traps or Scarâs marksmanship.â
âOh stopâŠâ Etho blushed.
âOkay,â Scar said, âwhoâs ready for some hot tub!â
The boys cheered, eager to get the heavy winter gear off their backs. Save for Etho, of course. He may strip a jacket off, down to another undershirt, but that was the extent of his exposure. The question of why Etho preferred to bathe fully clothed was brought up, but all Etho gave was âI just like it.â The cabin boys never pressured Etho about it further.
They gathered in the steamy chamber, a beautiful view of the remaining sunset over the lake. Scar sat across from Scott and Etho sat across Bdubbs. Bubbles massaged the Cabin Crewâs sore muscles as they exchanged quippy recaps of the past day.
The hot water felt especially good on Scar, whose body was covered in, well, scars. Towards the end of the day, said blemishes became itchy or sore, something chronic that bothered him moderately but he learned to live with.
âThis hot tub is absolutely delightful, Scar,â Scott sighed as he sunk chin deep into the hot tub.
Bdubbs dunked his entire head under, coming up with slicked back hair. âOh yeah, this is what makes it all worth it, baby.â He sighed, leaning back.
As comfortable as ever, Etho still looked like heâd locked eyes with Medusa. He assured the cabin boys, he was certainly very pleased with the water. âIâm curious how you got these jets to work. Iâm impressed.â
Scar wasnât good at receiving compliments, especially from someone he admired as much as Scott. âThank you, that means lot, guys.â
âThis has been the best season by far,â Scott said, followed by a hum of agreements. Maybe they would all forget about the life game, and in the end when everyone is gone, they would remain soaking in the hot tub after a hearty smoked buck to eat. Scar smiled, accompanied by his cabin mates, indulging in the fruits of their labor, the sunflower fields seemed astronomically out of reach.
Your gravity falls fanfics are so good!! :0 if youâre still taking requests could I request a one shot where Stanâs s/o is with him during the fight between him and ford and they get sucked into the portal instead of ford? I love your angst so much hehehe
You had originally came with Stanley as support for when he confronts Ford after spending a long period of his life with no contact, no nothing to reassure his twin that he was fine and not dead in a ditch somewhere.
âThe nerve of him, living it up here and not so much as a word to his one brother, his twin no less.â Stan muttered, his gip tightened on your hand as you both walked up to the lonely shack amidst the snowy forest, but there was something else there besides anger it was nervousness or perhaps worry that his brother didnât contact him for one reason or another.
âAnd hereâs your chance to make yourself heard,â you said as you squeezed his hand, hoping to comfort Stan during this difficult moment for him, âyouâve spent enough time to mull over what it is that you want to tell him, now is the time to let him know how much this has affected you and he will have to listen regardless.â
However youâve came to realise that there was a lot more going on that Ford claims that you and Stanley werenât aware of as his eyes shifted everywhere out of paranoia. You were still blinking your eyes after getting abruptly blinded by Ford upon first meeting, something about possession? You were certain this wasnât how you thought youâd be meeting Stanâs twin -not in the slightest- but it was clear to you that Ford was afraid of something, what it was he wouldnât tell only saying that he needed Stan to hide his journals, scatter them as far from each other which did nothing but annoy Stan.
You could see the clench in his jaw and his fists and were about to reach out and ground him but before you could blink, Stan and Ford were tussling over the journal across the lab as the portal thrummed with power, almost as if entertained by the fight between twins and you were left unable to do anything but watch.
âIs that all you brought me here for! To help you hide your journals?! I bet I didnât cross your mind not even once!â Stanley shouted as he kept the journal close to his chest with his lighter as he managed to keep Ford where he wanted him.
âYou donât understand Stanley! This is dangerous things you are holding in your hands!â Ford replied, eyes firmly locked onto the journal and the flickering flame of his brotherâs lighter that got too close to the journalâs pages for his liking. âThink about the potential threats-â
âFuck that! I want my brother back!â Stanley cuts his brother off as he grew frustrated at how his brother was - once again- not listening to him or what he had to say. âYou couldâve called upon me any time! But you only call upon me when you want someone else to do your dirty work for you! What about what I want! My life is in ruins because of you!â Ford lunged towards Stan and managed to knock the lighter out of his hand, grasping at the bottom half of the journal while Stanley tightened his grip on the upper half of the journal.
âYou ruined your own life and youâll ruin y/nâs with the way that you are going!â Ford retorts in a strained voice as he and Stanley tugged the journal in two different ways, just for Stanley to loose his grip, fall backwards and hurt himself on a hot surface that caused him to scream in pain. âStanley!â You and Ford yelled as you both went to rush to Stanâs aid, hoping he wasnât too hurt, only for him to Punch Ford in the face and as Ford stumbled backwards he bumped into you. which then caused you to fall back into a lever of sorts; before soon finding yourself beginning to float and be drawn towards the portal with nothing to grab onto to prevent it from happening.
Freaking out you yelled, âSTANLEY! HELP ME!â You screamed as you found yourself getting closer and closer to the entrance of the portal, helplessly flailing out of pure panic and need to get away from it, not realising that your attempts to get away were fruitless. Your screams had dragged Ford and Stan from their fight as they could only watch in horror as half of your body was already in the portal.
âY/n! Baby! HOLD ON! JUST HOLD ON BABY IM COMING!â Stanley yelled back as he frantically looked for anything he could use to rope you back to the ground, but grew frustrated when he couldnât find not a single piece of rope or metal rod lying about, the lab was clean of any and all obstruction. âFORD HELP ME!â He cried as he looked back at his twin, who was frantically looking himself for anything to get you away from the portal, just to face the same problem that frustrated Stanley. âIâm trying!â He shouted over his shoulder as his guilt for bringing both you and Stan here began to weigh down on him heavily.
âWell youâre not looking hard enough!â Stanley barked as the fear of losing you was slowly crushing his chest, making it harder for him to breath as his mind raced with the thought of having to live a life without you, his anchor, his best friend and his beloved partner. He hated it, he didnât want to envision it but here he was living the nightmare he swore would never come true, feeling helpless and useless as he was forced to hear your frightened sounds and not be able to do anything about it.
He didnât even get to say the words âI love youâ yet as he was scared that youâd find someone better then him before he even mustered up the courage, but you never did. You stayed by his side, even if it mean moving from state to state almost every week because of him and Stanley knew he didnât deserve you, but that didnât necessarily mean he wanted to loose you from his life either.
Stan and Ford tired their hardest but it wasnât enough as by the time they looked back at you, your outstretched hand was the last thing the pair saw as the portal closed, leaving them to stare at the portal in denial of their failure to rescue you. âBaby?â Sanely said as he stepped forward hesitantly. âBABY! THIS ISNT FUNNY! COME OUT PLEASE!â He cried louder now when the realisation began to set for him as he ran towards the lever, pulling it and pushing it in desperation of re-opening the portal in hopes of seeing you rush out and right into his arms; where he would keep you for as long as youâd allow him to.
Only for neither of those things to happen, the portal remained shut and you remained lost to whatever was on the opposite side, scared, confused and alone.
âWHY ISNT IT WORKING!â Stan screamed as he pushed and pulled, pushed and pulled the lever so much that Ford had to physically drag him away from it before he broke it, thus making more work for them in getting you back. âStop Stanley, itâs not working!â Ford said as he managed to stand between his twin and the lever, âthe portal is out of power, it wonât open up unless we get the necessary materials to open it again.â
âThen what are we doing! Letâs go get it!â Stanley said as he was about to leave the lab but was stoped by Fordâs hand on his arm, which he shrugged off violently. âItâs not so easily obtained Stanley,â Ford said as he let his hand drop to his side as Stanley glared at him, âwe need money to get the parts needed to power the portal up. I only had enough to open it once and that took a lot of time, even with Fiddlefordâs help, and without him or the necessary materialsâŠâ Ford trailed off which didnât help Stanleyâs mood as he grew angrier at his brotherâs insinuation.
âTheyâre trapped on the other side forever?!â He yelled. âBullshit! I donât believe that! I want them back now!â Stanley then grabs Ford by the collar and brings him so that they were eye to eye. âGive them back or I swear to fucking god Stanford-â
âI canât bring them back without the necessary materials Stanley I told you.â Ford reaffirmed as he started at his heartbroken twin as the first signs of tears left his eyes, Ford felt Stanâs grip loosened on him until they went completely slack at his side as he fell to his knees, chin dropping to his chest as he silently wept. âBring them back.â Stanley chanted softly, âbeing them back to me, I canât loose them. You donât understand. Theyâre everything to me and now Iâm nothing without them.â Stanley whispered to the air as if someone with the power to grant his wish will hear him, but instead elected to ignore him and his pleads.
Ford, heartbroken at seeing how distraught and lifeless his brother had became, slowly knelt in front of him in silence, not knowing how to comfort him correctly as he felt himself to blame for your disappearance into the portal. He had taken away the one person who cared for Stanley in the times where his family couldnât be bothered, someone who loved him unconditionally regardless of what he did and Ford had taken you away from him seemingly forever, so he wouldnât be surprised if Stanley would hold a grudge against him for it.
However one thing was for certain, heâd help his brother get you back however he could, no matter how long it would take them, even if it took them thirty years to do so; it was a risk that Ford originally wasnât willing to take but if it meant getting you back to Stanley then heâd do anything to see his brother happy again.
Iâve been playing stardew valley with mods recently and I absolutely love it. Iâm in love with stardew valley expanded. Only issue is the upcoming 1.6 update I have no idea how this will affect my some 30 mods I have installed đ.
DONT BE AFRAID TO COMMENT ON OLD FICS DONT BE AFRAID TO COMMENT ON FICS IN A FANDOM THE AUTHOR MAY NO LONGER BE ACTIVE IN. IF THE STORY IS STILL UP LET THEM KNOW YOUR THOUGHTS IT MIGHT JUST BE THE REMINDER THAT MAKES THEIR DAY.
SINCERELY SOMEONE WHO JUST GOT A REPLY THAT MADE ME WANNA MAKE THIS POST
summaryđ€. you and jean decide to spend the holidays with his mother this year.
triggersâ. fluff, fluff, &&& more fluff hehe
mika's noteđ . me and my fellow mutual @jeanboyjean couldnât help but discuss and laugh about how embarrassed jean would be when his mom showed up in that one ep in aot!
minors do not interact plz and thank you!!
It was a crisp winter morning, and Jean could feel the butterflies in his stomach fluttering with nervous anticipation. You and him were preparing to spend the holidays at Jeanâs mothers house. While the idea of a festive family gathering excited you, Jean couldnât shake the apprehension that his mother, with her eccentricities might make the day more memorable than he had anticipated.
As you both bustled around the apartment, preparing for the trip, Jean stole a moment to share his concerns with you. Leaning against kitchen counter, he hesitated before finally speaking up,
âY/n,â Jean began, his voice tinged with a hint of anxiety, âI just want to warn you about my mom. She can be a bit⊠unique. I love her, but sometimes she tends to be a bit embarrassing. I donât want you to feel uncomfortable or anything.â
You, with a warm smile on your face, walked over to Jean and gently placed your hands on his shoulders. âJean, itâs going to be fine. Iâm sure your mom is lovely, and besides, Iâm here with you. Weâll navigate through it together. Families are all different, and thatâs what makes them special.â
Jean sighed with relief, grateful for your understanding. âI just want everything to go smoothly, you know? I want you to feel welcomed and not get overwhelmed by her⊠quirks.â
You chuckled, âJean, I appreciate your concern, but Iâm sure weâll have a great time. Your mom is part of what makes you who you are, and thatâs something to celebrate. Plus, Iâve heard embarrassing family stories from everyone. Itâs part of the charm.â
With your reassurance, Jean felt a weight off his shoulders. He couldnât but smile at you, realizing how lucky he was to have her by his side. As you both finished packing and headed out the door, Jean held your hand, grateful for your calming presence.
The drive to Jeanâs momâs house was filled with a mix of excitement and tension. Jean couldnât shake off the nervous energy, glancing at you from time to time, for your reassuring smiles.
You couldnât help but squeeze Jeanâs hand, âItâs going to be okay, love. I promise. You have nothing to worry about.â
Jean nodded, and as he turned onto his momâs street. Jean couldnât help but notice the extravagant display outside her house. Bright lights adorned every inch, and inflatable holiday characters seemed to have taken over the front yard. The sight made Jean Sigh and chuckle nervously.â
âY/n⊠Brace yourself,â he said with a lighthearted tone, âMy mom really goes all out with the decorations. I hope youâre ready for a winter wonderland.â
You grinned, your eyes sparkling with curiosity. âI love it! The more festive, the better. Your mom seems like someone who knows how to make the holidays special.â
Jean chuckled, feeling a mix of relief and anticipation. Parking the car, you two made your way to the front door, where an over-the-top wreath greeted them with jingling bells and blinking lights.
Before Jean could ring the doorbell, the door swung open revealing his mom, a spirited woman with a contagious enthusiasm for the holidays. She wore a Santa hat, and her eyes twinkled with joy.
âJean boy! Look at you, all grown up and handsome as ever!â She explained, her voice filled with joy.
Jean winced at the use of the nickname he had been trying to escape for years. âMom, please, not in front of Y/n.â he whispered with a half-smile, trying to suppress his embarrassment.
But his protests fell deaf ears as his mom swooped in, pinching his cheeks affectionately. âOh, hush, Jean boy! Youâll always be my little boy. Now, come on, let me get a good look at you!â
You couldnât help but giggle at the endearing scene unfolding before you. Jean, with a resigned expression, allowed his mom to fuss over him for a moment. Despite the teasing, and there was a warmth in the way his mother looked at him, a love that only a mother could convey.
âJean boy? Huh? You never told me about this little nickname of yours~â You say in a mocking tone, rolling in your luggage and bags.
Jean shot you an annoyed glare, and furrowed his borrows. Jeanâs mom turned her attention to you, her eyes widening with delight. âAnd who do we have here? Oh, you must be Y/n! Jeanâs been talking so much about you. Itâs about time he bought such a lovely lady home for the holidays!â
You blushed, feeling an unexpected wave of comfort in Jeanâs momâs exuberance. âItâs so nice to finally meet you! Your house looks incredible, and I canât wait to spend the holidays with you.â
Jeanâs mom pulled you into a warm hug, saying âOh, sweetie, the pleasure is all mine! Iâm so happy Jean has someone charming as you by his side. Weâre going to have the best time!â
âJean boy, why donât you go ahead and take yours and Y/nâs bags upstairs to your room? I want to steal a moment with Y/n and get to know her better.â
Jean, feeling a mix of relief and mild nervousness, nodded in agreement. âSure, mom.â
As Jean made his way up the stairs, he shot a glance at you, his eyebrows raised in a silent plea for understanding. You, however, reassured him with a playfully smile, your eyes conveying a message that everything was going to be fine.
Once Jean disappeared upstairs his mom turned to you with an excited gleam in her eyes. âNow, let me show you something special! You help yourself to some cocoa, and Iâll be back!â
You smiled and nodded, and walked over to the kitchen and couldnât help but notice the refrigerator that was scattered with pictures of Jean when he was younger. You couldnât help but be in awe, and giggle to yourself.
You then grabbed a mug and used a spoon to pour yourself some of the delicious smelling beverage that just made the holiday ten times better.
You managed to walk back to the couch and waited patiently for Jeanâs mom to come back. She soon appeared from the adjacent room with a well-worn baby picture album.
Your eyes lit up with curiosity as Jeanâs mom flipped through the pages. âThis is Jean when he was just a little tyke. Oh, you wonât believe the mischief he used to get into!â she exclaimed, her laughter echoing through the room.
You leaned in, captivated by the adorable pictures of Jean with messy hair and a mischievous grin. âOh my goodness, look at those cheeks and that hair!â You say giggling.
âHe was such a handful, let me tell you! He was always climbing trees and getting into scrapes,â she continued, pointing at a particularly amusing photo of Jean covered in mud. âBut he was such a sweet boy, always with a kind heart.â
You couldnât help but smile, charmed by the glimpse into Jeanâs past. âYeah haha, I can tell!â You say nodding your head.
The stories painted a vivid picture of the person he used to be, and you felt a deeper connection to him, knowing more and more about the boy who had grown into the man you cared for.
Meanwhile, while you and Jeanâs mother shared stories and laughter, Jean was carefully arranging your guys bags, his nervousness fading into a sense of gratitude. Once he was finished, Jean descended the stairs, feeling a mix of curiosity about what his mom and you had been doing and or discussing.
When he entered the room, he couldnât help but notice the subtle change â the room seemed to have received a fresh coat of paint, and a warm, inviting glow emanated from the festive decorations.
âWow, Mom, you really spruced up the place,â Jean remarked, genuinely impressed. âIt looks great!â
His mom beamed at the compliment, but as Jeanâs eyes flickered to the coffee table, he caught a glimpse of his baby picture album open to a page featuring his younger self. His face immediately flushed with embarrassment, and he sighed.
âMom, seriously?â Jean muttered, running a hand through his hair. âYouâre not supposed to share those without my permission.â
His mom chuckled, seemingly oblivious to his discomfort. âOh, hush, Jean boy! Y/n was enjoying it. Besides, it's all in good fun!â
You, catching the exchange, couldnât help but stifle a giggle at the awkward moment. You shot Jean an empathetic smile, understanding the embarrassment he must be feeling.
Jean, while appreciating his momâs lightheartedness, couldnât shake off the annoyance. âYeah, yeah, fun for everyone except me,â he mumbled, rolling his eyes, while his cheeks still tinged with red.
His mom, sensing his discomfort, patted him on the shoulder. âOh, donât be such a grump, Itâs all part of the holiday spirit. Now, come join usâŠâ
You smiled, and patted the couch cushion and signaling Jean to sit next to you. Jean sighed, but obliged, walking over next to you. As the brunette sat down, he couldnât help but lean his head on your shoulder, while you were rubbing his back tracing shapes.
As you all settled back into conversation, he couldnât help but shoot you a half-smile, silently appreciating your ability to find humor in the situation.
As the night unfolded, Jeanâs mother couldnât resist bringing up a topic that often lurked in the back of parentsâ minds.
âYou know,â she said with a twinkle in her eye, âyou two make such a lovely couple. Have you given any thought to the future?â
Jeanâs eyes widened, he choked on the sip of cocoa he had just taken, Panic set in as he exchanged a wide-eyed glance with you. You were trying your best to stifle a laugh. Jeanâs mother, oblivious to the sudden tension, continued with a smile.
âI mean, I canât help but wonder when Iâll get to plan a wedding and hold adorable grandchildren. Itâs every motherâs dream, you know!â
You were unable to contain your amusement any longer, burst into a fit of giggles. Jean shot you a look, a mix of panic and amusement on his face.
âMom, letâs not get ahead of ourselves,â Jean stammered, desperately trying to change the subject. âWeâre just enjoying the holidays right now.â
His mother, undeterred, persisted, âOh, I know, I know. But a mother can dream, canât she?â
Trying to cut the conversation short, Jean glanced at the clock. âWow, look at the time. Itâs getting late, and we should probably get some rest. Right Y/n?â
You were catching onto Jeanâs subtle plea for diversion, nodded with a mischievous glint in her eye. âAbsolutely! Itâs been a wonderful evening, but we should call it a night.â
Jeanâs mother, sensing their desire to end the conversation, relented with a knowing smile. âAlright, you two lovebirds. Off to bed then.â
As you and Jean made their way upstairs, laughter echoed from the living room, leaving behind a mix of relief and amusement. In the privacy of their room, Jean couldnât help but chuckle nervously as he closed the door.
âWell, that was an unexpected turn,â he remarked, shaking his head.
You were still grinning, replied, âYour mom has a way of keeping us on our toes.â
In the quiet stillness of the night, Jean and you prepared for bed in the cozily decorated room. Jean, clad in comfortable sleepwear, took a moment to appreciate the warmth of the holiday-themed blankets.
As the two of you both slipped under the covers, Jean reached over to the bedside table, flicking off the light. The room plunged into a soft darkness, with only the glow of twinkling lights from outside casting a gentle ambiance.
Jean turned towards you, wrapping his arms around you as you both settled into the cozy cocoon of the bed. You were feeling the warmth of Jeanâs embrace, couldnât resist a mischievous smirk.
âGoodnight, Jean boy.â you teased, knowing well that it was a nickname he preferred not to be reminded of.
Jean rolled his eyes playfully, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. âYouâre lucky I love you.â he responded, leaning in to place a gentle kiss on your lips.
sans undertale would not make i fucked your wife jokes. people want to make jokes about sans fucking asgore's wife but sans the character would NOT do that r you kidding me. you can cut the secondhand embarrassment with a knife every time they're in the same room together, sans likes the guy, i bet he feels genuinely kinda bad for asgore. he'd be like sorry about the dating your ex wife thing. to be fair she's a really cool ex wife. and asgore would be like (rescue shelter dog sigh) She is.
HC that Link actually is more sensitive to temperature than Zelda. He always has to wear appropriate clothes because it becomes downright distracting if he's too cold or too hot. He can't focus at all. The tunic was perfect, it felt like he could go anywhere and be comfortable. But Zelda has that goddess blood in her, she can stand on the perch of Rito Village and read a book while snow piles on either side of her. Something about it just doesn't disturb her, it's even comforting in a way. Snow is soft and heat feels natural. Link will be shivering and sweating loyally next to her.
