#but we don’t have time to unpack ALL that

[pedrilcvr]

you could do one where cubarsi sees the reader as someone very serious and intelligent so he thinks he has no chance with her but in fact he does

Either way — Pau Cubarsí.

Pairing: Pau Cubarsí x Fem!Reader

Summary: Being on opposite sides of the spectrum when it came to school, you being an honors student and he just an athlete, Pau assumed there was no chance with you. Little did he know, you’d been watching him for a while.

Disclaimer/s: this is a highschool AU! Just fluff tho <3

A/N: oh highschool au’s you always get me sooo good

Study hall was quite possibly your favorite time of the day. All alone and focused, you couldn’t ask for anything better. Except today. Today that was ruined. You’d been assigned to a partner project and that meant study hall was no longer just for your use.

The only upside seemed to be that your partner was Pau. He was cute, you had a small crush on him for a while now. But for some reason, every time you tried to talk to him, he would just stare at you and say as little amount of words as possible. Like he couldn’t stand being in your vicinity.

Clicking your pen nervously, you impatiently wait for him to join you. Forty minutes for study hall, and he’d already waisted fifteen of that by not showing up. You were just about to take out your other textbooks and focus on other work, when he finally decided to show.

He was breathless, like he’d just ran across the school to get here. Pau slides into the seat across from you, “sorry, I forgot.” He explains through pants.

“Forgot? Are you kidding me?” With your annoyance clear, you wave him off. “Whatever, you’re here now.”

As Pau gives you a sheepish look, unpacking his supplies, you glance over the options your teacher had provided. “So… what’d you want to do? For the project I mean? We have like seventy options.”

The brunette’s eyebrows furrow as he looks at the paper you’d shoved toward him. “Uh, I don’t care.”

Is this a joke.

“You don’t care about the project or what we choose?” Your eyes narrow in his direction, eyebrows pinching together.

“No!” He says quickly, eyes widening as he sees your face contort, “I mean yes! I do care, I just, you can choose.” He’s stumbling over his words, nothing like the calm, collected athlete you imagined he was.

Amusement flickers across your face, and Pau instantly relaxes. “Okay.. jeez. We could go for a lame topic and get an easy A, or we could take our time and do something cool and ensure an A-plus.” You’re talking to yourself more than you are him, but Pau listens intently anyways.

“Whatever you want.” He shrugs, eyes flickering across your concentrative face. Your bottom lip tugs between your teeth as you reread the topics, eyebrows scrunched together as you do so.

Pau couldn’t stop the familiar tug in his stomach while watching you. You and him were so opposite, but he supposed that’s what he liked about you.

He was never that good when it came to school, just enough to keep him in sports and his parents good graces. But you.. you were top of the class, had been since primary school.

There was a problem with that though. Girls like you rarely, if ever, went for guys like him. Most of the smart kids in the school went for the other smart kids. Athletes and scholars never really intermingled. Different friend groups and everything.

He definitely had no shot.

“Pau?” You were waving your hand in front of his face, “earth to Pauu?”

He’d been so caught up in his thoughts, in staring, he hadn’t realized you were talking to him. His face burns a bright red. “Sorry, what?”

Quirking an eyebrow, you give him a weird look. “I asked if you wanted to do it on the history of our spanish football team, since that would be easy for you? I mean, you have played for them haven’t you?” There’s a hint of teasing in your words that has Pau swooning even more. You really were perfect.

“Yeah, sounds good to me.” He agrees, giving you a small smile. “You like football?”

You didn’t really want to stray away from getting work done, but it was Pau. Who were you to resist? “My dad and siblings do, i’m not very well educated on it though.” You set your pen aside, crossing your arms on the table. “So, for once, maybe someone will know more about a topic than I do!”

He laughs at that, his gummy smile making an appearance. The same smile that first caught your eyes and had him on your mind ever since.

“I guess so.” A pause, in which neither of you speak. Both wanting to continue a conversation, but neither knowing what to say.

Clearing your throat, you sit upright. “So, I guess we’ll be stuck together for a while. We should figure out when to work on this, I know you kind of have a busy schedule.. I don’t mind doing most of the work either.” You said it like you were used to it, like it was expected, and that made Pau frown.

“I mean, we could go to each other’s houses, or meet up somewhere outside of school when i’m free?” He suggests, somewhat nervous though. His fingers tap the desk, his eyes watching the movements before flickering back to you.

He watches you tuck a strand of hair behind your ears and check the time on your phone. “Yeah, that’d work.”

Now or never Pau…

“Can I get your number?” He asks quickly, going to add on that he would be needing it to contact you, but for some reason he doesn’t.

You blush, knowing why he needed it, but a small part of you that’d been waiting for him to ask that for years, couldn’t help but ache. “Yeah—yeah!” You go to dig out your phone as Pau slid his across the table for you. You exchange devices, taking his in your hands.

Quickly typing in your number and name in, you give it back to him. He hands you yours and a smile creeps onto your face.

Pau 🤗😇

“Were the emoji’s necessary?” You chuckle, looking up at his triumphant face.

“Absolutely.” He nods with full certainty, a lopsided grin on his face, turning nervous as he opens his mouth once again, “ah, you can text me whenever, like.. not just for school.”

Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise, “oh? Like… in a friendly way or—“

“If you want to hang out!” He says hastily, sinking back into his seat awkwardly. “Said that too fast.” He mumbles under his breath, quiet enough that you only made out a fraction of what he said.

Fiddling with your phone, you give him a pursed lipped smile. “You want to hang out with me? Outside of school?” Doubt creeped into your mind the longer you thought about it. There was no way Pau Cubarsí was telling you he wanted to hang out with you of all people.

It’s Pau’s time to be confused. The way your face contorted, the way you asked, you sounded like you couldn’t believe he’d ask you that. “Yeah. Do you not want to or something?”

“No! No, of course I do. Uhm, I just, well i’m surprised, that’s all.” You shrug it off, “‘course i’d want to hang out with you.”

Pau feels his confidence boost back, “you’re surprised? Why..?”

Confusion bounces off both of you guys in that moment. “Well you’re like.. super popular and stuff. And we’ve like, never spoken so I just assumed you weren’t the type to be friends with me.”

The boys eyebrows tug together, his forehead creasing. “I thought you wouldn’t want to hang out with me because you’re smart and always serious and stuff.” His tongue darts out to lick his lips, a shameful flush passing across his cheeks.

Your face twists with hilarity. This was very interesting to say the least. “So we were both judging each other essentially?”

“I guess so,” Pau laughs quietly, “then i’m going to rephrase what I said earlier. Would you like to hang out, outside of school. Get coffee or watch a movie?”

“That sounds like a date.” You note, leaning forward to rest your chin in your palms. A small smile growing on your lips.

Pau feigns to think, his lips pursing ever so slightly and he mimics your movements. “Only if you want it to be.”

With a smile reaching your eyes, you nod. “I think I could get on board with that idea.”

DTS , @halfwayhearted @spidybaby !

[the-impala-is-my-home]

Wilmon stuck on a desert island

"I wanted to be alone with you since idk when I didn't ask for this"

“I wanted to be alone with you since I don’t know when, I didn’t ask for this!”

The confession makes Simon halt in his tracks from where he’d been pacing circles into the ground of this stupid little island in the stupid stockholm archipelago where they got left behind by their stupid classmates after their stupid uni field trip when they failed to get back to the stupid boat on time- okay maybe he’s a bit riled up but he was already annoyed before they got themselves into this situation, when all his problems had stemmed from his arguments with Wilhelm.

“What?”, he hisses out in response, not even sure where to start unpacking that, because- “What the fuck does that mean? You sure have made it very clear that you want nothing to do with me with the way you’ve been avoiding me ever since our first semester, so excuse me if I’m not following here.” God he’s so angry and Wilhelm is absolutely infuriating with his eyes and the way the sun highlights his cheekbones- completely unbearable, especially with that stupid kicked puppy look of his that Simon currently has to suffer through.

“I wanted nothing but spend time with you actually, but I kind of freaked out and then I was way too nervous to approach you again- I never meant for you to think I dislike you when it’s actually quite the opposite,” Wilhelm mumbles and if Simon isn’t mistaken that is a rather strong blush making it’s way across his unfairly good looking face.

“Urgh I can’t believe you sometimes-” he’s walking over to a slightly spooked looking Wilhelm with big steps, continuing to talk all the while “It takes you over a year to stop avoiding me, a year we’ve spent arguing whenever we saw each other, to finally tell me that? When we could have been doing this the entire time?” With that, he grabs Wilhelms’s face and tugs him into a hungry kiss. At least they’ll have a lot of time until the rescue boat comes to pick them up.

---

Thank you for the prompt! :)

I was a little annoyed because of a prof at Uni yesterday (who still hasn't given us last semesters grades!) and I guess making a character annoyed in my stead is great therapy! Hope you like this little enemies to lovers Wilmon👀

[kikimurphys]

Behind Closed Doors (Part 18)

Pairing: Cillian x Reader.

Warnings: None. Fluff maybe.

The days on bed rest seemed to drag on, even though you tried to keep yourself busy. Most of your time was spent cooking, eating, reading, and slowly organizing Cillian’s apartment. He was still settling in, so there were plenty of boxes to unpack, though you had to be careful not to overdo it. Despite the doctor's orders to rest, it was hard for you to sit still. You hated the boredom that came with lying in bed all day.

A week had passed, and Cillian couldn’t have been more attentive. He ran baths for you, went to the shops to get your cravings, and brought home all the ingredients you wanted for cooking. And when he wasn’t looking, you would sneak in a little laundry or some light cleaning, even though you knew he wouldn’t approve. You were restless, and keeping busy with cooking—making pastries, biscuits, and preparing lunch each day—helped fill the hours.

On Friday afternoon, you were lying in bed after lunch, having just gotten off the phone with your sister, Ash. She’d agreed to come next week after you confessed how stir-crazy you were becoming. You hadn’t told Cillian yet, but with Ash and Liam coming, you figured you’d all stay at your place so she could take care of anything you needed. You were eager to see them and get a little practice with Liam before your own baby girl arrived.

Cillian was in the kitchen cleaning up after lunch, while you lay in bed, your hands absentmindedly pressing on your belly. Each time you pressed gently, your daughter pushed back, her movements reassuring you. Every kick filled you with a warm sense of relief, knowing she was alright in there, growing stronger by the day.

Cillian’s phone rang, piercing through the stillness of the afternoon. You were lying in bed, letting your eyes close, but the familiar tone of his voice immediately caught your attention. It was sharper than usual, tense.

“Siobhan,” he answered, already bracing himself for whatever was coming. You listened from the bedroom, the soft mumble of her voice barely audible through the walls, but you couldn’t make out her words.

“What do you mean he doesn’t want to come?” Cillian’s voice cut through the air, more agitated now. “That’s nonsense, Siobhan. We agreed he’d spend the weekend with me.”

Your heart sank as you realized this had to be about Niall—his son. You’d overheard Cillian mention earlier that Niall was supposed to come over for the weekend. This visit had clearly been something he was looking forward to, and now something had changed.

Cillian’s voice hardened. “We have a legal agreement. He’s supposed to be with me this weekend.”

From your spot in bed, you could only hear one side of the conversation, but the shift in his posture—tense, agitated—told you that whatever Siobhan was saying was pushing him to the edge. He leaned against the kitchen counter, one hand on his hip, the other gripping the phone tightly.

You couldn’t hear her words, but the bitterness in her tone seemed to cut through the silence. Then you heard it, muffled but unmistakable.

“I don’t want him around her,” Siobhan spat, venom clear in her voice.

Your stomach clenched. You knew exactly who she was talking about.

Cillian’s voice dropped, taking on a colder tone. “This has nothing to do with Y/N, Siobhan,” he said, trying to keep his composure. “I’ve told you before—this is about Niall and me. You can’t use him like this.”

You pressed your hands over your belly, feeling the familiar kick of your daughter as tension built in the room. Cillian’s frustration was palpable, and you could imagine what Siobhan was saying on the other end. She didn’t want Niall near you, blaming you for everything. The resentment in her voice felt like a knife being twisted.

“I’m not going to let you punish me by keeping him away,” Cillian continued, his voice cracking slightly, but he steadied it. “You’re using him to get back at me, and it’s not fair to him.”

Siobhan’s response was quieter, but you caught some of it now. The cruel edge in her words sent a shiver down your spine. “You think I’m going to let her near my son? You’ve already destroyed our family, and now you want to replace me?”

Cillian’s hand tightened around the phone, his knuckles white. “No one is replacing you, Siobhan,” he said, exasperated. “This isn’t about you or her. It’s about Niall, and he needs both of us.”

There was a beat of silence on the other end before Siobhan’s voice came back, cold and cutting. “I don’t want her anywhere near him, Cillian. I don’t care what you think.”

You felt a pit form in your stomach, a mix of guilt and anger building inside you. You never wanted to come between Cillian and his son, but now it seemed like you were at the center of the conflict whether you liked it or not.

Cillian ran a hand through his hair, his frustration spilling out. “This is ridiculous,” he snapped. “You can’t make decisions for me like this. We agreed—Niall stays with me this weekend. I haven’t seen him in days, and I’m not going to just roll over because you’re upset.”

Siobhan’s response was even colder now. “You should’ve thought about that before you decided to play house with someone else.”

You winced at the venom in her voice. The accusation stung, even though you weren’t in the room. Cillian let out a long, frustrated sigh, his patience wearing thin.

“This is about Niall,” he said again, quieter this time but firm. “I’ll talk to him myself, but you need to stop dragging him into this. He deserves better than being caught in the middle of our issues.”

There was a final, terse exchange of words you couldn’t hear, and then Cillian hung up, tossing his phone onto the counter with a heavy thud. He stood there for a moment, his shoulders slumped, his hands resting on the edge of the sink as he took deep breaths to steady himself.

He walked to the couch and sat down heavily, burying his face in his hands. You stayed quiet in the bedroom, unsure of what to do. The weight of the conversation hung in the air between you like a heavy fog.

Cillian had been trying so hard to make things work, to be present for both Niall and you, but the strain was clear. He was fighting battles on every front—his past, his present, and now, this tug-of-war over his son. You could feel his sadness, frustration, and guilt seeping through the walls. He missed Niall terribly, and now he was being kept away from him again.

You wanted to go to him, to offer comfort, but you also didn’t want to intrude. You knew this wasn’t your fight, but it hurt to know you were part of what was tearing him apart.

For now, you stayed in bed, trying to process everything you’d overheard. You’d ask him about it later, but for now, you’d give him the space he needed to gather his thoughts.

You woke up from your nap two hours later, the setting sun casting a warm, golden glow through the curtains. Groaning, you cursed yourself for not closing them before laying down. Cillian had told you so, and now you could almost hear his amused, “Told ya.”

Rubbing your eyes, you slid out of bed, padding quietly into the kitchen in search of a snack. The craving hit almost immediately. You grabbed a jar of pickles from the fridge and took a crunchy bite, savoring the tangy flavor as you turned to look for Cillian.

Glancing out the window, you spotted him sitting on the patio, a beer in hand, gazing at the fading horizon. He looked deep in thought, the weight of his earlier conversation with Siobhan still lingering in the air.

You felt a wave of worry for him. It had been a tough day, and while you weren’t sure what to say, you knew he needed comfort. You slid open the patio door quietly and stepped outside. The cool evening breeze was a refreshing contrast to the warmth of the sun's last rays.

Cillian turned the moment he sensed you, his expression softening when his eyes met yours. Despite everything, you always had a way of making him feel better. "Hi," you said, offering a small smile. "Mind if I join you?"

“Course not,” he replied, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he shifted to make room for you on the patio sofa. You tucked your legs beneath you, trying to warm your cold feet, and he instinctively wrapped his arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. You rested your head against his chest, feeling the rise and fall of his breath as he took a sip of his Guinness.

The silence between you was comforting, the cool evening air mixing with the warmth of his presence. You gazed out at the garden, the lush green grass glowing under the dusky light.

“This is a great garden you’ve got,” you commented softly, breaking the silence. “You should plant some flowers or plants in the spring. It would look gorgeous.”

Cillian chuckled, the sound low and comforting. “Yeah? What would you suggest?”

“Hmm, maybe some lavender or hydrangeas,” you mused. “Something low maintenance.”

Cillian hummed in agreement, but the peaceful moment between you was weighed down by an unspoken tension. Despite the serenity of the evening, you could sense his mind was still caught up in his earlier fight with Siobhan.

After a few quiet minutes, you gently brought it up, not wanting to tiptoe around it any longer. “I heard you talking to Siobhan earlier,” you said softly, looking up at him. He swallowed hard as he listened, bracing himself for what you might say next. “Ash is coming next week, so I can go back to mine. I don’t want to be the reason you can’t see Niall.”

Your words hung in the air, tentative and careful, as if you were trying to ease his burden. You didn’t want to cause him any more pain, especially when it came to his son.

“I’m sure I’ll be fine,” you added quickly, sensing the conflict in him. “I have a check-up on Monday, and Ash will be with me. Really, it’s okay.”

Cillian’s brow furrowed, his confusion evident as he processed your offer. “Hey, no, no—don’t worry about that,” he said, leaning in to press a tender kiss to your temple. His lips were warm and familiar against your skin, and you closed your eyes at the soft touch. “Don’t worry about her. She’s just angry… but it’s not your fault. You don’t have to go.”

His voice was gentle but firm, pleading in a way that tugged at your heart. “She has to understand that this is my life right now,” he said, his eyes searching yours. “Please don’t go, Y/N. I need you here.”

His words melted through your defenses, and you felt a sudden wave of love for him at his raw honesty. He brought his hand to your face, his fingers soft as they caressed your cheek. The tenderness in his touch made your heart ache, and without thinking, you leaned in to meet his lips in a gentle kiss.

It was slow, almost hesitant at first, as if he was savoring the moment. His lips were soft, tasting you with a tenderness that spoke volumes of the affection he held for you. His hand remained on your cheek, thumb brushing lightly against your skin, grounding you in that intimate moment. You kissed him back with equal softness, pouring all your feelings into the quiet exchange.

Cillian pulled back just enough to whisper, his breath mingling with yours, “I love you.”

Your heart skipped at the quiet confession, and without a word, you kissed him again—deeper this time, allowing yourself to fully surrender to the warmth of his embrace. The world outside faded away as you both lost yourselves in the quiet reassurance of that moment, his love wrapping around you like a cocoon.

When you finally broke apart, you rested your head against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat under your ear. The last rays of sunlight had disappeared, leaving a dusky twilight in their wake. You both gazed out at the horizon in silence, the weight of his earlier frustration slowly dissolving.

“Ash is still coming, though,” you murmured after a while, breaking the silence. “But you can go stay at mine if you want. You don’t have to be here if things get… complicated.”

He smiled softly at your offer, though you could sense the slight reluctance in his voice as he replied, “Okay.”

You stayed like that until the chill of the evening became too much to bear. With a contented sigh, you finally stood up, and Cillian followed you inside. As you made your way to the kitchen, Cillian grabbed the kettle, filling it with water to make tea.

After dinner, you chatted for a while before both making your excuses to head to bed. But as you lay there, staring at the ceiling, you realized sleep wasn’t coming. You weren’t tired, but more than that, you were simply uncomfortable. The familiar ache in your back had you tossing and turning for what felt like hours.

With a frustrated groan, you sat up and slipped out of bed, padding quietly down the hall. In the lounge, you found Cillian sitting on the couch, the TV softly playing in the background. He wasn’t paying attention to it, though—he was engrossed in a book, a parenting guide of all things.

You smiled to yourself and walked over to join him, sinking down beside him. “Studying?” you teased with a gentle nudge. He didn’t even look up, so focused on whatever chapter he was on.

“Did you know there were this many exercises to get rid of gas?” he said, shaking his head in disbelief. “Back in my day, we just did the pat on the back thing.”

“Yeah, well, that’s better than having a baby full of colic crying at 3 a.m.,” you retorted, flopping back into the couch with a dramatic sigh. You rubbed your belly absentmindedly, feeling restless. The TV flickered, but you barely paid attention to it.

Cillian glanced over at you, sensing your frustration. “Can’t sleep?” he asked.

“Nope. My back hurts every time I lay down,” you muttered, your voice laced with irritation.

“Can’t you take something for it?” he asked, his concern evident.

“Tylenol doesn’t help, and I can’t take anything stronger,” you sighed, feeling the weight of the discomfort pressing in.

He went back to his book, but not without resting a comforting hand on your leg, grounding you with his presence. You scrolled through the channels, mindlessly searching for something to watch, but nothing held your interest. After a while of silence, you suddenly sat up.

“I’m hungry,” you announced, standing up and making your way to the kitchen.

“Do you have honey?” you called over your shoulder, rummaging through the cupboards.

“Yeah, it should be in the cupboard above the kettle,” Cillian responded, his voice trailing off as you heard the sounds of things being shuffled around.

A few minutes later, you returned to the living room carrying a tray of cheese and a jar of honey, along with a spoon. You plopped down on the couch, setting the tray on the coffee table, earning a soft chuckle from Cillian as he eyed your bizarre combination.

“What?” you said, your mouth already full of cheese.

He smiled, shaking his head with amusement. “Nothing.”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “You should try it before you judge me,” you defended your odd late-night snack.

“Does it taste good?” he asked skeptically, clearly doubting the genius behind the mix.

“It’s unreal,” you replied with a satisfied roll of your eyes, savoring the sweetness of the honey against the sharpness of the cheese.

Cillian set his book aside, intrigued. “Alright, give us a taste,” he said, reaching over for a cube of cheese. He drizzled some honey on it and popped it into his mouth. He chewed thoughtfully for a moment before nodding. “It’s alright, I guess.”

You narrowed your eyes suspiciously, playfully swatting him. “Whatever. It’s your loss—it’s delicious,” you declared, popping another piece into your mouth with a satisfied grin.

Cillian chuckled, shaking his head. “It’s just... it’s a weird mix,” he said, still smiling.

“It’s not the weirdest craving, to be honest,” you replied nonchalantly, leaning back into the couch as you thought of all the odd things you’d craved lately.

“Oh yeah? What’s the weirdest?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

You swallowed before answering, taking a moment to consider. “Once, I ate a blueberry muffin with avocado. That was actually really good,” you said, nodding to yourself.

Cillian's jaw dropped, his eyes widening. “A muffin avocado? That’s criminal,” he laughed, looking at you in disbelief.

You grinned, enjoying his reaction. “Oh, and once I had carrot cake with hot sauce. That was amazing. I’m definitely doing that again,” you added, your eyes lighting up at the memory.

Cillian threw his head back with a mix of laughter and horror. “That’s disgusting! What’s going on in your head to come up with this stuff?”

“It’s the baby!” you laughed, pointing at your stomach as if to blame her for all your wild cravings. Then, smirking, you added, “Come on, Cill. You like capers! How can you like capers? They’re disgusting.”

Cillian feigned offense, placing a hand over his heart. “Oi, capers are a classic. A classic! Not whatever abomination you just described.”

You rolled your eyes, and both of you burst into more laughter. The lightheartedness of the moment was exactly what you needed. But after nearly devouring all the cheese, a more serious thought crossed your mind. “Have you thought of any baby names? cause-” you pause to lick the honey out your fingers. “I haven't got a clue what to name her to be honest.”

Cillian turned to face you, his brow furrowed in thought. “I’ve thought of a few,” he admitted, though a little uncertain, “but none of them really convince me.”

Your interest piqued, and you asked, “What are they? I’m desperate for ideas at this point.”

He hesitated for a second before listing off a few. “Eva... Maeve…”

“Mmm,” you responded, your face scrunching up a bit. None of those really clicked with you, and Cillian seemed to pick up on your lack of enthusiasm.

After a few minutes of brainstorming, tossing names back and forth, nothing seemed to stick. He sighed, feeling the pressure of finding the perfect name. Then, almost as an afterthought, he said quietly, “Elisa?”

You froze for a moment, processing the name, before your face lit up. “Yessss! Elisa!” you exclaimed, jumping slightly with excitement.

Cillian looked at you, still a bit surprised. “Really? Elisa?”

“Yes! Elisa. Elisa Day,” you repeated with certainty, the name feeling just right as it flowed off your tongue.

He tilted his head thoughtfully, then smiled. “It’s like that Nick Cave song, *Where the Wild Roses Grow* with Kylie Minogue,” he stated, his deep knowledge of music kicking in as usual. He knew it all.

“Yep, that’s exactly where I got it from,” you nudged him playfully. “You’re such a know-it-all.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Of course, you’d pick something like that.”

“I’ve always loved that name,” you confessed softly, snuggling closer and resting your head against his chest. His heartbeat was steady and comforting. “I think it’s really beautiful. Plus, I love Kylie, so….”

You trailed off, your smile widening as you pictured your little girl with the name Elisa. It felt perfect now that you had something more concrete to call her.

“Alright then, Elisa Day it is,” Cillian agreed, his voice warm and tender. Now, fully convinced, he could picture her better, too—their daughter, Elisa.

Leaning down, he pressed a soft kiss to your lips, sealing the moment with that shared joy and quiet understanding. You melted into him, your heart swelling with love for this little family you were building together.

tags:

@mamawiggers1980 @xsweetcatastrophe @galactict3a @thistheivyseason @cillianmurphyvevo @sweetcheesecakesblog

[rooniper]

The inevitable Ralph Lore Masterpost

Here it comes. After my second re-read and a week of talking about this fictional cringefail tragic girl dad to anyone who would listen, here it finally is, because I felt a need to write all of this down for future reference and also because I am very close to exploding at any given second of the day.

Also: do keep in mind some of this is my personal speculation/theories/ramblings and probably not canon, but I did try to stick to just the book as much as possible. This is not a coherent essay. Really, it’s a word vomit because I can’t stop thinking about the funny Phone Man. I still probably missed some things, feel free to chime in in the replies, might make a Part 2 unpacking some of the lore/non-Ralph related bits in the future who knows.

Anyways, in no particular order (AND OBVIOUSLY; SPOILERS UNDER THE CUT):

Pre-Freddy’s Era Details I Couldn’t Fit Anywhere Else (Or: Upbringing, College and some Coppelia’s Mom Speculation)

There’s not much info about Ralph’s childhood from what I could gather, except two things: he was bullied in school to the point where he had to hide in a locked bathroom stall to get away from his classmates, and his father was a major a-hole who had extremely high expectations for him and also used to scare him out of wanting to play hide-and-seek with him which. Goddamn. The quote “all your life you’ve gotten used to not pushing buttons” really, really doesn’t help the horrible parents allegations. So yeah the man has daddy issues, jot that down.

Expanding on the previous point: a lot of his parenting of Coppelia seems to be directly influenced by his own upbringing. The paragraph-long tangent about how he’s purposefully awful at hide-and-seek because he never wants Pel to feel as scared as he did is an obvious example, but he also brings her gifts from work pretty much constantly (and sidenote: he thinks of taking things from his job that he never breaks the rules at to bring to her all the goddamn time, while being actively hunted by murderous animatronics. That’s so goddamn wholesome I’m sorry even when he’s scared out of his mind he’s constantly thinking of her). He never puts her down the way it’s implied he was put down as a child, he seems really supportive of her hobbies by the way he talks about her reading. I have more to say about his parenting skills, but the fact that he’s terrified of becoming like his own father/parents seems to be a giant part of them.

He’s a college dropout who majored in psychology, aiming to specialize in child psychology, which makes so much sense but also I find incredibly ironic considering he later exhibits very VERY obvious signs of what’s probably PTSD and doesn’t clock it at all. But that is also going to be its separate point, put a pin in that.

It’s not just implied, but pretty explicitly stated by Ralph himself that he’s a massive overachiever. He was probably pretty academically successful in college, considering he mentions it was a surprise to most people that he’d drop out to get into security work. It’s pretty strongly implied this was mostly because he was pressured into succeeding by his parents. My man has that helicopter parents burnout syndrome, and escaped it by going into a job where he could still interact with kids like he wanted to as a psychologist but actually be happy, and that means a lot to me actually.

(Very important sidenote, because I don’t know where else to put this: the fact that his real dream job is to make children’s toys is just so real to me, especially as someone who’s also experienced academic burnout. It makes so much sense for him to want to do something with his hands where he can create something tangible after being pushed into being traditionally ‘successful’ in academia by his environment. Also put a pin in this as well because I have another point to make about the whole toymaker thing)

He seems to be at least low-contact with his family, which is understandable from what we know about his father - I’d say it’s likely he even cut contact completely after dropping out of college. The fact that he never mentions his parents as a possibility when he talks about babysitting options, or the fact that he doesn’t even consider them taking care of Coppelia when he is literally about to die seems pretty telling to me. I mean, alternatively, they could both be dead, depending on how old Ralph is, but since Coppelia’s only eleven that seems a bit unlikely.

Coppelia’s mom is a mystery. There is exactly one mention of her in this entire book and it doesn’t come from Ralph, but from Pel, so we know she does in fact exist but that’s about it. When Ralph talks about parenting Coppelia he never mentions her mom, even as far back as when Coppelia was one year old. They probably divorced when Coppelia was really young, and Ralph likely has full custody, since he never mentions Coppelia going to her mother’s for the weekend or anything like that. And that’s all we know.

Freddy’s and Related Tidbits (Or: I Stuffed Everything Related to his Relationship to Fazbear Entertainment in this Section)

He’s worked at Freddy’s for at least eleven years, because he mentions Coppelia being a month old when he already had the job and recorded his first training tape. If FNAF 1 indeed takes place in 1993, that means he was already working at Freddy’s by 1982 and likely earlier. Which, side-tangent, would imply that either Fredbear’s Family Diner was removed enough from Fazbear Entertainment by then for him not to know anything beyond the vague existence about the bite of ‘83, or that FNAF 1 takes place after 1993. But at this point the timeline is confusing enough that who knows.

He’s never moved up to management despite being there for more than a decade, also doesn’t appear to know Henry or William (especially if you believe the whole Dave-is-probably-William theory).

He was employee of the month 22 times. He also likely competed against his murderer ex-boss in disguise for the longest employee of the month award streak which is the best goddamn thing I’ve ever heard.

He’s written some of the rules at Freddy’s. Because of course he has.

He leaves passive-agressive notes to the dayshift guard and also thinks about shoving a ballpoint pen in the cleaning staff’s faces. And also talks about reporting people for slacking off. What I’m trying to say that he’s probably not the most popular of people with the rest of the staff, and doesn’t appear to realize why that could possibly be. Worst enemy of folks who don’t want to take their shitty minimum wage job extremely seriously.

On a related note, he takes his job so seriously oh my god. He does like twenty other jobs each night while the animatronics are trying to kill him. He’s probably the only person still doing reports. Management is very much implied to never read them. He writes them anyway. The fact that he was genuinely called ‘the Phone Guy’ and also was in training videos is also amazing (and also pushes the Trans Phone Guy agenda for anyone who considers Kim from the FNAF movie to be a stand-in for him).

This is specifically night-shift related: While it’s true that his survival instincts are absolutely shot, he is, when pushed, demonstrated to be capable of extreme violence against animatronics, which actually good for him. He kicks Bonnie’s head off. He beats Chica to death with a mop. He shoots Foxy with a watergun and also throws a lightbulb at him. This is not particularly important to anything but it’s extremely important to me.

Anyways, he’s really, really loyal to this company. Like, too loyal. Like, he was very much responsible and instrumental in shutting down rumors and speculation among staff after the bite of ‘87 and likely after the MCI as well too loyal. He’s management’s mouthpiece for their dirty work and that makes me feel a certain way because it’s so obvious he cares a lot about this shitty kids’ restaurant, enough that he’d defend it at all cost even when there’s so much evidence against it. This will come up again when I talk about him gaslighting himself.

This is mostly me speculating on the previous point, but I’m pretty certain a lot of his defending of the company is also a coping mechanism that he uses to grapple with the trauma brought to him by the fact that he’s spent a huge chunk of his life working for a conglomerate that’s gotten people killed. He genuinely insinuates Jeremy was responsible for getting chomped, because he must’ve done something wrong, the animatronics would never attack anyone without reason (right?). When he talks about how the media blew children going missing out of proportion, it seems less like he believes it and more like he doesn’t want to believe it - especially considering he’s only brought Coppelia to Freddy’s once in her life. He never lets her near it. He shuts her down immediately when she talks about working at it. Which, at least to me, demonstrates that on a subconscious level, he knows what he’s saying isn’t true. It’s just easier to say it than face the facts.

And lastly, he’s so clearly and passionately loyal to the Fazbear’s franchize. This fucker genuinely loves working here and is sad to go, even though management treats him like shit. We already knew that, but still, dear god those people could not care less if he lived or died and he STILL takes his night guard duties so goddamn seriously. He’s so clearly really invested in it, he talks about what a magical place Freddy’s used to be for kids, he talks about how much the job means to him, all the while it’s actively trying to kill him, he defends it to the point that it’s actively ridiculous, and in multiple endings he still gets blackmailed, disappeared or worse by the people he’s defending. And- I don’t know. It just makes me really sad. Again, I do believe his over-the-top enthusiasm for his job is probably him compensating for the fact that he doesn’t want to face the incredibly traumatic stuff happening to him, especially because as the week goes on, he gets less and less enthusiastic with every night, and just- Yeah. Fazbear Entertainment doesn’t deserve him.

Characterization, Diction and Things Like That (Or: Everything Else)

Let’s get the more positive stuff in this section out of the way first: we already knew this from the phone calls, but the way this man talks just sends me. “Time to make the donuts” when walking into a shift my favorite of his Phone-Guy-isms, but also unironically saying “oh boy!” and “what rotten luck!” right when you’re about to die is equally important to me.

Kind of related but not really: this man truly is a dad through and through because MY GOD the amount of bad puns and/or stupid references he makes is criminal. The fact that they get him actually killed in some of the endings because he keeps laughing at his own terrible jokes is also great. My favorite examples include thinking “my, what large ears you have” immediately before Foxy mauls him, the Irony Curtain, the how many night watchmen does it take to change a lightbulb, and so on. The fact that he also finds all of this absolutely hilarious means so much to me. Ralph truly is a cringefail girl dad, RIP to him he would’ve loved those awful shirts with puns that were popular with dads going to Disneyland in the 2000s.

Not gonna lie, and I’m not sure if this is just me reading too much into it, but he also reads as at least slightly neurodivergent to me. And I am ready to die on that hill. He doesn’t really seem to be the best at social interaction or with figuring people out, from the way he talks about not being able to tell if his coworkers are only laughing at his jokes to be polite or not and how he doesn’t seem to understand why they would be upset with him shoving minimal errors in their faces. He notices a single hat out of place in one of the Party Rooms and immediately goes to correct it. He makes a point about how much he hates messes and the whole “you need order, you crave order in your life” quote resonated so deeply with me that it’s uncanny. He’s a “stickler for rules”. The fact that he worked at one place for eleven plus years also makes me think he’s probably not the best with change. I could go on. I don’t know, I wouldn’t be able to tell you why, but I just can’t see him as fully neurotypical.

He’s also just a really curious dude, to the point of his curiosity overriding his survival instincts. Which is a horror protagonist trope if I’ve ever seen one. The scene where he lifts up a strange robot cupcake he just found directly to his face with zero hesitation is just. Yeah.

He loves Foxy, which we already knew, but also the fact that he explicitly states that he’s still scared of him and Pirate Cove by association makes me kinda sad. Also, related point, he’s a self-proclaimed fan of pirate stories, so I’m pretty sure that’s where Coppelia gets her taste in books from, but that’s besides the point.

In general, he just really loves the animatronics, too? Like he waves at them after his shift. Like I already mentioned, he talks about how much they mean to him, and how much he loves the fact that they brought joy to kids. It’s kinda sweet.

The most questionable thing about him is the way he. Uh. Talks about guns/cops in a way that kind of makes me remember he was raised in Utah around the 1960s. There are a few specific passages that make me extremely concerned about what his opinion on the second amendment is. But that is luckily left unspoken so I’ll be moving along.

The job stresses him out so much he consumes a packet of raw poptarts because he’s so hungry by the end of it. Which, while iconic, is also very deeply concerning. Which brings me to my biggest point

My god this man has Trauma. So much Trauma. He represses so much. The entirety of the beginning of Night 3 is just him describing that he forgets details about his shifts as soon as he leaves them. He gaslights himself constantly that nothing bad is happening (after Night 1, for example, he calls the entire shift the night before a bad dream and convinces himself he’s just “misinterpreting” events, which is goddamn concerning), but he’s also actively wasting away despite telling himself he’s not (my man looks into the mirror and his only and first comment is that he looks terrible). Not to mention the dissociation. He spaces out when he comes home on two seperate occassions, and loses and entire hour each time without realizing it. God I hope in the endings where he survives he eventually gets therapy.

Coppelia and Life Outside of Work (Or: This Section is Concerningly Short)

This man loves his daughter so goddamn much. So, so much.

No but seriously the interactions between him and Coppelia are so pure and well written and they were my favorite part of the book, somehow, even though I wasn’t originally sold on the concept. The “with what?” “excellent point, I’ve got nothing” kills me still. The scene where Coppelia curls up next to him after he comes home from his shift makes me want to sob. He makes her pancakes and they banter and she test limits but it’s obvious she also loves her dad, and that is- AAAAAA

Back to my bullshit, though: Ralph does kinda read as the type of parent who’d spoil a kid rotten if given the opportunity to do so. At some point Coppelia directly says that he “gets her everything she wants”, and- yeah. This is similar to the point I made previously about him bringing her gifts all the time. She does seem like a good kid, though. He’s just a girl dad to the extent that he’d probably wear a shirt with girl dad written on it, you know?

He’s also really protective of her. And worries. A lot. Not just when he calls home or rushes home to check on her, but also when he talks about being a security guard at her school and whenever he forbids her from ever ever going near Freddy’s. Say what you will about him defending a company to a possibly unethical extent, but he’s not about to endanger his daugher over it, and I respect that.

The only concering thing about him and Coppelia is the fact that Coppelia apparently drew herself stabbing him when she was little. Which is. Well. Not ideal. The fact that he finds this completely normal is very in character, though.

On Coppelia by herself, though: the fact that she ‘tinkers with stuff in the basement’ concerns me. I wouldn’t at all be surprised if after the canon ending, she ends up to be a technician at Freddy’s at some point. Also, the fact that she’s a gamer warms my heart.

Now, on other outside-work activities: I love the implication that my man not only bowls and always pays for dinner, but that he bowls and pays for dinner while dining with his serial killer ex-boss. God, that’s awesome, I love that so much.

Tying back to a point I made previously and also to a point I saw some people make that I really, really resonated with: there are actually a lot of parallels between Henry/William and Ralph, especially concering parenting. I don’t think the fact that his dream to be a toymaker is accidental, either, or the fact that he goes out of his way to point out that he wants to make toys that aren’t at all mechanical. Because even though he’s also a dad trying to make his kid happy with his creations, unlike William and/or Henry, he doesn’t want to make anything bigger than himself, or anything innovative; just wants to make simple things and make a kid’s day better. I don’t know man keeps me up at night, you know?

And, because this is only important to me: he owns a Kit-Cat Clock. This is somehow the most fitting thing I could’ve read about his taste in home decor.

And because I don’t know how else to end this: that’s a wrap! Was this book perfect? Hell no. The Bronwen plotline makes my brain hurt. But was it incredibly fun? Oh hell yes. And now I have a reference point for any future writings I do where Ralph is an active character, so that’s a major bonus. I have many thoughts but not enough time to put all of them down so I’m stopping here, major thanks to @graceandtheidiotsquad for pushing me over the edge and making me actually finish this with a reply lmao. And that’s all! Phone Man please get out of my head now before I go insane.

[ecto-hazard]

Hans gets a second opinion

[fallenangelblade]

btw I still think that a dean winchester who a) knows he’s queer and b) accepts the enormity of his feelings for cas but has a thousand justifications for not pursuing them (e.g. thinks angels aren’t capable of feelings like that, the end of the world keeps happening and there’s no time, is the most self-loathing man on the face of the earth, etc. etc.) is way more compelling and true to canon than the deeply repressed “bro I’m not gay wtf” characterization that a lot of fanfiction seems to favor

[catwouthats]

Me after there will be an intimate Lokius moment ep 3 (it will definitely happen) which will parallel the moment of Sylvie and Loki in s1 ep3 (it will definitely be real.)

(I’m definitely not only saying things because my meds have started to ware off. )

[chlothequeen]

So apparently Ruby does know what happened with Jaune (and to be fair, that’s really what the fight over the paper pleasers was about). And honestly, it makes sense for her to figure it out without being told directly what happened. She has a pretty good track record of figuring things out so far, after all.

[kybee1497]

Okay but the implications that Bianca sirensonged her way into Nevermore.

She’s 16, if she’s been there at least 3 years (the last 2 years of the poe cup, no one made it across the lake) That means she started Nevermore at 13.

At 13 Bianca was so desperate to get away from Morningsong, her mom, Gideon, and the cult that she ran away from home and sirensonged her way into Nevermore, a school for outcasts with a principal notorious for protecting everything within it’s walls.

She could have gone anywhere, or done anything with her song and instead she chose to use it to get into… the safety of a boarding school.

And then her mother shows up and it all comes crashing down. The look on her face when she realizes her mothers standing in front of her is absolutely heartbreaking.

[isthedogawolfdog]

One positive about the omegaverse is that this was one of the main things that lead to the confirmation that chat got was using fanfics to train their AI! Which is so fucking funny

Holy crap, well that’s something!

[getscaredhellyeah]

since we’re finally talking about johnny and how terrible he is, can we please talk about how he overstepped several boundaries and backstabbed nick by airing out nick’s dirty laundry when all johnny had to say was “for personal reasons get scared is going on hiatus”

[apollos-boyfriend]

Are you sure that you don't kin Icarus *because* of the religious trauma (/mostly joke)

no bc after i typed that post i have begun to consider it as a very real possibility. i am never free

[scrimblyscrorblo]

Gave his ass a tongue piercing idk I just like doodling him and giving him piercings LET HIM BE THE GOTH KING HE IS

[skwtches]

redraw of the love confes- i mean friendly exchange from that one episode of The Book of Pooh + more

[multigenderswag]

Not including the person's url, but here is an atrocious take I came across.

Did this person take thirty seconds to think about what they wrote? They just flat out said they don't include trans, nonbinary, multigender, or intersex men in their definition of "man." They don't even count non-straight men as men. If you mean straight cis men, say that. Clarify monogender or dyadic, even. Don't decide the only way to define "man" is to exclude trans, nonbinary, multigender, intersex, and queer men. Also, I'm not sure those men are really as welcome there as you claim, considering you just misgendered us.

[adelaidedrubman]

WHAT KIND OF LOVE ARE YOU?

i was tagged by @katsigian for this uquiz and everyone got so absolutely decimated i simply had to post pass along! (tried my best to italicize applicable/bold super applicable sparingly but everyone just got their ass beat so hard)

LOVE AS A FORCE OF NATURE

your love is like whiplash –– it comes in with the rain, it blows the doors wide open. when you fall in love, it is sudden and hard and immense. it is powerful. it is earth-shaking and world-ending. nature is a force, and that force can be destructive if you're not careful. see how the world is doused in gasoline and set on fire –– your love consumes, your love takes, your love burns. you're hot and cold all at once, a hurricane and a wildfire bound together in skin, and when you're in love, it can feel like it's eating you alive from the inside out. when you love, it is with everything you have because it is everything you have. be careful, darling, because not everyone survives the storm.

LOVE AS A CHOICE

you choose to love. love does not come to you easily, but every day you wake up and choose it. it would be so easy, wouldn't it, to grow cold and callous and grim. but you rise to greet the world, making the conscious effort to find something, anything to love. when you fall for someone, you do not kid yourself of their flaws. instead, you resolve to see them for who they are, mistakes and all and you love them all the same. your love is work, and it does not come easy. your love sweats and toils. it is calloused and sunburned; it bears scars and comes with stories. your love is worn, but it is no less valuable for it. being loved by you is like being loved by a gardener, a mother, a teacher. your love may not always be the simplest, but it is worth the effort.

LOVE AS A FLAW

cowering, your love hides in the dark. in shadows and under cover of night, your love runs from corner to corner, afraid to linger, afraid to be caught. afraid, afraid, afraid of everything. when you fall in love, it is with alarm bells ringing. your love is a mistake, a flaw in the code, a purchase you don’t remember making and desperately want to return. you didn’t ask for this. you didn’t want this. it’s a problem–– your problem ––and you would do anything to pass it off, burn it away, scoop it out of you with bare hands, or carved out with hooked knives before it can destroy you. get it out, just get it out now. you don’t care who you hurt in the process, only that you can’t afford to be hurt first. being loved by you is to be loved by a figment of the imagination. it is to be loved in halves, or not at all.

LOVE AS THE DAWN

pastel, saccharine and hopeful, your love rises slow to greet the day. it tiptoes on doe feet and blossoms bit by bit, petal by petal. love is new to you, isn’t it? a fresh discovery in a world you do not quite understand. your love loves with bated breaths. your love swoons and sighs and lingers under awnings. your love romanticizes. your love aches as tenderly as a bruise. you’re swollen with desire and idealizations. the perfect kiss, the perfect touch, the perfect partner in life. your love is wide-eyed and innocent, naive and pristine and oh, so very easily breakable. being loved by you is to be loved by a child, by a lamb, wooly-eyed and helpless. oh. i really hope it lasts.

oof. on that note if you’d like to play along tags out to @imogenkol @derelictheretic @belorage @florbelles @lordundying @henbased @rhettsabbott @a-treides @nowandthane @josephslittledeputy @memaidraws @poetikat @ruvviks @wrathfulrook @galaxycunt @fourlittleseedlings @nonfunctioning-queer @voidika @captastra @confidentandgood @deputyash @blissfulalchemist @shellibisshe @strafethesesinners @shallow-gravy @direwombat @jackiesarch @firstaidspray @socially-awkward-skeleton @afarcryfrommymain @8bitpizzacoupons @strangefable @ladyoriza @clicheantagonist @cassietrn @stacispratt @mccarthycormac @afarcry5fromstraight @orionlancasterr @omen-speaker @risingsh0t @thefathersbride @simplegenius042 @voidbuggg @thedeadthree + uquiz opt in here:3