#i was thrilled to write this you have NO idea

[jadeylovesmarvelxo]

🍂🍁🎃

❤️ just some tooth rotting fluff involving Eddie and his not so secret admirer

🎃💌

Eddie was in hell. Who's idea was it to do this stupid shit again?

A banner hung from outside the school that proclaimed today was Boo Day 👻🎃 a day dedicated to your boo (partner) or someone you admired.

Who had came up with this monstrosity you ask? Why that was Miss O'Donnell. She had the idea to have the day before Halloween dedicated to love. Where she had even had an idea like that was anyone's guess but Eddie was pretty certain that the old bat had lost her mind.

Or teaching Eddie for three years had finally driven her crazy.

Everywhere he looked people were cooing over mystery cards that they had gotten from a secret admirer.

This was another thing he hated about this whole day, he had to suffer through Valentine's Day, now he has to go through this shit as well? Who the hell would send him a card like that?

He'd be slightly jealous if he didn't think this was load of bullshit.

He dodges excited students dressed up as ghosts and pumpkins, students who Miss O'Donnell had cajoled into delivering cards and gifts to people who had participated in the card and gift exchange.

Finally there is a hint of escape when he barges into the drama room and breathes a sigh of relief. Jesus h Christ that was a nightmare.

It takes Eddie a second to realise that he's not alone. His heart skips a beat when he realises you're with him.

🎃💌

You're settled on one of the desks with a serene smile on your face that disappears the moment you hear the door open.

Once you see it's just Eddie and no loved up couples looking for a place to make out, you feel yourself relaxing once more.

"Hey Eddie" the haggard look on his face morphs into a genuine smile, all cute dimples and big brown eyes lighting up.

He was so cute and you had the biggest crush on him and you had planned to tell him, today in fact but his loud proclamation that this day was all a bunch of bullshit made you chicken out of handing him the card you made.

You doubted he felt the same anyway, he probably had a crush on one of the cheerleaders or someone like that.

Even if he said he didn't conform to societal standards you still caught him checking out the cheerleaders once or twice. You weren't a cheerleader or popular or anything like that, you just did what you liked and right now that was occasionally joining in on a Hellfire campaign or drawing or writing, honestly anything creative was your thing.

"So do you not have a secret admirer you made a card for?" Eddie teases and you clam up, avoiding his eyes.

"Maybe it's not like he feels the same though" you murmur and notice that Eddie isn't smiling anymore, in fact he looks kinda pissed and a little sad.

"Right, so I guess it's some popular douchebag or something?" He mutters and you try to figure out why his mood has suddenly changed so dramatically.

Was he jealous of who you liked? Didn't he realise that it was him you were smitten by. Shit what if he didn't... Feeling brave you decide to tell him how you feel and hope that he feels the same way or at least things aren't awkward between you after it all.

"It's you. I made a card for you Eddie" shit you wish the ground would swallow you up. The waiting to know how he felt was horrendous, if he laughed in your face you're sure that you'd high tail it out of here.

Instead of laughing he's gawking at you and you're ready to leave and hope to forget this all but something in his expression stops you.

"Maybe I should thank Miss O'Donell after all then" he's grinning widely and looks thrilled. "Can I see the card sweetheart?" flustered you nod and hand him the card.

It has a hand drawn picture of a pumpkin patch and you wrote inside if you were a pumpkin I would pick you 🎃❤️

Cheesy yes but you thought it was cute. Now however you're second guessing that decision and mortification fills you. Shit. This was a bad idea.

The anxiety leaves you when Eddie looks up at you smiling, he hides his face with his hair and it's so adorable.

"Aww shucks sweetheart, that's so cute. Just so you know I feel the same about you, I like you a lot princess and I'm thinking that maybe I could take you on a date"

Beaming you kiss his cheek and nod. "Where were you thinking?" he holds up your card and points to the pumpkin.

"I'm thinking of visiting the Pumpkin patch in town" he suggests and the idea is so perfect that you can't help but giggling.

"Sounds perfect"

🎃❤️

[callsigns-haze]

I love your writing! I really love the protective Tyler/Reader stories. With fall approching I have a request, if you would like to write it.

What if Tyler and Female Reader are dating and he takes her to a haunted house or haunted woods. She is really scared and he's making fun of her kinda, but once they get in there, he realizes something's not right and it's not a 'safe' haunted house, so he has to fight for her and protect her or something. Use your imagination, just a general idea.

Spooky

Pairing: Tyler Owens x Reader

Summary: Tyler and Y/N’s haunted house date turns into a fight for survival when they realize the danger is all too real.

Warning: Contains intense scenes of danger, violence, and peril.

Tyler had always been the brave one, the one who thrived on adventure and the thrill of the unknown. When he suggested taking Y/N to the most notorious haunted attraction in the area, she hesitated but eventually agreed. She trusted him, and besides, it was just a haunted house—nothing she couldn’t handle.

As they arrived at the entrance to the Haunted Woods, the atmosphere was already chilling. The moonlight barely pierced through the dense canopy of trees, and the air was thick with the scent of damp earth and decaying leaves. Eerie sounds echoed through the woods—distant screams, rustling leaves, and low, ominous groans.

Tyler, always the tease, glanced over at Y/N with a smirk. “You’re not scared, are you?” he asked, his tone light and playful.

Y/N forced a smile, clutching his arm a little tighter. “Of course not,” she lied, though her heart was already racing. “It’s just a bit spooky, that’s all.”

Tyler chuckled, clearly amused by her nerves. “Don’t worry, babe. I’ve got you. Nothing in here is real, remember? Just actors in costumes trying to give us a good scare.”

But as they ventured deeper into the woods, Y/N couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. The scares seemed too intense, too realistic. The actors were a little too convincing, their screams more desperate than playful. The darkness felt suffocating, and the path seemed to twist and turn in ways that made no sense.

At first, Tyler continued to make light of the situation, joking about the overly dramatic performances and the fake blood splattered on the trees. But as they stumbled upon an abandoned shack in the middle of the woods, his playful demeanor began to fade.

The shack was old, with its wood rotting and vines creeping up the sides. A dim light flickered from within, casting long, eerie shadows that danced across the clearing. The door creaked open slightly, as if inviting them inside.

Y/N tugged on Tyler’s sleeve, her voice trembling. “Tyler, I don’t like this. Can we go back?”

Tyler frowned, glancing around. The usual trail markers were nowhere to be seen. The path they had come from had seemingly vanished into the dense forest behind them. “Yeah, let’s head back,” he agreed, his voice more serious now.

But as they turned to leave, the door of the shack slammed shut with a loud bang, startling them both. Y/N gasped, her fear spiking as she clung to Tyler. “Tyler, what was that?”

He didn’t answer immediately, his eyes narrowing as he surveyed their surroundings. The eerie silence that followed was unnerving, and a chill ran down his spine. Something wasn’t right—this wasn’t just part of the attraction.

“We need to move,” Tyler said quietly, his voice low and tense. He took Y/N’s hand, leading her away from the shack and deeper into the woods, hoping to find another path.

But as they walked, the forest seemed to close in around them. The trees grew thicker, the branches hanging low like twisted arms reaching out to grab them. The sounds of the haunted attraction faded, replaced by the unsettling silence of the woods. The only sound was the crunch of leaves under their feet and Y/N’s quickening breaths.

Suddenly, a figure emerged from the shadows ahead of them—a man, tall and looming, his face obscured by a grotesque mask. Y/N froze in terror, gripping Tyler’s hand so tightly that her knuckles turned white.

Tyler instinctively moved in front of her, his protective instincts kicking in. “Who’s there?” he called out, his voice strong and commanding.

The figure didn’t respond. Instead, it started moving toward them with deliberate, slow steps, the leaves crunching ominously beneath its feet. Tyler’s heart pounded in his chest as he realized this wasn’t just an actor—it was something far more dangerous.

“Run,” Tyler whispered to Y/N, keeping his eyes locked on the approaching figure. “Go back the way we came. I’ll hold him off.”

Y/N hesitated, fear rooting her to the spot. “Tyler, no—I’m not leaving you!”

“Go!” Tyler insisted, pushing her gently but firmly in the direction they came from. “I’ll be right behind you!”

Y/N’s eyes filled with tears, but she knew there was no time to argue. She turned and ran, her heart pounding in her chest, the dark woods closing in around her.

Tyler squared his shoulders, ready to confront the figure. But just as he prepared to defend himself, the man lunged at him, revealing a flash of something metallic in his hand—a knife. Tyler dodged just in time, narrowly avoiding the blade. He fought back, using his strength and agility to fend off the attacker, but the man was relentless.

The struggle was brutal, Tyler’s every move fueled by the need to protect Y/N. He managed to land a few solid hits, disarming the man and sending the knife clattering to the ground. But as he turned to follow Y/N, he heard her scream—a blood-curdling sound that made his heart stop.

Tyler sprinted in the direction of her voice, adrenaline surging through his veins. He found her not far away, cornered by another figure who had seemingly appeared out of nowhere. This one was smaller, but no less menacing, with a wicked grin that made Tyler’s blood run cold.

Without a second thought, Tyler charged at the assailant, tackling him to the ground. He fought with everything he had, his sole focus on keeping Y/N safe. The assailant struggled beneath him, but Tyler’s determination was unbreakable. He delivered a final, powerful punch that left the man unconscious on the forest floor.

Panting and battered, Tyler turned to Y/N, who was trembling and pale. He rushed to her side, pulling her into his arms. “Are you okay?” he asked, his voice rough with concern.

Y/N nodded, but tears streamed down her face as she clung to him. “Tyler, what is this place? We need to get out of here!”

Tyler nodded, realizing the severity of their situation. “We will. We just need to find the main path again.”

Supporting Y/N, Tyler led her through the woods, trying to stay as calm as possible despite the fear gnawing at him. Every rustle in the leaves, every shadow that shifted in the corner of his vision set him on edge.

After what felt like an eternity, they finally stumbled upon the main trail. In the distance, they could see the faint glow of the exit and hear the muffled sounds of other people—the real haunted attraction, far safer than the nightmare they had just experienced.

Tyler tightened his grip on Y/N’s hand as they hurried toward the exit. Relief washed over them as they emerged from the woods, the familiar sounds and lights of the attraction grounding them back in reality.

As they caught their breath, Tyler turned to Y/N, his face pale but determined. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. I had no idea…”

Y/N shook her head, still shaken but grateful to be out of there. “It’s not your fault, Tyler. You protected me. That’s all that matters.”

Tyler pulled her close, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “I’ll never take you to something like this again, I promise.”

She leaned into him, finding comfort in his embrace. “I think I’ve had enough haunted houses for a lifetime.”

They walked back to the car, both shaken but incredibly thankful to have made it out together. As they drove away from the Haunted Woods, the adrenaline began to wear off, replaced by exhaustion and a deep sense of relief.

Tyler reached over and took Y/N’s hand, squeezing it gently. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

Y/N looked at him, her eyes filled with love and gratitude. “I am, thanks to you.”

They drove in silence for a while, the tension slowly melting away as they left the horrors of the night behind them. It had been a terrifying experience, but it had also brought them closer, reminding them both of the strength of their bond.

By the time they arrived home, they were both exhausted, but safe. Tyler helped Y/N out of the car, wrapping an arm around her shoulders as they walked inside. They didn’t need to say anything; the way they held onto each other said it all.

That night, as they lay in bed, Tyler pulled Y/N close, his arms wrapped protectively around her. They both knew they had faced something truly terrifying together, but they had come out the other side stronger.

And that was all that mattered.

tagging some:

@senawashere

@saviorcomplexrry

@cevansbaby-dove

@saynotononsense

@missdottie

@willowisp7

@taorislover94

@eloquenceinpurple

@86laura11

@rosiahills22

@jessicab1991

@kmc1989

@shanimallina87

@eternalsams

@teen-antisocial

@katiemcrae

[itneverendshere]

hi! For the bartender!Universe would u mind writing a pregnancy scare? It brings a lot of mixed emotions when they find out she wasn’t pregnant and it ends up a really deep talk about what they want with their future? Thank you so much 💕💕

i got a similiar ask at the exact same time so i decided to combine aspects of both!!! the other request: "this one’s a lil angsty. maybe you have a pregnancy scare and while rafes like super excited for the potential baby, you’re not, the stress of keeping rafe clean and not heading back to rehab lingers your mind".

hope you both enjoy!!!!❤️🫂🤭

 just want you in my life keep you warm at nights - r.c

pairing: rafe x pogue!reader (bartender!reader universe) warnings: pregnancy scare; insecurities

Rafe was sprawled out beside you, his arm draped lazily across your stomach as he scrolled through his phone. You could feel the pressure of his hand pressing gently on your skin, but your mind was a million miles away, your gaze stuck on the ceiling fan.

It felt like everything had been on autopilot for the past few days, your mind preoccupied with one thing—late. Not like a few days late.

More like over a week late.

It wasn’t the first time your period had been irregular, but you couldn’t help but spiral immediately. Rafe and you had been together for three and a half years, living together for a while now and he’d proposed last autumn. But this? This wasn’t part of the plan.

Not yet.

“Hey,” His voice snapped you back to the present, his brows furrowed as he looked at you, concern evident in his blue eyes. “What’s wrong?”

You blinked, trying to force a smile. “Nothing... just thinking.”

He shifted, propping himself up on his elbow to look at you more closely. “Thinkin’ about what?”

You stomach dropped. You hadn’t told him yet. You weren’t sure if there was anything to tell because you hadn’t even taken the test. You weren’t sure if you wanted to. Saying it out loud would make it real. And that terrified you.

Rafe, on the other hand, would probably be thrilled. He’d always talked about kids like they were a given, like it was part of some unspoken future you were destined for. You wanted them too, but the truth? The truth was, the idea of being responsible for another human being when you were still trying to recover from Rafe's scare last year and keeping your shit together now that you’d gotten a promotion at the club—well, it felt like too much.

You couldn’t say that, though. Not to him. So you kept quiet. 

The next day, you stared at the small plastic stick in your hand, heart hammering in your chest as you waited for the result to appear. The bathroom was dead silent, save for the faint drip of the sink, but your mind was anything but quiet.

This one stupid piece of plastic was going to dictate the rest of your life. It could change everything in the blink of an eye. Three minutes. That’s how long it would take to find out if your entire world was about to be turned upside down.

You still hadn’t told Rafe. You didn’t even know how to. His mind was in a good place lately, and you weren’t about to ruin that. After everything we’d been through—the relapse, the rehab, the nights where you weren’t sure if he’d make it out—this was not something you were ready to throw on both of you.

You hadn’t even wrapped your head around it yet. Shit, you could barely breathe just thinking about the possibility. You glanced at your phone, biting your lip as the seconds ticked by.

Almost time. Your stomach twisted into endless knots. He was in the living room, blissfully unaware of the panic attack you were on the verge of having just a few feet away. You could hear him flipping through channels on the TV, probably looking for some show to watch. Part of you felt guilty for not telling him, but how were you supposed to tell him when you didn’t even know what you wanted?

The idea of being pregnant had scared you more than you expected.

Not because you hated kids or anything, you grew up rising Milo for fuck’s sake—it was just the timing. Or maybe it was more than that.

Your mom died shortly after you were born and your dad…well, a drunk piece of shit was hardly a good parental figure. You’d never let yourself think about it before, Rafe had told you how good you were with kids a million times over the years, but you didn’t know how you’d turn out with your own kids. You didn’t want to be anything like them, ever. 

Taking a deep breath, you finally glanced down at the test.

Negative.

Relief took over you so fast it made you feel lightheaded. You hadn’t realized just how much pressure you’d been carrying on your shoulders until it was gone in an instant. Thank God.

Your shoulders slumped as you exhaled, leaning against the sink for support. You felt like you finally could breathe again, like you could relax for the first time in what felt like weeks. There was no baby. No life-altering change. No new responsibility that you didn’t know how to handle.

You closed your eyes. This was good. This was the outcome you needed. No baby, no stress, just… back to normal.

But then, life had a twisted sense of humor and the door creaked open. “Hey, baby, you—”

Your eyes flew open, heart dropping in your chest as you quickly shoved the pregnancy test behind your back. Rafe stood in the doorway, looking at you with his signature confused look—one eyebrow cocked, lips slightly parted, like he’d walked in on something he wasn’t supposed to.

You forced a smile, too wide and too fake, and took a step back, trying to act casual. “Oh, uh, hey! What’s up?” Your voice cracked on the last word, and you internally winced. Smooth.

He narrowed his eyes, crossing his arms as he leaned against the doorframe. “What are you hiding behind your back?”

Shit.

You tried to laugh it off, shaking your head like it was no big deal. “Hiding? Me? I’m not hiding anything.”

His eyes moved to the hand behind your back. “Really? Because it sure looks like you are.”

You swallowed hard, your brain rushing to come up with some excuse, any excuse. 

But the longer you stood there, the more suspicious you looked. And Rafe was nothing if not persistent when he thought something was up. Before you could stop him, he pushed off the doorframe and closed the distance between you two, his hand reaching behind your back in one smooth motion. Your stomach dropped as he grabbed the test from your hand, pulling it out in front of both of us.

He stared at the pregnancy test in his hand, his eyes widening with realization as he slowly processed what he was seeing. What he was holding. His mouth opened slightly, but no words came out at first. He just stood there. 

“Y-You thought you were pregnant?”

The heat rose to your cheeks, and the anxiety that had been building in your stomach for days came back at full force. You were still reeling from the relief of the negative result, but now that relief was giving up space for guilt. You hadn’t meant for him to find out like this, or maybe not even at all. You didn’t want to drag him into the spiral you’d been caught in, not when things had been going so well lately.

“I... I wasn’t sure,” you stammered, looking down at the floor because it was easier than meeting his eyes. “I mean, I was late, and I just…I didn’t know.”

Rafe’s face softened, the confusion in his eyes giving way to concern as he took a step toward you. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

You swallowed hard, your heart racing again, this time for a different reason. The last thing you wanted to do was lie but telling him the truth felt impossible.

“I didn’t want to stress you out,” you admitted, “I wasn’t even sure if I was, and I didn’t want to freak you out for no reason.”

Rafe’s hand was still holding the test, but now he was looking at you with that intensity he always had when he knew you were telling the entire truth. He wasn’t mad—he never got mad, not anymore—but you could tell he was hurt that you hadn’t let him in. You felt awful about it.

“I wouldn’t have freaked out,” he said gently, stepping even closer until he was right in front of you. “You know that, right? You don’t have to do this alone.”

That was the thing, though. Over the past year you’d spent so long worrying about him, making sure he was healthy, that the idea of burdening him again with your own fears had become...strange.

You didn’t want to be another weight on his shoulders.

“I know, I just…” You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “I didn’t know how to feel about it. And I didn’t want you to—”

“To what?” he pressed softly, his voice so calm and reassuring that it made the stress loosen just a little.

You took a deep breath, “I didn’t want you to get your hopes up, I guess. Or feel disappointed if it was negative.”

He set the test down on the counter beside him, reaching out to cup your face in his hands. “Baby, I wouldn’t be disappointed,” he murmured, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “If it had been positive, great. If it’s not, that’s fine too. We’ve got time. It’s not like we have to figure this out right now.”

The lump in your throat made it hard to speak. “You’re really not mad?”

Rafe shook his head, “I wish you would’ve told me what you were going through. I don’t want you to carry that by yourself.”

You closed your eyes, leaning into his touch. There was so much you wanted to say, so many fears you’d been holding onto—not just about the possibility of being pregnant, but about everything. About whether you were even ready for kids at all, about what kind of parent you’d be, about whether you could handle the responsibility when your past still haunted you in ways you hadn’t recovered from.

“It’s not just that,” you whispered, “I don’t know if I’m ready, Rafe. And it scares the shit out of me.”

He was silent for a moment, and when you finally opened your eyes to look at him, his expression was so gentle, so understanding, that it almost broke you.

“Hey,” he pulled you into his arms. “We don’t have to be ready right now. There’s no rush. When you’re ready, we’ll talk about it."

You buried your face in his chest, letting him heartbeat calm you. His arms wrapped around you tightly, and for the first time in what felt like days, you allowed yourself to relax.

“I-I know you want a baby. But—”

He sighed against your hair, lips brushing your temple, “What I want is for you to be happy. And if this doesn’t make you happy right now, I don’t mind waiting. We got forever, remember?”

It wasn’t that you didn’t want kids—it was that right now, everything already felt like too much. Planning a wedding, keeping up with work, holding your relationship together after what you both had been through, it was all overwhelming. And then the idea of a baby on top of that? You’d grow crazy.

Rafe’s fingers brushed through your hair, and you just let yourself be in his comfort. But the guilt was still there, eating you whole from the inside. You should’ve told him from the start, not carried it all on your own like you always do.

“I’m sorry,” you muttered into his chest, voice muffled. “I didn’t mean to keep it from you. I just didn’t know what to do. It’s been a lot lately.”

He kissed the top of your head, his hands gentle as they held you. “You don’t have to apologize, baby. You’re dealing with enough already.”

You let out a shaky laugh. “Yeah, I think I’m losing my mind.”

The wedding. God, the wedding. You hadn’t even let yourself fully acknowledge how much that had been stressing you out too. You’d dreamed about this day since you were a kid, but now, between caterers, guest lists, dress fittings, and everything else, it felt like a full-time job. And the worst part was, the more overwhelmed you got, the more guilty you felt for not being excited enough about it.

“I just want everything to be perfect,” you admitted, biting your lip. “I want it to be special, but it’s starting to feel like a chore. Like I’m supposed to care more about seating charts and floral arrangements than... than actually enjoying the fact that we’re getting married.”

 “Then let’s cut back. We don’t need some huge, over-the-top thing if it’s stressing you out. I just want to marry you, that’s all that matters to me.”

He always knew exactly how to calm you down, how to remind you what was important when everything else felt a little too crazy.

“But what about your family?” you asked, wiping at the corner of your eyes. “They’re expecting this big thing.”

He shrugged, “They’ll get over it. This is about us, not them. If you want something smaller, we can do that. Hell, we can get married in the backyard for all I care, as long as it’s what you want.”

The sincerity in his voice almost made you want to bawl your eyes out. You took a deep breath, nodding slowly. “I think I’d like that. Something smaller. More us.”

“Then that’s what we’ll do,” he nodded. You let out a sigh of relief, the knot in your chest loosening more. Maybe this was what you needed—to let go of the pressure to have it all figured out. To accept that it was okay to not be ready for everything.

“I love you,” you whispered, leaning into his touch.

“I love you too,” he replied, his forehead resting against yours. “But baby, you have to stop worrying so much about me. I’m okay. I’m doing good, and I’m not going back there. But you’re gonna drive yourself crazy if you keep putting me first and ignoring what you need.”

You blinked, your breath catching slightly. “I’m not ignoring what I need—”

“You are,” he cut in gently, but firmly. “You’ve been doing it for months now. Since the relapse, since rehab. You’ve been carrying all this, stressing about keeping everything together. And I love you for wanting to take care of me, but you can’t keep putting yourself second. It’s not fair to you.”

You wanted to argue, to say you were fine, that it was just what you had to do to keep everything from falling apart. But deep down, you knew he was right. You’d been holding on so tight, so terrified that if you let go, if you stopped worrying about him for even a second, you’d lose him again. 

“I’m just scared,” you whispered, the lump in your throat making it hard to speak. “I don’t want to lose you.”

“You’re not going to lose me,” Rafe said softly, pulling you closer. “But if you keep this up, you’re gonna lose yourself.”

You closed your eyes, pressing your face into his chest as the tears you’d been holding back finally started to fall. Rafe held you tighter, his hand rubbing slow circles on your back. He didn’t try to hush you or tell you to stop. He just let you cry, let you get it all out, like he knew you’d needed this release for a long time. You couldn’t stop. Everything you’d been bottling up for months was spilling out at once.

Rafe held you tighter, his hand rubbing slow circles on your back. He didn’t try to hush you or tell you to stop. He just let you cry, let you get it all out, like he knew you’d needed this for a long time.

You pulled back slightly, sniffling as you wiped at your eyes. “I’m sorry,” you muttered. “I didn’t mean to—”

“Stop apologizing,” Rafe shook his head. “You don’t have to apologize for feeling what you’re feeling. But you’ve gotta start trusting that I’m okay."

You nodded, swallowing hard. “I know.”

"You’re allowed to let me take care of you too, you know?”

You let out a small laugh, wiping the last of the tears from your face. “I’m not great at that.”

“Meh, you used to be a lot worse.”

“Yeah?” you asked, raising an eyebrow, leaning into his familiar warmth.

“Oh yeah,” he smirked, his hand brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “You used to keep everything so locked up, I’d have to pry things out of you.

His words made you chuckle, despite yourself. It was true. You had gotten better at letting him in—at least compared to before.

“You’ve always been so good at taking care of me,” you whispered, your hand tracing soft patterns across his chest. “But I guess sometimes I still forget that I don’t have to be strong all the time.”

 “You don’t. I’ve got you, baby. I’ve always got you.”

He meant it—every word. This was Rafe at his best, the man who had fought his way back from the darkness, who had become the partner you always knew he could be. The boy you fell in love with, the man you were going to marry and grow old with.

“I’m really trying,” you murmured, blinking back the last of your tears. “I don’t want to keep worrying about everything or trying to control what’s out of my hands. I just want us to be happy.”

“You make me happier than I’ve ever been, and I don’t want you to ever doubt that.”

You hesitated for a second, biting your lip before finally speaking up.

"Rafe?" you said softly, looking up at him. He hummed in response, his hand still tracing slow, comforting circles on your back.

"Are you… are you sure you're not sad about the, uh, not pregnant thing?" Your voice was quiet, unsure. You didn’t know why you felt the need to ask again. Even with all his reassurances, a part of you couldn’t ignore the worry that he might feel disappointed deep down.

He sighed gently, his lips quirking into a soft, understanding smile. "Baby, no," he said firmly, shaking his head as if to emphasize his point. "I promise you, I’m not sad. It doesn’t change anything between us. I told you before—we’ve got time. I’m happy with where we are right now. I don’t need a baby to make me feel complete. You already do that."

You couldn't help but ask again, just to be sure. "Really? You’re not disappointed?"

Rafe sighed softly, moving his hand to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear as he looked at you with those steady blue eyes. "Not disappointed. Not sad. I’m just glad you’re here. That’s all I care about. I’m fine with whatever the outcome is as long as I have you.”

"You’re really okay with this?" 

He frowned slightly, his hand coming up to gently tilt your chin so you were looking directly at him. "Listen to me. You could never disappoint me. Okay?"

You still had questions, still had insecurities about the future, but for the first time in days, you weren’t consumed by them and allowed yourself to believe that everything really was going to be good.

"Okay."

[rivendell-poet]

Hello! It’s the same anon who asked you about the Hobbit movies :) I was wondering if you could write (no pressure! I just mostly wanted to share an idea) funny headcanons or a scenario of a female reader (could be a non-Mirkwood elf or someone from a long-lived race) who was part of Thorin’s company and meets Legolas again 60 years later when she’s with Frodo in Rivendell? Reader remembers how Legolas wasn’t too courteous to the Company and locked them up in the dungeons which made her dislike him quite a bit. And let’s just say that she wasn’t all too… thrilled upon meeting him again in LOTR and him joining the Fellowship with her ahaha. Bonus points if she remembers Legolas calling Gimli a ‘goblin mutant’ when he looked at Gloin’s locket in the Mirkwood forest xD.

Again, please take your time with this :) I understand that you have quite a few things to write, and I only want you to write whatever you feel happy writing <3

Hi anon! Sorry it took so long for your request, but hopefully this was what you meant with scenarios. If you'd prefer a oneshot please feel free to put a new request in <3 Thanks so much for the idea by the way, it was super fun to work with. And it genuinely means so much to read the last note on your request, so seriously thank you

*･༓˚✧ ❝𝐋𝐞𝐠𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐬 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐓𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐧’𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐲❞ ‧͙⁺˚༓˚✧ « scenarios »

Gender-neutral reader | Wordcount : 0.5k | TWs : None

✧ To be perfectly honest, you hadn’t wanted to join the Company in the first place - it was more of a collection of favours than a real desire to reclaim Erebor.

✧ Which made it so much worse when you and the Company got captured in Mirkwood.

✧ (It probably didn’t help that you’d let out a small laughed at the blond elf’s joke about Glóin’s son. In your defence it was funny.)

✧ As an elf, the guards had been cordial to you - and you’d managed to find out quite a few things about the kingdom. Such as the blond elf being Legolas, Prince of Mirkwood.

✧ He tried to visit you, once, holding the idea of having a better bed and better food over you if you gave up the information.

✧  And you may not have wanted to be in the Company, but you’d be damned if you weren’t loyal to them.

✧ So you’d simply refused to speak to him.

✧ Although all that knowing his name, and your time in Mirkwood, really did was help put a name and reasons for your grudge.

✧ A grudge that hadn’t gone anywhere, until now.

✧ Because sitting across you from you at the Council of Elrond was the same elf as the one who you’d only properly seen through bars. Not that there was recognition in his face.

✧ The matters only got worse when you realised the name of the dwarf who was joining you - Gimli.

✧ For the first leg of the Fellowship you don’t bring it up, because the quest to save Middle Earth is (sadly) more important than a simple grudge.

✧ It doesn’t mean that you can’t still be slightly petty to him however.

✧ You never do anything that could endanger him, just subtle things - like waking him up a few minutes before his watch should start, or loosening his dagger from his scabbard only enough to make him confused.

✧ Gimli eventually figures out it was you, but promise not to tell. He’s the only one aside from Gandalf who actually knows of your involvement in the Fellowship, but not of the precise comments.

✧ That’s a little bit of information you want to share on a good occasion.

✧ You decide to finally share the story a little after leaving Lothlórien, because you can tell the Fellowship needs some cheering up.

✧ And when you say it you feel completely justified in waiting this long.

✧ Because you get to watch the elf almost turn pale - as pale as an elf could go - as the realisation hit him.

✧ (The rest of the Fellowship does briefly have to deal with Legolas looking horrified while you laugh and try not to keel over.)

✧ Merry and Pippin join in the laughter as soon as you explain the joke.

✧ And it does the job in cheering the Fellowship up.

✧ Legolas takes it surprisingly well, although afterwards approaches you to apologise in private - genuinely expressing remorse for his actions.

✧ It’s unexpected but welcomed, and you thank him for it.

✧ From then on it becomes an inside joke between you all (especially you and Legolas).

✧ And, when facing what you are, even a simple joke can be one of the brightest lights for the two of you. A light both of you are grateful for.

A/N : Sorry to any readers who wished for comedy, I'm afraid I'm not great when it comes to writing this. But hopefully you enjoyed it! And, honestly, I'm very open to writing more in this universe/with this premise if people want some <3

« masterlist » thank you for reading *･༓˚✧ Taglist : @celestialhole / @starwars2222 / @xiaoseminence / @withasideofmeg / @nilintakan / @ferns-fics / @chewgazellechew / @recordofragnarokfan2 / @stormchaser819 / @raikan624 ✧ wish to be tagged?

[blackenedsnow]

Can I ask you to write headcanons for the Dudes on their s/o being a cat person and having a lot of cats at home (probably in their 30s). Knowing how Dude treats cats in the games, I think it would be interesting to see their reactions.

the dudes having a cat person s/o with lots of cats ; headcanons

WARNING: None

PAIRING: Postal (1) Dude x Reader, Postal (2) Dude x Reader, Postal (3) Dude x Reader, Postal (4) Dude x Reader, Postal (BD) Dude x Reader, Postal (Movie) Dude x Reader

NOTE: EVERY SINGLE DUDE OKAY LETS GO

P1 DUDE

P1 isn’t the most expressive person, but when he first walks into your home filled with cats, he doesn’t seem bothered by it.

He’s got a soft spot for animals in his own way, especially considering how they’re often the only living things he doesn’t lash out at.

He’ll silently acknowledge them, maybe giving them a nod as if they understand each other.

The cats actually help calm him down.

P1 has a lot of internal turmoil, and being around your calm and curious cats is one of the few things that grounds him.

He finds their quiet presence soothing, even if he never says it out loud.

He won’t actively seek out the cats for affection, but if one comes over and curls up on him, he’ll stay still, letting it be.

Over time, you might catch him absentmindedly petting one of them while lost in thought.

It’s subtle, but it’s a sign of his trust in both you and the animals.

P2 DUDE

P2 has been through some weird stuff, so the idea of you having a house full of cats doesn’t exactly faze him.

In fact, he seems oddly cool with it.

But, at first he does NOT shut up about how dogs are better

He secretly loves your cats, and you’ll often catch him joking about how your house has become a “feline kingdom.”

He’s the type to start naming the cats ridiculous things like “Mr. Whiskers” or “Claws McGraw,” and you’ll often find him playing with them using improvised toys.

There’s something about the fun of having so many cats that just fits with his lifestyle, and he’ll probably end up forming a bond with a few of them.

You might find him using one of the cats as an improvised something again, but only when he’s in a pinch.

He’ll definitely give them a good pet afterward and make sure they’re okay.

It’s part of his strange way of showing love, and he’ll treat them like royalty when he’s not in survival mode.

P3 DUDE

P3 has a bit of a different energy.

When he walks into your cat-filled home, he’s not sure what the hell to do at first.

He’s unsure how to approach the situation, because usually he's kidnapping cats.

Over time, he gets used to the cats.

He might roughly try to pet one, in a loving way, looking to you for guidance on how to handle them.

P3 will eventually start trying to “win over” the cats, bringing treats or toys in an attempt to earn their approval.

You might catch him quietly whispering

“Hey, little guy, you like me, right? You like me more right? Way more?”

He’s got an endearing side to him when he’s trying hard to impress.

P4 DUDE

The moment P4 steps into your home and sees all of your cats lounging around, he’s thrilled.

“Damn, look at all these fluffy little guys!”

He’s immediately down on the floor, trying to pet as many as possible and get them to love him.

He’s the type to instantly form a connection with your cats.

You’ll often find him with a few of them on his lap or one draped over his shoulder while he's napping.

He probably has ongoing conversations with the cats, acting like they’re part of the family and sometimes even asking them for advice when you’re not around.

Because he's dumb and weird. Duh.

Expect him to start spoiling them, sneaking them treats when you’re not looking, and building elaborate little cat forts out of cardboard boxes.

BD DUDE

BD’s reaction is one of sheer confusion at first.

He walks in, sees all the cats, and probably stares at them for a long moment.

“Wait… how many cats are there again?”

His sense of reality might be a little warped, but he finds the whole thing odd.

He’ll likely try to communicate with the cats in strange ways, meowing at them or mimicking their movements.

It doesn’t always make sense, but the cats seem to tolerate him, and he finds their reactions endlessly entertaining.

Despite his strange behavior, he manages to coexist with your cats, and they oddly seem to flock to him.

Maybe it’s because they recognize the energy he gives off, but either way, you’ll often find him surrounded by a bunch of your cats, all of them staring at him like they understand something you don’t.

MOVIE DUDE

He's SO gentle when it comes to these little guys.

He respects cats in the same way he respects you—creatures that do what they want, on their terms.

He admires their independence and sharp instincts.

He’s extremely protective of your cats, much like he is with you.

If anything threatens them—whether it’s a stray dog or an intruder—he won’t hesitate to step in.

He’s oddly defensive about them, as if he sees them as part of his new, makeshift family.

Unlike some of the other Dudes, he’s quieter in his interactions with the cats.

You might find him sitting in the corner, watching them with a small smirk on his face as they go about their business.

He’s content just being around them, appreciating their quiet companionship.

He really, really wants them to like him.

But he also doesn't wanna be attacked

So he's stuck.

[bunnist4rz]

Guys peak or peak @clayderogatory I love you and ur silly autistic ideas paws are you

TW/CW : none,, knight!leon kennedy x royal!reader,, angst no happy ending

Leon and you wandered through the castle gardens, the dew-damp grass muffling your footsteps. The pale light of dawn softened the sharp lines of his face, casting shadows over the world as you held each other close, aware that your time together was slipping away. His armor, dulled by the night’s rain, no longer gleamed with its usual brilliance, but the warmth in his eyes remained undiminished. The faint scent of roses drifted on the breeze, a bittersweet reminder of the fleeting beauty around you—beauty that seemed cruel in the face of your looming separation.

“I can’t believe the time has come,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

Leon looked down at you, his expression resolute. “I’ll come back to you, I promise. Stay strong, my love.” He pressed a small, worn necklace into your palm. It was a simple thing, a leather cord with a silver charm shaped like a knight in mid-gallop. “This will keep you safe until I return.”

You stared at the token, warmth flooding through your fingers where his touch lingered. “What if—”

“Don’t,” he interrupted gently, cupping your face. “No ‘what ifs.’ We’ve both faced too many battles already. This is just one more.”

With a heavy heart, Leon mounted his steed, the creature snorting in anticipation of the coming fight. You stood frozen, watching him ride away, the clanking of his armor and the thudding hooves slowly fading into the distance. “Leon!” you called out, desperation in your voice. “Promise me you’ll write!”

“I will,” he shouted back, his voice carrying on the wind. “And I’ll be back before you know it!”

When the castle gates closed behind him, it felt as though they shut out the sun itself, leaving you shrouded in a deep, aching loneliness.

Weeks blurred into months. The castle was alive with the constant murmurs of war—strategies, victories, losses—but nothing about Leon. Each day you wore a mask, feigning interest in trivial conversations. “Have you heard the latest from the battlefield?” a courtier would ask.

“Yes, I’m certain it will be over soon,” you’d reply, though your heart was elsewhere. Each night you sat alone with the necklace in hand, whispering prayers to gods who never seemed to answer.

The wedding preparations came, an unwelcome interruption to your grief. “You should be excited!” the ladies-in-waiting chirped, adjusting the fabric of your wedding dress.

“Excited?” you echoed, forcing a smile. “Yes, how thrilling it is to be married to someone I barely know.”

The laughter of the court felt like a cruel mockery, echoing against the stone walls. “You’ll grow to love him, I’m sure,” one of them said.

But your thoughts remained with Leon, who fought for a kingdom that seemed so far away from the one you inhabited. You moved through the days like a shadow, performing your duties while your heart, your true self, lay buried with the man who had ridden away at dawn.

Your betrothed, a noble from a nearby land, was kind. He sensed the unspoken grief you carried. One evening, he approached you while you were gazing out the window, lost in thought. “You’re so far away,” he said gently. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

You turned to him, the weight of your sorrow heavy on your heart. “I just… I’m trying to cope with everything. It’s hard to pretend everything is fine.”

“I know about your past with Leon,” he said, his voice low. “You don’t need to hide your feelings from me. It’s okay to grieve.”

“I don’t know how to move on,” you confessed, tears welling in your eyes. “Every day feels like a betrayal to him.”

Your spouse nodded, understanding etched into his features. “We can share this burden. You don’t have to carry it alone.”

Yet the ache in your chest never eased. The days passed, filled with the echoes of war and the quiet suffering of those left behind. Then, one fateful evening, as the sky was painted in shades of blood and fire by the setting sun, your father summoned you to his chambers. His eyes, usually stern, were red and wet with unshed tears.

“Father, what’s wrong?” you asked, fear creeping into your voice.

He handed you a letter, his hand trembling. “It’s about Leon.”

Time seemed to stop as you read the words that shattered your world. “No… No,” you gasped, your heart racing. “It can’t be true. He was supposed to come back!”

Your father’s voice broke as he tried to comfort you. “I’m so sorry, my child. He fought bravely, but he was injured… he didn’t survive.”

Your legs gave way beneath you, and you crumpled to the floor, the parchment fluttering from your fingers. “He promised he’d come back,” you cried, your voice raw with despair.

Your father knelt beside you, his arms encircling you in a rare display of tenderness. “I know, my dear. It’s unfair, and it hurts more than words can express.”

In the days that followed, you drifted like a ghost through the halls, your eyes vacant, your spirit shattered. The castle, once vibrant with life, now felt like a tomb. Your spouse approached you one evening, concern etched across his features. “You’ve been so distant. How can I help you?”

“The only thing that would help is to have him back,” you replied, your voice trembling. “I’m sorry. I don’t know how to be present when I’m filled with this grief.”

“I want to be here for you,” he said, sincerity lacing his words. “Just let me in, please.”

“I wish I could,” you whispered, the weight of your heartache anchoring you to the ground. “But part of me is lost with him.”

“Then let me help you find it again,” he urged gently. “We’ll face this together.”

At night, alone in your chamber, you clutched the necklace to your chest and whispered to the emptiness, “I’ll keep waiting for you, Leon. Even if it’s only in my dreams.”

[canisalbus]

Hi um, I know you're cool with fanart, but would fanfic of Vasco and Machete be okay and if so can we tag you when we finish it? 👉👈 Weeeeee... kinda wanna write like a BILLION words about these two from seeing all your art and canon about them.

-Stars system

Absolutely! I love seeing other people's interpretations of Vasco and Machete and I'd consider it an honor if they inspired you enough to want to write something about them. If you do, tag me or dm me a link please, I wouldn't want to miss it.

[tswwwit]

i’m sooo curious on bill meeting dipper’s parents. i think i remember you mentioning at one point they kinda sucked and treated dip especially bad. i’m sure that’s caused a lot of his long term mental health/self esteem issues and i can’t help but think his husband wouldn’t be too thrilled about that. also they don’t even know he’s married so that’s a whole other thing lol

In the Familiar AU, Dipper's parents shipped him and Mabel off to Grunkle Stan back when they were twelve, actually!

This was initially excused as the twins 'needing to get used to having magic'. Which makes sense! Magical puberty is a heck of a thing, and getting some training's useful to cut down on random magic surges.

But by the end of the summer, they hadn't made any plans for picking the kids up. This when Stan twigged to the real situation.

And by the end of that year, Dipper knew his 'paranoid' assumption was absolutely correct.

So the twins grew up in Gravity Falls, with only very occasional visits back 'home'. Contact's been sporadic, and Mabel's been the one who's clung more to their parent's attention. Dipper hasn't spoken to them unless forced to in years.

So yeah! Bill's not exactly thrilled with the parents - but lucky for them, they haven't met him yet! And they definitely don't know about the marriage. Much less anything else.

[venusdebotticelli]

Okay so, I think it's very likely that after Stede and Ed have had their first reunion they're gonna be separated again soon after. Probably because Ed's gonna be like "I'm totally over you actually and don't wanna see your stupid face ever again" and run away from Stede just because of how absolutely tooooootally over him he is, right? So Stede will probably be aboard the Revenge while Ed is elsewhere having his Live Laugh Love spiritual journey of Finding Himself and all that.

Now imagine Stede all bummed out because he's just having the full realisation of exactly how much he hurt Ed, and there's no hope, he absolutely blew it, Ed obviously wants nothing to do with him ever again! Despair! So he goes to mope to the Captain's quarters, wallows in the tragic state of them a bit while missing Ed terribly, and his eyes catch on a funky little skeleton dressed up all in black on a familiar spot on a particular shelf...

And he finds not only all of his auxiliary clothes intact, but also a nest in the middle of the room with two little figurines in it that have a very particular look to them!

Cue "Hello, Edward!" and "shipmates" and chasing Ed all over the place while Ed is like "who are you again?" and "I don't need you at all, look how I'm thriving all by myself and I definitely don't miss you, not even a little bit!", y'know, like a liar. And maybe they're having messy sex throughout all of this or maybe they're not, but either way, Stede knows! He knows! He saw the proof of Ed's heart carefully hidden away where only Stede could find it! He can fix this! He's gonna put his all into earning that trust back! Because he knows there's hope! ;U;

And yeah, this is more of a headcanon than actual speculation, but it's eating me alive, so I had to inflict it on you all as wel! 🔥🙌🔥

[skyloftian-nutcase]

Kraken? Random I know

"It's the Kraken!" Wind yelled with an excited, crazed smile.

"That's not usually something I would say with--whoa," Twilight paused. That thing was covered in eyes.

Oh, this was going to be fun.

[bookshelf-in-progress]

It's a good sign I'm recovering from my creative slump that I was able to brainstorm a story that makes me laugh.

[hautevaux]

.

[natjennie]

YEYEYEYAHAHHHHHHHH emily blunt cocking that fucking shotgun at the end of a quiet place. the dopest move everrrrrr

[vampcaprisun]

halsin enjoyers, i’m telling you now, i have plans that i cannot share with you right now because the haters will sabotage me. i have plans that i cannot share with you because the haters (my chronic inability to finish a single fic that i start) will sabotage me.

[set-phasers-to-whump]

the motherland don't love you, the fatherland don't love you, so why love anything?

prompt: drowning their sorrows

whumpee: kind of all 3 of napoleon solo, illya kuryakin, gaby teller

fandom: the man from uncle

hey!! this fic is a bit different from my usual stuff, it's much more about the angst and kind of the character study type aspect, so it's not whump in a traditional sense. nonetheless i really enjoyed writing it and i hope you like reading it!! (title from ya hey by vampire weekend)

“Listen,” Napoleon says, after his sixth or seventh glass of Scotch. “Fuck the Central Intelligence Agency.”

Gaby raises an eyebrow at him, takes a sip from her glass, and waits for him to say something else. 

Napoleon, however, seems to have lost his train of thought. “Fuck the CIA,” he repeats. “Nothing but a bunch of extortionists.”

“Yeah,” Gaby agrees, with the tone of one who doesn’t know exactly what it is they’re agreeing with but who is staunchly in support of it nonetheless. “Fuck the CIA,” she echoes, giggling at the English curse. 

Napoleon smiles, then grows serious, evidently having remembered his earlier thoughts. He sets his glass down with a thump. 

“No, really. I mean, God knows I’m no saint, but…look at us.” He gestures in a vague circle that encompasses himself, Gaby, and Illya, all painted with bruises and cuts of varying severity, marks of a severely botched mission and the reason for their present collective inebriation. 

Napoleon then gestures to himself, prods at his fresh black eye with a bit more force than is wise. “Ow.”

“We do not work for the CIA,” Illya points out, speaking slowly to avoid jumbling his words. “Only you.”

Napoleon scowls at him. “Not the point, Peril. My point is…my point is, how often have we looked like this because of an UNCLE mission?”

Illya shrugs, scrunching up his face like he’s actually trying to count. 

Gaby answers for him. “Not very often. Not this bad.”

Napoleon points at her. “Exactly. UNCLE has better intel - well, maybe not this time, but you know - and they actually sort of care about us. Like, Waverly probably wouldn’t threaten me with prison if I was a little cheeky with him. Probably.”

Gaby and Illya both nod. 

“And,” Napoleon starts, more to indicate that he wants to keep talking and less to introduce a well thought-out sentence, “and. Okay. I mean, I’ve never been in the KGB and I didn’t grow up in East Berlin, so I can’t really speak for you guys, but my boss here?” 

He stops, considers his use of prepositions, realizes they’re not actually in the States at the moment, and rephrases. “Back in the US, I mean. Sanders, my boss, terrible man, really, talking a big game about the country being on top of the world like he’s the one who put it there. Anyway. He threatens me with prison pretty much weekly.”

Gaby looks at him intently. “Can he actually send you to prison?”

Napoleon shrugs, does his best to be nonchalant. “Probably. It wouldn’t be too hard to convince whoever it is that needs convincing. I mean, sure, I’m useful as an agent, but at the end of the day I’m nothing but a dirty thief who should worship the ground the CIA…well, I guess the CIA as like, a thing, can’t walk, but you know…I should worship the ground the CIA walks on because they kept me out of prison. Not that working for them is anything like freedom.”

“I understand,” Gaby says, leaning slightly against Napoleon’s shoulder, partly as a gesture of comfort and solidarity and partly because everything has gone a little spinny. She waits until the feeling subsides, then speaks up again. 

“In Berlin, they trap us. East Germany is supposed to be a good place, that’s what they tell you, but then they build this wall through the city. And what are we supposed to do? We can’t go over it, they will kill us. It’s like they don’t understand that it’s the same city on both sides. There’s no freedom like that. I don’t even miss it.”

She falls silent, finishes her drink, pours another, contemplates it for a moment. 

“I do miss it, I guess. Is it possible to not miss your home?”

Her eyes have gone a bit glassy. Unconsciously, she rubs at the fresh red scratch on her cheek. 

“It isn’t like East Germany ever cared about me. Or anyone, really. Do you know how many people they arrest every day? For nothing. They questioned me about my birth father once. Two years ago they arrested my neighbor for…how is it in English? Sed… something. They said he was against the state. He was only a painter.”

“Sedition,” Napoleon chimes in, shaking his head. 

Gaby nods. “That’s it. Sedition.” She pronounces the word carefully, committing it to memory. “And even then I - I do miss it. Even after everything. There is nothing left for me there, no one. Still, sometimes I think about how I can never go back, and I think it should feel like…like freedom, but it doesn’t.”

She leans more heavily into Napoleon and shuts her eyes. She will not cry over this. Over a place that does not care for her in the slightest. Over a place that she is indifferent to and misses in the same breath. 

A soft silence. Gaby scrubs at her eyes. Illya shifts slightly in his chair, keenly aware of the fact that it would seem to be his turn. 

He finishes the last of his drink - he doesn’t know what it is, something Napoleon made that had tasted good earlier but is now horribly bitter. He doesn’t know how many of these terrible drinks he’s had. He should have kept count. He shouldn’t be so drunk. But he is, and so his tongue is loosened. He takes a deep breath and tries not to wince when his bruised ribs protest. 

“My father was not a good man,” he says, and then stops. Napoleon and Gaby both look at him, attentive. He looks away, continues after a beat. 

“He was arrested. Sent to Gulag. He stole money from the Party. I thought, they will kill him. But he is still alive. No one can see him. They will maybe tell me when he dies, I don’t know.”

He pauses, considers, formulates the English words. “He is a criminal. Or else they would have freed him. He is in prison for almost twenty years. Oleg Grigorievich, he says to me sometimes… Solo,” he says suddenly, looking at his partner. 

Napoleon looks back at him with startling intensity. “Yeah?”

“You said that Sanders, he threatens you with prison, yes?” Illya asks, and then barrels on atop of Napoleon’s affirmative answer. 

“Oleg Grigorievich also does this. He tells me I will end up in Siberia like my father if I do not perform well. I love my country, I will die for my country, but…I do not love him.”

Gaby nods seriously. “Fuck Oleg Gri…gorievich,” she proclaims, pausing in the middle of the patronymic to hiccup. Napoleon snorts, and she elbows him. He winces. 

“Your elbows are sharp. And I already have a bruise,” he complains. 

“Sorry,” Gaby apologizes, mostly sincerely. 

Illya looks at them. He is beginning to think he should not have begun speaking, because now he is not sure that he can stop. 

“I am good at my work. KGB needs me. I am happy to work for my country. But…”

“Go on,” Napoleon encourages, leaning forward. 

“We won’t tell anyone,” Gaby adds. “Nobody tells anyone anything.”

“Except each other.”

“Obviously.”

“I was just making sure!”

“But,” Illya continues, and Napoleon and Gaby turn their attention back to him. “You are nice to me.”

He doesn’t say anything else. His face feels hot and his throat feels tight. For a very long moment all three of them just look at each other. 

And then, as if by design (though neither one of them had spoken to the other), both Gaby and Napoleon get up and grab hold of Illya’s hands. 

“What are you doing?” Illya asks, scarcely moving despite their straining. 

“Come sit with us,” Gaby says. 

“Please?” Napoleon adds. “So we can all be miserable together.”

“We are already together,” Illya points out. 

“Come on, please?” Gaby asks. 

Illya heaves another sigh that has him wincing. “Okay.”

He lets them pull him to his feet. For a second he gets horribly dizzy and he has to close his eyes. When he opens them again, he’s leaning against Napoleon and Gaby has her hands on his back. 

“I’m fine,” he says. “Just dizzy.”

“So’m I,” Gaby agrees. “Come on, let’s sit.”

The three of them stumble back to the couch and sink down onto it rather ungracefully. Napoleon ends up in the middle, with Illya curled into the corner beside him and Gaby lying her head on his leg. 

“I’m glad you ruined my car,” Gaby suddenly says, not moving her head from its pillow. 

“What?” Napoleon asks. “We destroyed it. Beautiful car, too.”

Gaby shrugs as best as she can given her current position. “If you didn’t ruin my car, we would not be here now.”

She does have a point, Napoleon figures. “I’m glad we’re here,” he adds. “Working for the CIA is mostly terrible. Working with you is fun. You’re…” He trails off, unsure of or unwilling to fully voice any further words. 

Illya shifts a little closer to them, carefully. “At home I am part of machine. I do not mind this, but with you I am something else. Not a machine.”

“Just a person,” Gaby says. “More free.”

It’s different for her, she knows. Her career as a spy has been with Waverly alone. The only person controlling her is someone she trusts and likes. 

And yet Napoleon agrees. “Yeah,” he says, slowly. “I mean, Sanders is still in charge of me, but so is Waverly, and with UNCLE I’m not a prisoner of the US government, or at least I don’t feel like one. Maybe one of these days I won’t be, I don’t know. I’d work for UNCLE, with you guys, even if it was my choice, is what I mean, I suppose.”

“I am maybe not so free at home,” Illya chimes in, leaning slightly onto Napoleon. “This is how it is, I don’t mind. It is important that there is an order, things like this. But we…we care about each other, yes?”

It takes Gaby and Napoleon a second to realize that they’re being asked a question here. 

“Of course,” says Napoleon. 

“Obviously,” Gaby agrees. 

“Okay. We care about each other. And maybe so does Waverly. This is different. I am…I have…I can be something else here. And that is good too.”

“Well put,” says Napoleon. “Now, I don’t know about you guys, but I’m feeling a little bit too drunk and a lot bit like I’d like to go to sleep.”

“Me too,” Gaby chimes in. 

“Yes,” agrees Illya. 

“And I’m not moving.”

“Me either.”

“I will stay.”

Napoleon nods slowly, closing his eyes when this makes him too dizzy. “Glad we’re agreed.”

They rearrange themselves as best as they can, which involves a lot of shuffling around, grabbing of arms for support, and general wincing. Eventually, they manage to configure themselves in a reasonably comfortable manner, all stacked and tangled together. 

“Goodnight,” Gaby mumbles, voice muffled by the fabric of Napoleon’s shirt. 

“Night,” Napoleon echoes, already half asleep with his face pressed into a cushion. 

“Goodnight,” Illya concludes, head propped up at a slightly uncomfortable angle against the armrest. 

In the morning, there will be pounding headaches, empty glasses and bottles to clean up, and various injuries to check in on. But for now, there is only silence and comfort. There is only them.

thanks for reading! this was a whole different kind of beast to write but i really loved getting to explore their characters like this, i have so many thoughts about them that don't often get to come through in my usual 'beat them up' fics. i hope you enjoyed this!!

[kindahoping4forever]

Omg omg omg I would DIE to read more of daddy’s home!!

No dying necessary! @cal-puddies and I actually spent a few hours on the phone earlier in the week for the sole purpose of getting an outline down on paper (yes I used actual paper lmao) and discussing how to release! We're excited about it and are so happy to hear you are too 🥹🥰