#dca sun x reader

[cluelexander]

When your programming doesn't allow you to swear, you gotta get creative with it xD

[moved-to-cluelexander]

More of mechanic!reader and Sun shenanigans YouTube version here in case it breaks or smth

[itsahotminuteinbetween]

(stupid little thing we wrote last night that is too short to put on ao3: )

“Sunshine, give yourself a little credit.” His voice has a strange, tinny quality. It reverberates the words lightly. “What you’ve done so far is no small feat.”

You squirm under his gaze. He watches you as one watches an ant climb a concrete wall, as if your behavior surprises him. You feel the capillaries behind your skull buckle under the pressure. 

“That’s nice of you to say,” you murmur quietly. “But staying alive doesn’t really take much effort-“

“Everything that you do takes effort,” he tells you firmly. There is no room for argument in his tone. “Blinking takes effort, twitching your hand takes effort, speaking takes effort, learning and breathing takes effort. Staying alive takes effort. The fact that you are still here is no small feat,“ he squeezes your shoulders at this, “no matter what others may have you believe.”

You stare at him with wide eyes. He has not broken eye contact with you throughout the entire tirade, and you search his optics with a rawness you yourself cannot comprehend. 

He meets your disbelieving gaze steadily, refusing to take back his statement, daring you to tell him otherwise. 

You flounder for words like a fish plucked out of water, like a suffocating man given a full breath of air. The concept doesn’t fit. The refutation sits at the well of your throat like a stone, solid and unmoving. You are without words.

His optics keep the same brightness. You can make out the soft light of your reflection in them. 

A small, teetering noise. Once, twice. The stone plunges deep into your chest. Your heart constricts, then seizes. You can’t get enough air. You are gasping, hiccuping, between quick breaths of oxygen. Something hot and wet and ancient spills down your cheeks.

You haven’t registered the Attendant moving closer until his arms are already around you. He pulls you to him, wrapping you gently in his embrace, and you are overwhelmed with emotion. You want to recoil, to vomit, to cough so hard that everything spills out, organs and viscera and feelings and all. 

You want to move closer, to bury your face under the crook of his shoulder, just beneath his curved ruff, and take in the soft scent of butterscotch and chamomile and bittersweet coffee, and let his segmented digits smooth out the fistfulls of ugly rumpled emotion balled up by years of experience. 

Sun tucks you further into him, one hand protectively cupped behind your head. He makes a soft shushing noise, rocking you back and forth. You want to let go of him. You don’t him to let go. You don’t deserve this, don’t deserve either of them, and you wish with all your selfish heart that they never find out. You don’t want to lose this. You have to, you can, but you don’t want to have to. 

You start babbling then, a waterfall of half-coherent sentences tumbling out of you in garbled strings. You love them, you love them and you love them so much it hurts, and you love living so much it aches, and you know it’s not okay, you’re not okay, but you don’t know what you’ll do if everything falls out. You can’t go back. You can, but you don’t want to. You can, but you don’t want to.

And they hold you close, and they rub circles over your back, willing away your persistent storm clouds with the cyclical motions of their hand. You don’t know if you can tell them that it’s no use, that those clouds are yours, that there is no blue sky beneath them. There hasn’t been for a long time, and you don’t know if you can handle shooing them away if nothing comes after. And they smile like they always do, and your matted lashes stick together, and they hold you against them with a tenderness that you don’t know and cannot name. 

They will make the sky for you, they tell you. They will be the heavens above your head, brightening with blues and purples and oranges and yellows, and you will be a star, like you always have been in the sky that is their own.

You plead yourself with your whole heart to believe them.

[pepawspring]

The best party planners

Daycare Attandant Sun x reader

Oneshot on Ao3

As an Employee of the Famous Freddy Fazbear Pizzaplex your mornings tend to start pretty early, especially with the position you're in. Not that that's good for you, you're not really a morning person. You'd much rather stay in bed and keep dreaming about whatever strange things your mind comes up with. But, as fate would have it, you have no choice but to get up and start your day. There is no rest for the wicked.

Your job as the daycare assistant is put to the test today! Can you overcome the challenge the sun has created for you? Well, I sure hope so.

[cluelexander]

When your crush is trying to confess but the two idiots inside your head won't shut up :P

Decided for something a bit more ambitious (and comedic) for today's prompt: Never truly alone! Eclipse week hosted by artistic-shapeshifter :]

[cluelexander]

MORE DRABBLES 🔥🔥\o/🔥🔥 This one's a long one °v°

You notice that during the daycare's Arts & Crafts time, Sun seems incredibly eager to shred any piece of art handed to him. And you are instructed to hand every piece of art the children make to him. Whether he does it because of his programming, or because he somehow believes it to be for the greater good does intrigue you, but Sun seems oddly cagey around the subject so you don't press him further on it. He stops at nothing when it comes to shredding all of the kids' artwork, not even art specifically made for him! Though when he does get his hands on a gift for him, he at least seems to genuinely appreciate it, taking a good long look at the sometimes barely decipherable scribbles.

Moon, on the other hand, never gets to see any of the art made for him. At least not in one piece. You can tell it bums him out at least a little, even if he wouldn't admit to it. The solemn tone of his voice alone tells you enough to know that you need to have Moon see some of the gifts the kids draw for him with his own eyes, not just through Sun's.

You try to stash away any drawings with Moon on them by the next Arts & Crafts activity, but Sun is either clairvoyant or just the most observant person ever, because before you know it he's looming behind you as you quickly try to cram the drawings into your bag. "What'cha got there, rulebreaker?" "UUUUHHHH, oh, uhm, heeeeey Sunny! I was just, uhhh-" okay, pretending that you weren't doing something you were clearly doing is probably not a bright idea. Maybe you can reason with him? "-Okay, listen. Moon would really like to see some of the art the kids make for him. You get to see it all the time, it's not fair that he never gets to actually appreciate it! Could I please keep some of these to show to him? I promise we'll shred these too, I just want Moon to-" Aaaand before you could even finish your sentence, Sun has already taken all of the drawings you had in your bag and left to shred them. "I'm sorry teach', but rules are rules!" Damn, okay. Time for a new approach then.

After Arts & Crafts time is over, you volunteer to gather all of the bins with the paper shreds and toss them into the nearest dumpster. Sun is understandably suspicious of you, but stealing paper shreds didn't seem to be something he cared much about considering he directly handed you the bin he shredded all of the Moon drawings into himself. You discreetly put the paper into your bag before emptying out the remaining bins, finishing the rest of your shift, and heading home.

You spend the next few days puzzling together the shreds of paper to the best of your ability. You sort them, arrange them, glue them down on a new piece of paper for added stability, and get way more paper cuts that you're comfortable admitting. But at last, your gift is finally done!

You drag Moon aside after the daycare is closed for the day and the lights have turned off, telling him that you have something exciting for him. You pull out your bag and begin carefully sifting through it while Moon practically vibrates in place. You can't quite tell if it's because he's excited or anxious, but he's watching your hands like a hawk as you take out the gift you've made for him and place it in his hands. Moon doesn't say anything for a while. In fact, he doesn't move, either. You're starting to worry that you either broke him, or thoroughly disappointed him with your lacking puzzling skills, until you hear the tiniest, shakiest "thank you" from him.

You didn't know the animatronics were capable of crying, but there you were, holding on to the sobbing mess that Moon suddenly was.