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bunji-enthusiast · 4 months

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Run, Run Far Angel

Note || I am obligated as a fanfic author to write this, sue me. I got attached to DogDay, and he deserved better in Chapter 3.

WC || 2,070

<(You are here)><(sequel part)>

Sypnosis || An unlikely shortcoming of a friendly entity, or, You get a new friend in spite of this hellish factory.

The noise that had buzzed in the far reaches in the depths of your ears had annoyed you to no end, insistent to remain with you. So many times over had your guilt marred your sense of peace, your sense of futility. Whatever control you felt you had in your life was completely gone the moment you had come back to the accursed place known as Playtime Co. Toy Factory. So many unruly things had gone here, things done and said that left you chuckling–few that had left you with regrets.

Regrets that had stayed with you for well over ten years, since your co-workers had disappeared. You always had a sinking feeling you knew well what had happened to the last of them, your friends and those that you had come to consider family.

Then you fell into Playcare, a place once filled with laughter and joy, something of which was indescribable. To know the children here and being able to hear such joyful playing and sometimes the odd cry, it was fulfilling, now the whole Factory–every floor there was to know–was devoid of the very same life you’ve come to know and love all those years ago.

Now the only thing that had tormented your mind, as it always had been since you first arrived, was your fight or flight. Instinctive you were, but you hated every minute of having to run and hide away from the monster that had presided reign over their domain, on of which the very one you had to be stuck with was-

“Catnap?” You muttered, thumbing the scarred fur that was blotched with ashy spots, as if it were burned by fire.

The small recreational stuffed animal looked so adorable for the most part, yet it disturbed you greatly, guilt was predominant in mind and body. In all of your years you had remembered working at the Factory you don't ever recall the name of Catnap, the creepy elongated mouth had stood out to you the most.

He was hunting you, toying with you for sport. You couldn’t really understand why he hadn’t just gunned you for killing you at a moment's notice, though you felt a breath of relief that you could buy yourself time.

Supposedly some of this relief is partial to the fact that this Ollie kid was guiding you on where to go, with how dark this place was is absurd to you–so the guidance was appreciated. A voice had finally snapped you out of your ever consuming thoughts, it was terribly the truth.

“Hey are you alright? Just press that button and you’ll be through in no time! The small critters cant seem to get you from up there so you should be alright.” Ollie, yes Ollie that is the kids name. Who is this strange person anyway?

Unfortunately you weren’t in a position to worry about that right now, you simply pressed the button with the help of your grabpack. Trying to remember all the hands you had now with you was troublesome, but you manage.

‘I suppose.’ You wonder if there is anyone in this place that won’t actively be out for your head, truth be told.

Maybe that was a miracle in mind, as you walked through the desolate rubble the air seemed to desaturate, a mist once permeated with dread and the iron taste of blood seemed to float away as you came across a surprising display. Gruesome but something nobody should have to see or experience.

It seemed to be DogDay, you could've sworn coming across a cardboard cutout of the very same character earlier.

He seemed to be so.. Sad.

“You…you’re Poppy’s angel. Come to save us. Nothing left to save, not here…You’re in CatNap’s home, angel. Their home.” His voice was broken, forlorn, vocal cords riddled with experience he never wanted to relive again. You felt saddened on his behalf, no doubt the pain he is feeling right now is tremendous. For a moment, silence had filled the comfortable atmosphere rendering you with a small pit of anxiety balling within your gut.

Still you feel as if you had to speak, but you allow Dogday to have his part, that much you could try to do for him.

DogDay’s head lolled about as if he were a ragdoll, the effort to make movement was extraneous. “A million pairs of eyes are on you now. Watching, waiting, hungry. They want nothing more than to crawl beneath your skin and eat away at you bit by little bit - fill what feels empty inside themselves.” Those words sparked an ire of curiosity inside your trodden heart, you wanted to help him now.

You needed help, especially answers too. He was in pain, and you wanted to help him, so to ease your guilty conscience a little; hopefully in the process of gaining a friend at the same time. “Catnap.. Just, I don’t understand him.” DogDay raised his head, looking at you wistfully as if he had expected the aforementioned cat to be brought up.

DogDay winced as he moved, each little rattle sending painful vibrations throughout his body–the phantom legs hadn’t brought any peace to him whatsoever.

“That thing…CatNap. The Prototype is his God, and this is what he does to heretics.” His words carried an aura of ominous spiels, as if you were to heed this warning. “These little toys follow CatNap to avoid that very fate- and in return, they are fed.”

In their place, you would take measures to avoid such a fate too if you would. To a point, you could sympathize with the small toys, not being able to do anything and the teetering possibility of being killed always hanging over your head. Knowing that alone is unfathomably terrifying.

“Would explain why they were hunting me previously..” You murmur, now tucking that thought to the depths of your mind. Still you wanted to hear out DogDay, for he knew better of what had gone on here then you did. His head had shagged, fur ruffled and dangling about as he had squirmed slightly.

“We tried to fight it, the Prototype’s control. I’m…the last of the Smiling Critters.” His tune was mournful, his friends really had been killed right before his very eyes. Catnap’s gas, you remember it well enough.

You had to take a moment – articulate your words. You were completely filled to the brim with anxiety and alert, you remind yourself to not let down your guard in spite of being with someone who has no intention of wanting to kill you. “You had tried to escape, and he… knocked you out with his gas?”

DogDay’s brows creased, confirming your answer. You felt so terrible for him, causing you to be firmly set on a decision.

You were helping him get out of here, in no way shape or form did you feel he should be left behind in shambles like this. “This is probably going to sound, insane. But I’m gonna help you get outta here.” Dogday perked up at this, nodding his head no.

He certainly didn’t want you to die, especially not on his account.

“Angel that is not wise! I will slow you down.” He persists, “Listen to me, you need to get out of this place. You need to live. You and Poppy can fix this, end this madness, the torment–” You didn’t want him to change your mind, so as immediate as you were, You desperately grabbed at his arms.

Quickly and surely enough the small critter toys had began crawling toward DogDay, you certainly would not put up with that. You fired a flare gun at the small critters, as much as you could so you could buy time to get DogDay out of his chains.

It seemed Dogday had sensed your determination to want to help him in spite of his warings, even with how much he had tried to convince you to leave. “You are doing well Angel, keep them away from me.. I will do my best to free myself of these.” His voice felt strained, cut off with a cough as he wriggled free–even if every brittle bone in his body had begged him to just lay there and rest.

You thanked him silently, continuing to work away at the critters who were highly determined in their goal to possess DogDay and resume their chase to kill you. “I am free! Quickly now Angel, quickly.” He ushered you forward to run right away, you picked him up as soon as he had done so and heaved him over your shoulders with a heavy breath as a display of your efforts. To say he was surprised at your willful strength was an understatement, he silently applauded you for your strength to keep moving.

Though, it hadn’t removed any of his worry for you as you continued to run forward, your muscles straining to keep up with your mind. From what he can understand of humans anyway, you were exhausted, though he felt it wasn’t right to speak out on it anyway–safety first before talking.

“Almost there, Angel.. You just need to get to that elevator over there!” He jabbed his finger in the direction you needed to go, and you went on instinct with his direction. Your muscles ached and burned, but you could rest as soon as you reached the elevator, you couldn’t risk DogDay being left behind helpless with the small critters.

Speaking of which, they were still chasing you and your new companion. You wished they stopped, but you had considered an aforementioned thought, they only do this to ensure their fate wasn’t like his. Since then this has wildly changed.

You were close to the edge.

Then, you leaped, everything seemed to slow down. DogDay held on tightly, hands wrapped around your neck secured tight, to you it seemed comforting in the depths of your sudden despair.

You dropped right onto the metal plate, which luckily had railing. The door shut right behind you as DogDay had quickly made action to press the button to start up the elevator nor long after you had succeeded in jumping to the elevator. He slumped with a sigh, something you could very much agree with, sitting down with a thump following in your wake.

Truth be told, you weren’t sure of how much more you could take much more of this nightmare. You may just as well be in a very long dream, and you were just actually sleeping at home, but no way however as the exhaustion had finally settled into your bones.

Weary bones creaked about as DogDay made an effort to check over your slumped body, wanting to ensure you were not injured anywhere before he spoke, “Whatever questions you have..” He paused for a moment as if he were considering his words, something of which seemed to happen to a lot of people and toys alike in this Factory. “I will answer, rest for now first.”

DogDay was being his typical self, always so worried over someone else before considering his own health. His own legs being severed must be a great deal of pain, you wanted to ask him to rest too. Yet, you were too tired to respond, only nodding curtly as sleep had stolen you away from your awakened consciousness.

A genuine smile seems to relax DogDay’s expression, you sorely needed rest. He would help you get that rest, things to talk about and things to face would come later. “You have done impossible things, you have run far. Thank you.” He quietly spoke, curling up to cuddle you.

His head laid to rest on the crown of your head, hands and arms elongating ever so slightly to surround you in his warmth. DogDay was a leader, a friend, but he was also a good napping buddy. That much was certainly no lie to be told.

Silence seemed to fill his ears now, sleep was creeping up to DogDay as well. Ah, he cannot sleep right now. You were in his care and vulnerable, especially considering you had gone through the trouble of freeing him.

To those tormented, the madness had enraged man and toy, you were their saving graces. Someone they could get behind, without the utmost support where would you be now?

“Night has fallen, but for you I will do my absolute best to help you, Angel.”

#poppy playtime #dogday #dogday poppy playtime #x reader #purely platonic #I like how he calls the player angel #it’s cute :D

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inkskinned · 8 months

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for the longest time my family used to host one of the biggest haunted houses on my block: elaborate, themed amateur haunts that pearled out along our lawn for one-night-only. spinning circus wheel-of-terrors and walkthrough alien crash-landings and spiders that arched over our driveway, leaking venom onto your feet.

we didn't have a lot of money; and honestly i don't know how we afforded what we did have. there were not going to be pneumatics or projectors or any supply over 20 dollars - and even 20 was a stretch. we were lucky, and we lived in a town that had a "swap shed", where people would drop off any banged-up-but-usable items that they wanted to get rid of. the whole year, my family would pick over someone else's discarded fans and lights and weird decorations, asking each other - what do you think? for halloween?

we would strip the motors out of rusted fans and spraypaint vases and saw broom handles in half and apply a very thick coat of cardboard and duct tape to everything. for our pirate year, i made the mistake of individually drawing woodgrain onto each strip of cardboard that made up the ship. i then gently painted and distressed the "boards" so they'd each have lichen and cracks and unusual patterns. i hid eyes in the knots and shaped skulls. you couldn't see any of it in the dark, even under our "spotlight" (someone's target-branded workshop flashlight).

i have a lot of very strange skills as a result. i know how to make a flying ghost appear both physically and in the mirror. i know how to make a witch's brew that stirs itself. i know how to burn and cut and paint until there is an iron throne you can sit on, or an alien brushing your ankles, or a hearse trundling along. i can't say we ever made it beyond our local newspapers, but we tried so hard that the town would regularly shut down our street.

i can't put any of these skills on a resume, and i haven't been able to put them to use for a while. i live in an apartment, there's no lawn for me to decorate. for years i've wanted to do an alice in wonderland theme, and have been collecting ideas like coins in a fountain. at other houses, i am transfixed by 12 foot skeletons and paper mache spooky lanterns; easily wooed by the knowledge of how much time people put in.

someone asked me once - so what was the point? and why didn't you guys charge anything to show up?

in truth, we probably needed the money. for years there, we were a 1-meal-a-day kind of a family. i was being polite earlier up in this essay: we furnished both our house and our halloweens using things left a recycling center. we live in new england and still didn't turn on the heat until the end of november, no matter how low the temperature.

every year we would collect donations for unicef and other charities. on an average year, we would collect enough to pay for our food for weeks. every year, without fail: we donated every penny.

this endeavor took months to plan and design and execute. we had to organize any volunteers and check safety and hope-for-the-best. it took at least 24 hours to set up, a week to take down. the motors and fans and lights all had to be packed tight. the cardboard would scatter, pangea in the rain and sleet. i remember picking up a plank from that pirate ship, the paint blown clear off, all my hard work completely erased. a new kind of driftwood.

if this was a poem, and not a memory, i could wrap this up prettily. i could say that these skills landed me a cool job in the haunting industry or that it taught me the value of friendship and responsibility. but i actually think it's something better, something very pretty: there wasn't ever a moral to it.

the night was a long one. yes, there were assholes, people who broke stuff. but mostly it was just kids like us in cardboard costumes, dressed as an incredibly niche kind of truck. good parents who were friendly and laughing. teenagers who slunk in at late hours, wide-eyed and secretly delighted; who asked us can i help next year? like, do y'all take volunteers, or whatever? every year more people came, and told their friends, and offered to pay. and every year we said maybe next year and meant absolutely never.

we did it because it was enough to love something, and to make that love visible. we did it because there is very rarely an excuse to have fun. i think maybe especially, for me - we did it because every year, there was one first "customer" somewhere around 3-4PM, while we were still putting on the final touches. the sun would still be up, and we were frazzled and always-running-late, and these kids saw our vision unfinished in the bright light of day.

something about their parents murmuring say thank you and telling my mom this setup is so sweet while this little kid would grin up at us, dazzled by our artistic mediocrity. the fall air and the chill and their coat-over-a-panda-princess-costume. that first phrase of the night awkwardly managed over a pair of overly-large vampire teeth: a beautiful and excited trick or treat!

#wholesome #happy halloween #writeblr #just something to maybe warm ur heart in these times #my parents also usually let me take nov 1st off #this is the first year in like 20 years im not taking it off bc it became like a family holiday #i regret not taking it off but alas. capitalism.

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hanafubukki · 9 months

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Can be seen as a part 2 to this fic (after some time has passed that is) or can be read as a stand-alone.

“Leave me alone human!”

“For someone who is chained to the ground and gravely injured, you’re pretty loud.”

“I’ll rip you from limb to limb.”

“Why don’t you get better first before we get there hmm?”

General Lilia Vanrouge screeched at you in the fae language, some of which you knew were curses. Ah yes, you can’t wait to make fun of your Lilia when you get back to your time. His cursing while playing video games had you easily recognizing some of them now.

Luckily for you and your ears, the General wore himself out. The wounds from the iron and those of the battles weakened him.

It didn’t help that he also had a fever as a result. You were put in this cell to help him recover. Humpty Dumpty- well, King Henrik, implied it was the least you could do.

A random human that was pick up by his men, who was using valuable resources that could go to his soldiers instead. Never mind the fact that you helped treat said soldiers and gather said resources.

The Knight of Dawn had clenched his fist, about to speak up on your behalf. But you simply grabbed his hand and shook your head. It wasn’t worth it. King Henrik would just make his life harder for talking back, and you didn’t want that. The Knight of Dawn dealt with enough, you didn’t want to add onto his troubles.

…But you also didn’t realize that meant staying locked up in this cell with General Lilia Vanrouge either.

The General wasn’t exactly happy when he first met you, and you couldn’t blame him. You just weren’t used to the open hatred from familiar eyes you would see everyday. Eyes that were always friendly to you, now burned you.

The first time you tried to provide him treatment, he had fought back until his wounds weakened him to an unconscious state. You had silently treated him then. Not a soul a witness to your tears.

As the weeks passed, the General gradually stopped fighting back, probably due to his weakening state…it didn’t shut his mouth though funny enough.

You were only let out for a change of clothes, a bath, a proper meal, and a bed to sleep in every few days. Even then, King Henrik made it seem as if that was too good for you.

You later found out it was due to the Knight of Dawn’s request that you were even allowed such accommodations. Your heart ached at the idea of what he must have gone through to get you this, as you knew King Henrik did not treat him well.

You breathed softly, you wished you could return home soon.

You were dressing a wound on Lilia when you felt him stir.

“Melea…Le…B…”

You took a wet cloth and wiped his forehead.

He must be dreaming about his family.

You knew all would be well in the future, but that didn’t mean current events didn’t affect you.

It hurt you to see so many struggle in a useless war, due to greed from one man.

Lilia clutched at his stomach, his sharp claw like nails reopening the wounds you had painstakingly bandaged.

You quickly grabbed his hands and sucked in a breath of pain. His nails dug into your skin, drawing blood. His grip could break your bones to tiny, incomprehensible pieces, but you held on.

You knew he wanted to be free and return home, to protect his loved ones. You were determined to heal him for that very reason.

“Damn it Lilia Vanrouge! You will get through this! You have so much to look forward to. So many people who love you! Now, stop being a prick and let me go so I can treat you!”

Surprisingly, he let you go. You ignored your bleeding, aching hands in order to reseal his wound.

“…will you be in that future?”

You froze, turning and looking into feverish eyes.

“Yes.”

General Lilia Vanrouge fell into a deep sleep for the next 10 days.

You were returning to Lilia’s cell when a knife was held to your neck.

“Human, where is the fae you captured?”

Ah, it seems rescue finally arrived for Lilia. It took them long enough.

You looked up into hardened, familiar eyes. Baul Zigvolt would have been a sight for sore eyes if he didn’t, you know, have a knife to your throat.

“I would gladly show you if you take that knife away.”

“You-”

“Besides, I was heading right in that direction. If you don’t want to be caught, you better hurry.”

You continued walking, listening to Baul grumble about frustrating humans. You couldn’t help the slight smile on your face as you remembered similar words said by his grandson.

You led Baul quickly and quietly to the cell that practically became a second home to you. No one in sight. You had noticed, unlike the men that the Knight of Dawn commanded, the men directly under King Henrik were…well, just like him: sleazy and lazy.

They let their guards down thinking The Right General of the Fae was too weak and couldn’t take any of them on. They even implied you were nothing but a sacrificial lamb should said Fae get angry, but of course, they would rescue you at a price.

It took you all you could not to spit in their faces or smash their heads on the wall. The self defense lessons Silver and Sebek taught you provided security that you would forever be grateful for.

It was due to this fatal thinking that Baul was able to infiltrate the base, as the men went to seek entertainment elsewhere.

When you arrived, you opened the cell door quietly so as to not hurt sensitive ears. The sun was high enough for the cell to be well lit.

You heard Baul hiss in anger before rushing to his general’s side. Lilia didn’t seem surprised to see him, telling you how he must have always known rescue would come for him.

“General!”

“Careful! You’ll-”

Baul recoiled from the burns the iron chains struck at him.

“I tried to warn you.” You shook your head. You sat next to Lilia, taking his hand in yours. From the corner of your eye, you could see Baul tense but Lilia motioned for him to remain calm.

You picked at the lock. Another thing to be thankful for, your lock picking skills, which you learned quickly from days you were locked outside of Ramshackle Dorm because Grim forgot the key or the door just wouldn’t open.

“You got it in one go this time.”

“I told you I had surprises up my sleeves. I just needed the right tools.”

“Hmm, so you say.”

Baul looked at both of you as if you both at grown two heads each. Lilia noticed his look and waved towards his feet. Where chains that should have been locked were open.

“Any longer, Baul, and I would have rescued myself.”

Baul stammered before apologizing. You turned away to hide your smile.

Within moments, the atmosphere changed. General Lilia Vanrouge had to escape and return to his men.

“Leave.”

“What?”

“You have to leave. You need to return to your troops."

Lilia clenched his jaw, looking at you. You couldn't return with him; you both knew that. It didn't stop him from trying, but you shook your head before he could even open his mouth.

"I can't go with you."

A human amongst the fae would not last long, at least not now. There was too much hatred.

You took the cuffs that had been his tormentor for so long and locked them around your hands. You chose to ignore the angry growl Lilia tried to hide at the sight of the cuffs now imprisoning you.

"I'll make it look like you escaped, now go."

"They'll hurt you."

You shook your head.

"The Knight of Dawn would never let that happen."

He knew you were right. The Knight of Dawn had visited several times, helping you treat his wounds and restrain him when the fever would have him lash out at you.

The Knight of Dawn had honor, as a fellow general and soldier, Lilia respected him for it. Lilia pulled one of his magic stones off his belt before offering it to you.

"Take this. Smash it to the ground if you need help, I'll find you."

You agreed and watched the two soldiers turn to leave. General Lilia Vanrouge hesitated before speaking, "You told me you would be in my future."

"I will be."

"You better keep that promise, YN."

"I will."

General Lilia Vanrouge and Baul Zigvolt vanished from your sight.

I'll see you both soon.

Part 3 (each part takes place after some time has passed) or can be read as a stand-alone.

Author’s Notes: I can’t believe this became a 1.5k fic, the way this bat fae drives me crazy. 😂💞🌺

#twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twst lilia vanrouge x reader #lilia vanrouge x reader #lilia vanrouge #twst lilia vanrouge #twisted wonderland x you #twst x you #Lilia Vanrouge x you #lilia x you #lilia x reader #baul zigvolt #twst knight of dawn #general lilia vanrouge #general lilia vanrouve x reader #general lilia vanrouge x reader

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psychwxrdd · 2 months

Note

more soft rafe pls 🥺

i just wanted to hear the sound of your voice ♡₊˚ . ☆

﹗ ໒꒱۪ ₊˚﹒✦₊

୨ৎ summary: rafe's in love for the first time in his life!

୨ৎ pairing: soft rafe x reader

୨ৎ warnings: none, fluff

🎀 note: i wrote this listening to what is love by twice ok

"Hi, you're Rafe, right?" The girl asked, her soft and friendly tone making Cameron raise an eyebrow. Generally, people feared him, they didn't treat him... like that. Speak to him in that tone, like he was someone they wanted to be friends with. "My friends asked me to tell you they're about to beat the shit out of you"

Rafe looked at the girl without knowing what to say. She said it so naturally that it didn't even seemed ironic or conscious, and it took Rafe by surprise.

"Who are your friends?"

"JJ and Pope"

Rafe pushed his cap back and flicked his cheek with his tongue. He was about to answer but she didn't gave him time.

"I liked your ring"

"Sorry?"

"This ring of yours, right here" she pointed to the gold ring. "It's beautiful, where did you buy it?"

He stared at the girl's face for a few seconds with his mouth open and his brows slightly furrowed.

"It-t's uh... It's from my family"

"Well, it's really beautiful, it suits you"

"Thank you..." He let out a light chuckle. Who was this little doll?

"Hey, you again" Rafe approached the girl on the beach. There was a party going on there, at night, and he recognized her from afar. That sweet smile got stuck with him.

"Hey, Rafe!" She replied, smiling widely. Her smile made Rafe smile too, unconsciously.

"You didn't told me your name that day."

"I'm Y/n" She spoke softly. A pretty name for a pretty princess, he thought.

"Nice to meet you, Y/n. Can I buy you a drink?"

"I don't like alcohol, but thank you very much!"

"Yeah?" He was curious "What do you like then?"

"Buy me a soda"

Rafe smiled, putting his arm around her shoulders.

Rafe and Y/n became inseparable after those brief meetings. Rafe wanted more from her, he wanted her presence, he wanted her every day, even if it was just for a small talk, she had something about her that made his heart warm and race every time. That night, he had asked her to go out with him on the family yacht. The breeze brushed against the girl's skin and made her shiver, Rafe noticed.

"Here, wear my coat" he said, taking it off his body.

"No need, thank you... It feels good like this"

"You're going to catch a cold"

She laughed, still refusing, but too focused on the sea to stop him. He placed it gently around her shoulders.

"What do you think that it's hidden down there?" She pointed to the sea. "Like, we only know 10% of the ocean, the rest has never been mapped"

He looked at her face, mesmerized by her features... her eyes reflected the waves. He wished he could stare at them forever, they were so full of life.

"Probably many dead bodies who went missing"

"Oh my God, Rafe" she pushed him lightly. He laughed genuinely.

"What do you think is there, little doll?"

"Magic."

He tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear.

"Yeah?"

"Mermaids, I really want to believe that they exist. People are generally afraid of the unknown, but I like to believe that it's only something too good for us to see. Something magical, like that legend about the treasure at the end of the rainbow."

"You know..." He breathed softly, "Who's to say you're not right, huh?"

She looked at him fondly.

"Are there sharks here in this region?"

"Why? Do you want to swim?"

She didn't even needed to say anything, the look on her face said it all. Rafe felt excited. God, ever since he met her he felt constantly excited, and he hadn't remembered feeling that way in years. Probably since he stopped being a child.

They swam and had fun for hours, Rafe felt so young, despite obviously being a young man, he was so full of responsabilities and darkness, usually always feeling like he lived a whole life. But he felt free like he hadn't in a long time. That same night, Rafe dropped her off at home and as soon as she got out of the car, his heart sank. What was that?

She hadn't even got inside her home yet, but Rafe already missed her terribly. He wanted to run to her and hold her in his arms, again, forever. God, was he sick?

He had never felt this feeling, he even thought he was going to vomit or that he had a fever, that he was going to faint. He pulled out his phone, immediately searching for Y/n's number.

"Rafe?" she asked, laughing softly. "I haven't even gotten to my room yet"

"I just wanted to hear the sound of your voice" He said without even thinking, practically letting his heart speak. What kind of gay shit was that? I just wanted to hear the sound of your voice. Jesus Christ, he sighed, embarassed.

"I miss you too"

She said, and his heart raced so much that he smiled, feeling butterflies in his stomach. He was happy, very happy. Not even coke got him like this.

"Come back here, I'm still in front of your house. Let's spend tonight together."

And forever too, he thought, but he managed to control that inside his mouth.

#rafe cameron #rafe x reader #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x y/n #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey #obx #outer banks #rafe outer banks #soft fic #cute #manic pixie dream girl

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targaryenrealnessdarling · 6 months

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Perzys Ānogār

16/12: In Nature & Deep Throating - Aemond Targaryen Word Count: 1.8k~ | Warnings: deep throating, face fucking, incest (reader is a strong!niece), dubcon, breath play

12 Days of Smuff Masterlist

To be Rhaenyra Targaryen’s only daughter was a power only she possessed.

While the weight of being the heir to the Iron Throne fell to Jacaerys, the unbearable burden bearing down on him throughout his life, she was exempt. And only at the mercy of being mere minutes younger than her twin.

Sometimes she wonders. Had she been born first, would all this still have happened?

Probably, she mused.

And yet another question always followed. Would Rhaenyra have named her heir? Had she been the first born child, with her dark hair and blue eyes, conveniently matching those features of the former Commander of the City Watch, would her mother have fought so thoroughly for her birthright?

If that had been the case, the realm would never have allowed it.

A bastard and a woman? There’d be riots from Winterfell to the Reach.

She was grateful to be born second. Although, it made the situation no easier.

In his eyes, she was still a bastard. The daughter of his whore sister, who is still attempting to steal his brother’s throne by gathering banners from houses who once swore their loyalty to her mother, years before her birth.

Aemond Targaryen always had a strange relationship with his niece and nephews. Though for the nephews it was easy to identify. Full to the brim with hate, no doubt assisted by the fact Luke had taken Aemond’s eye not a decade before, and never for one moment missing an opportunity to remind them what they all were.

Strong bastards.

He saw his nephews like they were shit at the bottom of his shoe. Unworthy of the positions they were born into.

His relationship with her felt different. Almost to the point of being unexplainable.

When she was a child, though not friendly, there was a noticeable lack of pure animosity towards her compared to her brothers. Aemond would sometimes, though rare, make an effort. But most often, she was either dragged away by her mother, or he was, neither former-friends comfortable with allowing their most precious of children to co-exist like friends.

Like family.

It was only when she returned to King’s Landing, a decade older and brimming with womanly features and assets into her dresses that she noticed something was different about her Uncle. She scarcely believed it was him. Tall, lean and skilled with the sword despite his possession of only one eye. And she was ashamed to say it, but she felt her stomach flutter slightly at the sight of him, one lilac eye locked onto her, and a smirk tugging at his lips as he cocked his head the way he always did when he saw something amusing.

There was something different about seeing him when they were both grown. Something else about the way he observed her over the rim of his cup, and the way his eyelid on his one good eye hooded slightly over the colour of his iris.

It made her throat go dry.

As her head throbs, vision blurred as she stares at the stormy skies above, she feels like being in Storm’s End was a lifetime ago, though it had barely even been a few hours.

Aemond had prodded her, to see if she would bite. Had tried to whore himself out to Floris Baratheon, as she had done to Lord Borros, to attempt to win favour with their house by way of marriage, knowing he had lost his wife years prior.

And he had most of all, threatened to take something from her, something only she could give him, as payment for the debt Lucerys had made by slicing Aemond’s eye at Driftmark all those years ago.

Though he did not elaborate, she need not ask.

She felt her blood chill in her veins, her feet primed to run when Aemond broke into a walk towards her, bending to pluck the dagger he’d thrown to the floor. Her fingers clumsily wrapped around her own dagger at her side, being too slight for a sword, as her only protection.

She didn’t anticipate Aemond would be stupid enough to follow her. But then again, she was wrong about a lot of things when it came to her estranged Uncle.

Her muscles ached as she pulled herself to sit up, the wind nipping at the sensitive skin on her cheeks, pounded with raindrops that felt like ice. Hastily, she threw the chain that still connected her to her now-deceased dragon to the side, having been brought down through the skies still bound to the harness.

Vhagar had sliced through her dragon’s neck with her sharpened, old teeth. The poor thing was probably dead long before she hit the ground. Perhaps it was a mercy of sorts.

She felt her breath hot in her chest as she saw her dragon being licked by the lazy waves, its corpse half in the raging sea and half draped across the jagged rocks of whatever island they’d fallen to. Tears build behind her eyes at the sight. Her dragon had hatched in her cradle, and was therefore still small. Far too small against the likes of Vhagar.

She’s about to tell herself to not cry, to not let emotions run her like men often profile women to do, when she hears the distinct flap of Vhagar’s wings as she lands with a mighty thud on the other end of the island. So big, if she extended herself enough, she’d be nearly as big as.

The white flash of damp hair was the first thing she saw when Vhagar bowed her head to the ground, and his stoic, firm face, looking scornfully down at her in a way that stole the breath from her lungs.

Her shoes slid on the wet dirt with the rain pelting down as she moved to stand, her legs weakly unable to carry her weight. Her hands were coated with mud. But all she heard was the hammering of the storm and Aemond’s damp footsteps as they became ever louder.

She winced when she felt his icy, long fingers in her hair pulling her back. Without second thought she drew her dagger and span quickly, the blade whipping past his face, but barely missing him. Aemond, with a stoic, hard expression caught her wrist and twisted, using his body weight to push her to the floor on her back, with either of his legs aside to squeeze her in.

He pinned her wrists beside her head, one hand still grasping the dagger. And for a moment they simply looked at one another, with practised hateful expressions, completely out of breath and hair sticking uncomfortably to each of their faces.

Thunder rumbled loudly above.

“Not as fast with a blade as your brother, are you, zaldritsos?”

“Get off me.”

“After all that? I’d scarcely think about letting you go. You should know better. I am here to collect what I am owed.”

“It is not me who took your eye, or did he damage your memory as well?”

“Careful. Lady Strong. I'll cut out your pretty tongue.”

She watches him loom above her, his wavy damp hair hanging over his shoulders, with that self-assured cocky smile on his face. No matter how hard she fights against him, she's too weak, and even with full strength would still struggle.

There's a flicker of amusement that passes across his face. One that makes her stomach drop.

“I wonder how talented your tongue is, mandianna.”

She feels her lips crack as her mouth goes dry, the bluntness of what he'd said and the shift in the tension shocked her more than anything else.

“I am a maide-”

“Oh, I'm sure you are.”

“I am.”

He laughs lowly in his chest, “then what an honour it will be, for my cock to be the first.”

“I will cut out your other eye.”

“And how I would like to see you try.”

She gets one hand free, but the slap she gives him is pitiful, and he merely laughs, pinning both down again with one hand while his other unlaces his breeches.

“Such fire, dear niece”, he cooes, “I cannot wait to be warmed by their flames.”

His hand moves to her hair, gripping painfully and pulling her up to kneel before him, her chin held high as he rises to stand before her. She gasps with shock when he pushes his breeches over his hips and pulls his length free, hard and weeping with arousal, pressed firmly against his stomach.

A dull ache settles between her legs, a feeling she does not recognise. She can barely tear her eyes away from his member, she'd seen so few, but knows that the one before her is so impressive, that she wonders for a moment where he intends to put it where it would fit.

He taps the head of his cock against her lips, “I think I shall have your mouth first, then take what I am owed. What do you think, mandianna?”

She barely has time to reply, he pushes himself into her mouth quickly, not at all seeming to care about the squeak of shock she lets out, her throat closing around his length to gulp down air when she's unable to.

Her eyes squeeze shut as his cockhead hits the back of her throat, hearing Aemond moan as he stills for a moment, basking in the warmth of her mouth around him.

“Breathe…”

Hurried huffs of air leave through her nose, Aemond's cock forced down her throat so that air cannot pass. He stays still, not moving his hips an inch, with one hand still gripping her hair.

Aemond chuckles darkly, moving her head on him to create the smallest amount of friction, the hairs at the base of him pressed against her face.

“How does it feel? To have a real Targaryen inside you, hm?”

She only whines around him, unable to do much else.

“Look at me.”

Her teary eyes crack open, struggling to get all the air she needs through her nose alone. And when she meets his gaze, she feels the warmth between her thighs at the eroticism of the act, and knowing it's all so, so wrong.

His sole lilac eye shrinks as he smirks, “If your mother could see you now.

“If you are good, I may fuck a Targaryen babe into you. Then you might see what a real one looks like.”

He starts a calm, gentle pace as if savouring it. She closes her eyes, focussing on the feeling of his heavy length on her tongue, curling it upwards to massage the long vein that decorates the shaft.

Aemond's smile widens, as he saw one of her hands dip between her thighs, a moan of her own vibrating around his cock.

“Yes, you will make a fine wife, I think.”

General Taglist: @aemondsfavouritebastard @bellstwd @blairfox04 @buckybarnesb-tch @castellomargot @hb8301 @jamespotterismydaddy @mochi-rose @natty2017 @nenelysian @randomdragonfires @risefallrise @thelittleswanao3 @theoneeyedprince @thetrueblackheart @tsujifreya @urmomsgirlfriend1 @valeskafics @virtualsweetsqueen @watercolorskyy @fan-goddess

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faerygrant · 6 months

Text

Baby Daddy!Joel thoughts

Summary: SFW + NSFW baby daddy Joel thoughts [he’s kind of slutty] [also age gap relationship ]

౨ৎ Baby Daddy! Joel who gets you pregnant just so he can watch the way your stomach swells, full of his baby.

౨ৎ Baby Daddy! Joel who relentlessly fucks you once your stomach begins to grow, proud of his hard work and eager to satisfy your insatiable appetite.

౨ৎ Baby Daddy! Joel who secretly loves to have you so dependent on him, his perfect girl.

౨ৎ Baby Daddy! Joel who insists you move in with him so he can take good care of you and his baby.

౨ৎ Baby Daddy! Joel who loves to watch as you waddle around stomach swollen and curlers in your hair, as you iron his freshly washed clothes like the good little housewife you are.

౨ৎ Baby Daddy! Joel who comes home during his lunch break all sweaty and disheveled to put together for the nursery.

౨ৎ Baby Daddy! Joel who brings you lunch on his breaks to ensure you’re well fed, for him and his baby.

౨ৎ Baby Daddy! Joel who will have you sat on his lap and feed you whenever you refuse to eat, because once again, he needs his little girl and his baby healthy.

౨ৎ Baby Daddy! Joel who upsets a very hormonal and grumpy you, by merely being friendly to the female cashier.

౨ৎ Baby Daddy! Joel who makes it up to you by sending you a bouquet of your favourite flowers and “I’m sorry” head.

౨ৎ Baby Daddy! Joel who kisses you dumb, early in the morning, leaving a glass of tea on the bedside table, before he heads off for the day.

౨ৎ Baby Daddy! Joel who keeps a steady grip on you at all times in public, to let everyone know it’s he who got you knocked up.

౨ৎ Baby Daddy! Joel who takes you baby shopping and smiles at all the prying eyes and the strange looks the two of you receive because of the obvious age gap.

౨ৎ Baby Daddy! Joel who gets handsy at the annoyingly long Lamaze classes that you insist the both of you attend.

౨ৎ Baby Daddy! Joel who merely laughs when you whine and groan about how you’ll never let him near you again because of your sore back and aching muscles.

౨ৎ Baby Daddy! Joel who despite being exhausted from work, rubs and massages your sore joints and muscles till you’re satisfied.

౨ৎ Baby Daddy! Joel who merely smirks at his family gathering when all the men are clearly ogling you in your pretty little dress, bump all round with cute ribbons in your hair.

౨ৎ Baby Daddy! Joel who keeps a photo of you and your precious daughter when she arrives on his work desk.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #dad!joel miller #joel miller headcanon

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libraryofgage · 6 months

Text

Addams Family B-Side (3)

Part of: Steve Deserves Good Parents, Actually Debbie and Fester Addams One | Two | Three (you're here!) Rick and Evelyn O'Connell One | Two (on the way!) Harley Quinn One 10th Doctor and Rose One | Two (on the way!) Scooby Gang (there are plans for this one lmao, so plz be patient with me orz)

Did I already post today? Yes. Did I also post two chapters of Modern Steve in 80s Hawkins today? Yes. I am just incredibly productive today, who knows when it's gonna happen again lol

Anyway, finally! The next B-Side! This bitch has been stewing my guys, so I hope you enjoy it lol

There are two memes at the very end of this one, so definitely stick around

As always, if you see any typos, no you didn't 😘

--------

For four weeks, Eddie feels himself losing his mind. He finds gifts in his locker every other day, and he's convinced they're from Steve Harrington. He now has a taxidermied bat, a fancy-looking vial with a skull and crossbones embossed in the glass and filled with mysterious liquid, an actual human skull that Eddie immediately incorporates into his next campaign, and a spider. An actual spider. A live spider that, after a little research, he learns is a fucking Black Widow that seems unnaturally friendly.

Eddie can't stress that part enough. Multiple people have mistaken the spider for an intricate vest patch because it just sits perfectly still over his chest pocket. It only moves to rub its head against Eddie's fingers whenever his hand passes over it, and even then it's careful to avoid hurting him with its pincers.

He names her Nox.

Those aren't the only gifts he's received, but they're the most notable, and Eddie is overwhelmed and flustered by the positive attention he's suddenly receiving.

The other thing driving him crazy is Pubert Addams, a guy Eddie had never paid much attention to before but now considers his mortal enemy. He's convinced Pubert is, at worst, potentially abusive or, at best, delusional and taking advantage of Steve's kindness and inability to brutally turn him down. Or maybe Eddie is the crazy one; he doesn't actually know. Whichever it is, Eddie is ready to take the very nice dagger he now has (gift number 15; yes, Eddie has been counting) and stab him with it.

Because he can't get more than two minutes alone with Steve before Pubert appears out of nowhere. Eddie runs into Steve in the hall while everyone else is in class? Pubert shows up with a hall pass two seconds later and literally waltzes Steve away from him. Eddie finds Steve camped out in the library during study hall? Pubert materializes in the chair next to Steve before Eddie can sit down, leaning far too close as he asks Steve to explain something from their shared Gothic Literature class. Eddie, by some miracle, is behind Steve in the lunch line (and he calls this a miracle because Steve always brings his lunch in a pink box with black skulls, which Eddie considers incredibly brave of him to carry around like it's nothing)? Before Eddie can do more than say hi and get a blinding smile in return, Pubert fucking Addams shows up and drags Steve away while promising to share his lunch.

Eddie is just about to lose the last shred of patience he's struggling to maintain when Steve finds him. Ironically, it's the same bathroom where they first talked, the one with mysterious mold growing in the corner that Eddie is convinced is some new species. It's the only bathroom with a busted smoke detector, and Eddie goes there to get high during his free period.

He's halfway through a joint, smoke curling around him as he sits on the sink counter and tries not to think about what else has been there, when the door swings open, Steve walks in, and Eddie chokes on his inhale.

"Don't die like this," Steve says, stepping closer and patting Eddie's back like they know each other, "It's no fun."

Eddie finally gets himself under control, taking a deep breath and wincing at the way his lungs burn. "No worries," he croaks out, regretting the departure of Steve's hand on his back. "What are you doing here? Please don't tell me you plan to use this bathroom."

"As curious as I am about the bacteria teeming on these toilet seats, no." Steve sounds genuine, like he really does want to swab the toilet seats and see what grows. Instead, he places his bag on the sink and pulls out a familiar vial with a familiar skull and crossbones. "I just came to drink."

"Oh?" Eddie says, leaning forward with a grin. He looks Steve up and down, taking in the pale blue sweater vest and immaculately pressed jeans. "You don't look the drinking type, Stevie."

Steve hums, popping the cork out of the vial and taking a swig from it. "This isn't exactly hard stuff," he says after he swallows, distracted enough that Eddie thinks he misses his eyes lingering on Steve's throat as it bobs.

"Just beer then?"

"What?" Steve asks, looking at Eddie like he's delusional. "No, it's cyanide and vinegar."

He says it with such conviction that Eddie believes him despite knowing cyanide is poison. "Metal," he says, looking away to take another drag of his joint as he struggles to break through his own awkwardness and hold a conversation that will somehow sweep Steve off his feet and make him forget all about Pubert Addams.

Before he can think of something clever and smooth and funny, Steve leans close and raises a hand to his chest. Eddie is about to warn him that Nox is, in fact, real when the spider scuttles onto Steve's fingers and settles in his palm. She does a little up-and-down motion, circles in his hand twice, and rubs her head against his wrist. "You've been taking good care of her," Steve says.

"Uh, yeah. How is she not biting you right now?" Eddie asks, remembering all the times Nox has warningly snapped at others who tried to touch her.

Steve snorts and allows Nox to return to her spot on Eddie's vest. "I raised her," he says, his tone casual like he isn't admitting to showering Eddie with inexplicable gifts for the past four weeks, "of course, she won't bite me."

"So, it has been you," Eddie replies, wanting to hear it from Steve himself.

With a soft hum, Steve takes another sip from his bottle. "Who else would it have been?"

Eddie licks his lips, takes another drag of his joint to brace himself, and hops off the counter. "So, uh, does that mean you li--"

Before the rest of the question can be asked, the bathroom door swings open again, and Eddie feels his eye twitch as Pubert Addams frowns at them. "So, this is where you were," he says, walking over to Steve and putting an arm around his shoulders.

"I told you I was going to the bathroom," Steve says, rolling his eyes as he stuffs the vial back into his bag.

Pubert looks Eddie over, a derisive huff escaping him as he dismisses Eddie and looks at Steve. "On the other side of the school? Really?" he asks, and Eddie would be overthinking what that means if he weren't sure his veins were about to burst.

"We were talking, you know," Eddie says, gaining Pubert's attention again. Steve looks at him, too, his eyes a little brighter.

"I'm sure," Pubert replies, rolling his eyes as he takes Steve's bag. "And now we're leaving." With that, he leads Steve out of the bathroom, the door swinging shut before Steve can do more than smile apologetically and wave.

Anger surges through Eddie, and the shaky drag he takes to finish off his joint does absolutely nothing to soothe it.

He's going to kill Pubert Addams.

--------

Funnily enough, Steve's mother doesn't learn about his crush until he's five weeks into it. When Debbie finally does discover the crush, it's because she walks in on Fester and Steve decorating homemade cookies shaped like anatomically correct hearts. She pauses in the doorway, looking between the two covered in flour and raspberry jam, and asks, "What on earth is going on here?"

Steve looks up, sees this as his chance to finally tell Debbie, and smiles brightly at her. "I'm in love, Mother. He's allergic to raspberry, and Father agreed to help me make him cookies with raspberry filling, so he can feel the same breathlessness I do when I see him," he explains, using his thumb to wipe raspberry jam off his cheek.

Debbie stares at him for a few seconds before looking at Fester. "How long have you known?" she asks.

"Five weeks," Fester admits, looking apologetic. "I wanted to tell you, Pumpkin! But Steve asked me not to so he could tell you himself."

She sighs and walks over to the island, sitting on the edge of a stool and taking one of the cookies for herself. She bites off a pulmonary vein, looking thoughtful as she chews. "I must admit, these are damn good cookies," she finally says, taking one more bite before passing it to Fester to finish. "Tell me about him."

And Steve does. He gushes about Eddie for a solid hour without taking a single breath, spilling everything he's seen Eddie do and how he's reacted to all of Steve's gifts and how he gets so obviously jealous when Pubert butts into their conversations. He tells Debbie about Eddie not screaming when he saw Nox, about him selling drugs, and about his interest in music. Steve laments his hair but eagerly describes the treatment routine he already has in mind.

By the time he's done, the cookies are decorated and his mother's expression has grown a little pained. "Steve, darling, come with me," she says, getting up from the chair and leading him out of the kitchen while Fester starts to clean up.

Steve waits until Debbie has brought him to her spare room to ask, "Did I do something wrong?"

"Well, did you remember my rules about crushes?"

"Yeah. I've talked to him a lot."

Debbie smiles and brings Steve over to the bed, sitting him down and straightening his hair before perching next to him. "Then, you're not in trouble, but you've been going about this all wrong, dear."

"Should I tell Pubert to stop making Eddie jealous?"

"Absolutely not," Debbie says, shaking her head firmly. "In fact, he could try harder. Nothing gets to a man like someone he can't have, especially if he thinks they're in distress."

Steve blinks, frowning slightly as he tries to figure out where, exactly, he's gone wrong. Eddie seems perfectly enamored with him, after all, and Pubert's goading is encouraging his affections, which is the only reason Steve has allowed it to continue. "Did I give him a live spider too soon?" Steve asks, figuring that's the problem here.

"No, that's not...," Debbie trails off, mutters something about Fester being an idiot, and clears her throat. "Steve, your father is the last person you should approach for love advice."

"But...you agreed to marry him, so he must have done something right," Steve says.

Debbie barks a laugh, waving her hand dismissively. "I married your father for his money. I attempted to kill his entire family and only stopped when he promised to give me everything I asked for. I would hardly call him a casanova."

Steve nods along, smiling a little as she speaks. He's heard their great love affair many times, but he doesn't get tired of it. "But you actually love him anyway, right? Father says it's because he showered you with gifts. So, that's what I'm doing."

"I...do love your father," Debbie admits, sighing as though she doesn't know how that happened either. "But it's less because of his gifts and more because...he gave me the devotion I wanted. Anyway, if you learn anything from us, it should be that love comes second."

"What comes first?"

Debbie smiles, the expression positively devious, and Steve can't help returning it. "Obsession," she says, her shoulders rolling back some as pride fills her. "Occupy his every waking thought. Make yourself irresistible. Make him dream of you at night. Overwhelm him with desire until he simply must act on it."

"Oh," Steve says, thinking of how his father acts around Debbie and realizing that obsession never quite went away. But it's worked out well for them, and he knows his mother has experience with luring men into her arms. He nods once and asks, "So, what should I do?"

"I'm so glad you asked," Debbie says, her smile bright and her eyes filled with excitement. "You'll have Eddie falling to his knees before you in no time."

--------

Eddie didn't think it could get worse. He was already attracted to Steve, already distracted by every little movement.

He was wrong. So incredibly wrong.

Because here he is, his mouth dry and his palms sweaty and his cheeks warm because of Steve. He's not even doing anything. Well, that's not true. Steve is curling his tongue around a lollipop before sucking it into his mouth like he'll die without it. But it's more than that. It's the painted-on jeans that hug his legs; it's the pastel pink hoodie (with little bats on the cuffs) that rides up whenever Steve moves to show off a strip of skin just above his waistband; it's the way he finishes the lollipop and pulls out lipgloss, casually telling Pubert it's raspberry flavored as he puts it on.

Eddie swallows around the dryness in his mouth, gripping his locker door so tight that his knuckles turn white as he looks inside it. Sitting innocently on top of everything is a Tupperware container of cookies with raspberry filling (according to the label), and Eddie is ready to eat one just so he can die knowing what Steve's lips taste like.

That's not even the worst of it. The worst is that Steve transfers into Eddie's Music Theory class, smiling innocently while the teacher introduces him and then directs him to sit at the empty desk next to Eddie. When he's close, Eddie realizes Steve smells like cookies and cream ice cream, and he's tempted to ask if Steve smells like his favorite flavor on purpose.

The teacher saves him from the embarrassment of blurting out the question by announcing a project. The teacher then dooms him by telling everyone they're required to work with their desk neighbor. Eddie grips his pen tightly when the teacher tells them to spend the rest of their class time discussing the project.

"So," Steve says, getting Eddie's attention. When he looks over, Steve is leaning forward on his desk, chin propped in his hand as he looks at Eddie. "Want to come over to my place after school? To work on the project, I mean."

Eddie stares at Steve for a few seconds, his tongue stuck in his throat. To his credit, Steve doesn't say anything or call Eddie out for staring at him. He just waits patiently with a little smile curling his lips. Eddie finally clears his throat, his voice coming out a little strained when he says, "Yeah, sure, sounds good. After school. Your place. Project."

Smooth. Real smooth.

When Steve just smiles wider and stretches his arms above his head, pulling his hoodie up, while suggesting they do the project on the evolution of heavy metal music, Eddie realizes he's probably going to die after school.

He can't wait.

-------

Tag List (I think there's still room for a few more people ^_^)

@estrellami-1, @itsall-taken, @mugloversonly, @fandomcartographer, @hippielittlemetalhead, @agree2disagre-kicks, @ledleaf, @just-a-tiny-void, @goodolefashionedloverboi, @ink1177, @maya-custodios-dionach, @littlebluejane, @steddieonbigboy, @ravenpainter, @read-write-thrive, @deadontheinside20, @yeahhhh-suga, @nectandra, @mogami13, @mx-jinxous, @thoughtfulbreadpolice, @anne-bennett-cosplayer, @xoxoladyclara

@zaddipax, @dycte, @breealtair, @geekymagicalpotato, @janea-grill, @juliasthename-adhdismygame, @yikes-a-bee, @wayward-people, @st-fics, @disrespectedgoatman, @bipusssy, @cottagecorebutnaturescaresme, @nightowl14028018, @that-binchh, @your-confused-friend, @irethsune, @goosesister, @strawberryyyenthusiast, @irregular-child, @theverywest

And, finally, a two-for-one meme special because I couldn't decide which was funnier:

#steddie #steddie fic #addams family b side #addams! steve harrington #steve harrington #eddie munson #pubert addams #fester addams #debbie jellinsky #steve deserves good parents actually #my writing #sorry it's been so long the inspiration took a while to hit for this one hfdjks

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theemporium · 7 months

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🧸with Carlos please where his daughter brings home a cat (we all know how he feels about cats), but he becomes the definition of “dad who doesn’t want a cat but loves the cat more than anyone in the house”

thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

“ARABELLA!”

A soft giggle could be heard before the sound of footsteps pattering towards the living room could be heard. It took less than thirty seconds before his daughter showed up in front of him, the look of pure innocence on her face as she looked up at him.

“Yes, Daddy?”

Carlos shot his daughter a look before pointing at the ball of orange fur sitting on the couch—on his spot on the couch. “What is that?”

“It’s a cat, Daddy,” Arabella said with a small giggle, like she couldn’t believe her father was actually asking. “The one that goes meow.”

“Yes, I—” He took a deep breath, shaking his head. “What is it doing in the house?”

“He was alone,” Arabella said, her lips turning downwards into a pout and he could already feel his walls crumbling at the sight. “Mummy helped me give him a bath! He’s clean, I promise.”

“Did she now?” Carlos grumbled as he placed his hands on his hips, glaring at the small orange cat like that alone would make him disappear. “He can’t stay. We have to find him a new home.”

Arabella pouted. “But—”

“No buts,” Carlos shook his head. “We will find him a loving home, mi princesa, but he cannot stay with us.”

And Carlos had planned to stay adamant on the matter. He wasn’t a cat man. He didn’t like them. He didn’t see the appeal in them. They weren’t as friendly or social or loving as dogs. They were far from a man’s best friend, more like a man’s slightly temperamental roommate. He was not a cat man and he refused to house that cat in his house longer than he needed to.

However, finding the cat a loving home without putting it in a shelter seemed more difficult than he assumed. Days would pass, and the orange cat—now named Chilli, ironically enough—was overstaying his visit. He learnt to co-exist with the creature, but he refused to interact with it unless it was needed.

Or at least, that was what he told you.

He had complained about Chilli every night before bed. He would talk about all the annoying things he had done. He told you about all the ways the cat inconvenienced him. But if anything, it seemed like he was trying to convince himself that he hated the cat with the amount of pictures on his phone.

And then you had returned home after picking up Arabella from school to see the sight in front of you.

“Mama,” the young girl tugged on your sleeve and excitedly pointed at the couch. “Look at Daddy and Chilli!”

You snorted, already reaching for your phone. “I can see them, honey.”

“Ay,” Carlos grumbled, one hand raised to cover his face whilst the other rested on the back of Chilli. “What’s all the noise?”

“Are we ruining your cat nap?” You teased, watching as the boy’s eyes snapped open to stare at the sleeping cat on his chest before they shut again.

“This means nothing,” he told you.

“Uh huh.”

“I mean it,” Carlos continued.

“Right.”

“It just happened,” he assured you.

“If you say so. But there is another family looking—”

“No.”

You raised your brows. “No?”

“Chilli is a Sainz now. Even if he is annoying,” Carlos muttered before biting back a yawn. “Now let us sleep in peace, please.”

#cece's slumblurb party #carlos sainz #formula one #f1 #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz x y/n #carlos sainz fic #carlos sainz one shot #formula one x reader #formula one x you #formula one x y/n #formula one fic #formula one one shot #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #f1 fic #f1 one shot

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inkdrinkerworld · 7 months

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best friends to lovers with sirius x reader PLEASEE love the touchy bsf james fics sm

I’m making this touchy bsf!sirius and shy!reader!!

Something about being close to Sirius amps up your shyness. It doesn’t help that you’re always together because your friend circles overlap.

Right now, you’re hosting early Christmas dinner for all your friends because they’re all off to their family- everyone but you and Sirius ironically, but you’re trying not to focus on that too much.

“Poppet!” Sirius’ call echos through your apartment and finds you in the kitchen where you’re taking your bread out the oven.

“In the kitchen Siri,” you say, not quite a shout but loud enough for him to hear. Your heart speeds up when you hear the click clack of his boots on your flooring.

“Happy early Christmas,” he says quietly, setting the bottles of mead, spiked eggnog (a recipe he had begged your mother to teach him many Christmases past), and sorrel.

His hands, now free, find your hips as you set the loaves on cooling racks.

“Happy early Christmas,” you echo, trying not to freak out at his proximity. It’s not unwanted and it’s been freely doled out to you for years, but you still can’t help but feel giddy and shy under his touch. Or his gaze, or well, just anything Sirius really.

“D’you need help with anything, poppet?” He asks, his cold rings running up your hip as he waits for your response.

“Can you pull the biscuits from the fridge? They’re the last thing to bake.”

Sirius nods, leaving you quickly and in the space of time it takes, all your friends come tumbling into your house.

James with the ham, Remus with turkey, Lily with a tofu dish, Marls and Dorcus with gifts.

Your house goes from quiet to lively in a matter of seconds and the boys set the table while you and the girls start drinking.

“Do you think Sirius will make a move on you?” Dorcus asks and you roll your eyes.

“We’re just friends,” you mutter, sipping your sorrel as your friends scoff. This is a conversation you’ve all had in many different ways.

You insist you’re friends and then Sirius goes on a does something not exactly too friendly.

“Dove? Can you come here a minute?” Remus calling you makes your eyebrows raise to your hairline.

“Yeah, Moony?” Sirius is already sitting in his self assigned seat- the one right beside yours- with a frown on his face. As you get closer, you notice he’s scowling and gritting his teeth.

That makes the nerves in your stomach churn a little more violently.

“Would you please tell Pads that you wouldn’t kiss him to ring in the New Year?” The girls laugh at the reasoning for Sirius’ sudden bad mood.

You frown. You hadn’t thought that was what he was gonna ask you. “Do you want to kiss me, Siri?” Sirius looks up at you instantly, eyes stormy.

“S’not about what he wants dove, do you wanna kiss him?”

You feel put on the spot and know Remus will drop it if you ask him to, but Sirius looks pensive. Like he’s on edge for your answer. Like he might combust and disintegrate if you refuse to kiss him.

Not like you would. He’s got lips that deserve to be kissed.

“Yeah I’d kiss him. Or let him kiss me, whichever way it has to go.”

Sirius perks right up, much to your friends’ delight. “We can start practicing now or when these lot leave if you like, poppet.”

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