#i need to hear the ''you're part of a machine you are not a human being'' line | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

muletia · 13 days ago

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✧˖° 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐆 — 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍𝐄

mer!optimus x human!reader

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐎

summary: optimus waited for his mate for a very long time. but just when he was starting to lose hope, you decide to save him from loneliness. after so many years you finally heard his song. his mate. you.

word count: 5200

optimus is barely in this chapter btw. but don't worry, he will get more desperate later ^^

oh, and I couldn't resist throwing two polish easter eggs somewhere in the middle hehe

The first thing you hear upon waking is the rhythmic murmur of waves gently striking the shore. The soft sound soothes the initial flickers of disorientation, cooing deceitfully so your body doesn’t sound the alarm just yet. Unfortunately, you fall right into the trap.

Your eyelids seem to weigh several tons as you try to lift them, alarmed by the cocktail of not knowing where you are, why you’re here, and how you got here. With great effort and after several attempts, you finally manage to do it, but the blinding white light sabotages your success, forcing you to shut them again.

Each blink seems to shake off a few more kilograms from your eyelids, and eventually you manage to regain some control. Just enough to squint them into a narrow slit, a poor defense against the light, but enough not to go blind within seconds.

The view before you says little. Grains of sand, losing detail with every further centimeter, form a bleached-yellow stripe that stretches all the way to the horizon, the only part of the landscape you recognize. Just above the sand, a luscious blue sky announces fair weather, interrupted only on one side by faint streaks of green. Palm leaves, you conclude, as your brain sluggishly processes the gathered information.

Did we already land on the beach? you wonder, because you really do feel like you're on vacation. The pleasantly warm sand heats your torso, while the ocean mercifully cools your legs up to the knees, whispering with the sound of the waves that you don’t have to do anything anymore. No worries about corporate work. No stress about endless traffic jams right when you’re rushing to the office, or hot water getting turned off on a chilly day, or another cockroach infestation in your kitchen.

Hmm. This is nice. Wrapped in comfort, you close your eyes again, wanting to enjoy your vacation for as long as you can. You wonder why you chose to lie flat on the sand instead of using a beach chair, but you blame it on being tired. You didn’t really miss the chair all that much. The sand was nice, warm. And so clean, almost impossibly so. You wouldn’t mind lying here for your entire vacation. All five days of it.

Probably couldn’t be bothered, you think. It was a long trip, and you don’t have many days to rest. You have to make the most of every second of doing nothing before you’re dragged back into the chaos, chronic stress, and confined spaces. It’s nice here. Wonderful. You just hope someone wakes you in time for the return flight. You wouldn’t want to waste your already-paid tickets, and the plane definitely won’t wait for latecomers.

The plane.

You furrow your brow, not understanding why the mere memory of a flying machine caused a sharp jolt of pain in your head. Perfect. Just what you needed on vacation, a completely unnecessary pounding in your skull, disrupting your lazy lounging on tropical beaches and sipping coconut drinks surrounded by handsome men and beautiful women practically begging for a quick, steamy vacation fling.

But wait… if you were lying on the beach at your resort, why weren’t you hearing the usual mix of foreign languages and broken English? Why aren’t you hearing anything at all besides the waves and your own racing heartbeat?

Something’s not right. Something is ver much not fucking right. You would never venture alone onto an unmarked beach because why would you? Why take the risk and ruin your vacation?

Where are the people? Where’s the laughter of children and the occasional drone of small plane engines?

Where… are you?

With a speed worthy of light, you lift your head, and then your torso, supporting your weight with your arms. Only now do you realize something is pressing into your neck. You’re choking, some unknown object is tightening around your chest more and more with every second, like a constrictor snake robbing you of precious oxygen.

You have to get rid of it. You have to claw it off, throw it away. With clumsy, chaotic movements, your hands fumble around your neck, fighting the strangler, digging in your nails just to make it let go. Just so you can breathe again.

The enemy relents after a few desperate attempts, when you finally decide to pull it over your head, a task far from easy, considering how tightly it clings to your body. You throw the snake with all your might, and it lands in the sand several meters in front of you. At least now you can breathe again, celebrating the return of this rather useful skill with several deep breaths.

But the sense of freedom and relief doesn’t last long. It abandons you once more when you finally dare to look at what was robbing you of air.

And your entire world stops. Your heart ceases to beat, your lungs freeze mid-motion. Every microscopic process down to the atomic level defies the passage of time.

What you threw off was a life jacket.

And suddenly, everything comes back to you, like a high-speed train, knocking all the air out of your lungs.

Looking out the window and seeing the plane’s engine on fire.

Screaming, chaos.

“We ask that you remain calm and put on your life jackets.”

Getting slammed into the hard walls and something sharp grazing the front of your shin.

And then being swallowed by the ocean. How easily you disappeared into its depths, fighting helplessly against gallons and gallons of water until the jacket pulled you up to the surface, where the situation was just as tragic. The burning plane slowly sinking into the sea, bags floating around you.

And bodies. So many bodies.

You tried to swim to one of the floating bags when a stronger wave dragged you underwater again.

The memories come alive all at once. They catch up to you, enveloping you in a storm of sensations. Falling from the plane, crashing into the cold, churning ocean.

Swallowing water. You must have involuntarily gulped down quite a bit. Eventually, even your lungs remember the uninvited guest, now coughing up traces of nonexistent water in a rattling wheeze, still recalling the vile, wrong feeling of salty water washing through the inside of the organ.

Trying to piece the story together, you come to the conclusion that you lost consciousness just below the surface, already preparing to extinguish your lungs that burned from lack of air.

And then you woke up here. The life jacket was kind enough not to let you drown, and the ocean merciful enough to spit you out onto some island, though you don’t feel particularly grateful, not when your odds of survival still hover dangerously close to zero.

You feel like you're about to explode.

“Oh no, no, no. Please,” you sob. “I want to go home.”

You consider curling into a ball and crying the stress away right here, but when a particularly strong wave soaks your already-wet shorts, bringing a new wave of discomfort, you find the last bits of strength in you to crawl further inland, tail tucked between your legs.

Your thoroughly soaked sneakers, one with its shoelace untied, leave marks on the wet sand before sinking into the dry stretch, where you decide to stay for your meltdown. You drop onto your butt, pulling your knees close to your chest, and break into sobs, finally letting go of all the nightmares haunting you.

You have no idea how long it takes for you to pull yourself together. How much time you needed to cry before your mind began analyzing the situation? Half an hour? Five hours? Ah, if only your watch had stayed loyal instead of falling to the bottom of the ocean. And you can forget about your phone, once glued to your pocket.It divorced you the moment the fight for survival began on that plane. That’s exactly how your luck plays out.

“Well, I just had to fucking go on vacation.”

You say aloud, though the only recipient is the endless horizon of the now-calm ocean. You envy its peace, its ability to tame rage. If only it had used that power during your flight, maybe you wouldn’t feel the urge now to charge the largest organism on Earth with your bare fists. Maybe you wouldn’t be throwing handfuls of the cleanest sand you’ve ever seen just a few feet in front of you, your bare feet digging into it, skin still wrinkled like a raisin. Your sneakers and socks are drying nearby, but you bitterly suspect they won’t be fully dry by the time you need to wear them again.

Even the wind dares not show its face, as if sensing your grief, your fury, your despair, and all the other emotions that should never have appear during vacation. The sun doesn’t scorch; it hides shyly behind a few thin clouds, looking for an excuse not to show up today.

Perfect weather. Too perfect not to mock you.

Hey, see how beautiful your vacation could have been? Too bad, you get to rot on a deserted island instead.

You’re barely holding yourself back from screaming, crying, curling up into a ball, and kicking sand with your feet. All at once.

Just the thought of moving makes you want to cry. Actually, any thought does. You tried to get a grip and focus on what matters most, survival, but it’s still too soon to muster any resolve. Or maybe you’re just too weak? Too used to comfort, to the ease of city life, you’re not ready to let it go.

The truth is, you’re scared. No, you’re terrified. Fleeting sparks of reason urge you to release your primal instinct, to return to the wild animal within, struggling to survive in untouched nature.

But you don’t want that. You don’t want to be an animal, not yet, clinging desperately to the remnants of your old life, warding off thoughts like fire against wolves snarling for food, drinkable water, shelter, warmth. Things so trivial and easy to come by before, you never even imagined you’d need to fight for them, with your steady job and uncomfortable apartment, but at least four safe walls.

You lower your head onto your knees and pull them closer. You want to remain modern, not primal, so you chase the wolves away again. This time they retreat into the dark as you close your eyes for a moment, but you know they’ll return. And soon.

Despite your still-swollen eyes and nose clogged from crying, another sob shakes your chest, drawing out a deep, ancient human stress, long forgotten by many.

More precious minutes burn away doing nothing, but even in your hazy state, you notice the shift of the palm shadows on the beach. Your quiet alarm bell. You need to move, you tell yourself. Now.

Just get up. That’s all. That will be your first success.

Desperation flickers to life again as you consciously swallow, your saliva sluggishly dragging down your throat that now feels like sandpaper. Suddenly you realize how badly you need water. When was the last time you had anything in your mouth that wasn’t saltwater?

It’s not enough to make you embrace your current predicament, but it is enough to get your pampered city ass off the ground. Which your long-unused legs do not appreciate. Forced into bending, then suddenly straightened, they refuse to cooperate, stiff and tingling from inactivity. Thankfully, after a few wobbly steps, you regain control of your body, grab your sneakers and socks, and begin walking along the shore, where the waves gently devour the sand, tracing a path and border for your feet to follow.

You’re a long way from being a survival expert, but you try to follow logic. Or at least what’s left of it.

First, you check for injuries. Something you really should’ve done immediately, but upon waking up... well, you were a little preoccupied. You extend your arms, turning them slowly, bracing for the worst, broken or dislocated bones, but feel relief seeing only a few bruises on your forearms and a dull ache in your shoulder, likely from the chaos on the plane. Nothing alarming, nothing to worry about yet.

Your legs seem to be fine, too. Also peppered with bruises of all sizes, but your joints haven’t been swallowed by swelling. The only new feature is a long but shallow wound down your shin, already sealed with a black scab.

Great, you think. You can now focus mainly on finding water.

You briefly lift your gaze from the shoreline littered with shells and tiny scuttling crabs fleeing from the two-legged intruder, and peer into the island’s thick jungle.

You know you’ll have to go in there eventually. Face nature head-on. Face the wild. You’ve been putting it off for too long. Curling into yourself was just an excuse, a way to nurture the hope that this is all just a cliché nightmare you’ll wake up from any minute now. But deep down, you know it’s not a nightmare, not a dream. It’s something far worse because it’s real.

The wolf of thirst bites at your throat again. You push it away one last time, continuing your slow walk along the shore.

Soon, you tell yourself. Soon you’ll head in there, find water, find something to eat. You start laying out a plan, praying it’ll be as simple in practice as it seems in your mind. Surely, there must be some exotic fruit here, right? The island looked far too big not to grow anything edible.

Ugh. You just want to go home already.

You turn your head toward your new nemesis — the ocean — scanning the waves for familiar shapes of suitcases, bags, or backpacks, proof of civilization, but the ocean senses your hatred and hides its treasures from you. You see nothing. The water has swallowed your hopes.

Your expression drops, sours. You promise yourself that you’ll never set foot on a beach again. Yeah, next vacation, you’re going to the mountains. So many choices. The Alps, maybe the Tatras? You’ve heard the Bieszczady Mountains are beautiful this time of year. Just you, trails stretching for miles, a cozy cabin in the middle of nowhere, and zero sand.

But first, you have to get off this island. If I even make it off, you think bitterly.

You will, you convince yourself. You definitely will.

Someone will start looking for you eventually, someone will notice that an entire plane disappeared in the middle of the ocean. Mhm, just a few days of survival. Once you’ve figured out a source of drinkable water, found some food and a safe place to shelter, you’ll draw huge SOS signs across every beach. Yes, you’ll get out. It won’t be easy, but you will.

Your auto-pep talk fills you with new determination. It’s just a few days. You’ll manage, definitely. By the end of the week, you’ll be asleep in your comfy bed again, you think with enthusiasm. With that boost, you keep walking another dozen meters along the shoreline, scanning for any loot among the waves but quickly give up, as the rhythmic crashing of water only sharpens your thirst.

Drinking water. Now.

You glance toward the green mass of vegetation swallowing most of the island. It makes it hard to gauge the island’s shape or size, but you can tell it’s not small. The beach stretches endlessly like a runway, paralleled by a line of coconut palms heavy with their armored fruit. You make a mental note to return to them later with an exceptionally sharp rock.

You slide on your still-damp socks and sneakers, wincing at the unpleasant wetness enveloping your feet, then take a cautious, tentative step into the wild, into the unknown and the primal, and the green of exotic flora swallows you whole.

At first, navigating the sparse greenery is easy. You just have to occasionally push a leaf aside or duck under a branch. The problems start later, as the vegetation thickens and spiderwebs begin appearing everywhere, always with eight-legged residents at their centers, along with a variety of beetles and ants. The last two don’t make you want to catapult out of your own skin in fear, at least.

Finding your bearings doesn’t come naturally. Large and small leaves blur into one endless shade of green, but now and then you manage to spot a landmark to guide you back. An odd-shaped tree, a big rock. To be extra sure you won’t get lost in this breathing green labyrinth, you find a dry stick and start scratching an X into every third tree, marking the path in both directions.

You’re just about to give up hope of finding anything useful when suddenly the thicket begins to thin, tempting you with open space and pumping new energy into your legs, urging you to speed up. The dryness in your throat is unbearable now. You’ve soothed it a few times by forcing yourself to lick drops of water off leaves, but honestly, you’d rather never do that again.

You know survival on a deserted island means doing weird things. But still, you feel… humiliated, french kissing leaves for a single droplet of water. This is not how you imagined your exclusive vacation.

“It’s no longer vacation, you idiot.” you hiss.

You part a leaf blocking your view and can’t help the smile forming on your face.

“Or maybe... it kind of still is?”

A large lagoon greets you with open arms, framed by a beach of pristinely clean sand. The pool in the middle glistens with dark, but clear water, surprisingly deep for a lagoon.

You let out a quiet, appreciative whistle.

“Wow. It’s beautiful” you say aloud, only to purse your lips into a thin line.

Really? You’re already talking to yourself? Bit early to be going mad.

You scan the length of the lagoon with your eyes, wishing you could be here under completely different circumstances, when your gaze locks onto something... familiar. You squint, slowly moving toward one corner, where sand fades into solid ground, and with each step it becomes clearer. The mass of green you took for ivy and bushes is actually shaped like something man-made.

That “something” turns out to be the crumbling remnants of a stone house. Cracked and neglected, finally caught by the passage of time, merciless even to the strongest of materials.

The house has no roof and is missing one wall, but the remaining three offer tempting shelter from wind and potential rain, should you plan to (which you definitely don’t) stay here more than three days.

The problem is, if you want to get off this island, you’ll need a clear view of the ocean, something the narrow lagoon outlet doesn’t provide. But surely there’s no harm in spending one night here, right? You can already picture a fire in the center of the ruins, the warmth, grilled fish over the flames...

And you’re not sure if you’re successfully gaslighting yourself or if some ancient force is now in charge, but suddenly the cracked walls, floor overgrown with moss and weeds, and a massive branch sneaking in through what might have once been a window seem... cozy.

Honestly, your apartment back in the city wasn’t much better.

That thought convinces you to settle here for at least one night. And when you look toward the corner where a tree has also sought refuge, you spot several large papayas growing near its trunk, and you know: this is your camp. Your lips curl into a smile as you realize the fruits are ripe and hanging low enough to grab. Just a little jump and you are now clutching two plump fruits to your chest. You even kiss one in joy, unable to believe how fucking lucky you are.

You won't die of hunger! And you'll quench your thirst a little while you're at it. Really, it couldn't be better.

But, alas, you’ve just never had good timing.

The sound of water breaking pulls you out of your bliss. Before you even have time to process what’s happening, you press yourself tightly against the cracked wall, right beside a rectangular cutout that probably once served as a door, and you cover your mouth with your hand, forced to hold the large fruits with just one arm, which, practically speaking, is no easy task.

You hear dripping water and loud splashing sounds, the kind you associate with a large body leaving the water, but it’s the volume of those sounds that worries you the most. You have no doubt that whatever just crawled out of the water is big. Huge, even.

A whale? An orca? You try to guess, unconvinced that it's worth risking your life just to satisfy your curiosity. But you instantly disprove every guess with what you already know about those animals.

Still, you want to look. You know it’s stupid and it could end in disaster, but you want to. Just for a moment, for a second. You’ll peek out gently, careful not to make yourself an easy snack or target, and you’ll slip back to your beach silently.

Mhm, you’ll even let that thing have your (when did it start being yours anyway?) little corner, you won’t hold a grudge.

But you have to peek. Just for a second.

Undecided, you gently bite your lip.

You’ll look. But just for a millisecond.

But the very moment you stick out even a millimeter of your head and eye, you know you’re a liar. The millisecond is gone. Then a full second. Then a second more. Then a third. And you can’t move.

He’s beautiful, unearthly. Not belonging to your world, ripped straight from fairytales and legends, teasing your brain just enough that it no longer knows whether what you glimpse from the corner of your eye is even real. Or maybe such a drastic relocation into entirely unfamiliar conditions was enough to start seeing things?

A merman. A real merman.

Your jaw nearly hits the floor, but you shut your mouth just in time before a startled squeak can betray you.

The creature is enormous, roughly the size of an orca, though you know that the tail hidden beneath the lagoon’s surface could easily stretch your estimation by another meter or two. What draws your eye is the exotic palette of colors decorating his smooth skin. Muscular arms sunken into the clean, wheat-colored sand blaze red, though the crimson is interrupted by streaks of grey that trail down his forearms to his neck, where they fan out toward a white underbelly. His head, adorned with a crest rising from the center of his forehead and extending into a long dorsal fin, suddenly bursts into a pastel navy blue that flows down his back to the massive tail — a mishmash of the entire color wheel.

Humanoid. Too humanoid. Toying with your understanding of human beauty’s uniqueness. And yet here it is, just a safe dozen or so meters ahead of you, breathing. If you squinted, he really could pass for a person.

To keep yourself from going insane and to chase off intrusive thoughts, you pinch your forearm. Ouch. You’re real. But that also means he is too, giving you one more reason to go crazy.

Unable to tear your eyes from the siren monster, you decide to examine him more closely. You focus on his face, bizarrely human, yet ancient. Nothing like the stony mugs of instinct-driven animals. You feel like deep thoughts are swirling behind that blue skin, thoughts that also brim in those enormous, azure eyes. The distance between you is small enough that you can even make out the emotions running through him.

He looks sad. Pitiful, even, if you could compare the size and glint in his eyes to a sorrowful puppy, which your brain tries and fails to reconcile with the scarred body, head, and a face bearing the marks of a long life. You know instinctively this creature has years of survival behind him, every second of existence spent fighting for access to basic needs.

Which might also mean he's well-versed in the art of hunting humans, you realize with dread. You can only guess what makes up his diet, but judging by the sharp claws on his long webbed fingers, you suspect he’s not a peaceful herbivore.

Not that you’d risk an interaction with him just to test your theories. No, you'd really like to get back home in one piece.

Great. So now you’re stuck between a rock and a hard place. There’s no way you’re getting out of here without catching the siren’s attention. In fact, no matter where you go from here, there's a chance of encountering him again, and you really, really didn’t want to find out if he’s a man-eater.

Or worse — a hungry man-eater.

You glance around, looking for a wide enough gap in the foliage for a silent escape, but you're not even given the chance to take a single step. Your shoes are nailed to the earth by...

Singing.

A siren's song.

Mournful, pleading, and so raw that you hold your breath, afraid of it interrupting his piece.

It reminds you of the whalesong you’ve heard in documentaries, but each chirp, whine, and groan is loaded with sorrow and bitterness, bombarding your heart, even if you don’t understand the lyrics. You don’t need words to grasp the melancholic message, one that cuts through interspecies barriers.

The siren doesn’t stop singing, feeding his hidden audience new verses, each as depressing as the last. Like a newly discovered song, you can’t stop listening. All your senses retreat to make room for sharper hearing. You inhale his song, fill yourself with sad sounds, experiencing his suffering as if it were your own. Even if it’s just a trick to lure a tasty human snack out of hiding.

That slightly tempers your emotional response.

Right. Of course.

Maybe he knows you’re here. Feels you. Smells your tasty human flesh and is trying to coax you into the open like you were some kind of takeout.

You blink a few times, shaking off the last traces of compassion, proud of yourself for seeing through the sad facade of those puppy-blue eyes and the angsty concert. In the blink of an eye, you remember you need to get back to the beach, your only chance of spotting a ship or a plane in the patch of sky not covered by trees, because he already won the fight for the cozy shelter.

You return to searching for an escape route when suddenly, you freeze.

Your entire body blue-screens, and it must have rearranged every organ inside you too, because now you can feel your heartbeat in your ass. Because to your left, right by your head, a giant brown tarantula is slowly crawling along a cracked wall. So close you can see every hair on its abdomen.So close you can hear the soft tippy taps of all eight legs.

Oh, fuck.

“AHHHH!”

Your body reacts faster than common sense can remind you that the real predator, the one that could actually kill you, probably shouldn’t know it has company. You leap right, springing through the remains of a door straight onto the warm sand surrounding the lagoon.

Still clutching two papayas tightly to your chest, you try to stay upright on your wobbling, jelly-like legs, but it’s no use. You drop to your knees, the soft sand cushioning the pain. You know you should be running, right now, immediately. You urge your legs into action, begging silently but desperately for your own body to cooperate, but your rapid, ragged breathing drowns out your pleas.

When you realize that an immediate escape is no longer an option, all you can do is curl into the fetal position, forehead kissing the warm sand.

Hmm. Nice feeling, you think. You wouldn’t mind dying surrounded by the softness of this tropical, clean beach.

You hear nothing but the whistle of air sucked through your lips.

Nothing else.

Nothing...

You freeze.

You don’t need a mirror to know your eyes are now the size of dinner plates.

For a moment, you wonder how the hell you’re still alive. How come you don’t feel claws and teeth ripping through your flesh like a piece of paper? The agonizing pain of muscles tearing and bones shattering while you’re eaten alive, disappearing into the siren’s jaws. Bite by bite, until the last memory of your existence belongs to him.

But nothing like that happens. All your tissues are intact. You are neither bitten, nor scratched, nor swallowed alive.

Why the hell are you still alive?

Out of stupidity or curiosity, though you suspect it's more the former, you decide to make eye contact with the predator.

Slowly, you lift your head, gradually rediscovering his form. Milky white belly, swirls of red and grey skin on his chest, and finally, his head, flanked by small, bristling navy fins.

Still beautiful. Majestic. Enormous.

But as potential prey, can you allow yourself the pleasure of such hidden compliments? You wonder if deer also think like this before being devoured by wolves. Do they finally recognize the predator’s beauty only moments before death?

The humanoid face is turned toward you, expression frozen in comforting, familiar shock. The enormous eyes, adorned with remarkable white pupils, have doubled in size, and his mouth has fallen open, giving you a limited glimpse inside.

Teeth. Sharp teeth, undeniably those of a meat-eater.

For the second time that day, you feel some incomprehensible force rearranging your organs.

A flicker in the blue eye. A twitch in the human-like torso. A subtle lean in your direction pulls your heart from your ass back into place, and with it, apparently, the feeling in your legs, because suddenly, you’re ready to care about your own survival again.

You never believed those myths about time slowing down in the face of mortal danger. You thought that was a tired trope from action movies, overused to the point where you physically rolled your eyes whenever you saw it on screen.

But apparently, it’s very real.

Because there’s no other way to explain how slowly the creature’s expression morphs a few meters in front of you. His brow furrows, jaw opens and closes again and again, chewing, analyzing.

As if wondering what to do with you. If this pitiful, miniature oddity before him was even worth using as a toothpick?

To eat or not to eat? That is the question but you don’t want to know his answer.

Your body gambles on the oldest bet known to humankind.

You go all in on running.

Faster than you've ever moved in your entire life, you bolt toward the green thicket.

You could swear that the pathetic, almost pleading howl behind you and the shifting sound of something slithering across the sand belong to the siren, but you don’t have the courage to turn your head and confirm it.

You disappear behind massive leaves, blindly trying to make your way back to the familiar beach.

And ever after a long while, you can still hear the lamenting wail creeping up behind you.

#muletia writes #optimus x reader #optimus prime x reader #transformers x reader #merformers #merformers x reader #obsessed!optimus #mer optimus

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womanofwords · 22 days ago

Text

Silver Swan (Part 14)

Neglected!fem!reader x yandere!batfam

Alone time. You hadn't had a lick of it ever since the moment that Bruce had cradled you. You felt eyes on you wherever you went.

Barb, Cass, and Steph had started basically kidnapping you from your room the moment they sensed you walking around for the sake of doing your hair. Earplugs would go into your ears in a vain attempt at stopping you from hearing your brothers argue with your sisters for extra time with you.

"You can't monopolise Y/N like this! We have rights! We're her siblings, too!" Dick yelled.

"Hand her over and nobody gets hurt!" Jason yelled.

Cass braided your hair as Barbara swore at the boys. "They're silly," Steph said.

"You are so cute, little birdy," Dick cooed, carrying you around just as Bruce had done. "You are just the best, aren't you, wing? Now, you're going to be eating breakfast with-OW!"

"She will be eating with me, Grayson," Damian said, leading you away. "You have wounds to nurse."

Dick got to his feet and limped forward. "You evil little-"

"Evil little what? Grayson, do you really want Y/N to hear you use such language?" Damian gestured to you, and you waved.

"Using Y/N as a human shield. And I thought you couldn't get any lower," Dick said.

"I do what is necessary," Damian said. "Come on, Y/N. We'll eat whatever your favourite is."

"OK, Damian," you said. Titus trotted up to you, sitting by your side as Damian drew his katana. "Where are you going, Damian?"

"To show you other inferior siblings who the best is. I'll be back before your breakfast arrives." Damian patted your head and walked towards Tim and Cass. Screams and the clashing sound of metal on metal rang in your ears.

"Oh, they'll be at it for some time," Alfred said. "In the meantime, why don't you eat and contemplate how you have been hoisted by your own petard? It might do you some good."

Your fork froze in the dead air between your mouth and the plate. "What?"

"You wanted your family to spend time with you. You have it, but now you have no privacy and will never get to be Silver Swan again because you don't have the necessary solitude needed to change. The way I see it, you have been hoisted by your own petard."

"Maybe, but that now means that there is no reason for me to keep your gun collection secret. None of them believe that I am Silver Swan; even when they saw me in the getup they thought I was a devoted fan who needed guidance. That's actually what started all the monitoring and quality time. You have a week to find a new form of payment if you want me to keep your secret gun collection a secret."

Alfred hummed. "Sabotage."

"Sabotage?" you repeated.

"I will sabotage whoever or whatever I have to so you can have the free time or alone time that you want. I will also give you a heads-up for whenever you get security cameras in your room or tracking devices on your person or belongings."

"Deal." You shook hands with Alfred and went back to eating your rapidly cooling cereal. Alfred raised an eyebrow at the shocking display of . . . nothing in particular.

"Aren't you going to ask more about my gun collection, Y/N?"

"What gun collection, Alfred?"

"I could ask the same thing, Alfred." Bruce was at the entrance to the dining room, glaring daggers at Alfred. "What. Gun. Collection?"

"Oh, shit," Alfred said.

You sniggered into your cereal.

*_*_*_*_*_

The novelty and charm had worn off. You were getting sick of your family's yandere tendencies. You grabbed your mask and put it on, writing a note for the family as you called for your darling board, leaving your home with a small bag of essentials plus your sewing machine. (You had a job, and could buy everything you'd left behind.)

Dear Alfred and the others,

I'm sick of it. I spent years being ignored by you and left to rot, only to suddenly capture your attention the moment you saw me idolise someone that wasn't any of you. I was left behind while you socialised and you simply thought I would be OK with that, that I enjoyed the peace and quiet. Well, I didn't.

I always wondered what was wrong with me, only to find out, for once, that I wasn't the problem. Someone has been hiding my letters, feigning that nobody wanted my presence there when it had actually been requested. Nobody wanted Y/N Wayne to show up? Fine; Y/N wouldn't show up.

Silver Swan would.

I sewed my identity together using blackmail and bobby pins while you masked my noise with your stomping feet and banging fists on doors. I had no idea it was possible to be louder than my sewing machine, and yet you proved me wrong. Thank you for the cover story.

You began your pursuit of me after I mentioned and emulated Silver Swan. It probably made you bite your tongues with rage. How dare I fawn over the girl who glued Damian to the floor and was personally responsible for making him need a haircut? Why was I not loyal to this family?

I put up with hair braiding from Barbara, Stephanie, and Cassandra, tolerated eating breakfast with Damian, and suffered through Dick giving me a suffocating amount of Nightwing merch. But I'm done. Birds need to fly freely, and my people need me.

You guys clearly don't.

Sincerely,

Y/N Wayne, AKA Silver Swan.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9

Part 10

Part 11

Part 12

Part 13

Part 14 <- You are finished.

Taglist: @tinybrie, @hopingtoclearmedschool, @simpingfor-wakasa, @kittzu, @simpingpandas, @devotedlyshamelessdetective, @galaxypurplerose, @wisefuncherryblossom, @vanessa-boo, @deathbynarcisstick, @sirenetheblogger, @asillysimp, @toxicvoidsstuff, @kneelforloki, @trashlanternfish360, @tsxukikami, @lovebug-apple, @blackhood1229.

OK, folks, this train had to stop eventually! Thank you for sticking around for so long, and look out for my next multi-part series, Frozen Heart!

#creative writing #my writing #writing inspiration #writers #writing #writeblr #writers on tumblr #writerscommunity #platonic yandere #yandere #yandere batfam #batfam #silver swan

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tallulah477 · 10 months ago

Text

Feral

Survive The Night Day 2: Predator/Prey

Pairing: Neteyam x Fem!Human!Reader

Warnings: AgedUp!Neteyam, Dark!Neteyam, ***NON-CON***, Dub-Con, Oral (female receiving), P in V, Sex Pollen, Size Difference, Chasing, Primal Play (Predator/Prey Kink), Creampie, Hair Pulling, Knife Play, Restraining Holds (i.e pinning/holding reader down), Fear Kink (?), Alien Genitalia (not really the focus, but its there), Knotting, Belly Bulge

Word Count: 7.3K

A/N: Based off a dream I had where Neteyam chased me through my house and I was running for my fucking life. Why didn't I let him catch me, you ask? Cause dream Talie is stupid.

Summary: You never understood why the Na'vi don't use this particular plant in their healing practices. It's a miracle plant for the humans - cutting healing times nearly in half when used as a topical paste. You would think it would have some similar benefits to the Na'vi. You would be wrong.

**PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS - DON'T LIKE, DON'T READ**

Translations:

Tawtute - Human

Kehe rikx - Don't move

Rutxe ftang - Please stop

Kehe - No

Even considering he’s a nine foot tall blue alien, Neteyam Sully still looks extremely out of place standing on the clean, white tiled floor of the lab.

His siblings don’t look so out of place when they visit - comfortable and familiar enough within the confines of the lab to make themselves at home among the multitude of beakers, whirling machines, and thick observation glass that make up your day-to-day workplace. Their large bodies twisting and contorting with ease when necessary to accommodate for the smaller space.

Neteyam isn’t so lucky. He doesn’t like the human facilities, opting to follow in his mother’s footsteps and stay as far away from the skypeople as he can. He’s only here because he was ordered to be, sent by his father to fix his broken throat comm before they head out with the hunting party on a three day hunting trip.

He looks uncomfortable as he stands behind you, back stiff and arms crossed across his broad chest as he watches you tinker with the comm. Repairing tech has never been your strong suit, so it’s taking you a bit longer to figure out than it probably should have, but since you're currently the only person left in this half of the base, the responsibility has unintentionally fallen to you.

You should be out there too. The thought forms bitterly in your head as you poke at the small opened compartment of the comm with your tweezers. Your favorite part of research is going out into the world and finding the specimens. The lab is great, a fine place for breaking ground and learning new things, gathering knowledge and data about a flora and fauna in a way that no other humans had ever had the opportunity to do before. Pandora is your home, where you grew up and lived your whole life - and yet, it’s still a mystery, and you learn something new and beautiful about it everyday.

But the real fun is outside the lab. It’s when you're out there, in the thick of it, stepping over breaching roots and feeling the moss of the ground between your toes when you take off your shoes during a rest break. It’s feeling the gentle breeze of air along your skin and hearing the trees rustle in the canopy above you as a result, and pretending that - just for a minute - you can feel the breeze of alien air brush against your face instead of your mask.

Usually one of the older scientists, Alice, offers to stay behind at the lab to run tests and be on call for the Omatikaya should human tech ever be needed. But she’s the most knowledgeable when it comes to locating the elusive and seasonally grown plant that’s come to be known as the Rust Plant.

So, that leaves you here, on your ass and pouting while everyone else gets to go off and have their fun.

As far as you know, the plant doesn’t have any special properties or spiritual significance to the Na’vi. But when the red dust-like powder is collected from the center and manipulated into a liquid, the result is a miracle paste that significantly reduces healing time with human injuries. You asked about it once - why the Na’vi don’t try to make the paste for themselves to see if it will work on them - but the only answer you got back was that it had some ‘unintended consequences’ when used by the clan, so they stay away from the plant altogether.

You don’t think about that when Neteyam walks in.

The plant mixture, once rust red, is now a beautiful glowing purple inside the beaker - a reaction from the solution added to the powder to form the liquid base. It’s been on the hot plate for a while now, but it’s only just starting to heat up enough to provide small spirals of smoke inside the clear glass.

You’re glancing at the clock when you hear Neteyam sniff slightly behind you. You don’t turn around, ignoring the little puffs of air that somehow sound like bullet shots in the silence, but a part of you is instantly insecure. What is he smelling? It can't be the mixture in the beaker. Despite the smoke, it doesn’t give off any kind of smell. Subtly, you press your chin to your chest, trying to see if you can smell yourself to find out if maybe it’s you giving off some kind of stench that his overly sensitive nose is picking up on, but you don’t smell anything off about you either.

The purple liquid is still thin inside the container, needing several more minutes of constant heat in order to bubble and thicken slightly before it can be considered a usable product, but you pause your tinkering on the comm to note the time for the smoke in a small notebook.

Neteyam lets out a loud sigh when you drop the tweezers to grab a pencil, the annoyed huff nearly ear piercing in the quiet of the lab. This time you can’t help but glance towards the harsh noise, a slight tilt of your head towards the large Na’vi and your eyes meet amber for just a second before they drop again to the paper as you scribble.

A part of you wants to be snobby, ask a prissy ‘can I help you?’ just because you feel like he’s being so unnecessarily rude when you're just trying to help, but you keep your mouth shut.

He doesn’t.

“Are you nearly done?” He grunts, accented tone pitched with agitation as his feet shuffle on the tile.

��Yes, just a few more minutes,” You say, picking the tweezers back up. “Be patient.”

You think you’ve almost got the comm fixed, just a minor replacement to the tiny inside panel, and you're thankful that’s all it is. It shouldn’t take too long. You’ve nearly got the replacement piece in place now, so all you should have to do is solder it in and it should be fine. Which is good because the sooner you can get this fixed, the sooner you can get the huffy, oversized, unfortunately very handsome despite being an incredible dick of a Na’vi out of the lab so you don’t have to feel him breathing down your neck anymore.

It only takes another couple minutes for the smoke to consume the rest of the empty space in the beaker, thick white wisps swirling inside of the glass and spiraling out of the top. You drop the tweezers again, cutting the power off to the hot plate and grab the pencil again to log the time.

Neteyam sniffs again, this time audibly louder and longer, before it sounds like his breath gets caught in his lungs.

Immediately, your head spins around to stare at him wide eyed, surprise and concern flooding your chest when you notice he’s backed up a few steps. He’s staring at the bubbling beaker, yellow eyes set with suspicion and what almost looks like distress.

“Are you o–”

“What is that?” He interrupts, voice gruff as his three fingered hand points to the beaker.

“It’s… the mixture for our healing paste,” You reply, confused.

“No! What is it?”

“The Rust Plant? The one that grows on the sides of river b–”

You’re cut off again by a sharp hiss, and you have just a second to register Neteyam’s dagger-like teeth as he stalks forward, spitting out a frustrated “You stupid–” before he’s jerking back, hand immediately covering his nose as if to stop himself from breathing.

He looks wild, eyes frantic as he stares at the beaker, and every muscle in his body looks tense, stung up tight like a bow ready to shoot. You’re a scientist, you’re meant to be observant, so you don’t know why you didn’t see it before. But it’s clear as anything now. The smoke doesn’t have any kind of smell to you, but to him - with the way he’s backing away and covering his nose to keep from breathing it in - it must be horrible.

His tail is trashing behind him, so upset that you think you can almost hear a swish from it cutting through the air like a whip.

“I need to leave,” He says suddenly. Instinctively, you back up into the desk at the sight of the large and angry Na’vi coming at you again, but he just grabs the still broken comm and turns around to storm out.

He’s big though, too much for the small space of the lab, and his frantic tail is still thrashing as he turns. The thin appendage accidentally snaps against the side of the still smoking beaker, sending it flying off the desk and onto the ground.

The glass shatters against the tile, glowing purple spreading across the white floor in a large puddle as the smoke spirals up into the air. Neteyam’s hand instinctively drops from his nose to grip onto his tail, holding the end of it close to him as if to keep it from swinging and smacking into anything else. But you watch, shocked and frozen in your spot as he takes one shuddering breath, and then another, tense back muscles shifting under his cobalt skin with each inhale and exhale of air.

“Neteyam?” You ask, timidly. Dread shoots through your chest and you have the feeling that something very serious just happened, but you don’t even know what.

He’s just standing there now, back towards you, but he’s not moving towards the door anymore. It’s like something is keeping him from moving, some unseen force that exploded out of the glass container when it burst and wrapped its tendrils around him before he could take another step.

Whatever he was smelling from the beaker wasn’t good for him, and now it's in the air, invisible signatures swirling through the small space of the lab, and it's affecting him - the ‘unintended consequences’ of the Rust Plant on the Na’vi.

Your every instinct is telling you to stay away from him, that he’s dangerous. But he’s one of the Omatikaya, and regardless of how he views humans, you know he would never hurt you and disobey his father like that.

“Hey,” You say, gently. You force yourself away from the desk, slowly moving around him to try to not startle him as you attempt to make your way to the airlock door. “Just relax, okay? Let’s try to air this pl–”

His deep growl has you frozen again, cold ice shoots through your veins at the predatory sound. It’s not a normal growl - not a low, quick sound made in anger or frustration. It sounds dark, a deep dangerous rumbling that came from his chest. A warning.

You watch in horror as he slowly tilts his head towards you, the pointed tips of his sharp teeth visible under the snarled curl of his lips, glittering in the bright fluorescent lights of the lab. Your brain screams at you to run - danger, danger, danger, it shouts, but you can’t move. The realization hits hard: he’s not Neteyam anymore. The Na’vi in front of you is not the same human-indifferent, scoffing, fearless warrior son of Toruk Makto.

He’s an animal. A predator.

Feral.

His golden eyes are now just a thin band of dark honey encircling two endless black holes. And in their reflection you see yourself - tiny and weak. Scared.

Prey.

His body shifts slightly, just the most minuscule movements as he angles himself towards you that you probably wouldn’t have noticed had your survival instincts not been ringing alarm bells in your brain. Without thinking, you grab the hot plate, gripping it tightly at its base and holding it in front of you as your only form of weapon.

“Neteyam Sully!” You shout, and you can’t even believe how out of your mind you are to try to use his full name like an upset mother. “I don’t know what’s going on, but you stop it right now!”

There’s not even a second after the words leave your mouth, not a beat or breath or anything before he’s coming at you.

Your body registers his sudden movement before your brain does, the roaring snarl bouncing off the walls of the lab as he lunges at you. The hot plate is out of your hands in an instant, the hard base of the plate smacking into his face with a loud cuh-thunk. His snarl is interrupted with a grunt from the hit, body jerking back a step from the impact, and you don’t wait around to see the way his eyes zero in on your retreating form again in rage.

You can’t think - your body is moving without your brain telling it what to do. Pure panic mixed with raw survival instincts is what drives you through the door behind you, nearly smacking into the wall as you barrel down the main hallway. You hear Neteyam’s footsteps close behind, bare feet smacking against the tile.

It’s a sound you never thought you would find terrifying. You think of little Mae, the daughter of the staff nurse and one of the science guys, and how the sound of her tiny footsteps stomping on these same tiles floors always brought a smile to your face. You could always hear her coming before you saw her, just a few seconds before she rounded the corner with unsteady steps ready to cause havoc as she tries to run from her exhausted and overstimulated mother.

These ones are louder though. Heavier, but somehow more quiet as they rush at you from across the unobstructed hall. Your body doesn’t wait for your mind to catch up, and that’s probably a good thing considering you have no idea how the fuck you knew to take the split second turn to your right the exact moment Neteyam tried to pounce.

You hear his snarl of anger as he rights himself, loud and echoing through the hallway. You’ve managed to best him for a second, but he’s still on your ass - gaining ground on you with his long Na’vi legs despite the cramped human-sized halls.

Your heart is racing in your chest, pounding with fear, and the adrenaline coursing through your veins is the only thing keeping you going. You can’t breathe - shallow, panicked, quick puffs of air rip from you as you run, your high pitched gasps sounding against the hall walls as a foil to Neteyam’s predatory growls.

“HELP!” You scream, voice cracking with how loud you're trying to scream. The desperation and pure terror are evident in your voice and you know if someone were around they would hear you for sure. Someone has to be around. They have to be. “SOMEONE HELP ME PLEASE!”

No one responds. No one steps in to intervene. No one even opens their door to try to take a little bit of a peek. No one to run to for help even though it feels like you're about to get mauled to death by a Thanator.

You’re truly alone. And that thought makes you somehow even more desperate.

Most people have a tendency to close the doors of their bedrooms, trying to keep as much privacy as they can in the small base. Norm has no such desires, often too excited or too focused on getting to his studies that he outright forgets to close his door.

It’s a god send now that you’re sprinting through the residency part of the outpost. Your room is one of the last down the hall. You won’t make it. Not with the way you’re shaking right now, body feeling like it's somehow both freezing over with ice and lighting on fire as the fear and adrenaline fight for dominance for your immediate attention. Neteyam’s right behind you, long stride more than twice the size of yours cutting any distance you gained through your miracle of a move back down to barely anything at all.

He’s going to catch you.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck FUCK.

Throwing yourself at a random door is dangerous. Just the extra second it takes to turn the knob and push the door open could almost certainly be the difference between life and death if you even still have a chance at life at all. And even then you run the risk of it being locked. Your eye catches on Norm’s door - open and shining like a beacon of hope amongst the fluorescently lit hallway.

You don’t have another choice.

You turn.

As soon as you make it through the threshold, you slam the door behind you as fast as you can.

You don’t know what you expected, naively hoping that the door would somehow succeed in protecting you and keeping Neteyam out. It’s not even locked.

You scream as the door explodes under Neteyam’s weight, the wood splintering as it bursts apart, smaller bits of fragmented wood spraying towards you as the feral Na’vi shoulders his way in. The bathroom to your left is the only option, and you lunge for it just as Neteyam lunges for you. The tears pouring down your cheeks burn your eyes and blur your vision, your loud hyperventilating cries make your throat raw. Another door just barely slammed in his face and your back presses against the opposite door, your panicked hand trying to jiggle the knob but your brain not reminding you how to twist it. This other door hasn’t been used in years - the bathroom that once connected these two rooms together is just used by Norm now since Mary had her baby and her and her husband moved into a larger room to accommodate the crib. It’s locked, and your fingers are struggling to twist the mechanism up to unlock it when Neteyam breaks through.

Even through your blurred vision, you see it clearly. His arm reaches through the hole his shoulder has made, and the bathroom is too small, too fucking small because that arm looks like its reaching across the entire length of it, fingers splayed out like if he can just get one of the tips to brush you, he’ll snatch you up.

“HELP!” You scream again. Fuck fuck fuck. You’re going to fucking die. “HELP ME!”

You watch the door in horror as Neteyam pulls his arm back, head dropping to glare at you through the opening, and your veins fill with ice.

He looks murderous - pupils blown so wide you can’t see the golden ring wrapped around them at all. You want to drop to the ground under that stare, beg for mercy even though the look in his eyes makes it clear there won’t be any.

“N-Neteyam,” You stutter. Your heart is pounding so fast, blood sounding like it’s rushing in your ears so fast you don’t know how you haven’t had a heart attack yet. “P-please s-stop. P-please.”

His eyes stay locked on yours through the hole in the door, dark and glaring but for some reason he’s paused his attacks. A part of you wonders if your begging is making it through to the non-animalistic part of his brain. Whatever the smoke from the mixture of the Rust Plant did to him, it has to be only temporary. He’s still Neteyam. Neteyam is still in there somewhere.

“Please,” You try again, voice barely above a whisper. “You’re scaring me.”

He leans forward, one hand curling around the broken wood from the open hole in the door. When he speaks, you don’t know if you’re relieved to hear that he can despite the overwhelming feral actions, or if you’re horrified at how his voice comes out.

He doesn’t sound like himself at all. His words are clipped, short words made sentences that you don’t understand as both the gravely and growled way he says them as well as overall meaning.

“Tawtute,” He growls. “Mine.”

“Wha— I-I don’t understand,”

You scream when he hisses at you, long canines and sharp teeth on display through the damaged opening and you have a front row seat to the show as your back presses harder against the door behind you. The hand wrapped around the edge of the hole pulls back suddenly, taking with it a huge chunk of the center and the loud crack and snap of wood snaps your body back into gear. You twist the small lock on the door behind you, unlocking it and wrenching it open when Neteyam throws his body against the opposite door again. You’re out the door and into the next room, slamming the door shut behind you just as you hear the telltale crash of the wild Na’vi breaking through the other barrier. Without thinking, you round the side of the bookshelf that stands on the side of the doorframe. You push with all your might, tipping the bookshelf on its side so that it falls diagonally across the door. A dresser sits just on the opposite side of the door, the bookshelf catching on the edge of the dresser so that it blocks a good portion of the bathroom door.

Any other time you’d be heartbroken to see the books that fall off the bookshelf in your mishandling scatter along the floor and at your feet like they were nothing more than trash. Today, though, you can’t give a shit about that.

Your hands grip your hair in frustration as you hear Neteyam’s body barrel into the door, hot tears racing down your face as you waste valuable seconds staring at the bending wood behind the tipped bookcase. It won’t keep him back for long. He could probably easily push it out of his way, but it's something. Your only hope now is that it keeps him long enough for you to get away and that his instinct driven brain doesn’t realize he can just go back the way he came to get around the obstacle.

Turning on your heel, you sprint out the bedroom door, heading back down the hallway towards the lab. The sound of the loud crash echoing through the empty hall makes you run impossibly faster. Was it the door finally giving way under his weight? Or was it the bookshelf being tossed to the side like it was nothing and he’s about to barrel down the hallway to finish the job that you’ve somehow managed to postpone until now?

You make it back to the lab, foot smacking against the forgotten hotplate still laying on the ground in your haste to get to the airlock. Your hand smacks against the button on the side wall, fingers practically choking the heavy handle as you go to yank it open. The oxygen masks lay forgotten on the shelf next to the door. You don’t care about them, don’t care about breathing right now because what’s good about breathing when Neteyam could end your need for it in just seconds if he catches you.

The airlock door hisses as the seal breaks and for a split second you think you’ve done it - have somehow managed to survive this deadly game of cat and mouse you’ve inadvertently been forced to play. You can grab a mask and slip inside the airlock. Keep Neteyam locked up here in the lab while you sit safely outside until the others get back or he comes to his senses enough to remember how to open the airlock door himself.

But no sooner than the thought crosses your mind, an arm wraps tightly around your waist and pulls you from your death grip on the thick metal door.

You scream as you’re tossed to the floor, body pressed against the cold tile as Neteyam straddles you. His hips pin your legs down, leaving them useless and unable to buck or kick under his massive weight. You beat at his chest with your fists as hard as you can, trying to ignore how they hurt from your balled up fists trying to hit against pure solid muscle.

Panic manifests in your desperate cries and you aim for his face too, trying to hit or slap or scratch - anything to get him off of you. You feel like an injured animal caught in a trap. And you suppose you are.

“Get off!” You cry. “Get off me, Neteyam!”

He snarls as one of your hits lands too close next to his eye and he grabs your hands tightly in one of his, pinning them above your head.

Your screams stop, catching in your throat when the bright fluorescent lights of the lab catch on the knife on his hip. The light caresses the blade as he pulls it from its sheath, the sharp tip sparkling as he brings it to press against the base of your throat.

His face is in front of yours in an instant, so close you feel like you can barely breathe in the wake of the knife resting at your throat and the way his huge eyes feel like twin black holes threatening to suck you into their depths if you move even a single centimeter.

“Kehe rikx,” His words are hardly more than a whispered breath against your face, but their translation rings loudly in your ears.

Don’t move.

The point of the knife drags against your neck, scratching lightly as he draws it down your collarbone. It pulls at the fabric at the neck of your t-shirt as he moves it down your chest, stretching and bunching it down as he scrapes the tip through the valley of your breasts. Your heart pounds under the deadly tip of the weapon and your body wants to fight, keep fighting for your life that you know could be taken from you with just a quick movement of his hand, but your fear keeps you frozen.

Something hard presses against your trapped thighs and your eyes automatically rip themselves from the knife down to the space between your bodies, and your breathing catches in your throat again for a whole other reason.

Neteyam’s cock is hard in his loincloth, having escaped its sheath and filling out under the thin material enough to raise a sizable tent inside it.

He doesn’t give you time to react as his head bends down and latches onto the swell of your breast through your shirt, sharp teeth digging into it just enough for marks to surely be left even through the layers of shirt and bra. You yelp, back arching instinctively against the pain, and your body unfreezes as his teeth scrape against your breast before digging into the material of your shirt and ripping.

The loud sound of tearing fabric rips through the room and Neteyam releases the torn fabric from his mouth just to grip it with his hands instead, pulling up and out and exposing your bra clad torso to his darkened crazed eyes. The knife is still in his hand, but the blade is pointed sideways now as he uses the fingers around it to rip your shirt apart. It’s not smart, not a smart idea at all to try your hand at smacking at him again, but you have to do something.

You don’t know what he wants anymore. What did that mixture do to him? He was chasing you through these halls, growling and snarling like a predator on the hunt for its next meal, and now he’s on top of you - hard and tearing your clothes off like he wants to fuck you.

You only get a couple smacks in before the knife is back at your chest and you’re forced still again. Neteyam’s eyes are locked onto your chest, following the tip of the knife as he slides it under the band of your bra directly between your breasts. It cuts easily under the pressure of the sharp knife and the covering falls on either side of your chest, leaving you bare to his hungry gaze.

There’s a mark on your breast from where his teeth had dug into it and he pauses to stare at it greedily.

“N-Netayam,” You say, slowly. He seems a little calmer now that he has you trapped under him. You need to talk him to his senses. He’s still in there somewhere. He has to be. He’s not all animal. He can be reasoned with. “You don’t wanna do this. Plea–”

Your plea is cut off as he rises off of you, crouching back just enough to give himself room to flip you roughly over on your stomach. You grunt as your bare chest hits the cold tile, arms splayed uselessly on either side of you as you try to get your bearings from the quick movement before he’s using his knife to cut through the denim of your shorts.

“Neteyam! Rutxe ftang! Kehe!”

You don’t know why you think pleading in Na’vi will be any different than English, but desperation punches the frantic words out of you before you can even think about deciding to say them. Your hands finally find purchase on the ground beneath you and you try to push yourself up in hopes of crawling away, but Neteyam’s dropping the knife and taking hold of your hips before you can.

High pitched squeaking sounds hit your ears as he drags your body across the tile. Your hands scramble frantically against the floor as you’re pulled backwards, but there’s nothing to hold onto. They just slide uselessly, voicing their protest in the way the tile screams under your grasping fingertips as you’re hoisted up with your lower half in the air.

Your back arches against Neteyam’s hold, legs kicking in the air but doing no harm despite their efforts. The hole he’s created in your shorts is enough to have your pussy on display for him, and you can feel his breath on it - hot puffs are the only warning you get before his mouth is on you. Your voice is raw from all the screaming you’ve done, the sound crackling and almost pained as you shout again - shout for him to stop and to let you go as you kick and squirm and beg.

You want to cry more, any drying tears of fear you have still tracked on your cheeks are replaced with tears of humiliation. Your clit pulses under his relentless tongue, pussy subconsciously clenching around nothing as he licks and sucks over the puffy folds.

You’re wet.

You’re so wet already, body confusing the adrenaline caused by fear and desperation and flooding it with the adrenaline that comes with arousal instead. His textured tongue slips across your sticky cunt, licking up your wetness, and a reluctant moan escapes your lips at the rough feel on your sensitive parts.

A gleam to your right catches your attention and a flicker of hope rushes through you at the sight. Neteyam’s knife is laying on the ground next to you, scattered just far enough when he dropped it that it's a stretch for you to grab it, but not impossible. He’s distracted by your cunt, chest rumbling in what you can only describe as a more aggressive type of purr and your face contorts in unwanted pleasure as the vibrations pulse against your clit.

You reach for the knife, using one hand pressed against the tile to gain any kind of leverage you can while your other arm stretches out towards the forgotten blade. You're not even sure what you’re going to do with it when it’s in your hand. Would you just threaten him with it? Tell him to back off and that you’ll use it if he doesn’t? Would you cut him a little to show that you’re serious?

Would you stab him if it came to it?

Your fingers graze along the hilt of the knife, fingertips brushing along the part that it can touch and curling in, trying to coax the knife just a bit closer so you can grab it. Neteyam growls into your cunt, and you let out a gasping curse when his foot lands on your wrist, pinning it to the tile before you can work your hand around the knife.

“You son of a bitch!” You yell, anger burning through your desperation, but all Neteyam does is push his face deeper into your pussy. His large hands rip at the back of your shorts more, fingers digging into the exposed curves of your ass to spread you apart.

The pressure in your belly intensifies as he sucks on your clit, laving his tongue over the sensitive bundle of nerves before wrapping his lips around it in what feels like an almost pleasured punishment.

You’re going to cum. Fuck fuck you’re going to cum on the tongue of the practically feral Na’vi who just chased you through the halls of your own home and made you think he was going to rip you to shreds and leave you to die on the floor for your coworkers to find. It feels so good, so so good and you wail as your pussy spasms against his relentless tongue, contracting against the wet muscle as the coil in your belly bursts in an explosion of uncontrolled pleasure.

Neteyam groans against your core, lapping up everything you have to offer as you whine and shake. Your legs, still suspended in the air, are becoming numb - the tingling sensation of your limbs losing their life combining with the dramatic pulsing over your oversensitive cunt.

You grunt as he drops you to the ground, his foot lifting off your wrist as he crouches back up, and you pull it to your chest, cradling it there and quickly checking for any injury as your body automatically tries to curl up in a protective ball.

His hands are back on your hips in an instant, pulling you back again across the floor until your ass is pressed up against his front. Your blood runs cold when your bare ass meets bare skin. The bulge that was once blocked by the thin layer of his loincloth is now free - large, dominant, and demanding of attention as it presses tightly against you.

Demanding of your attention.

The hand on the back of your neck is uncaring as it pushes you down, forcing your face against the white tiled floor as he lines himself up with your entrance.

“Neteyam, no! Please!” You beg, even as your back is forced to arch from the exposed position he has you in.

And maybe if this was a different situation, a different circumstance, he would have used this opportunity to tease you. Tell you to stop fussing and stay still. To be a good girl for him while he fucks your tight cunt and maybe if you’re good enough, he would let you cum again. You would let him. Neteyam is beautiful, more handsome than any other Na’vi you’ve ever seen. If he would have been kind to you and shown interest in you like that, you would have agreed to fuck him in a heartbeat.

But he’s not himself. Doesn’t even have his mind enough to acknowledge your pleas with anything more than agitated snarls and frustrated growls.

His cock feels monstrous as he rubs it between your soaked folds. Thick and hard as the wetness of his own slick mixes with the sticky mess you have already between your thighs. The head of his cock rubs against your tender clit and you can feel how the sheer size of it forces your pussy lips apart.

You can’t take it inside you. Fuck. You can’t. You can’t.

You whimper when the tip makes its way back to your entrance, nudging against it before the blunt tip presses forward. Your hands press into the tile on either side of your head, mouth falling open in a silent scream even as he presses your cheek further into the floor as he pushes his cock further into you. You feel every thick inch of it as it spears you open, and you expect it to hurt. It should hurt, especially with the way you’re clamping down around him, body automatically trying to keep it out even as it bullies its way deeper inside you.

There’s pressure, so much pressure. He’s too big, large alien cock way too much for your tiny human body to take, but somehow it is. Your brain is trying to tell you to panic, that the pressure is pain and you should scream and cry and try to wiggle away from it. But it's not. He’s stretching you so much, filling you up - but it doesn’t. hurt.

And that realization hurts you more than the cock currently rearranging your guts ever could.

You know it’s the slick. Despite never being with a Na’vi yourself, you know that the wetness that coats a male’s cock to aid it with slipping out of its protective sheath has something in it that eases the pain of penetration. It’s a good thing. Inherently helpful for any relationship, especially for those between a human and a Na’vi to curb the extra struggle of the size difference.

You always thought it was sweet. A way for Eywa to reward the loyalty of the good sky people who are lucky enough to find everlasting bonds with her own children.

Now, the idea of it leaves a bad taste in your mouth as the cock inside you pulls out only to thrust in harder. The texture on his cock scrapes against your slick walls as he starts to fuck you, the bumps and barbs rubbing and pressing against the sensitive spots inside you that you didn’t even know you had.

A waterfall of moans and whines rip from your throat as he moves faster, your higher pitched pathetic sounds a stark contrast to his deep guttural grunts. His hand is off the back of your neck now, instead finding a place at the side of your face as he keeps you pinned to the floor. It’s so big compared to your head that it spans the entirety of it, thumb hooking just under the edge of your jaw while his fingers curl around the top of your head as he holds you down.

Your thighs shake underneath you as he pounds into you, thick cock so far inside you that you know there has to be a bulge in your belly. There is, you can feel it. The way the head of his cock pushes against your lower abdomen roughly with each thrust and you know that if you could move your hands from the death grip press they have on the tile, you could feel it disappear and reappear under your palm.

He adjusts behind you, both feet planted on the ground as he crouches behind you to try to push in deeper. Pleasure soaks into your brain as you subconsciously push back against him, pussy clenching and squeezing around him trying to suck him in.

“N-Neteyam,” And you have more to say, you do. But you can’t form thoughts anymore. Nothing else will come out other than little punched out breathless gasps.

It takes you a long time to realize that he’s speaking, and even longer for your fucked up and fucked out raddled brain to register what he’s saying. It’s not normal sentences, it’s not even English. His words are still animalistic, growled through gritted teeth as he spits out broken Na’vi between his groans of pleasure. You grew up with the language, but you’re so distracted, so overwhelmed by him and the cock inside you that your brain can’t seem to latch on to what he’s saying.

You think you hear the word for ‘whore’, maybe ‘take it’, something ‘baby’ but you can’t be sure.

And then he’s leaning forward, body curving overtop yours as he covers you completely. It’s only then you feel what you’ve been too distracted to notice. The thick knot at the base of his cock, fully engorged now as it prods at your entrance.

Your hands finally leave their place pressed against the floor as you throw them behind you in newfound panic. One hand pushes against his abdomen as best as it can, trying to slow his thrusts while the other grabs at his wrist in an effort to pull his hand away from your face. The hand on his abdomen doesn’t do anything to slow his relentless pace, but the hand on the side of your head moves to tangle in your hair, gripping it in his fist close to your scalp just hard enough to burn a little as he yanks your head back.

You gasp at the sharp sting and your gasp quickly turns into a whimper as his knot presses tighter against your soaking hole. He’s unforgiving as he digs it against you, holding your hair tight and forcing your back to arch as you stretch even further around it. You’re too wet, pussy too wet and almost greedy and it takes him in, determined despite the obscene size of the engorged ball of tissue.

“Please!” You squeal. Please stop. Please more. “Neteyam, fuck!”

Your eyes roll back into your head when the knot slips inside you, sheathing itself within your heat with another solid push of Neteyam’s hips against your ass. His cock hits that spot inside you that makes you see stars, your vision whiting out and there feels like there’s cotton in your ears as you cum around him, squeezing him tightly as you soak his length in your juices. Your breath catches in your lungs when you feel his cock pulse inside you, twitching and feeling like it’s expanding even bigger as his own orgasm hits him.

He holds you close, keeping you pinned and still underneath him with the savage hand in your hair and the firm grip he has on your hip - fierce and unmoving as if to keep you from running away.

As if you even could with the knot locked inside you.

His growl of pleasure reverberates off the walls as he paints yours. Long, thick ropes of release coating your insides and it's so much, so so much that you feel like you can’t fit anymore. Like if he cums anymore, you’ll burst. The knot is still lodged inside you, locked in and refusing to let you free, but there’s no space left inside you, no space, and you feel the excess cum seep out of your hole from around his knot to trail down the insides of your thighs.

You don’t remember blacking out, and you’re not sure when Neteyam was able to pull free from you or when he passed out next to you either. But when you wake up next, it’s to voices.

“Oh my gosh!”

“Y/N!”

“What the fuck happened?”

The bright florescent lights of the lab are blinding when you try to open your eyes. Exhaustion seeps from every pore of your body and fuck, you feel so sore.

Norm’s shocked face is looking down at you when your eyes finally adjust to the light, Max and a few of the other scientists are behind him, faces an equal mixture of shock and horror as they stare at you with wide eyes.

It takes you a moment to remember what happened - why you’re here, waking up on the cold floor of the lab. Naked. You scramble up, hands clutching at your chest as you desperately try to cover yourself. A deep groan to your right steals your attention from your group of onlookers, and your eyes fall on Neteyam, just waking up from his own sleep.

His eyes are back to their normal gold as they open, groggy at first and then alert in a heartbeat as it registers where he is. He’s up in a crouch in an instant, looking ready to fight but not really sure what he’s supposed to be fighting. Those golden eyes catch on the group, confusion twisting on his face and you can practically see the gears in his brain turning as he tries to figure out what’s going on.

Then his eyes meet yours, taking in your torn clothes and near nakedness, and you sit in horror as it clicks for him what must have happened.

And you watch as the horror in your eyes becomes mirrored in his.

**Special thanks to @quicktosimp and @itchaboi-itchyboy for the prompt!

Taglist: @eywaite @loaksulluyswife @erenjaegerwifee @f-cklife @beautiful-brown-skin-05 @minnory @localjasmine @skywonder @neteyamswillow @luvv4j4ybe11 @vampirefilmlover @aria-tempest @pocky444 @bambithewriter @xylianasblog @anemonelovesfiction @criticallybella

**Comment here to be added to/removed from my taglist!

#𝑻𝒂𝒍𝒊𝒆 𝑾𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒔 ✎#AvatarSurviveTheNight #neteyam smut #neteyam x reader smut #neteyam x female reader smut #neteyam x human reader smut #tw: noncon #tw: non con #tw: dubcon #tw: dubious consent

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byunpum · 11 months ago

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Back to you | Part 1

Pair: Jake(human and avatar) x Neytiri x Human reader (trio couple)

Warning: None, i think kinda sad. More in future, maybe soft-smut in the future.

Note: I'm still alive after disappearing for 1 month. Ahh omg, it's been so long, I'm so sorry. A lot of things have happened, more good than bad. But we're back…and as I had posted. Here I bring you this story, based on my mini-series 'mama's boy'. Here I share with you how our characters are paired up. I hope you like it, and let me know what you think and if I should continue with the mini-series. Love ya <3

+Read 'Mama's boy' HERE+

AVATAR MASTERLIST| Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 (final)

You were feeling uncomfortable in the metal chair, which was placed next to the bonding machine, which allowed humans to use their avatars. Since the routine expedition, Jake had not returned. Everyone knew he was alive, but where was he? No one knew. Grace had asked you as a favor to monitor him until he returned. You weren't complaining, but you had avoided having any contact with Jake. He reminded you of things…Not even 20 minutes had passed, when the machine made a noise indicating that it would open. You get up from the chair as quickly as you can, to assist Jake. You help him open the lid, finding a confused, sweaty Jake with a stupid grin that made your heart pound. “You won't believe where I am?” says Jake, as you let out a big sigh and shift your gaze to Grace.

“Oh my god…you're back!!!” shouts grace from her desk. Coming towards you, she was already releasing a machine to take jake's blood pressure. “Grace…I'm in” says Jake, the man was lying on his shoulders. He was still a little weak, you force him to drink water from a bottle. Taking his chin to make him open his mouth. While grace looks at him with confusion. “What?” grace continues to work on adjusting the machine on his arm. Jake had been so many hours without using his body, he could pass out at any moment. “Yes…they accepted me. I'm inside their home” jake, looks at you. “You're in the tree home?” you ask. You watch as he nods his face quickly. Grace takes jake's face in her hands, and gives him a warm smile. “I can't believe it…are you serious?!!!” grace was shocked. They had tried to get in, but it was impossible. “I'm with a girl…ahhh netyy ahhh” jake tries to remember and pronounce the name correctly of the girl who is supposed to help him adjust. “Neytiri?” you speak softly, but loud enough for jake to hear you. “Yes her” jake speaks up.

Grace looks at you quickly and she can see the sadness in your gaze. You change your face and mood, moving away from Jake, helping him to put his weight down. Turning away from them, you bump into norm who had approached you moments before. “Are you okay?” norm asks, touching your shoulder, but you push him away. Walking as fast as you could away from them, you wanted to get out of there. You felt short of breath and were wiping away tears hiding your emotion. She was fine. It had been so long since you had heard from her. On the other side a group of friends are confused, “What's wrong with her, did I say something wrong?” asks Jake, looking at Grace. The woman was still looking towards the exit, sighing deeply. “It's a long story…come on out of there you need to rest and tell me everything” says grace, helping Jake into his wheelchair.

Lunchtime came quickly, and the entire team was gathered in the dining room eating dinner. The group of scientists were very excited and focused on every word that came out of Jake's mouth. It had been so long since they had been able to have a connection with the Omaticaya clan. Even grace was giving him their undivided attention. Meanwhile you and norm were standing a little away from the group, eating the disgusting food. You couldn't help but laugh at the look on norm's face, you could tell he was very upset. You kicked his foot a little, “hey get that face away” you scolded him, but you saw how he snapped with his teeth. “I can't stand this… it's a very unfair” norm says. “Unfair?” you ask, as you put a mouthful of food in your mouth. “Yes, Tom has been studying for 3 years and I've been studying for over 6 years…and where am I? sitting here, doing nothing. In fact, if anyone in the whole RDA deserved to be with the omaticaya clan, it's you. You've been in pandora all your life…you're part of the clan” speaks norm annoyed, seeing how you interrupt him with your index finger. “Ah ah was…past!!!” you speak, lowering your gaze for a moment. Some memories come to your head, yes, it was very true what norm said, you were once part of the omaticaya clan…but it's been so long. Maybe… they have forgotten about you. “Norm…I understand your discomfort, but there's nothing we can do, the pretty boy was lucky to be accepted” you joke, seeing Norm's disgusted face. “Jake pretty boy?!!!! You have to be crazy” you laugh loudly, looking at the group of scientists who were still harassing jake. “Well…you were tom's girlfriend, that says a lot about you” Norm says, now he was the one laughing at you. “We weren't boyfriend and girlfriend…we just spent a few nights together” you speak up, laughing with your friend.

While you and Norm were still laughing, for a moment you see Jake look at you and give you a smile. You return it, seeing how jake makes a help signal with his hands. You laugh even harder, but you feel Norm pinch you “don't be fooled by the enemy” says Norm “Norm let me go!!!” you roll your eyes back. Norm could sometimes be very very annoying. But you were used to it, he had always been like that.

You remember when norm and tom came to pandora. Just for their studies, and you were the first to meet them. From then on… you had grown very fond of them. When the news that tom had been killed reached your ears, you were heartbroken, again…but you got over it little by little. But with the new member of the group, it wasn't very easy. Since Jake had arrived, he hadn't taken his interest in you, and to make things worse for you. Grace had delegated all responsibility for Jake's avatar to you, so if anything happened to him it was your fault. And the last thing you wanted was for a $20 million dollar avatar to happen to him, or else the RDA was going to kill you.

After the meal, and when everyone was about to go to their respective rooms. Norm had gone ahead walking as fast as he could through the cold corridors of the RDA. You were walking more calmly, plus you wanted to meet Jake. You felt you owed him an apology for leaving him alone. By pure chance you find him, you see that he was talking something with Quaritch. You look at him with concern, if you knew one thing, it was that quaritch never had good intentions, if he wasn't given anything in return. When you see both men stop talking, you decide to approach jake. “Hello” you speak softly, catching the man's attention. Jake turns around, with a small smile. Lifting his gaze. “I'm all ears” jake says. You had barely spoken to jake since he arrived, so you were a little nervous. “One question…ahh where did you leave my avatar?” you ask. “Your avatar? It's in a safe place” jake says. “Yeah, but what safe place?” you wanted him to be more literal, because his concept of safety might be very different from yours. “I'm sleeping in some kind of giant leaf…ahh I don't remember” jake speaks up, shuffling his hair.there was a short silence between the two of you, but you decide to speak. “You're in the big tree?” you speak. Jake can see your eyes light up for a moment. “Yes…that. There I am” jake can see you kneel down in front of him, and move much closer. Placing your hands on his knees. As if whatever you were going to ask him, you didn't want anyone else to hear. “And how did you see everything? Is everyone okay?” you ask. “Yeah…normal, there's only one who seems to be a bother and he's warrior…I don't remember his name” jake says and can see how you smile softly. “That's tsu'tey” you speak. “That same one, do you know him?” jake gets closer to your face, and you quickly push him away. “Ahh thank you for answering me…see you tomorrow” you get up quickly, and leave quickly. Before you continue walking to your room, you stop “By the way…sorry for leaving you alone when you wake up, next time I'll take better care of you” you apologize, and turn to continue on your way.

Jake stood there confused, he thought you looked kind of strange. But cute…very cute. He could understand his brother now. Laughing to himself, he started on his way to his room. Although he must admit that he found it even stranger, that you knew the name of that navi. It was assumed that only people who have an avatar have had contact with the Omaticayas, and he understands that not all of them have. How did you know that?

The next day came quickly, and Jake had almost no time to wake up…because he had to get up early. Wiping his eyes, he was already sitting on the edge of the connection machine. “Good morning” you hummed, approaching him. You had a cup of coffee in your hands, offering it to him with some vitamins. “Good morning gorgeous” jake chuckles, as he can as norm makes a dirty face. “Here…you'll need this” you hand him the stuff. “And this?” jake asks. “It's some vitamins that will help your body not collapse from not eating all day and a coffee” you speak, as you practically force jake to take it all. Grace approaches you, accompanied by Norm. “Well, here's the information,” says Grace, showing Jake a screen. On it was all of neytiri's information. You come to Jake's side, looking at the screen with a warm smile. “Please don't disrespect her….y do not be a jerk” norm speaks, giving jake a dirty look. “You're just upset because I'm the one going on a date with the leader's daughter” jake says in a mocking voice. Grace rolls her eyes and tells you to take care of hooking Jake up. As jake lies down, you approach him. “ Advice…don't try to flirt with neytiri” you speak up. Watching as jake raises an eyebrow, and laughs a little. “There you go…and how do you know that?” he speaks. You now give him a big smile, but one of sarcasm. “I know why I say that” you speak, as you turn away from jake. “You should listen to her,” Grace shouts from the distance. “Good luck…soldier” you speak, being the last face jake saw to wake up in his avatar body.

And yes, jake should take your advice, you knew neytiri more than anyone. And yes you were hating the fact that he could be with her. It had been so many years since you last saw her, you didn't even get to say goodbye…nothing. The last time you saw Neytiri was when that tragedy happened at school. You sigh a little, as you begin to prepare the week's paperwork. But your thoughts are interrupted when you feel grace sit down next to you. “I have good news… a new project is coming out tomorrow,” says Grace. You look at her curiously. “Project?” you ask. Grace's face ascends. “Yes…we need to be closer to the clan, a place we are safe, but we can still get on with the project 'jakesully” says grace, watching you laugh. “I was able to convince the RDA idiots to have a bunker, where we can have a team, a small lab. i'm counting on you, right?” grace looks at you with a raised eyebrow, waiting for your answer. “Can I refuse?” you speak, feeling Grace hug you and press a kiss to your hair. “It'll be for the best… we'll have a great time, no personal space” grace jokes, as you groan loudly.

And as if by magic, within a week you were in the bunker in the middle of the jungle. Norm, grace, judy, jake and you. Although judy came and went from time to time to get everything you needed. Even though she used to get away so often, she was part of the team. You adjusted too quickly, it seemed to be comfortable. And the comfort you felt around Jake was increasing too, and very quickly. This seemed to be nice for grace, she liked to see you happy and excited about something or someone…it had been a long time since she had seen you like this. Watching from afar, as you wiped jake's face with a wet rag. “I'm not a baby” says Jake, as you wipe his eyes. While you hold your face with both hands. “Yeah but you're barely taking care of yourself…I know your avatar body is amazing, but you're here” you touch his chest and feel his heart. “Can you feel it moving? It's that fast for you “ jake jokes, watching you laugh and turn away from him. “That was the worst thing you've said so far” norm complains from behind you, as he sips his coffee.

You liked it when jake would go back to his body in the afternoon, and do his video documentaries. And you could listen to everything he had learned, plus he would also tell you everything he had done with neytiri. “It's just that it's hard to use the bow…it's” Jake would explain with his hands, you could see the frustration in his eyes and gestures. Neytiri could be very rude at times, but that was the way it was and he had to learn. “The trick is to put pressure on the back arm” you move, and show him the pose. “And boom…done” you joke. Jake shakes his head to the side, watching as you continue to explain how he should do things. Just like neytiri was doing, they were explaining almost identically. Jake leans forward and brushes a strand of hair away from your face. Tucking it behind your ear. “Thank you” you speak timidly, now pulling away. “Thank you for helping me” jake says.

Since you had gotten closer to him, he had improved so much with the lessons with neytiri. If she told him something, he would ask you as soon as he returned to his human body. And you answered him without hesitation, sometimes he didn't understand how you knew so much about the clan. Only grace and a few avatars were supposed to have had contact with the clan, norm could know some things. But you were an expert. And your advice is really paying off. Now jake was in his avatar body, he was holding the bow again, and he remembered what you had said to him. “Neytiri was asking you to put strength in your arms, so you will be more accurate in your shooting” jake remembered your words, he adjusted his stance. Neytiri was approaching him, but stopped short. When she noticed Jake's stance, she stood watching him. Seeing how the shot was perfect. “Well done” says neytiri, watching as jake smiles at her. She was wondering how he had improved overnight. But if she could tell, it was the technique jake was using…it was very similar to yours. Neytiri tries to distract herself and keeps walking towards the prey.

For a moment during the day, the two of them had sat down in a nice quiet meadow to eat something to eat…neytiri was minding her own business eating her food. But she could feel jake's gaze, he might change his gaze once or twice. But he would look back at her. “ What are you looking at so much?” speaks neytiri without taking her eyes off her fruit. Jake remains thoughtful for a moment. “That necklace around your neck” jake points to the woven necklace neytiri had around her neck, she touches it while looking at it warmly. “What is it?” jake asks, but he thinks he knows the answer. The reason he's asking is because the night before, when he came over to fix your hair. He could see you had that same necklace, he wanted to believe it was something grace gave you. But today he noticed the same one on Neytiri and was surprised. They were identical. “This…” neytiri holds her necklace tightly. “This is a memory of her” neytiri says, she stops eating for a moment. She could look thoughtful, like she was remembering someone. “Her?” asks jake. Neytiri looks at him slowly, you could see her little teary eyes. But she gets up suddenly, “Come on…we have a lot of things to do” says neytiri. Jake stands up behind her, and catches her hand to stop her for a second. “Neytiri…are you okay?” the boy asks. Neytiri squeezes jake's hand for a moment, looking down and taking a deep breath. “Yes,” she says. Starting to walk to a new route, but Jake could tell how she didn't let go of his grip and continued to hold his hand tightly. Jake didn't refuse at any point, neytiri is not very affectionate to say the least, and the fact that she was still holding his hand. It meant that she needs him right now.

That same afternoon, when jake and neytiri came home from training, they had lunch with the whole clan. And lay down to rest in their respective places, neytiri waited a few minutes to carefully lift her head and see if jake had finally fallen asleep. She had her home with her parents, being still single, neytiri could live with her parents. But right now, she had the task of training and taking care of Jake. So she had to be wherever he was. Neytiri notices how Jake is asleep. Getting up from her hammock, to walk carefully in the branches. Leaving the resting area, running carefully to her ikran. “sense…come on” says neytiri, climbing into her ikran quickly. flying away from the familiar tree, she hopes no one was following her, because she was heading to a place she only knew about.

Not far away, there was a very tall tree. Too tall to be anything but scary for anyone to come and interrupt. Neytiri leads Seze to a giant branch, which had a beautiful view of the jungle of Pandora. Neytiri climbs down from the ikran, stroking the creature's head, stretching a little. To approach the tree trunk, picking up a small bag. Now to sit on the edge of the branch. She sighs a little, looking at the scenery. Opening the bag, and taking out of it a piece of paper. Very carefully she unfolds it and laughs to see what was drawn on it.

A cute doodle drawing…on it were two girls. Neytiri laughs to herself, as she touches the paper wistfully. “I hope you never forget me…my Y/N” Neytiri speaks softly. Hugging the paper carefully, this was the only thing I had of you.

What do you think? should I continue? btw, If you want to be tagged, let me know.<3

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enigmatist17 · 5 months ago

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I've never written Deadlock before, but RatchLock(?) in the Mecha Pilot Jazz Au by @keferon has me by the throat bc Ratchet is my #1 babygirl of All Time ❤️❤️❤️

My other fics I've done in said AU 1 2

---

Ratchet was old.

Sure, he still had a good 50 to 60 years left in him, but hoy boy he was old. He knows most of that "aging" happened when he worked with the mecha program, and while it had been the highlight of his life, the dark road they had started to turn down wasn't for him.

Pilots dying in dozens from all sorts of ways, the worst being the degradation of their minds from the very machine used to defend humanity

Bright-eyed rookies turning hollow and their spark burned out, most leaving with eyes unseeing inside the same black bag.

Demands for more, demands to integrate human and machine, demands to take away their humanity to win

Demands that still haunt his dreams, especially when old superiors ambush him with a gaggle of his new students and interns in his tow.

His town, dammit!

Most of them watch Ratchet spend the rest of the day cursing up a storm that could make any sailor blush while slamming things down, everyone escaping when he eventually made a vague motion to the door. He goes for his bottle of whiskey once he makes sure the last student drives off with some friends, taking a seat in the middle of the shop floor as he pours himself a generous glass, setting the bottle by the side of his chair.

"Does Ratty have all his toys away~?"

"For now." Ratchet rolled his eyes as he took a sip, able to hear the bay door behind his chair rattle before opening with a slight screech. To a normal person, the sight of what appeared to be an unpiloted mecha slipping into some random repair shop would have caused a bit of a ruckus, but Ratchet is unbothered as he takes another sip of his drink. "Make sure you close the door this time."

"I leave it open one time." The mecha scoffs, glowing red eyes cycling in exasperation as the bay door is closed with a slight tug, the loud crash of metal on concrete making the human in the room pinch the bridge of his nose. "Oops."

"If I had a wrench within reaching distance..." The mecha grins as it crosses the shop floor, unapologetic as they sit on the floor across from the bioengineer. "Any luck today?"

"I was able to take out two scouts, should give me enough energon for a few cycles." Ratchet watches as two glowing cubes are pulled out from a seemingly endless storage space inside one arm, shown off before they're placed back inside. "I've survived off less."

"I'm still working on a synthetic version, but no luck." A flicker of regret crosses Ratchet's face, and the mecha reaches over to poke the top of his head. "Hard to create an alien food source, apparently."

"You're still trying, I'll take that." The mecha croons, glowing eyes watching Ratchet take another sip with a sort of purring noise.

No, not a mecha, an honest-to-god alien known as a Cybertronian.

"You seem upset." While the strange organics lacked an EMF field, Deadlock didn't need one to see the annoyance in those pretty optics of his human.

"Just some of the usual bullshit." Deadlock raised an optic ridge and stared, his ornery human staring right back with a scowl. "Got somethin' on my face?"

"You don't get this grumpy over the "usual" bullshit." Deadlock leaned forward with a slight tilt of his helm, the low rumble of his engine getting the other to relax just enough to consider it a victory. "Ratty~"

"Stop calling me that, my name is Ratchet." The Cybertronian only grins, reaching forward to poke the man in his chest.

"I don't like you being upset." Metal that should not be that expressive molds into a pout that would rival his little niece, and had he not seen Deadlock rip out a part of one of the alien threats (Quintesson he's been told) with those sharp teeth, he might find it cute.

.....

Fuck

"Some of those government fucks showed up in front of my people, wanted me to just leave and go back to all of....that." The whiskey is drained, and Ratchet leans over to grab the bottle. "It's one thing to harass me over the phone, but the street? In front of my kids? They can fuck right off with that." The glass is filled again, and the two sit in silence as he slowly drinks, looking at the floor with his brows furrowed. "I can't go back to that, no matter how much that would help out my....project."

"Aw, I'm a project now?" Deadlock cooed, a clawed digit gently caressing the side of Ratchet's face with as much care as he could muster. "I got an upgrade~"

"You're a disaster." Ratchet rolled his eyes, but otherwise didn't move as he listened to the (begrudgingly) familiar cadence of Deadlock's systems. While he could be as silent as the grave, Ratchet was pretty sure he was some sort of spy or assassin of some kind despite any questions getting the brush off, the alien mech had adopted the practice of allowing his natural ambient noise to become noticeable.

Just for his human, one of many things he'd adopted for his savior-turned-object of affection.

"Would you like for me to kill them?" Deadlock purrs when Ratchet raises an eyebrow, taking in the warmth against his digit. "I could make it look like an accident~"

"Like hell you will, that'll just get more eyes on me."

"Are you sure? Didn't sound like you were all that upset by the idea Ratty."

"Yes I am...though if they approach me in public again, maybe you could cause an accident or something, as a treat."

"Oh you do spoil me~!"

#personal #keferon #tf mecha universe #ratchlock #deadlock #ratchet

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promblums · 1 year ago

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I know I haven't played a pokemon game in a while but god DAMN is the Scarlet/Violet final boss cool.

Like, you've known since like minute two that something is up with Professor Sada / Turo, but you get down to the bottom of this huge canyon expecting oh, the professor made a robot clone of their mind but it went cRaZy and the real professor is tied up somewhere. No.

The robot professor, it turns out, was the rational one of the two of them, watching as the person in whose image it was created slips further and further into obsession. It turns out that everything good you've seen in the AI Professor, THAT was the machine. The real Professor has been deeply bitter and increasingly misanthropic, extending way, way back into Arven's childhood, and maybe even before.

Said real professor is dead. Like, dead-dead. Real human dead. Not only that, they were murdered trying to protect one -raidon from another, one that attacked with full intent to kill. Was this a last, selfless act? Or was the professor so devoted to their work that they would die to protect it? We never get that context. It's gone. Have fun in therapy, Arven.

So then the AI Professor leads you to the time machine, looks you straight in the eye, and says, "Can I say 'you have to kill me' in a pokemon game? No? Aight, cool, so to shut down the time machine, I need you to 'not' kill me. Because I'm gonna try to 'not kill' you first."

And then they get lifted 200 feet into the air on a spire of glowing onyx beneath what I can only describe as a technological halo of malice, and they just start breaking the rules of pokemon. Like, they don't get down there and challenge you, ooh, I'm gonna fight ya for the future of poketmans. They stand on the prow of a pitch black heaven and drop living paradoxes on you. You typically get 1, maybe 2 master balls per game; Sada/Turo has an unending supply, perpetually pouring from the godseye above them. They don't even throw them. They just open their hand and let this rain of high-level pokemon fall out.

This is not a pokemon battle. This is you, an insect, being crushed by an uncaring god.

You get the feeling that, were it not hardcoded in by some earlier version of the professor who still had some respect for pokemon tradition, there's no way the possessed AI Professor would respect the 'only 6 pokemon' rule. And they don't! You somehow beat the odds, and you get all of five seconds to think you did something before the Paradise Protection Protocol kicks in and starts the battle right back up again.

And locks your pokeballs shut.

And sends out the -raidon that, as was previously established, has killed a human being before.

This is my favorite part of this fight, because up until now, we've been acclimating to the twist that the real Professor was deeply selfish, to the point of all but abandoning their own child.

Right before the fight, the AI Professor explains that they're going to get overpowered by the security system when you try to shut down the machine. Given the real Professor's obsessive nature, you're led to associate the security system with some remnant of the real professor, and once it takes over, the game starts getting fucky about the identity of the mind in the robot. Is this AI Turo/Sada, but with their free will turned off? Turo/Sada's mind imprinted over the robot's? Some weird emergent mind from the main computer?

Right after you beat the first fight, the 'fair' fight, you get this moment where the roboprofessor is glitching out hard, and its name changes from "AI Sada / AI Turo" to "Professor Sada / Turo?" RIGHT as it starts to express feelings, real feelings toward Arven, look how tall he's gotten, how proud of him they are. We can't know how the real professor felt about their son, but its all the things Arven always wanted to hear. Is it the robot, trying to be kind? Confused? Or is this a fragment of the real professor's mind bleeding through?

But at the same time, the Paradise Protection Protocol kicks in, which is also implied to be some sort of mind-imprint from the Professor, and tries to kill all four of the main kids to ensure the safety of the Professor's machine.

So, we've got two machines, both of incomprehensible power, fighting over the fate of time itself, and each one set up to be a reflection of a person we will never meet.

Which one do you think the professor was most like?

#pokemon scarlet and violet #pokemon scarlet and violet spoilers #Sada #Turo

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blingblong55 · 2 years ago

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Pretty thing-König

Based on a request:

konig having a mommy kink.. please

A/N: I am about to make some people mad with this one but it is all for good fun. Also, I don't think this one will be NSFW mainly because I'm not in the mood rn

F!Reader, mummy kink, mummy(okay for the sake of this it'll be mommy) issues, sub!König, praise, civilian!reader

This part of the relationship started after you and he were about to go on a date, "Kö, you're hair is a mess, c'mere." You were always so soft and kind towards him, that is how he feels more like a human than a kill machine. Your hands on his hair, trying to comb it out, he was sitting on the edge of the bed. He never had this with his own mother, having someone to watch out for him, tell him that his outfit had to be changed since the colour didn't match, and the occasional wipe of the corner of his mouth when he ate too fast and had a stain of the sauce.

"Thank you, Schatz." his voice went from the usual cold and low tone to a softer and smaller tone. Then, a week later, as you and him were lying in bed after an eventful evening, he turned to you. "Can I...can I lay my head between your...breasts?" It wasn't because he was exhausted but rather he needed to be that close to you, wanted to hear your heart and for you to play with his hair. Sex was intimacy between two lovers but being held this way by his girlfriend went deeper than intimacy. His head on your breasts, the warmth and connection you two created that night, one he won't forget.

Time after time, you swore he just had a thing for your breasts but it was comfort that he found in those vulnerable times. At times, when he was mentally exhausted, he'd cry on your chest, the way you wrapped a blanket over him and hummed as you spoke, was heaven and comfort. Then, later on, he realised he had a mommy kink, liked the way you took control of the relationship, how you had become his girlfriend but also the mother figure that he never had as a child.

Growing up in a household run by his father and brothers was not what the young socially anxious boy needed. He needed a mother who would hold his hand or rub his back when she saw the signs when out at a social gathering. When you came along and started to treat him like a mother would, that's when he knew he was in the safest arms the world could offer. You were so delicate with him and at times, he had to admit he liked how you pampered him, how you called that giant military machine your baby and adorable.

During sex, it was just the same, he'd let you take control but only if during aftercare you could baby him and cuddle him. "Mommy-" he froze as he realised what he just called you. "Schatz, I'm sorry." You thought it was adorable, it was a huge accomplishment in your relationship when he found comfort and trust in you. "Oh könig, don't say sorry." You wrapped your arms around him and soon after that, behind closed doors that became the secret name he called you. "Mommy, please...just one more kiss, I promise I won't ask again." He had become very needy and dependent on you at home and wanted you next to him at all times.

"Mommy, where are you!?" he called out seconds after you walked to the kitchen for water. "Mommy, here you are!" his arms wrapped around your waist, he lifts you from the ground and walks back with you to the sofa. "I love you, Mommy." he kisses your cheek and you snuggle to him, "I love you, baby."

A/N: My apologies if this is all over the place,

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coolryptid · 4 months ago

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"The nature of their relationship in the show is clearly this guy who wants to be seen as a great scientist and is willing to risk everything for it - and is at the end of his rope - and then a god comes from the sky and tells him everything he ever wanted to hear about himself. And gives him incredible powers and access to things and everything he's ever wanted. You know, you just have to ask yourself when you're a story with writing these characters - like, how would that make you feel? If G-d came down and told you you were special and hung out with you and was your buddy and was always whispering in your ear - you let them into your mind. That's canon in the series. He (Ford) says 'He was free to come and go into my mind as he pleases'. What degree of intimacy is something like that? And can you imagine letting someone live inside your brain? And if you were a dream demon who had spent thousands of years trying to get one person to be your salvation and time and time again they f*ck it up, and then suddenly somebody has the power to do it, how would that make you feel? You might feel like 'What a sucker! Look - this one, he's finally got it! He's the biggest sucker of all.' But then you're also feeling like 'What in G-d's name would I do without him? Nobody else can do this.' You could sort of imagine if you're Bill, you're like 'Well, in order to get this human to do everything I want, I'm gonna have to lay it on thick. I'm gonna have to play the part of somebody who is their best buddy - everything you want, everything you can imagine. I'm here for you, nobody else understands you.' And you need to, like a cult leader, you need to keep them away from anyone else. You need to separate them from people, you need to keep them dependent on you. You need to sort of intentionally disappear every now and then, so that they sort of grow to become addicted to your attention like a slot machine - it's sort of a periodic engagement." - Alex Hirsch on Episode 54 of The Mystery Shack Lookback.

I'm gonna fucking THROW UP this makes me SO ILL. The textbook abuse, manipulation, and codependency. The confirmation that Bill ghosted Ford on purpose.

#gravity falls #bill cipher #stanford pines #billford #the book of bill #If y'all havent listened to this podcast episode PLEASE do its a treat

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nelumbonuciferagaertn · 2 months ago

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Doey (poppy playtime) x Reader

Warning: Slightly implicit, injury Relationship: Romantic with Doey, colleague with the Player, family with the smiling creatures Reader's gender: Not mentioned Summary: The first time Doey was frozen, the reader used their/his/her fire powers to warm him up and hugged him.

!The reader is not the Player; they are two different entities!

***

You're looking for Doey. You have something to tell him, but you can't find him in the refuge. You ask a little dog toy if he knows where the dough man is. Following the little guy’s directions, you set off toward the location he mentioned.

Walking down a dimly lit, gray hallway, you’re not entirely sure where you're headed, but you press on. You open a metallic door, glance to your right, and see a wall. So, left it is. You continue until you reach another intersection. Looking to your right, you spot a passage—or at least, you think it's a passage. It’s too dark to tell for sure. Summoning a small flame in your dominant hand, you flick it forward with a swift motion, illuminating the blind alley at the end of the path.

Turning left instead, you follow a faint blue glow. As you reach the middle of the corridor, you spot the Player moving forward with their GrabPack. You can’t understand how a human manages to walk, run, jump, and perform all those physical feats with such a heavy machine—without even eating to regain strength!

Just as you’re about to call out to them to ask if they’ve seen Doey, a familiar voice catches your attention.

"Oh, it's you!"

Congratulating yourself for finding him, you move closer to better hear the conversation without revealing yourself just yet.

"Is the Doctor… No, I don’t suppose he is, then…"

A pang of guilt hits you for eavesdropping, so you decide to step forward.

"Hello?" you say, stepping into the room.

Both characters turn to face you.

"Oh, hi! So you’re here too?!" Doey exclaims.

"Yeah, I needed to talk to you. A little guy told me you were here, so… here I am!"

"About what?"

"It’s not very important. I don’t want to interrupt anything, so you two go ahead, I’ll chat with you later."

You offer him a gentle smile, making him stare at you for a moment before shifting his focus back to the Player.

"Hum! I’ve been gathering parts for the generator."

As you listen, you take a seat next to the former employee, positioning yourself in front of the living toy for a better view—perfect for conversation.

Doey giggles, and his laughter is contagious, making you smile again.

"LOTS of—"

He’s suddenly cut off by an icy gust of air blasting from a pipe behind him. His face twists in terror as he hurriedly looks toward the source, but before he can react, he doubles over in pain, freezing on the spot.

Shocked, you instinctively snap into a defensive stance. Panic floods your mind; you don’t know what to do, but you do know that Doey needs help.

You reach out to him on reflex, but the cold from the gas burns even you, despite your naturally high body temperature. If it hurts you, it must be unbearable for Doey.

Leaning into your stance, you warn, "Back off! I’m going to have to use my flames!"

Summoning a ball of heat, you focus all your attention on growing it larger and larger. The intensity of your power makes your hair and clothes lift in the air. But a dangerous thought creeps into your mind—if you overdo it, you might explode the pipe, releasing even more gas everywhere!

Just then, you hear movement behind you. Glancing over your shoulder, you see the former employee turning the valve handle, shutting off the cold flow.

"Oh! Yeah, we can do that. Good idea!" you say, giving them a thumbs-up and extinguishing your flames.

Doey’s form slowly thaws, freeing him.

You rush toward him, wanting to check if he’s okay, but he suddenly speaks.

"Hurts, hurts, hurts, hurts, hurts…" he mutters, his voice laced with pain. His labored breathing follows.

Your hand moves to your chest, clutching your shirt slightly as pity floods your heart.

The metallic door creaks open. You glance at the Player and nod toward the now-open path, silently telling them to continue their mission.

As the Player moves on, Doey's pained complaints pull your attention back to him.

"He's made it impossible for me to get around here. Traps like that are everywhere!" he yells, making the ground tremble slightly.

You’re not scared. He’ll never scare you for two reasons: One, you’re confident in your abilities. Two, when you love someone, logic gives way to emotion. You wish you could tell him all your thoughts about the man in front of you, but this isn’t the time.

"It’s the cold that hurts… The big mean Doctor knows that…" His voice weakens, and then he starts to sob. It breaks you.

"It’s okay. You’re okay. Everything’s okay…"

For several moments, you say nothing, trying to think of something better to say.

Five seconds pass. Then, you realize actions speak louder than words.

Softly, you step closer to Doey. Stopping just before touching him, you open your arms in an unspoken invitation for a hug.

At first, he just stares, clearly judging you. …Okay, maybe words are necessary after all.

"Uh… You know, I give off more heat than normal. You’re cold, and it hurts, right? So, I thought I could help by, you know… hugging you?"

The more you talk, the stupider you feel.

"But if you don’t want to, I totally understand! It was just a suggestion—"

"No! I mean, I don’t want you to think I’m refusing. I accept your offer."

He sits down heavily, making the ground tremble again.

Absolutely thrilled, you smile at him, and he quickly looks away. Carefully, you move forward until you touch his belly. He’s so big, you’re not sure how to position yourself. You settle on wrapping your arms around him, deciding that later, when you’re more comfortable you might shift to something more intimate.

That thought alone makes your face burn. Your temperature spikes higher than usual.

Doey sighs in contentment.

"Do you feel better?" you ask, looking up into his eyes.

He meets your gaze with a smile.

"Yeah. You’re so warm, it’s really relaxing."

You consciously ignore the flustered voice in your head.

"Perfect! That’s the goal!"

A comfortable silence settles between you.

"So… what did you want to tell me earlier?" he finally asks.

"Oh! Right! I found a vending machine, but it’s full of expired food. I was wondering if you could still eat it. Also, it’s buried under some rubble, so I’ll need help clearing it."

"First, I think we can eat it. I mean… we’ve eaten worse."

You understand the implication and lower your head in quiet sympathy.

"Besides, it’s better to try than to waste food, right?" he adds.

You nod.

"And second, I can totally help with the rubble, I’m pretty strongh!"

You laugh at his terrible joke—it’s exactly your kind of humor.

And just like that, the two of you continue on, side by side. After a few seconds, once you've calmed down, he says:

"Can we, um... change position? " "If it makes you more comfortable, of course! "

With his strength and elasticity returning, he lifts you up and places your back against him. Your hunched legs rest between his, while his arms wrap around your body. He gently rests his head on yours. Relaxing, you place your hands on his and let your legs touch the ground.

You are so happy that you radiate more heat, and a silly smile refuses to leave your face. His legs are really short compared to yours. Oops, that was an intrusive thought.

You stay like that for nearly ten minutes before Doey finally speaks: "I feel much better, thanks to you. I think we can get up now. " "Can we stay a little longer? Five minutes max... um, only if you want! " "Of course, pal! "

You actually stay much longer than five minutes before finally leaving. After this moment, which you consider intimate, you guide Doey through the ruins. The two of you make a great team—while you burn or melt obstacles with your pyrokinesis, Doey clears the path and carries supplies on the way back. Talking about everything and nothing, you both lose track of time.

When you arrive at Safe Haven, you distribute the food to the other toys. After the meal, you all play together, your enthusiasm helping everyone forget, even if just for a few minutes, the nightmare they are trapped in.

Seeing all the effort you put into making the toys happy does something to Doey. They are his family, and watching them like you, and you like them, just as he loves them, melts his heart. He admires how kind, caring, strong, and gentle you are, and... well, he thinks he loves you. Unlike Angel, who is a spark of hope, you are more like a comforting ember, turning Safe Haven into something even closer to paradise.

You notice that Doey has been looking at you for several minutes. You glance back at him and smile. This simple action makes his heartbeat quicken, and his own smile grows wider. You think it's cute, but your reflection is suddenly interrupted when a little Kickin’ Chicken jumps on you and yells:

"YOU’RE IT! " "HA! Not for long! Fear me! "

Laughter and screams fill the air as you all run, dodge, and sneak around. Doey proves to be the hardest player to tag due to his malleability, and you suspect that the few times you manage to touch him, he lets you on purpose. But it doesn’t matter because right now, you’re having fun with the people you care about.

And with a dough man you love.

#x reader #Doey the doughman #Doey x reader #Doey poppy playtime #poppy playtime #the reader isn't the player #fanfic #romantic relationships #english isnt my first language #reader insert #Smilling Critters & reader

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