Platonic Yandere! Mer! Batfam x GN! Shipwrecked! Reader
Wordcount: 1.6k
AN: Happy MerMay everyone! I saw a video of the process of a sperm whale birth and was very inspired by the rest of the pod supporting the calf! I took some liberties with sperm whale pod dynamics but like… They’re mers. Creative liberties are how we got here. Also, I finally got myself the BRZRKR themed comic box that I've been eyeing for months!!! I'm super excited to have some good storage for my comics where they won't be exposed to light!!! Not beta read. Good luck again, soldiers.
TW: Yandere and animalistic behaviors, somewhat realism, dehumanization(?), natural disasters, dead squids, eating raw flesh, kinda gross food stuff, mentions of starvation, violence, heavily implied death of humans and a mer (no major characters), mentions of male and female mers but in a nature documentary kind of way, mentions of scars and previous injuries (not reader)
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A tiny boat in a storm wasn’t exactly an ideal situation. Being stuck on a floating case of equipment was even less so. Being circled by a gigantic sperm whale mer while being stuck on a makeshift raft was kind of a worst case scenario. He hadn’t reached out to grab you yet but he kept cooing, rumbling, and clicking at you to try to get you to come closer when he would come up to the side of your raft. You, understandably, scurried to the opposite side and tried your very best to not freak out. His startling blue eyes were constantly on you since he found you and after a full day of being stared at, he finally left, diving down into the depths of the ocean.
He returned to the raft about an hour later with a huge, bloated dead squid that had been half torn to pieces. You watched in horror as he began tearing off chunks and putting them onto the raft. He watched your fast breathing and seemed to think that you needed help to learn how to eat. He tore off another chunk and slowly began biting into it and chewing, making sure that you were watching. After finishing his bite, he offered the chunk of flesh to you, humming softly in encouragement for you to take it. He didn’t seem discouraged when you refused, instead leaving the squid for you to eat and returning to circling around your raft like a shark.
You fell asleep that night to the sound of Bruce calling out for his pod. When you woke up, you were surrounded and being poked and prodded. A whole pod of sperm whale mers, both male and female, were either circling you or halfway on the raft as they touched your legs with a mix of curiosity and pity. You were smaller than even the calf, a male with a curious look in his green eyes. They were all whistling to each other and you didn’t need a degree in marine biology to understand what they were saying. They were talking about the messed up calf that their pod leader had found. The calf hadn’t seemed to learn patience yet as he pulled at you to try to get you into the water. He was quickly scolded by the older mers of the pod and gently pulled away from your raft.
From then on, you always had at least two members of the pod with you at all times. They slept surrounding you and usually spent their time trying to interact with you. When the pod went hunting, some stayed behind. There was the calf, who you called Damian, and then at least one babysitter. Damian couldn't hold his breath long enough to hunt on his own and it seemed that they thought the same of you. This time, the babysitter was the second largest male in the pod. He was covered in significantly more scars than any of the others. He shared the same green eyes as the calf and had a patch of white hair on his hairline. You called him Jason.
You liked Jason well enough. He was always particularly gentle with you. He seemed to like floating alongside the rafts and just watching you. He wasn't pushy or aggressive towards you and instead preferred to just watch you. He occasionally brought you small gifts that he found floating in the water. He usually brought you driftwood but once, he found a rubber ducky and seemed excited to give you something so colorful. You were happy to have something familiar. He would quietly chatter at you in his language as he watched you check over all of the different things that he would bring you.
After a few days adrift at sea, you finally became hungry enough to eat what they offered you. The eye of the dead squid stared up at you as Bruce began ripping apart the tentacles for you to eat. You were half starved when you took a chunk from his hand and took a bite. The chewy and unpleasant texture of the flesh distracted you from the overjoyed chirps and coos as the pods celebrated you eating something that they gave you for the first time. Bruce, in particular, seemed exceptionally pleased with you eating. You managed to eat enough to fill your stomach before falling asleep on the raft, the gentle bobbing motion lulling you to sleep easily.
You woke up to a different babysitter watching over you and Damian. You called him Duke because of how regal he looked when you first saw him. He was much more playful and easygoing than most of the others, even the one that you named Dick after he did a flip onto Bruce while he was busy preparing your food for you. You figured that he had some kind of deep sea fish genes from the way that patterns on his skin would glow at night. It was like having a living night light. You were distracted from watching him swimming with Damian when you noticed an oceanic white tip shark mer swimming towards you. You froze when you saw the large mer approaching, knowing that they had a reputation for eating shipwreck survivors. Duke quickly let out a series of loud, rapid clicks as he moved to intercept the other mer.
The shark mer began circling around the raft at a distance and Duke began matching him, still staying between you and the other mer. Damian seemed very upset as he began making loud clicks downwards towards where the rest of the pod was presumably hunting. The shark mer began curiously approaching the raft and once he was only a yard away, Bruce slammed into him from below and launched him up and out of the water.
There was a frenzy of activity as the pod began chasing the offending mer away from the raft. You felt your face being grabbed and you looked over to see one of the few female mers in the pod, Barbara. She seemed very intelligent but her back had a major scar and she had difficulties swimming quickly, likely due to a boat strike. It made sense why she would be the one to stay behind to watch you. Her green eyes stared into yours as she began petting your head and seemingly trying to comfort you. She continued to gently hold your face as she clicked and whistled at you affectionately, still keeping you from looking at what was happening behind you. When the rest of the pod returned and she let go of your face, you saw the massive amount of blood in the water and the lack of injuries to any of the members of the pod.
You were pampered and cuddled half to death for the rest of the day. They were all covered in water but they were warm so you didn't mind too much. Bruce would cuddle you first, then Dick, then Damian, since he threw a tantrum, then Duke, then Jason. Steph and Cass, two of the other female mers in the pod, snuggled up to you on either side, almost sinking your raft. Tim screeched at them when he realized how panicked you were and took his turn cuddling you early after kicking them off of the raft.
The pod was more protective after that. You were left with a minimum of three babysitters whenever the pod left to hunt. The hunters would bring back more squid for everyone and you would be given your portion by Bruce and whoever was babysitting you. You knew that they thought that you were cute based on the way that they treated you. They loved touching you and snuggling you. They tried to play with you with the “toys” that Jason gave you, though Jason would usually get territorial and try to take the toys back to play with you instead.
Eventually, they seemed to get sick of you avoiding the water. You wouldn't go in to cuddle or play with them like a normal calf. They seemed to think that your swimming was worse than Barbara's, which, while true, was for an entirely different reason than an injury. They would try to coax you in and would get extremely frustrated the more that you refused. It evidently got to a breaking point after three weeks of them caring for you.
You had refused to go into the water again. Bruce huffed and dove down beneath the gentle waves. You thought that was the end of it until you felt a jolt on the raft behind you and turned to see what was going on. You began screaming as Damian slashed and bit at the equipment box. Unsurprisingly, it began to fill with water and sink. You screeched and thrashed as you slipped into the water, doing your very best to swim and stay on the surface so that you could breathe. Bruce quickly scooped you up, keeping you afloat and helping you breathe as you sat on his back. The whole pod came together, clicking affectionately as they all touched you and tried to help you feel more comfortable in the water with them. They wanted you to be with them more fully.
They were all there, supporting the newest, smallest member of the pod. Their precious little calf.
AU in which Dan Phantom is protective over his human half. Unlike the canon episode, Dan did not kill his human half, instead, he was obsessed with being overprotective(kinda Yandere vibe? IDK)
I talked about this AU with Dream in BSKY(yet it could be a little bit different from the original headcanon)
(I wanna draw more of this, so maybe I should name this with another AU name. Any suggestions for this?)
"Helluva Reactions" - When you are human (Valentino, Vox, Asmodeus, Stolas, Alastor, Angel Dust)
Synopsis:
There is no escaping their attention. You are just a mortal plaything in their hands, and they are ready to drag you down to Hell with them. Literally.
🔞 Tags & warnings: Yandere Overlords, Dark Romance, Human Reader, AFAB Reader, Modern Setting, Stalking, Cyberstalking, Invasion of Privacy, Blackmail, Drugging, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Gaslighting, Manipulation, Corruption Arc, Power Imbalance, Curses & Magic, Obsessive Behavior, Possessive Behavior, Sexual Harassment, Dubious Consent, Unhealthy Relationships, Lying/Deception, Identity Reveal, Summoning Rituals, Threatening Behavior, Psychological Horror, Multiple Scenarios.
Word count: ~1k
«AO3 | Masterlist | Patreon»
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[Alastor]
"You're doing this on purpose, aren't you?" you asked the smiling figure of the red demon in a voice hoarse from numerous screams, feeling cold raindrops painfully digging into your skin, and your knees — bare because of the short dress — unpleasantly rubbing against the asphalt.
"What are you talking about, ma chérie?"
"You push me towards all kinds of scum of society. Forcibly pump me full of drugs. Urge me to do the most indecent things," feeling hysteria rising to your throat, you nervously swallow the nasty lump. "You want me to end up in Hell, Alastor."
"And how did such a crazy idea come into your head?"
"You like me. I don't know what about an ordinary person managed to interest someone like you, but you need me," smiling brittlely, you throw out cruelly. "Except I don't need you."
[Valentino]
"Sweet coffee for my equally sweet flower girl," extending a cup of expensive coffee, Valentino smiled sunnily at your gloomy look.
"No thanks, I don't need it."
"Is this because of that harmless joke?" the richly dressed "pimp" — as your unfortunate admirer once confessed — sighed disappointedly, looking like a peacock.
Indignantly bulging your eyes and finally leaving the already-finished bouquet alone, you pointed an accusing finger at him:
"Last time you slipped me drugs, Val! Trust me, that's beyond a joke!"
"Where I come from, every other person indulges in them," he wasn't impressed, leaning his hands on the flower shop counter. "Plus, they didn't even work anyway."
Keeping silent about how frantically you bounced on your favorite dildo after the slipped aphrodisiac, you awkwardly clear your throat:
"I don't know what games you're playing, but please don't drag me into this. Why do you even need me?"
"Hell will be boring without you, sweetie. Very boring."
[Asmodeus]
"There's nothing more terrible than a demon's interest in an ordinary mortal woman, my dear," the dark-skinned shaman delivered her final verdict, finishing examining your palm with a cloudy, unreadable gaze. "Have you ever heard the story of poor Sarah from the Old Testament?"
"N-no."
"Abraham's niece was a girl prone to falling in love, of natural beauty. Her charm and grace drove Asmodeus mad with either lust or love," lighting a smoking pipe, the woman exhaled a portion of blue smoke. "And every time she was about to marry, he killed her husbands right on the marriage bed. Exactly seven times."
Choking in a stifled cough, you blinked in amazement:
"And how does this relate to me?"
"You bear the same mark that woman had," pointing at your chest burning with unknown flame, she exhaled hoarsely. "The mark of lust. Be certain, this demon may have retreated once, but now he definitely has no intention of giving up."
[Vox]
Vox In public you pretend to be an innocent little thing, but in reality turned out to be quite the lustful bitch...
Blinking in amazement at the message that came from who knows where, you wipe your hands wet from washing flower vases and with cheeks burning from either anger or shame, hastily type your response.
You I have no idea who you are, but you have no right to throw around these baseless insults.
Vox Simple statement of fact, kitten. After all, even I don't have such a perverted "baggage" behind me.
Your heart treacherously plummeted. Against your will, you wondered if he knew about all the browser tabs with various porn sites and the bill from the online BDSM shop.
A trembling finger timidly froze over the question mark icon:
You ?
Vox Your package with the huge purple dildo. It was delivered to my house.
[Stolas]
"What's our blessed patron sighing about?" noticing Stolas languishing by the tall floral arch in the church courtyard, you smiled warmly. "You know, sadness doesn't suit you at all."
In the glance thrown your way, a poorly hidden pool of guilt splashed:
"About a year ago, on the most terrible day of all, I met a wonderful girl who deserved her happy ending. But... Despite the bright feelings I had for her, I constantly lied. About my origin, work, even my child! All of it filled with the dirtiest and most rotten lies she's ever heard..."
"Stolas... The girl you're talking about," you whisper cautiously after a minute of agonizing silence, gently squeezing his palm. "It's me, isn't it?"
"I'm sorry," he said curtly instead of answering, to which you shook your head negatively.
"It's okay, I still don't believe you're capable of doing something truly terrible," making an unsuccessful attempt at a joke, you laugh carelessly. "You can't possibly turn out to be a demon, ha-ha?"
[Angel Dust]
"What do you mean you summoned me by mistake, baby?" the demon sprawled smugly on your bed, crossing his fingers under his chin in a sardonic smile.
Swallowing at the sticky and simultaneously hot gaze thrown your way, you nervously adjusted the heavy stack of books with questions in your hands:
"I-I wanted a demon of knowledge to clarify some aspects of my research. And in the services you provide, trust me, I have no need."
"Oh, trust me, baby," stretching out, he clicked his tongue. "The knowledge I possess, you need way more than your useless little books."
"And what might that be?" indignant at the insult to your brainchild, you flashed your eyes defiantly.
"For instance, I know how to make a person die from multiple orgasms. I'd bet you can't do that."
I know you only write for dilfs usually, but could you make an exception? I'm starved for Invincible content🥺
so many perfectly fine dilfs /gilfs in this series, smh...but for you I'll make an exception. 💌
Variant! Invincible x gn! Reader
Second Chance At Love
...in which another version of Mark invaded your world to claim something he once lost.
Warnings: angst, unrequited love, yandere adjacent, blood, kidnapping, murder, not proofread
A/N: I didn't specify which variant, pick your poison
This is it. That’s how you’ll die.
One of innumerable casualties in the wake of this surreal destruction, caused by no one else than the man you were still helplessly in love with. Well, at least the people responsible for this chaos all wore his stupidly handsome face, though the innocence in his eyes despite everything being long since absent in theirs.
You’re cowering in a corner of the nearest safehouse, huddled in there with countless other civilians as you start to reminisce and regret in the face of doom.
Maybe you should have told Mark about your feelings after all. Not that there ever was an appropriate moment to do so, between his relationship with Amber and Eve seamlessly afterwards. Both were amazing women in their own right, and you could never think of comparing yourself to either of them. But damn it you couldn’t even be mad at those wonderful two, even through all your jealousy.
Mark and you had been childhood friends ever since you had moved into the same neighborhood as a preteen. It was a storybook-like friendship that eventually turned into a one-sided infatuation as you grew older, but not wanting to ruin your friendship you cowardly suppressed them until it was too late.
And when your friend's powers finally awakened, you found the perfect opportunity to end this bond once and for all.
You remember it as if it was yesterday: His face, so full of shock and hurt as you broke out in tears and told him you couldn’t do this anymore. It wasn’t a complete lie.
Being this close to a literal hero made you a walking target, you claimed. Even if you as an individual are insignificant in the greater picture, even if villains wouldn’t try and hurt you to get through to him, conflict seemed to follow him everywhere, so you’ll most likely get into harm’s way at some point.
It was a cheap excuse to hide the pitiful truth that you couldn’t stand to see him build a life with someone else. And in hindsight you hated yourself for having done this. Invinc- Mark had gone through so much already, suffered great losses and was carrying guilt that weighed so heavy it astonished you that he hasn’t yet broken down under all the pressure.
And to add insult to injury, you - one of his closest and most trusted friends - abandoned him out of a selfish hurt that didn’t even make up a fraction of what he felt on the regular.
Enough self-pitying. You’re not the victim here.
If – by any miracle – you survive this, the first thing you’ll do is make things right. Contact him immediately, explain yourself, and promise to overcome this silly crush to be a friend he deserves this time.
But just when you made up your mind, a loud, grating noise cut through your pondering…
…and when you looked up, you were horrified to see the view of a bright night sky.
That meant someone had not only found this place, but also effortlessly tore off the rooftop which was made up of strengthened steel.
For the fraction of a second, when your eyes met all too familiar ones, a naive hope inside of you thought it was your Invincible that had arrived, worried for your safety. But the vastly different costume – covered with blood and viscera - reminded you painfully that again it’s just wishful thinking. A dream that would never become reality, no matter how long you refuse to acknowledge it. This world’s Mark is probably fighting alongside Eve right now, not wasting a single thought about you, and you couldn't blame him.
The Viltrumite scanned the crowd for god knows what, his face falling flat as his gaze fell on you. A flash of recognition flickered in his eyes, just to be replaced by an almost predatory glint.
“Found you!” his tone was oddly cheerful, yet sent a shiver down your spine as you could barely perceive him lunging at you with his sheer inhumane speed. You were sure that now you’ll experience pain beyond your greatest imagination, praying he'd make it quick...
...but much to your surprise the impact never came.
Instead you found yourself high in the air, fighting the nausea rising in the pit of your stomach due to the way too fast ascend. Beneath you the outline of the collapsing safehouse became blurred by darkness and distance, the dust driving tears in your eyes even long after the rubble drowned out everyone's screams.
“He’ll drop me” is the only thought present in your mind, feeling tremendously selfish for not caring about the others whose death you just witnessed. Yes, soon this sociopath will make you fall to your death and laugh at your misery like it’s some kind of wicked game.
And you deserved it either way, didn’t you?
Maybe you disappointed Mark in other realities as well. That must be it, that’s the reason he went out of his way just to find you – to get his revenge for you abandoning him in his darkest hour.
Your first instinct was to scream and lash out at him, and yet you knew trying to oppose a force of nature like him was to no avail. So with no other options you cling to your captor like a lifeline.
Clutching the fabric of his costume in tight fists, you hide your face in the crook of his neck, desperately trying to shun out the reality of your situation. Your behavior earns a low chuckle from the villain, who in return wraps his arms a little tighter around you as he carries you through the sky nearly bridal style.
“Don’t tell me your Mark never brought you flying with him?” he asked nonchalantly, as if any of this wasn’t an absolutely terrifying concept for you. Concerned at your lack of response, he slowed down in midair, gently squeezing your sides. “Hey, it’s okay. I got you. We’re almost there.”
You wanted to ask where to exactly, but your voice failed you each time you tried. So you stayed cradled against his muscular chest like this, trying your best to ignore the way you felt his gaze burning into you even though you refused to open your eyes.
“There we are” he announced, carefully letting you down. And still, as soon as your legs touched solid ground again they gave up and you fell to your knees right away. Initially this foreign Mark wanted to help you, to catch you in his arms once again and reassure you that everything was gonna be alright - but upon seeing tears dwelling in your eyes he knew he had to stop himself, hands falling loosely to the sides and balling to fists in mild frustration.
For a while you remained like this, staring at each other in awkward silence while a storm of conflicting emotions was raging beneath.
“You’re safe here” Mark ultimately spoke, and looking around this place really did seem rather peaceful compared to what you've seen in the news. “The others won’t attack rural areas. We were ordered to destroy main cities and crucial infrastructures mainly.”
“By whom?” The question was burning on your tongue but it died right there, because what does it matter? Knowing wouldn’t make any difference since you couldn’t change the outcome anyways. So instead you ask “Why…why did you bring me here?”
You were already dreading the answer as your mind conjured concerning possible scenarios, however the variant merely gave you a confused puppy gaze that almost made you forget the threat he posed.
“Isn’t it obvious?” He sheepishly rubs the back of his head, avoiding your eyes. “I wanted to get you before the others would."
That sounded more like a subtle threat than a honest reassurance.
“Please…don’t hurt me…” you beg and whimmer, overwhelmed by all the recent events. You’re shaking violently, tears now wettening your cheeks. The mere sight of it - and knowing he’s responsible - shatters what’s left of his rotten heart.
“Wha- of course I won’t-" He nervously paces around, wildly gesticulating as if he's struggling to put his thoughts into words - seems like they all do have similarities after all. "Oh man, sorry. You know I suck at comminicating! Shit, I fucked up the first impression already..."
Continuing to mumbles inaudible ramblings under his breath, he grips a pillar so harshly that it's combined to dust, making you shuffle even farther away from him.
“Nonononono, please don’t be afraid of me!" he yells so loud that you wince, and the fact that he keeps making things worse upsets him even more. "I could never hurt you, I swear!"
The man in front of you looks utterly devastated, and you can't put your finger on why that is or what you have to do with it.
After all, you're no one important, especially to him. Right?
At first keeping his distance, he hesistantly approaches you while simultaneously trying to appear as harmless as possible. Hands raised in a placating manner, voice calm and quiet, he whispers "I'm so, so sorry...I didn't mean to scare you."
"It's- it's okay..." you stammer feebly to appease him, your body still paralyzed by fear. A small squeal escapes your throat as you feel his palm stroke your cheek, the blood sticking to his gloves drying on your skin.
The former hero was watching you intently, face contorting through a mixture of relief and despair. But there was something else about him - the Mark you knew never acted like this. It's probably only your imagination, but he's so...
Before you could finish your line of thoughts, he closes the gap between you and his lips crashed over yours in sheer exasperation. You could feel the heat radiating off of him as he pulled you close, the barely contained strenght of his grip both frightening and thrilling.
"Damn...I keep fucking up" he blurts out, an enamored smile playing on his lips nonetheless. "Sorry for...well, this...got a bit carried away."
It was such a bizarre view: Someone possessing an indescribable strenght, unmatched on nearly the whole universe, being reduced to a stuttering, blushing mess in the presence of a pathetic human.
He was still holding you, without any intent to let you go any time soon, blissfully unaware - or rather ignorant - of how insane this whole situation actually was.
"I always wanted more than friendship, you know?" He confessed this so casually, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world - and opposed to all logic you felt your heart flutter at his words. "But in my world I never had the guts to confess...I was too afraid to lose you completely in case you don’t reciprocate."
You shouldn't feel guilty that you briefly thought back about the Mark you once knew, wondering if he ever felt the same, and yet you did. As if you owed the one in front of you right now some kind of loyality just because he was currently pouring his heart out.
No. Stop. What are you doing here? This isn't right!
The man in front of you is a homicidal maniac who did god knows what to his homeworld, and caused mayhem and suffering across the whole globe without any remorse, just to...
...yeah, why exactly?
As if your thoughts were clearly written on your forehead, he tries to explain himself, expression turning somber as he spoke.
"Back at my world I made some mistakes- no. I did so many irredeemable, atrocious things...and I only understood what truly mattered after I already lost it...after I lost you because of my actions. But I won't repeat those errors again, I swear. I promise I'll keep you safe and sound at my side to cherish you forever..."
You shouldn't feel anything but hatred and disgust at his display, yet you couldn't help but pity this forlorn, broken shell of a man that clutched you like a child would cling to their soothing blanket.
"This world's Mark, he...doesn't appreciat you." His eyes were manic, bordering on pure madness and you felt his fingers possessively digging into your flesh just shy of being painful. "But me, I would erase as many planets as it takes if only it meant being able to hold you like this for another day."
This man was truly a wolf in sheeps clothing - a vicious, instable monster that could snap any time shall your reaction not appeal to his delusions. All that's left for you to do is playing the part and hoping that the remnant of his humanity was enough to postpone a horrible fate.
So instead of answering you quietly sobbed in his vice-like embrace, tears mixing with the stains of death on his costume. You felt him rubbing soothing circles on your back, so tender and tentative you wondered just how long it's been since those hands had inflicted anything but pain.
Who would've thought that getting the one thing you had wished for an eternity could turn into a literal nightmare?
Yandere Shark Merman x Gender Neutral Reader
CW: Noncon, double penetration, non-human dicks, kidnapping, fucked big stupid, copious amounts of cum, biting, licking, overstimulation, general yandere behavior
Word Count: 1.1k
When you think of an island what do you envision? A tropical paradise complete with palm dreams, warm sands, calm waters, the scent of tantalizing foods wafting along the shores as the sound of children at play dances in one’s ears?
Well, that was not the Channel Isles. No, The Channels were full of rough rocky shores, the smell of fresh caught fish dominating the air, wind that bit and howled, the crash of wave on stone, and frequent rains that soaked you to the bone.
Yes, you specifically, you lived here.
And, as most people did there, you made your living by subsisting on the bounty of the moody sea. You would row out on your small boat and cast your net wherever you thought there was food to be found. Luckily, you had no family to feed so you traded away the extra after eating or preserving what you needed for yourself.
Emeri, by contrast, was a merfolk, a merman to be precise, and he had always been warned to stay away from the humans and their nets, and he had listened to this advice diligently.
He had no way of knowing that he would find himself ill and caught by accident.
Caught by you when you had gone further out to sea than you normally would. He had no energy to fight back and his fever made him barely aware of what was happening to him. You were amazed at your discovery, a merman with shark-like characteristics.
Starting a bit above the hips his body was the tail of a fish, smooth looking and covered in the scales of a shark. You could tell he was sick just from looking at his face and pressing your hand to his burning head, his mouth was slack and open revealing two rows of sharp teeth, his long deep blue hair was all over the place, his dark emerald eyes half-lidded, and the skin of his human half was light blue.
Even sick he was beautiful, with a lithe build but with defined muscles.
Under the cover of night you took him back to your home on the shore, hauled him into a tub of ocean water, and carefully fed him and tended to him with herbs that you hoped would worked on a being that seemed at least half human.
And you hoped he lacked a taste for the flesh of humans.
After a few days the fever broke, he remembered everything you had done for him, originally worried you’d hurt him but he was powerless to escape. But to his surprise you tended to him with more tenderness and care than anyone of his own species was likely to have.
You treated him like one of his kind would only treat a beloved family member or perhaps a mate.
The merman, who’s name you learned when he shared more about himself, was very grateful and surprisingly friendly. But something dark and unknown was festering in the depths beneath his jovial exterior.
Emeri was taken back to sea in your boat, not wanting him to just go in from the beach and risk being seen. He stayed near enough that whenever your boat cast out you were sure to see him, he helped you find fish spots and herded fish into your nets, he developed a larger and larger obsession over you. You always shared your catch with him.
One day the shark-man led you further than usual and then further still, promising a hearty school of large fish. When you were close enough to where he wanted you he took control of your boat and pushed it to the cursed isle that your people avoided like the plague. No one would be coming here to happen upon you.
Your shouts of protest went ignored as he beached your vessel, pulled you out, then smashed your boat to bits so you could never leave him.
The island had fresh pools of water that you could drink, caves for shelter along with an old hut, and enough fish around and timber for fires to cook, everything you needed for survival. And his tail was long enough that he could slither about and drag himself around on land, as long as he did not leave the water long enough to dry out.
“Sorry about that,” he said in a chipper tone as if apologizing for something trivial, “Now we can be mates without ever being disturbed!”
You were shouting, cursing, asking him why he would do this, but something made you go silent and back off.
As he pulled himself from the water his toothy grin sent chills down your spine.
Without warning, he launched himself at you, pulling your close off roughly and flipping you into the sand before mounting you as you struggled beneath him.
Two slimy cocks had emerged from his genital slit, large and musky, they pressed insistently at your entrance before slipping into you. Once they found their target he pounded into you with the brutish roughness one would expect from a shark merman.
You whimpered in a torrential mix of pleasure and pain as his cocks rammed into you as he bit various parts of your body. His sharp teeth pricking your flesh enough to draw blood but not do any real damage.
Emeri licked the blood, sucked, and bit at your back and neck as he fucked into you at an increasingly desperate pace. He moaned at your delicious taste as you moaned at the delicious way his cocks filled every inch of your insides.
“Fuck, baby, you feel so good. So good. So good.”
He slowed his pace, stopped, and plunged in as deeply as he could, getting his thick cum as far into you as he possibly could. He unloaded himself and filled you so much that your belly bloated with his seed.
You were a sobbing whimpering mess, all pain long since melting into pleasure and fucking you free of your senses.
Emeri immediately flipped you over to face him and began pounding into you anew. He licked up your beautiful tears and drool, bit your neck and chest, kissed you deeply. He couldn’t stay out of you, you came many times as did he, but he couldn’t quit fucking you until he was entirely spent entirely spent. He took you to one of the caves that connected to the sea and had plenty of moisture for him, he cuddled and bathed you while you babbled incoherently, cum leaking from your stretched hole for a long time until you were finally mostly emptied out.
The next day you’d wake up and try to protest again, he’d fuck you quiet and stupid again if you got too feisty until you learned you belonged with him, then he’d feed you some of the fruits humans enjoy so much.
Yandere!Merman didn't start off by pulling you under. Instead, he chose a slow, agonizingly patient courtship that took months to build. At first, he was just a mysterious silhouette swimming alongside your board out past the break. You’d catch flashes of shimmering teal scales under the water, or see a pale, webbed hand casually gripping the edge of your surfboard when you weren't looking. He wanted you to get used to his presence, turning himself into a regular part of your daily surf routine.
The gap finally closed when he realized you weren't afraid of him. he started popping his head completely out of the water right next to your board, his long, dark hair plastered to his face and his slitted, bioluminescent eyes blinking up at you. You’d just sit cross-legged on your surfboard, drifting on the gentle swells, completely mesmerized as this beautiful, dangerous creature rested his chin on the nose of your board like a curious seal, clicking and purring softly whenever you spoke to them.
Yandere!Merman became completely obsessed with "providing" for you, though his understanding of human logic was incredibly warped. he noticed that you spent hours out on the water without eating, so he decided it was his job to feed you. he would disappear beneath the waves with a powerful flick of his tail, leaving you waiting on your board, only to burst through the surface a few minutes later holding a completely raw, wriggling deep-sea fish in his claws, proudly offering it to you with a wide, fanged grin.
When you laughed and shook your head, trying to explain through gestures that you couldn't eat raw, moving fish, he didn't get discouraged. he just swam closer, floating on his back right next to your board, and began meticulously cleaning the fish with his sharp claws, trying to hand-feed you the raw pieces himself. He would pout, letting out a low, disappointed click from his throat whenever you gently pushed his hand away, utterly confused as to why his favorite human was refusing his hard-earned hunting trophies.
Yandere!Merman gift-giving got a lot more creative when he started raiding sunken trade ships and coastal orchards that dipped over the cliffs. One afternoon, he swam up to your board with his webbed hands overflowing with weirdly preserved, salty pears that had fallen into a nearby cove. He pushed them onto your lap, watching with absolute, unblinking intensity as you took a bite of one. The second he saw your jaw move and realized you were actually eating his gift, his gills flared with excitement, and he let out a loud, euphoric trill that vibrated right through the fiberglass of your board.
You became entirely addicted to this secret routine. You started spending less time actually catching waves and more time just sitting out past the breaker, staring down into the clear blue water, waiting for his shadow to appear. And he loved every second of it. He loved watching you watch him. Every time he dove back down into the reef, he would purposefully swim in elegant, showy loops right beneath your board, flaunting his massive, powerful tail just to keep your eyes locked entirely on him.
Yandere!Merman weaponized this sweet, domestic routine to slowly erode your attachment to the land. While you thought you were just making a unique marine friend, he was tracking your schedule, learning your scent, and making you entirely dependent on his daily visits for excitement. He’s currently letting you stay on top of your board, completely satisfied with hand-feeding you fruits and preening under your attention. Still, his possessive instinct is just waiting for the perfect, stormy day to permanently bring his favorite surfer down into his world for good.
(skyclan rusty au) Smudge... this old dead man keeps telling me to go to the forest
quick au explanation/concept:
Rusty didn't go to the forest that fateful day, he simply ignored the calls and went to bed resulting in a catastrophic change of events, Tigerclaw manages to succeed with his plan and now he's the leader of Thunderclan and he has control over Shadowclan, there's a resistance starting but that doesn't matter right now.
Rusty is around ≈ 25 moons he is living the life of an ordinary kittypet, sometimes venturing into the city but never too far from his home, until one day he starts having strange dreams, the dead clan cat keeps saying that he has to rebuild his clan and fight for the freedom of those who live in the forest, Rusty tries to ignore Clear Sky as much as possible but reaches a point where Clear Sky stops only showing in his dreams and start showing up as an spirit irl, this freaks Rusty out a little and he decides he's going to help Clear Sky, but in his own way. He will recruit kittypets that he knows to try to set up a clan and fight with whatever is the forest.
^ this is very basic and is missing a lot of info btw, but idk if ill continue w/ this ai
Yan Pixie who is very tiny and unnoticeable. You always mistake him for a bee or a dragonfly whenever he flies by. It annoys him to no end that you won't ever notice what he really is. He handpicked you to be the object of his obsession. You should be honored that such a magical and rare creature like him is giving you such notice.
Yan Pixie who tries to get your attention by whispering your name in your ear. His voice only sounds like a soothing bell. He finds this out when you explained to a cursed friend that you keep hearing soft dings and chimes when nothing is there. There goes another way of trying to get you to notice him.
Yan Pixie who watches you twenty-four/seven. He tries to match up his agenda to yours. When he's working on his duties as a small, mischevious fairy, you're most likely going to be working too. It's how he lives, and he couldn't be any happier.
Yan Pixie who has his home in your most beautiful and well-taken-care-of flower. He gets so giddy when he sees you watering the flower. Taking care of his home with such gentleness. It's like you know he's living there, so you make sure not to be too rough when pulling weeds. It just furthers his love for you. He daydreams of you taking care of him with the same kind hands you use on your garden.
Yan Pixie who thoroughly enjoys following you around when you explore the forest nearby your home. Especially when you go out to forage for things. He secretly aids you by leading you to the best herbs and everything else you could find. The forest bounty is simply yours if you ask. He knows the forest best, so just trust him. He is tame for the most part, but he can't help but slip into some trickery from time to time. He's just a pixie. It's in his nature!
Yan Pixie who feeds into his more mischievous behavior when he's in a mood. He'll add salt to your pastries, sugar to your soups, and misplace your belongings. He'll even get you lost in the forest if he's upset enough. He's leading you out when it gets too dark to see. He doesn't want you suffering too much.
Yan Pixie who would never intentionally hurt you when he's playing his pranks. If he found that you'd been injured because of him, he wouldn't only cry, but he would also heal your injuries in an instant while you slept. You would be prank-free for the next week because he isolated himself in his flower home.
Yan Pixie who would feel tempted to lead you to a conveniently placed fairy ring so you could be tied to him for eternity. The only thing stopping him from doing so is the fact that leading you around the forest and witnessing the wonder on your face at every find was so cute to him. He didn't want that to stop.
Yan Pixie who has so much inner turmoil around showing his presence to you. Once he does, he can never go back to his true home. Being discovered by a human is against pixie law. But he wanted so bad to connect with you face to face. To be by your side without having to hide.
Yan Pixie who visits his hive one last time. He decided to inform them of you, ranting and raving about how kind and nurturing you were for a human. How you tended to his home back at your cabin without even knowing it. The council members were so shocked to see their Phin be so enamored with another. Without giving any chance to say goodbye, he flew away. Back to your cabin.
Yan Pixie who you finally notice when he sits upon the blooming flower he's made his home. His bell-like voice chimed to get your attention. He becomes so excited when you look at him. You see him. You've finally noticed after all this time. He's so overcome with joy that he flutters over to you. He flies in circles around your head, making you dizzy. He perches himself on your shoulders as he tries to converse with you.
Yan Pixie who seamlessly connects with you despite the language barrier. He discovers so much more about you now that he made himself clear to you. His spot is now your shoulder, watching you go about your day. He's even helping around the garden. Making sure everything becomes a fruitful bounty.
Yan Pixie who helps you more than he ever did. He has you make his favorite meals and loves trying yours. More often than not, your portions end up with small bite-sized pieces missing. He mends your clothing. He cleans the small bits of your home you could never reach. He's so devoted to you. Anything you ask, he's already doing it.
Yan Pixie who creates a form of communication with you. He was dying without you being able to understand what he was saying. So he creates a secret code only for you two to use. It felt so intimate to him. It further feeds this belief in his mind that you two were truly meant to be. You had no need for silly human words when you could talk to him.
Yan Pixie who pranks the people that come into your small cabin. He hates when he has to hide. When you have company over. He hates every single human that isn't you. They're a threat to his peace. To your peace. Don't you see that? So he takes it upon himself to prank them. It's the only way he can chase them away. He doesn't understand when you scold him for doing so.
Yan Pixie who tries to make it up to you by trying to bake something. He pulls out one of your cookbooks but can barely read the words. Cup of flower? You put petals in your baked goods? He tries his hardest to make something, but he ends up making a huge mess. He feels so much guilt when you walk in to see him covered in several misunderstood baking ingredients. You're left to clean up after him while you reassure him that it was the thought that counts.
Yan Pixie who goes out into the forest on his own. He tells you not to follow him when he does. You're just left in the cabin as he zooms off into the tree tops. He collects many forageables. Wildflowers, acorns, seeds, and wild mushrooms. You name it, he found it. He even found wild berries for your next big baking treat. All for a surprise for you.
Yan Pixie who tries to act like a big, scary guard dog. Your guard dog. When he thinks danger is around, he becomes all puffy. He tries to make himself look like a threat. When he hears your giggles when you see him like this, he feels dejected. He's trying his best to protect you. Can't you see that?
Yan Pixie who enjoys celebrating your human holidays. He also loves learning about your customs, too. The hive didn't have many holidays to commemorate big achievements. They only celebrated the hive's founding and when there was a new choosing for the council. His favorite thing is getting to listen to the history of humans and your memories of the celebrations you partook in before. His favorite part about your human traditions is the decorating. He loves helping. He's also hoping that you cherish the new memories you're making with him.
Yan Pixie who tries to tell you about pixie history. As well as the important dates to his culture. But it's quite difficult when the hive is in a different realm where time is difficult to track. Anyway, his favorite thing is your enamored look as he sketches out the battles and territory disputes. You're even taking notes! He wants to cry when you express your desire to help him celebrate the things he's been missing now that he's away from his family.
Yan Pixie who would do absolutely anything for his human. He's your tiny little companion. He adores you more than the sun and morning dew. Nothing would take you away from him, not if he had any choice in the matter. This tiny creature has so much power in his small hand. Nothing will get in his way of loving his favorite human.
꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦
Property of @cursedfallingmoon! Do not repost or translate without my explicit permission! Reblogs are welcome!
Kk so yandere!animatronic!character of your choosing x security guard darling. Surprise me with your ideas. Plz, im a lil high rn and hearing about fnaf made me think (not very hard)
𝐀 𝐂𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧’𝐬 𝐓𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐞
(𝙔𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙚!𝙁𝙤𝙭𝙮 𝙭 𝙎𝙚𝙘𝙪𝙧𝙞𝙩𝙮 𝙂𝙪𝙖𝙧𝙙!𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧)
𝐛𝐨𝐨’𝐬 𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫: Will do! Hope you enjoy what I’ve concocted, apologies for this taking a long ass time. Real life stuff got in my way, so thanks for your patience!!
𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 3,320
𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐚𝐧𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠: foxy and the gang have no kids in them, just furry robots with faulty AI, graphic depictions of reader experiencing a spring lock failure, description of blood and gore, yandere/obsessive behavior, reader death, major character death and no happy ending.
𝟏𝟖+ 𝐩𝐚𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐨𝐧 💖 𝐤𝐨-𝐟𝐢 💖 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 💖 𝐬𝐨𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐬
As much as you wanted to run from this establishment, this job was the one place where it took you in. Money’s been tight and you’d rather suck it up for now and find another job on your off time. Just to give you some wiggle room to find a better paying job elsewhere. Preferably one that wasn't going to endanger you.
For now you’re stuck, dealing with murderous anthropomorphic robots that want you crammed into a spare suit. All for what it’s unknown to you. You walked back into hell disguised as a dimly lit pizzeria joint and stared at the characters on stage.
Still and unmoving. Looking at the clock, it’s now eleven fifty two. “Just eight more minutes… You deceitful bastards.” Glaring at them, knowing the horrors they've inflicted upon you. Waiting for them to move, yet they never did. Just waiting for the clock to strike twelve was agonizing, your eyes trailed to see Pirate’s Cove tucked away. Farther away from the main gang’s stage.
Rolling your eyes at the out of order sign, your gaze trails to the purple star patterned curtains. The stage was still being taken care of despite years of Foxy being out of commission. “My day shift coworkers have theories… Yet…” This illusive attraction being closed down left people scratching their heads. “Bite of eighty seven this, bite of eighty three that… Can anyone settle on a date..?”
Foxy has been on your ass since the second night and he took great enjoyment out of annoying you the most. You even ask one of the mechanics to check if their AI was screwy or something. After the inspection of Foxy's programming and his inner workings, they were empty handed.
It only further confused you, then again there's probably something neither you nor previous colleagues had not noticed. Regardless Foxy wasn't physically as strong as the others, but he made up for it in speed and trickery. Your mind replays the time you first encountered him.
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The Night Before
After finishing the call, you check Pirate’s Cove. You see the curtains slowly move away. Only darkness lied beyond the curtain. A long snout peaks through, some sharp teeth visibly poking out of its maw. The crappy camera picks up the gold flash from his set of teeth. Foxy’s black nose twitches, sniffing the air as an ominous laugh can be heard through the camera feed. “Stay there, you mangy bastard…”
You decided to check on the others, heeding to the Phone Guy’s words. You checked to see Chica on your right and shut the door at breakneck speed. “Ooph… That wasn’t very nice of ya!” She whined, you huffed at her crocodile tears.
“Bullshit…” A mechanical parrot-like cry catches your attention, flying through the open left door. You looked to see a small green parrot. “No quarter! No quarter for ye!” God you hated this bird more than the other one sitting outside your office.
“Great, another fucking bird that I hate....” You checked the cameras to see Foxy’s face peeking through the curtain. “Me bird’s keepin’ an eye on ya…” Glaring at the metallic parrot. “Don’t say shit.” As the night progressed, they got chattier. Egging you to open the door or flat out chastising you for your potty mouth, it all added onto your stress.
“I’ve gotcha now!!” Your heart leaped out of your chest upon hearing that. Without any time to think, you grabbed Foxy’s parrot and chucked it at the running fox. Smacking it directly in his face, quickly retreating to your office. Shutting the left door, Foxy bangs on the door. Your heart was pumping loudly inside the confines of your chest. “Christ on a bike…”
“Now my siren… Open this door…” Steadying your breath, see that the right side was empty and opened it. “You really are a feast for me eye…” His hook scratching the door, covering your ears from the shrill and unpleasant sound. “Flattery won’t get you far...” Foxy’s laugh seeps through the glass. “Can't a man give words of affection to the one he loves?” After giving him the silent treatment he leaves. Still on edge, but a little less to worry about was more than enough.
"We only just met today…"
"Do you believe in love at first sight..?" Foxy asked, you pondered on that for a bit. The idea a robot like him can feel something like that was strange. The way Freddy and the gang acted human in many different ways goes far beyond their programs. ' I'll have to ask my day shift coworkers today… Maybe the mechanics have answers… God this is way outside of my pay grade. '
One thing's for sure, you definitely didn't expect to get flirted by a robot. It felt jarring to fight for your life whilst one of them just flirts with you. "Christ I don't get paid enough to deal with this shit..." With a huff you resumed your deadly job.
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Present Day
“I hate that stupid fox…” You mumbled, coming back to your unfortunate reality. Hoping after this week is over, you’ll find another job and be far away from these mechanical wack-jobs.
Without further delay you made your way to your personal hell. As your back faces away from the purple curtains, yellow glowing eyes follow your form walking away from their stage. His lanky snout peaks through the curtain as his hook pulls it back. Watching you head to your dinky office.
His ears twitched at the clock ticking down. “You may say that, but in the end my love will consume you…” With an ominous chuckle, the lanky robotic fox retreats back into his stage. Freddy’s blue eyes see Foxy’s retreating form as he looks to the clock.
You’ve lasted almost all of the previous night guards, they knew it was time to put your winning streak to an end. It was the fourth night and you’ve escaped their grasp far too many times for their liking.
The big hand finally clicks onto twelve, it was time for another round to begin.
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Setting up the cameras, the phone goes off and adhering to tradition you picked it up. “Hello, hello? Hey, you're doing great! Most people don’t last this long.”
“And what’s that supposed to mean?” Raising a brow at his choice of words. In your peripheral vision you do a quick look around seeing where those metallic crackheads are. “I mean, you know, they usually move on to other things by now. I’m not implying that they died. Th–Th–That’s not what I meant…”
‘ I bet he knows damn well people die here… ‘ Gripping the phone tightly, the mere thought puts a pit in your stomach. “…Sure. Anything I need to know before you skedaddle?”
“Ye–Yeah uh, anyway I don’t wanna take up too much of your time. Things are getting real tonight.” His words made you stop dead in your tracks. “What do you mean by that..?” He then starts suggesting you go limp when they catch you, but realizes it might not be a good idea.
“It’s best not to get caught.” You slammed the door in Bonnie’s face. Your heart racing, unsure of why tonight feels different from the last two. You despised the feeling, you needed to live. No one is here to save you.
“Look I’ve checked the building during the day and I have a clue of where I can hide. I can always run… Hopefully…” Turning on the lights, seeing Bonnie gone you open the door. Turning the lights off to reserve your power.
Now you were left all by your lonesome, his words weighed heavy on your mind. Peering up from your computer. Checking the doors and opening them back up, a heaved sigh leaves your lips. This was only the first hour of this shift, yet there's a lingering feeling you couldn't avoid.
At three 'o clock, shit hit the fan as Bonnie and Chica get more persistent, staying on their respective sides for longer. Foxy would go through each phase as time passes by. Unfortunately your power source is going down with Foxy, Chica and Bonnie's aggressive persistence.
Foxy's parrot swoops into your office and starts pestering you. "No quarter for ye! No quarter for ye!" Your eye twitches as you offensively swat at the bird. "Go away! NO–OH YOU BITCH!" Before you can even react, Foxy darts inside and corners you. You attempted to shut the door, but his hook catches the door's edge. Pulling it back up with ease.
His bird perched on his shoulder. "Well we meet again, my siren…" Foxy purred as he stalks towards you, his visible eye staring down at your shrinking form. "Don't try to run, it's gonna be alright…" The cold metal from his hook tilts your chin up. Your voice is caught in your throat, you're practically surrounded with no other way to go.
"I do–don't trust you… You, you… You're just saying that to get me crammed into spring lock coffin..!" Foxy chuckles at your hysteria filled statement. "Is that so?" You bit your lip with a stiff nod.
"Don't frame it like that. Think of it like this, we'll be together and nor time or death will keep us apart." Backing away from him slowly, scrambling to find a way out. Your eyes fall to your desk and see your flashlight.
Hurriedly grabbing your flashlight and aimed it directly into the fox's eyes. "ARRGHH!! ME EYES!!" Squinting his eyes in pain, immediately you sprint past him. Dashing into the hallways as they soon rush after you.
The room was drenched in darkness, not a light in sight. Crouching down you listened for their voices and as their footsteps draw ever closer, you're saved by the bell. Their hurried voices break the tension as they quickly resume their positions back on their stages.
Unwilling to move, you waited and heard an ear piercing scratch against the glass. Biting your lip hard, nearly tasting your own blood, trying to silence yourself from verbally vocalizing your pain. "Wherever you are my dear… Know that next time, you won't be so lucky." With that said, Foxy walks off and whistles a tune.
You slowly crawled out of your hiding spot, hurriedly clocking out to get yourself to get to safety out of this hellhole. Foxy watches from afar, seeing you frantically trying to escape. He knows you're delaying your inevitable fate, for now he'll have to settle for scheming for tomorrow's shift.
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The fourth shift was a blur as you left arm had a nasty cut. You can vividly remember that exact moment. Foxy towered over you licking the blood off his hook. The smell of your blood, his glowing yellow eyes and all it filled you with dread. Didn't help that you received a phone call where your coworker was murdered over the phone. Guilt and dread were tightly linked as you went home.
Nightmares plagued your sleep, unable to get rid of the thoughts of metal skewering through you. Screaming until your vocal cords gave out, but no one came. Completely at the mercy of a robot, who's hellbent on stuffing you in a suit. Waking up with a sweat, you checked for missing calls and received nothing. With a huff you looked at the clock, it was about time you faced the root of your nightmares.
In your dank office, the phone rings once again. Signaling the start of your cycle with the sick illusion of familiarity. You internally debated with yourself over answering the phone. With a shaky hand, you picked up the phone and a voice you've despised hearing. "Seems you've made it to the grand finale, my siren…"
Your posture stiffens, blood starts to boil and your patience thins. "What is this some sick fucking joke?!" Gripping the phone with an angered force. "Easy there, my siren…" He laughed, as if any of this was remotely normal. He acted so human yet so monstrously. "You killed my coworker, then gave me a nasty cut and you want me to calm down?!" The fox merely laughs softly about your degrading mental health.
"He was getting a wee bit too close for me liking…" You scoffed at his half assed answer. "Don't bullshit me. We weren't that close at all, now answer me why do all of this?" You soon took noticed that the others aren't attacking quite yet. Unwilling to take any chances you kept up your guard.
"Well? We have all night and I'm dying to hear what your answer is Foxy." Foxy hums as he finally replies. "Because I love you and want to keep you safe. Here I thought it was obvious." You felt is as if you were about to burst a blood vessel. "Are you fucking serious?" Barely unable to contain your fury. "My siren I never joke about things of that manner. Once a pirate has set his sights on his treasure, he'll stop at nothing to get it."
' Was he always programmed this way..? Or was he corrupted in some way, either way I'm baring the brunt of his unwavering obsession… ' The stakes were through the roof, your life was hanging on a wire. You've always been hyper aware of the fact they're stronger than you, but you still managed to survive in the end. Yet you had a feeling that tonight was much more different.
"Still there, my siren?" You shook away your nihilistic thoughts. "Unfortunately," Foxy continues with. "I bet you're wondering where the other landlubbers went…" The question that once lingered in the background of your mind was now fished up. "What exactly are you planning?"
Foxy lets out a laugh, it sent chills down your spine. "I thought it'd be nice for us to spend quality time together." You cringed at his delusional framing of this entire situation. "How romantic."
Soon the game of cat and mouse, you were prepared this time. Especially for when the power nearly goes out, Foxy continues to not let up. Pounding at the door, dashing around the pizzeria. All to drive you into a corner, using the flashlight to blind him. You swiftly duck under him and made a mad dash for a hiding spot.
Once inside in Parts and Service room, you squeezed into your chosen hiding place. It was underneath a shelf, you managed to loosen the bolts to effectively crawl inside the vent to become undetectable. Clicking your flashlight off you hear his hurried footsteps, running around to find you.
He whistles a familiar tune, as you hear doors slam open. Along with his disgruntled complaints, you curled further into the vent as you closed it. Soon Foxy enters the room, his feet and ankles visible from your hiding spot.
"Do you really think you can hide from me forever, my siren?" Foxy asked, you steady your breathing. Your heart thumping wildly inside your chest, sweat beaded down your temples.
"Please return to me, my siren…" Foxy pleaded as you listened attentively for any movements. You heard a loud shriek of the metal shelf above you being pushed to the side. Your eyes widened in horror. Tools and bolts thrown across the floor as the tall, lanky fox crouches down to meet your fear induced gaze.
"Though you were clever? My siren you wound me so…" You immediately tried backing into the vent further as he tears the vent grate off the wall. His large, clawed hand catches your wrist. You screamed, attempting to loosen yourself free. He merely laughs, pulling you out of your hiding spot. In your struggle, you hit your head against something and are soon rendered unconscious.
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Clinks and clanks fill the silence, Foxy prepares the suit as his crew strapped you down. You groggily wake up as a bright light blinds your dizzy vision. "…Uggghh.. What the fuck..?" The leather around your wrists and ankles tightens. Foxy is crouched over something as he and Freddy conversed over something. Only hearing bits and pieces of the conversation.
They muttered the word suit, it triggers you into overdrive. Trying desperately to try and free yourself. "…no no Nonono.. NO!" Bonnie and Chica try to calm you down, but it failed miserably as you continued to cry out in horror. Metals clinks and your raw screams fill the the once silent room. Foxy huffs as he makes his way towards you, his yellow eye looking down at your tear drenched face. "Please… Don't do this… We'll be in so much trouble if you do this…" Attempting to appeal whatever humanity was left in his programming.
His furry paw gently wipes your stray tears away. "You need to be completed, that's all and we can finally be together…" It further confused you. "Wh–What do you mean, Foxy you're not making a lick of sense!"
"You're not in a suit, you're not complete. Simple as that." It clicked in your head. His program is screwy, that's certain. "But why me?"
"I need you, I've been alone for ages… Yet you make me feel complete, I want to make you feel the same."
"BY STUFFING ME INTO A METAL DEATH TRAP?! DO YOU HEAR YOURSELF?!" He shrugged your concerns off. "Isn't it natural to want to seal the deal with your one and only? I may not have a ring to gift you, but this is the next best thing."
' There's no way… No fucking way he's equating to killing me as the same as being engaged. ' He soon disappears from your view as he pulls out a mask with intricate mechanisms. It was definitely a much the dreaded spring locks you've heard to death about from your coworkers.
As your scream pierces into the night, no one is listening or able to intervene. Your luck had finally dried up. Metal rods and blades sink into your skin as the metal claws clamps into your flesh and some breaking bones. Puncturing your various vital organs, Foxy watches intently as your humanity is slowly stripped from you.
‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹
' How long was I out..? What happened..? ' You tried to get up only to crumple down as you let out a cry of pain. Suddenly the overwhelming emotions and sensations come back to you. Foxy enters the room, rage begins to bubble inside you. Your eyes stiffly followed the red fox.
"Oh you're awake, it'll take a good while for you to get used to your new body…" He crouched down to meet you at eye level. You desperately wanted to tear that robot into unrecognizable pieces, but the pain outweighed it. Foxy sits beside you, cuddling up against you as if this was a domestic situation. Just another instance of him trying to gain a semblance of humanity.
"I know you must've been lonely, but fear not, my siren…" His arm rested on your shoulders, his head rested against your head. "I had to clean up to make sure, you won't be taken from me…" You felt your entire world shatter as Foxy single-handily ripped the rug from under you. You tried to speak, but all you could do was cough up blood. Foxy quickly gets something to wipe the blood away, you felt how torn up your vocal cords are. Along with how cramped you felt in this new body if you can call it that.
"Don't worry about moving for now… I'll take care of you, my siren. Hopefully I'll be able to hear your voice again soon…" His words left you beyond furious and yet you felt your feelings start to become numb. His paw gently pats your suit's head in a soothing manner. It did little to put you at ease.
As much as you wanted to scream until, your vocal cords went raw. You immediately understood how pointless it was to struggle now, this was it for you.
cw: gun play, blood kink, forced oral (f receiving), forced kissing, non-consensual touching, sadism, dead dove: do not eat, non-consensual masturbation, stalking
!!: the tags correspond to the second part, but I'm leaving them here just in case
I'm going to die tomorrow, and if you find this, it's probably too late. It's embarrassing that I don't know you, and you don't know me, but I hope you can have some empathy for my fate; and maybe somewhere where I can be happy, that will help me have some compassion for my next life.
.
.
.
.
The tiny letter you had left as a pitiful legacy had been left behind; on one of those stone benches in the enclosed park, where the tramps used to go to sleep. You thought that many of them would pay no attention to it, and lost sighs during each word would be of no use, but you did it anyway: you leaned the paper in a corner, pressed by a stone so that the wind would not blow it away. Your letter was going to be read; at least the first few words. That was enough.
Your death was going to be disastrous, that was certain. You had chosen one of the highest bridges, the one over one of the busiest avenues. When it was three or four o'clock in the morning you were going to jump off it; your body would crash to the asphalt, interrupting traffic, and your brains would paint the pedestrian crossing where a group of police and assigned professionals would soon come to inspect your remains. Quite dramatic, to be sure, but memorable.
You were still a bit sad to die like that; with so many people watching. That was what you wanted most of all: to die. It was as simple as that. But who could assure you that no one would record you? Who would forget you at the end of the year? People really die when they are forgotten, because what is man but the result of a social construction; and if at least one human being could have a fragment of you in their memory, engraved like your flesh against the rough ground at the dry impact of the fall, something so simple and brutal, how could you really disappear? You were to be the icon of an ephemeral internet star; some pitiful soul representative of the underdogs, those unable to do what you would do in a couple of hours.
You didn't want your soul locked up in limbo, in the same world where you could no longer find your spouse. You wanted to go with them.
You felt it deep inside you; in that corner so easily mistaken for the heart. You knew that they had died long ago, after they had returned and disappeared again to play those infamous games they talked so much about. Big money, they said; that there was a big prize for whoever could make it to the finish line. Many people in one place, like rats, and prey to some strangers with morbid ideas.
True or not, your spouse had no longer returned home. Dead or missing with the supposed prize. It didn't matter to you; you had spent every last penny to pay off your debts. Debts that were not really yours, but no one else's either. It was just you, the bridge... and the stranger in the suit underneath.
Someone in the middle of the street.
A car or two honked their horns from time to time as they passed by the man. He kept looking up at you. You couldn't quite make out his features, but you'd bet it could be grief judging by his free hand raised in the air; between his fingers a piece of paper that suddenly reminded you of your letter. You felt ashamed again.
‘’It's not safe to stand on the edge of such a high bridge!‘’ he shouted. You could hear a smile in his voice.
You didn't answer, but as soon as you saw him head for the stairs leading to the bridge, you jumped down to make a dash for the other end. Your plan now was to escape. If the man caught up with you, you were going to have to explain yourself or, worse, face the police or paramedics, as you had sometimes seen with other cases of interrupted suicides. You didn't want to face up to something so overwhelming. Death shouldn't be overwhelming!
Halfway down the stairs you stumbled, and had to grab the handrail with both hands. Your body slammed sideways into the rest of the steps, and your thighs burned with the friction of the icy metal. Wearing shorts had not been a good choice. When you got to your feet as soon as you heard another call, you went back down step by step until you hit the street, and didn't look back before catching your breath and running as fast as you could; your heart in your throat, and your name in the wind, spoken by a stranger's voice with a laugh akin to that of a friend.
The stranger in the suit who seemed to know you, and whom you had never seen before in your life.
Night was already coming to the city. You had to keep your eyes open and gather your courage to cross the emptier streets; you avoided bars, restaurants or crowded areas. Your goal was to escape the pair of hurried footsteps behind you. He seemed to be about to catch up with you.
Said and done, a hand with strong fingers grabbed one of your arms, and made you stumble to the side. Your back hit one of the walls of a closed alley. When you opened your eyes, the pain clouding your vision, it took you some time to notice the imposing figure of the stranger in front of you. He was panting as much as you, but he smiled consistently while arching his eyebrows.
The sound of his briefcase hitting the floor startled you. Seconds later, your letter appeared in his free hand again.
“It’s yours, isn’t it?” he asked in a choked murmur. A few strands of hair fell into his face, accentuating his darkened eyes. His sallow skin glistened under a sheen of sweat. “The letter—it’s yours.”
“How do you know my name?” The only sensible thing you could think of to say was that. Tiredness and nerves interrupted something in your head.
His hand released your arm, caressing your bare skin to soothe the pain. It was an instant. Your letter ended up in your hands; the stranger fixed his hair, jacket and shirt, and then took his distance. You were about to repeat your question, when the name of your spouse came out of his mouth.
Name, age, address and debt. You immediately jumped at the last part.
"I've already paid off that debt!”
"I know," he nodded, "That's not why I've addressed you.”
"And why did you chase me all the way out here then?”
"It has been deemed necessary for you to know of the passing of your spouse. They have left nothing behind; but perhaps this news is more than enough for you to be able to live in peace.”
His eyes fell on the letter in your hands. You shook your head, stretching your arms out to him. The paper trembled over your fingers as a breeze brushed against it.
"I have done everything I had pending so far," you replied. "What remains for me is the solitude of the early dawn, and with it, my impending death.”
“Solitude?” he arched his eyebrows again, dwarfing the smile. “You seek solitude on the busiest avenue to end your life?”
“It's not something you should be interested in.”
“It seems to me that you're afraid of dying alone,” he snorted. “In fact, I think you were waiting for someone like me to show up to save your life. If this is distressing, it's because of your lack of ability to make a good decision.”
You choked on your saliva. “Excuse me? What was that all about?”
Your name, your age and your address hung in the air after leaving between his lips. Lips that you didn't stop seeing until his voice faded into the night.
“How do you know so much about me?" you whispered. "What have you done to my partner?”
“What you would have done to yourself had you not been responsible enough for your own problems,” he replied. “Congratulations on paying off your debt.”
.
.
.
.
A weirdo, that's what you thought of the stranger when you saw him leave. He was heading to the bridge again; possibly to recruit more people desperate for some money. Something like that was what you imagined all the time when you thought of your spouse. Had they suffered a lot in the process? Where had they been taken? Were they coming for you, or did the stranger really show up to announce your loss?
For a week you continued to ponder the idea of suicide, while living with paranoid scenarios at every suspicious sound or face. Sometimes you would turn around as you walked, looking for the same eyes in the crowd, and you would even look for a job to cover the cost of rent a little far from where you lived. Until you could sell that house you were going to keep hiding from a ghost.
You went back to the torturous routine; you fed when memories did not punish your mind, and slept when your heart no longer ached. No way did you ever cross the bridge again, let alone the adjacent avenues. You struggled to regain your composure until nothing helped: The Recruiter had returned at the three-month mark.
You found him on a platform, casually sitting in complete solitude. At least until you ran down the stairs. The train had already left, the stranger's eyes were on you, and there was nothing you could do when you had your body on the same surface. You didn't even look him in the face; you feigned ignorance, barely trembling when you heard him sigh very close to you.
“I haven't seen you again in a long time,” he said. “Was the suicide plan finally scrapped?”
You snorted to keep from letting out a dry, unfunny laugh. “I didn't want to run into you, and right now I realize I did the right thing.”
“Until now.”
When you turned to see him, he had his eyes on you again. It was an intense, opaque gaze, with a feeling akin to desire; something that made your skin crawl, and made you swallow dry. His smile didn't even feel polite anymore.
“You're really not going to take me?” you asked. “You're not going to do to me what you do to all those people?”
“What do you think I do to people?”
“They told me,” you continued in a broken voice. He arched his eyebrows, intrigued. “They told me about a ridiculous game with red and blue papers, and about the money and the slapping, too. Then they went home, and some time later disappeared again.”
“Well,” he shrugged, “it's not my fault. I never forced them into anything.”
“You killed them.”
“Oh, please,” he laughed. “I am a simple messenger. I bring the good news, and they decide. Nothing that happens next is up to me.”
“I don't believe you.” You let out a sigh, clasping your hands together over your lap. You kept your gaze on them. “What are you doing here, at the train station? What business is waiting for you?”
“Are you suddenly interested in me? How wonderful; I feel my cheeks burning.”
“You're ridiculous.”
The Recruiter's laughter broke the silence like an invasive melody. That made you nervous.
“Don't get any weird ideas about me!” you added.
“I've gotten a lot of ideas about you, but none really terrible,” he replies. “You're different from them; you're better. A lovely version.”
When you raised your head to look into his eyes, you found a slight smile on his face and a much warmer glow in his gaze. The Recruiter had leaned back, resting his back against the wall. Both legs slightly apart, and his hands on his thighs; his suitcase rested on the floor, brushing against one of his shoes.
The closeness of his right leg to your left leg did not make you uncomfortable at all, which might have generated some sort of embarrassment if not for the realization of his recent confession.
“You talk about me as if you know me,” you said. “Should I take that as a warning that I've been being investigated by a man in a suit?”
“You think that's sexy?” His smile widened as if fueled by the grace of a demon. That glint in his gaze returned to the same as before: dark and hungry.
"I think you are sick, and if you don't stop now, then I will go to the police.”
“Good luck with that,” he snorted. In one neat motion he rose from his place, and bent to pick up his suitcase before giving you one last look. “May the night be brief for you; I hope so with all my heart. I know you have not been sleeping well.”
“Because of you,” you growled.
The Recruiter let out another laugh, this time more charming. The echo continued even as he retreated on his way to the stairs, completely ignoring the arrival of the last train.
The idea that he had been resorting to the bridge to witness the resolution of your own grief made your hair stand on end. You didn't want to accept that someone so crazy was after you; but this man had clearly been tracking you, and you didn't know how much longer this situation would last without something terrible happening to you. How many women survived their stalkers? You were not going to be the exemption from a tragedy.
There's something terrorising your town every full moon. And a stroke of bad luck has you running into it more than once.
There's something terrorising your town.
The chickens are turning up dead, torn apart with their feathers and blood clumped together all over the yard. The pigs spend every full moon squealing and running around their pens like they can smell a predator in the air. The hunters say there's strange tracks out in the deep woods, tracks bigger than any wolf they've ever seen.
And there's scratches on your door - deep, gouged out claw marks like something wants to dig its way into your house.
You try not to get worked up about it.
It's probably just a fox or a coyote, right? Everyone knows they steal a chicken now and then. And you've seen the six-packs of beer your dad takes when he goes hunting. Dog tracks look pretty damn big when you're drunk and it's dark out, don't they?
You try not to get worked up about it, but every full moon you double check your locks.
You're squinting at the local paper when your best friend comes up behind you and slings his arm across your shoulders. He plucks the paper out of your hand and scoffs at the headline.
"Chickens found dead at McKinnly farm? No one should be surprised by that. Old McKinnly doesn't even have the coop properly fenced in."
"Hey! I wasn't done reading that."
He balls the paper up and tosses it into the dustbin with a smooth overhead throw.
"You are now. C'mon y/n, don't tell me you're buying into all this werewolf business too?"
Your best friend towers over you, every inch of him well bred, football star muscle. You have to crane your neck to properly glare at him.
"Don't be ridiculous. It's just sensational nonsense."
"Oh yeah? So you ain't scared of a big bad wolf breaking into your bedroom one night?"
It's your turn to scoff. "That's a pervert, not a wolf. How's a wolf even supposed to open a window?"
The school bell rings before he can give you an answer.
He groans. "I've got extra practice again tonight. Will you come watch me? We can get pizza after."
You grin. "Breaking News! Star quarterback needs his favourite cheerleader around to make life bearable."
He flicks your forehead. "Damn right I do. So whatcha say?"
"Sure. Someone's gotta be around to keep you on your toes."
It's only when he's long out of sight that you remember - you're one night away from the full moon.
He destroys his team mates at practice. When he's pounding down the field, head down and his fingers curled like claws around the ball, he almost looks inhuman.
After practice, he catches you before you can scramble away and rubs his sweaty face all over you.
"Ewwww." You shove him at him unsuccessfully. "You do that every time! It's so gross!"
"Gotta be faster than that squirt," he laughs.
By the time he's done in the locker room, you've already ordered pizza for the both of you.
You head up to the overlook, his old Mustang growling down the highway.
The overlook is exactly what it sounds like - a hill high over town with a great view of the twinkling streets far below. It's a clear night, and the almost full moon casts a silvery shadow over everything.
He slings his arm across the back of your seat and complains when you pick the olives off your side of the pizza.
"God, I hope your taste in men is better than your taste in pizza."
"My taste in men and pizza are equally questionable, thank you very much."
He laughs, "At least you're self aware. Speaking of guys, I know Murrey from Algebra asked you to prom, and Dave from Homeroom."
You groan. "How did you even hear about that?"
"I've got ears like a wolf." He turns to face you. "What did you tell them?"
"I said no. You and I go together every year."
"Atta girl." He sounds pleased.
You offer him some of your discarded olives and he bites them straight out of your fingers.
"Y'know, lots of girls were awfully disappointed you didn't ask them. When are you gonna get yourself a girlfriend, mister star quarterback?"
He leans down and ruffles your hair. "I got you in my life, don't I? That's plenty."
Eventually, his arm finds it's way to your shoulder, and he pulls you against his side. He's warmer than you and when you curl up against him, he smirks and says that's what you get for being hopelessly under dressed.
There's an old love song on the radio and you fall asleep with your hand knotted in his jacket.
He drives home extra slow and when he shakes you awake, his hands linger on your waist.
You rub your eyes groggily. "Goodnight mister wolf."
You're already halfway up the driveway before he replies, his voice too soft to hear.
"Goodnight little lamb."
On the night of the full moon, you wake up to a cloudy sky and your dog scratching at your bedroom door to be let out.
You struggle into your slippers and mutter about better toilet training. When you open the back door, he slips past your legs and shoots off into the trees. Yawning, you rest your elbows on the porch railing and try not to fall asleep.
It's only when you hear him yelping that you come awake fully.
"Cruiser? What's wrong boy?"
The street lights reach all the way to the edge of your lawn but the trees beyond are black dark. You make you way down carefully, your sense of unease growing with every whistle he ignores.
Your dad left his old wind up torch near the shed and you grab it. It whirs to life with a dull flicker.
Cruiser is whimpering louder now. You follow the sound of it, ducking under branches and trying not to slip in your flimsy slippers.
The clouds clear and for a minute or two, the forest is bright enough that you barely need the torch. You find Crusier backed up against a tree, his tail tucked between his legs. He ignores you when you call him, staring out into the dark and whining like you've never heard before.
"What's wrong boy? What's out there?"
You can't help the fear you feel. Your dog is hard to scare and you've never seen him this frightened.
Twigs snap in the gloom and you swing your torch around wildly. You try and tell yourself that it might be a deer, wandering in from the deep forest. But all you can think about is the local paper.
"Chickens torn apart. Vet suspects large wolf on the prowl."
But it can't be here, right? You're practically on the main road. You reach down and grab Cruiser's collar, your heart racing. The dog barely acknowledges you when you tug on it.
"Heel Cruiser. C'mon boy."
You try and whisper, but your voice comes out high and nervous. His whimper changes into a low growl that vibrates through his collar.
That's when the moon comes out again. And you see the werewolf.
It's coat is dark and thick, and it's crouched halfway behind a tree. Less than twenty feet away.
How the hell did it get so close without you hearing it?! Adrenaline slams into you and your heart skips into overdrive. You turn on your heel and run.
The funny thing about adrenaline is the way your own body takes control. You duck under branches before your conscious mind even realises they're there. You run faster than you ever thought possible, trees streaking by in black blurs.
You hear footsteps behind you but you can't tell if it's Cruiser or the wolf. You don't bother checking. You just keep your head down and sprint like the Devil is on your heels. Hell, he might be.
The werewolf catches you just as you break out of the tree-line. It slams into you from the side and sends you sprawling.
As you scramble to your knees, you get your first good look at the terror of the town. It's bigger than any wolf you've ever seen. Closer to the size of a small grizzly, with the thick fur to match. It's down on all fours, but it's forelegs are unusually long. It's paws are strangely misshapen and for a second, they look almost like hands. It's body feels more ape than wolf.
Oh, but it's teeth are all canine. All sharp, curving fangs, shining with spit.
It sniffs the air and with a start you realise that you're bleeding. Your palms are sliced up from trying to cushion your fall. Blood, you think numbly. Blood is supposed to make carnivores more aggressive. Whett their appetite.
Staring up at its drooling maw and narrowed eyes, you find it hard to believe anything could be more bloodthirsty.
It lunges for your throat and if it weren't for Cruiser, you'd be dead.
The dog shoots out from the forest, barking loud enough to wake the neighbourhood. He jumps at the creature's back, sinking his teeth into the fleshy muscle where neck and shoulder meet.
The werewolf roars.
It reaches up and tears Cruiser off with one nasty yank. Your dog thuds into the ground with an ugly cracking sound.
You scream - half terror and half rage. Cruiser is trying to stand, but can't manage it. One paw hangs uselessly. Oh, your poor, brave dog.
You act without thinking.
You lunge forward and punch straight at the werewolf's nose. It's hard and wet, and your fist keeps going even after contact. His teeth leave shallow cuts on your knuckles.
The werewolf yelps. Like a kicked puppy.
It backs away a few steps before lowering it's head and snarling. It gears up for another pounce.
That's when your daddy shoots it. The blast from his shotgun knocks the werewolf right out of the air.
It crashes down and scrambles to its feet. Its head swings wildly between you and your father. It growls one final time before turning on its heel and bounding into the trees.
How the hell could it even stand after a blast like that? You shudder, your eyes fixed on the trees.
You can hear your dad on the phone, frantically reporting to the Sheriff's office. You sink to your knees next to Cruiser. He draws his eyes up to yours and whines.
"My brave boy..." You stroke his head with the back of your hand and accidentally stain his fur with blood. "I'm so sorry. I'm so damn sorry."
He cranes his neck and licks the tears off your cheek. Just like when he was a puppy. You laugh, high and hysterical. And once you start, you can't stop.
Somewhere in the forest, the wolf howls.
You can't sleep at all after that. And when the Deputies question you, it takes almost all night. They don't believe you entirely, but the tracks their dogs pick up are strange enough to garner a few nervous looks.
You're on the porch, clutching a warm drink and watching the sunrise, when your best friend finds you.
He sweeps you up in a crushing hug, his cheek pressed firmly against your hair.
"Are you okay? I came as soon as I heard."
You pull away, confused. He cups your face in his hand and gently twists it left and right, scanning for any cuts or bruises.
"What? Who told you?"
He cooks his head. "You did. A few minutes ago."
Did you? You don't remember calling him. But you're tired and frightened. Maybe you just can't remember everything.
He sits you down on the porch swing and carefully inspects your palms while you tell him what happened.
"It wasn't a wolf. You believe me right? I saw it clear as day."
"You were pumped up on adrenaline and fighting for your life. You can't be sure what you saw." He sighs, "Maybe it was a wolf or maybe it was a bear or maybe it was some exotic animal that we've never heard about. But really y/n, it sure as hell wasn't a werewolf."
"Yeah... but..."
In the daylight, werewolves and horror feel silly. Illogical. You aren't a kid anymore, you shouldn't be letting your imagination run wild. There's definitely a reasonable explanation.
But every time you think about it, the more sure you feel. That creature was nothing normal or logical at all. It was wrong. Anatomy all out of proportion, eyes too bright and aware, the smell of it more like human sweat than dog musk.
No, you didn't imagine any of it. It wasn't a wolf at all.
"How's Cruiser doing?"
You take a sip of your drink and try not to cry. "Not good. The emergency vet came by and rushed him to surgery. Multiple broken bones they say, maybe some internal bleeding."
He sucks in a breath. "Oh y/n, I'm so sorry."
He opens his arms and you curl up against him gratefully. His letterman jacket is soft against your skin and the smell of him envelopes you.
"I still remember the day you got him for me," you say.
He rubs soothing circles across your back.
"He was such a runt back then. All eyes and big floppy ears. When you pulled him out of your jacket, I didn't realise he was a puppy. I thought you got me some weird stuffed teddy."
He laughs. "I tried putting a bow on him y'know. But he kept tryna bite my fingers off."
You laugh too. "I could never figure out why he didn't like you."
"Jealousy I say. Didn't want me to steal you away."
You punch his arm, smiling. "You're the only guy who'll compete with a dog for my attention."
"If that's what it takes. Put a leash on me right now if you want."
You scoff and curl up closer against him. "I would but they don't come in your size big guy."
You're too tired to notice the bruise on your best friend's nose, or the way he flinches when you touch his side. For a little while, you make the awful mistake of forgetting about the beast.
Prom comes faster then you expect. Your dress gets measured and tailored and steamed. You spend days practicing different hair styles. Cruiser limps around behind you, whining for treats like he wasn't touch and go just a month ago. The moon grows thin and then round again.
When you pull up at your best friend's house, his parents are on their way to a party of their own. His mother gives you a peck on the cheek and says you look stunning and to not forget the keys when you leave.
You laugh and wave them off and almost forget about the full moon streaming through the trees.
The house is quiet and you make your way to his room, your heels hanging from your fingers.
"Hey princess!" You knock on his door. "Are you ready yet? I'm coming in!"
You open the door to an empty room, his tux still on its hanger.
"Oh. My. God. How are you still not done?"
You can hear the shower running and you pound at the door. "We're gonna be late! I swear I'm going to kill you when you get out of there."
No response.
"Hey! I know you can hear me!"
Still nothing.
You try the handle and the door swings open a crack. Steam billows out and you slap a hand over your eyes before you can see anything too revealing.
"Hurry it up! We're gonna miss all the good songs if you don't get dressed soon. Do you really wanna slow dance to something Mr Jared the gym teacher picks out?"
You hear the slap of footsteps on wet tile and breath a sigh of relief. "Did all that football practice knock your ears outta wack? I've been yelling at you since I got here."
Something growls, low and deep.
Your eyes shoot open and you step back. But you're still too slow to react and the werewolf leaps at you. Its heavier than a man and you tumble to the floor together, its paws pinning you down by the shoulders.
Its snout is right in front of your face, almost touching your nose. Lips curl away from awfully long fangs.
It growls almost like a man, almost like it's saying, "Mine."
You scream, kicking and tossing and failing to get away. It's claws prick holes in the satin of your dress and draw little beads of blood.
You scream your best friend's name, terrified that the beast got him too. You're going to die, you think desperately, you're going to die and your poor mother won't even be able to refund your prom dress. If you weren't screaming, you might have laughed.
But the monster doesn't kill you.
Instead, it licks the tears off your cheek. Just like Cruiser did a month ago. It growls again, but the sound is lighter. Pleased almost.
You grow still, confused and terrified of provoking it. Your best friend's room is cluttered with football gear - trophies and jerseys and signed helmets. The moon shines dully off all of it. And you're in the very centre, with a monster pinning you to the ground.
The moon dips behind a cloud and the werewolf changes right before your eyes. Hair and snout receding, his eyes darkening from wolf amber to warm brown.
It's only his teeth that stay the same. All sharp points that peak through his lips.
Your best friend is on top of you, totally naked and still warm from the shower.
"I didn't want to hurt you y/n, I swear."
His voice is lower somehow, like the wolf's growl is just under the surface.
You're too shocked to move. Too shocked to scream. This must be a dream. It's too surreal to be real.
He leans down and kisses you on the cheek. "I wanted to tell you. But it would have sounded crazy. I grow claws and teeth on the full moon? I heal faster than I used to? I can smell when you're ovulating and when you're on your period?"
He pulls back and tilts his head. "When we were kids, we promised we wouldn't keep secrets. And now you know."
"You...you were outside my house that night."
He laughs. "I'm outside your house every night dummy. That was just the night you caught me."
"Why?"
He shakes his head the way he always does when you say something dumb. "To keep you safe. To keep other animals away from you. To protect you, like I said I would."
His hands slip from your shoulders to your waist. "But now you know."
He grins, his teeth awfully sharp. "Now I can make you just like me."
He holds you down and kisses you and nips at your neck hard enough to draw blood. And when the clouds clear from the moon, you feel your teeth start to lengthen.
Something is terrorising your town. And you should have know better than to cross its path.
Disclaimers: Bad Blood Yautja OC, violence, gore, stalking, reader gets physically bullied around, reader has no specified gender or racial identity, potential slow burn series??? NOT PROOF READ
In Short: You are a wildlife ranger and have noticed there has been some disturbing animal poachings lately. Determined to find the sick bastard, you end up in the path of a Bad Blood that thinks you're pretty hot
So... I finally watched Killer of Killers... yeah I love these huge aliens. Even the skinny bastards are big as shit.
This is a little intro to an OC I've been making ever since I watched Killers of Killers, slightly based on the Bad Blood predators from The Predators movie a while back.
Idk I get bored of the "noble savage" trope and because the yautja are so intelligent and cool, I feel like we should get more assholes fr.
Let me know if you like what I'm putting down and if I should maybe do a part two or a proper intro to my OC <3
PLEASE DO NOT INTERACT IF YOU ARE UNDER THE AGE OF 18 THNX
~◇~
For five years as a wilderness ranger, you’d learned that a quiet forest was a terrified one.
You adjust the strap of your bolt-action rifle. You’d been out here for forty-eight hours tracking what you thought was a particularly sadistic poaching ring.
It started with the deer, then the elk. Last week, it was a three-hundred-pound black bear found twenty feet up in a hemlock, its pelt shredded and its entire spinal column removed with surgical, cauterized precision. No local hunter had that kind of gear.
You push through a dense thicket of mountain laurel and freeze.
The smell hits you first, iron and bile, thick enough to coat the back of your throat.
It isn't an animal this time.
In the center of the clearing lies a mound of raw, red meat. You recognize the boots first, the heavy, steel-toed tread of the local poaching scum you’d been trying to catch for months.
They hadn't just been killed; they had been processed. Their skins were piled neatly to the side like discarded rugs, and their headless torsos were stacked in a grotesque, mocking monument.
"Jesus," you whisper, the word dying in the oppressive air. There are no footprints. No tire tracks. No signs of a struggle. Just a silent, impossible massacre.
You reach for the radio on your shoulder, your fingers trembling as you click the mic.
"Station Four. I have a 10-54 at the North Ridge gorge. Multiple human casualties. Extremely high level of violence. Do you copy? Over."
Only static greets you. A dry, empty hiss.
Your heart sinks. You’d forgotten. The main relay tower at the base was scheduled for a hardware swap today. A total tech blackout for the next six hours.
You are miles from the nearest trailhead, and the only people who knew where you were are currently rotting in a pile at your feet.
A sharp click-clack echoes from the canopy above. It’s a rhythmic, mechanical sound, like giant insects grinding their mandibles.
You spin, bringing your rifle up, but the trees are a blur of autumn gold and deep shadows. Then, you see it: a ripple in the air. A distortion, like heat rising off a summer road, moving with impossible fluidity between the branches.
It isn't a man. And it definitely isn't a bear.
You don’t wait to see it clearly. You turn and bolt.
The four-mile hike in had taken you hours; you try to make the return in minutes. Your lungs burn, and the forest seems to shrink around you. Every time you glance over your shoulder, the shimmer is there, always at the periphery, leaping from trunk to trunk.
If it wasn't for the panic, you would have noticed it hasn't attacked you.
It's almost as if it's herding you. Steering you away from the open ridges and deeper into the jagged, rocky throat of the valley.
You finally break through the final treeline, your breath coming in jagged sobs.
Your white ranger truck sits in the middle of the gravel turnout, a beacon of safety in the dying light. You scramble to the driver’s side, fumbling your keys, and shove them into the ignition.
Click.
You try again.
Click.
"No, no, no... please," you whimper, slamming your hand against the dash. You throw yourself out of the vehicle and yank the hood release.
The engine bay is a hollowed-out cavern. The heavy iron block has been ripped clean from the chassis. The remaining wires have been meticulously braided together into an intricate, mocking knot.
A cold realization douses your adrenaline. A bear destroys. A mountain lion kills. But this... this was deliberate. It required thumbs. It required a sense of irony. It required a mind that understood exactly how to trap a human being.
Whatever had been hunting, you wasn't a "thing." It was a who.
A heavy, metallic thud makes the truck groan.
It stands over seven feet tall, clad in dark, oil-rubbed bronze plating. You find yourself cataloguing it through the lens of your training, trying to find a box to put it in.
Your brain instinctively reaches for human parallels. The frame is towering, but the proportions; the massive breadth of the shoulders, the narrowing of the waist, the corded, heavy musculature of the thighs. It’s a humanoid frame but scaled to a god-like, terrifying degree.
Your mind, desperate to make sense of the predator, involuntarily assigns a gender to the sheer, aggressive mass of the form.
He. This isn't an "it" anymore. He is standing right in front of you.
You jerk your rifle up, the barrel shaking as you aim for the dark, faceless metal mask. But before you can pull the trigger, a clawed hand reaches out and grips the steel barrel of your gun.
He then gives a sharp, brutal shove against the weapon, the force of it slamming the butt of the rifle into your shoulder and pinning you against the side of the truck.
The air is driven from your lungs in a sharp wheeze. Your vision swims, your fingers going numb as you gasp for breath.
Seeing your grip loosen, he casually jerks the rifle from your hands and tosses it into the dark pines like it’s a piece of refuse.
Now, he invades your space. He steps closer, his massive frame blocking out the last of the sunset. He’s so close you can smell the ozone and musk rolling off him.
Your hands fly up instinctively, palms flat against his chest plates to push him back, but it’s like trying to move a mountain.
Your fingers slide over the etched metal and the warm, pebbled skin of his midsection. He’s solid. Unbothered even. And he's standing so close you can hear the strange, heavy rhythm of his breathing.
A small, choked sound escapes your throat. You’ve spent your career being the one in control of the wilderness, the one with the badge and the gun.
Now, stripped of your tools and trapped in the shadow of something that doesn't belong in your world, that control shatters. You feel small. Not just in height, but in the entire biological food chain.
He reaches up, disengaging the clamps on his head, and pulls the mask away.
Beneath the metal, his face is a terrifying landscape of leathery skin and four giant, hooked mandibles. His amber eyes aren't the mindless eyes of a shark; they are bright, intelligent, and currently fixed on you with a heavy, predatory focus.
"Please," you whisper, the word trembling. It’s a useless plea, but your brain is misfiring, caught between the urge to scream and the paralyzing realization that he hasn't killed you yet.
He doesn't snarl. Instead, he leans down, his head tilting with a cruel, feline curiosity.
You try to flinch away, but there is nowhere to go. You’re forced to endure the sensation of his mandibles clicking softly as they fan out, framing your face.
The tip of one serrated hook brushes against your cheek. It doesn't break the skin, but the intent is clear, he’s touching you because he can.
A deep, tectonic purr starts in his chest. It’s a low-frequency rumble that vibrates through your own ribcage, making your knees go weak.
You feel a sudden, dizzying rush of heat that has nothing to do with fear; it’s the sheer, primal intensity of being the sole focus of something this powerful.
You’re braced for the end.
For the blade or the bite.
But it doesn’t come.
Achingly slowly, he steps back, granting you a dizzying pocket of space. You slump against the truck, your legs shaking so violently you have to grip the door handle just to stay upright.
He stands there in the twilight, a towering silhouette of bronze and mottled skin. He watches you scramble for your dignity, his amber eyes tracking the way you frantically look toward the dark woods, then back to your hollowed-out truck.
He’s made his point. Whatever that point may be.
With a slow, deliberate movement, he reaches down and retrieves his mask from the dirt. He shakes the forest floor's debris from the metal, the red lights of the visor flickering back to life.
He doesn't put it on immediately. He looks at you one last time, a look of dark, expectant promise.
He raises the helmet. From the vocal emitters in the neck, a sound emerges.
"Go on then."
The blood freezes in your veins because to your utter shock, it isn't a mechanical recreation. It’s your voice. It’s the exact weary, impatient tone you’d used two days ago when shooing a stubborn elk off the trail.
And just like that, with the languidly of a lion in his terrioty, he simply turns and leaps, his massive frame vanishing into the canopy with the silence of a ghost.
You stand alone in the gravel, the silence of the Ridge returning, heavier than before.
You’re "free" to walk away, to hike the miles back to civilization in the dark, but you know it’s an illusion.
It didn't need to be said, but you know whatever the fuck you just encountered isn't letting you go. He’s just giving you time to realize that no matter where you go, you’ll eventually have to come back to his woods.
(I may send in a few more requests for Dino squad as well-)
what about in the Dino squad a reader who is a Compsognathus (one of if not the smallest dinosaurs) who has hidden from everyone that they are anything less then human, and don’t know about the other Dino kids either? I’m thinking they were at the beach that day as well but at a different time then the others
Ahaha, yes! Let's see what I can whip up for ya:
You aren't sure what your life had come to.
You'd been with your biology class on a fieldtrip, down by the beach, and somehow, someway, it turned into something a lot more than just a quick trip to the shore.
Because by the time you'd gotten home, you discovered you could turn into something new. Something impossible to be.
A dinosaur.
A small one, a Compsognathus, but a dinosaur nonetheless.
It was... insane.
Scary.
It started to become worse when other dinosaurs started popping up.
And they were a LOT bigger than you.
So, with all the reasoning you had, you kept hidden. No need to reveal yourself and possibly get eaten, right? Nope, not you.
The situation died back a bit, things going back to a weird, settled normal... Yet somehow that didn't last, either...
They saw you.
There were a few of them, fighting mutated plant thingies, and you'd been helping on the sidelines, guiding animals to safety, when you crossed paths with the carnosaur. It locked eyes with you for a moment, then something burst inside your mind:
There's another one?!
That caught the attention of the other dinosaurs, who came thundering over, all tall and imposing. You took the opportunity to dart between their feet, aiming to escape into the streets.
Woah, woah, WAIT!
We're like you!
You ignored whatever the h*ck was grating at your thoughts, letting your feet carry you swiftly to safety. The rest of the night, you slept in a curled-up ball, hidden amongst your blankets, trying to keep your fears at bay...
After that incident, the dinosaurs always seemed to be looking for you.
Well...
Dino you.
And your classmates seemed a little rattled in class. The class was full of odd, strange kids, but these five tended to stick together no matter what. But something seemed to have excited them, because now they were talking with others in class, asking questions, listening to the biology teacher, who only sighed at their antics and told them to be careful.
They ended up talking with you.
You had Lance, a team leader of sorts, into sports, and always wearing shades of brown and black and red. A cool guy, but a little intense.
You had Fred, large and adept with plants, who enjoyed working at animal shelters and helping strays, in overalls and camo. Sweet, and didn't tolerate bullying at all.
You had Wanda, stoic, unstoppable, and dressed in red. She put any person to shame in the intimidating apartment. A twin, but the older, more scary, of the two. She tended to study medicinal plants and animals.
You had Pietro, fast, loud, talkative Pietro. Never seen without pale blues or greens, with a white shirt or blouse, he was someone who was quite popular with the school. He was also a bit of a diva. Wanda's twin, the ... less scary... one. He knew how to talk with people, how to make them feel welcome.
And there was Todd, or Toad, as people called him. Short, long legs, shaggy hair, and always wearing green. The guy loved amphibians, wore bracelets, and seemed pretty chill. Not too bad to round the whole group out.
You weren't sure how you caught the attention of all five of them. To be fair, you don't think they knew either.
Asking how long you'd been in the class, what animals and/or plants you enjoyed, what you thought might help the environment... Basic questions. Until they weren't.
"So, you remember that field trip awhile back, right? Went down to the beach, note the environment, clean up anything hazardous... Teach says you also happened to be there. Which group were you assigned?"
"I was... assigned to your group, actually. I just, hung back a bit. Stuck closer to the shoreline."
That seems to cause a ripple effect amongst them, some unspoken agreement.
"So... did Teach tell you anything about how to earn extra credit?"
"No...?"
"It's quite simple: You join up with one of the class groups, and we do a presentation on one of the prehistoric creatures who they've mentioned. We already have one in mind, if you're game."
"Sure! Sounds good."
"Okay. How does a ... Compsognathus, sound?"
And suddenly you believe your secret isn't so secret anymore.
cw(s): yandere themes, torture: left vague (Bombshell), sadism (Bombshell), heavy manipulation (Bomshell and Kickback), drugging-implantation-and other dubious nonconsensual acts (Kickback), semi-descriptive electrical torture (Shrapnel), descriptive injuries from electrical torture (Shrapnel)
“ Lost in Rating ”
꒰ Animated Blitzwing, G1 Beachcomber, G1 Blast Off, G1 Dead End, G1 Hot Rod, G1 Onslaught, G1 Wheeljack ꒱
“ Lost in Rating: Vinyls ”
꒰ Blurr (G1), Galvatron (G1), Kup (G1), Tracks (G1), Wreck-Gar (G1) ꒱
tag: @yan-randomfandom @ramuneena
𝚈𝚊𝚗. 𝙶1 𝙱𝚘𝚖𝚋𝚜𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚕 (𝚠/ 𝚌𝚢𝚋𝚎𝚛𝚝𝚛𝚘𝚗𝚒𝚊𝚗 𝚍𝚊𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐)
Oh, his most sought-after subject. He craves your plating under his servos. You may have evaded him thus far, but you can't forever. Every being's energy wanes.
You're a pole-sitter, neutral; he'd despise the word if it wasn't so advantageous to him. You have no allies, no home, and you certainly aren't memorable enough for anyone to realize you're missing. Not that any bystander or convenient one time friend would be processor-less enough to go after you, especially knowing Bombshell is the one that took you.
The Autobots can't expend their resources on some factionless Cybertronian. That doesn't mean he won't be cautious. That Prime is so self-righteous in his convictions. Bombshell knows you're too prideful to lay yourself at the pedes of the Autobots and ask for assistance.
The raw power of the Insecticons overwhelms you with ease. It's so easy that it leaves Bombshell feeling paranoid. They hop from place to place, so the disappearance of one unknown, lone Cybertronian shouldn't spark anyone's suspicions. Still, simply still, there is always a new variable that may pop up in the most unfortunate of moments.
Bombshell doesn't claim to love you. If owning is love, then he loves you. If it isn't, then his feelings are too complex to be boiled down to such a simple term.
Love.
The word is tantalizing; it's a substance that must be carefully monitored and controlled.
This is much more than such a word, but Bombshell has already made that clear enough.
He shows you his collection of faded sparks that he's gathered from his millions of years of battle. He can't help but chitter happily while introducing the immobilized you to all of his trophies.
He walks you through his lab, vaguely explaining the various life forms he has caged and sedated. He goes into an awfully detailed explanation on how he is manipulating the biology of the non-organic ones.
He shows you to your new habsuite: such a well-constructed cage with electrical inhibitors that weaken you enough to the point where you can barely stand, with all of your higher thought processing shut off in an attempt to conserve power. It's isolating: four grey, freezing walls that are soundproof. Nothing gets in or out unless it has Bombshell's permission.
He is your only point of contact. Bombshell has forbidden any of his kin or other Decepticons from meeting you, at least for the time being. It'd set back your training.
He's eager to "play" with you and has been doing it since your first meeting. Only now dods he have complete authority over what to do with you. He does so with a sparkling-like glee that contrasts his sadism. A few of the Decepticons pity your fate, but they do well to mind their business. They don't care that much.
First he implants a cerebro-shell into you so you have no chance of escaping. His cerebro-shell connections form a bond that is stronger than that of a conjunx or a cassette player and its deployer. This bond isn't mutual. It's parasitic and consuming, and he gets off on how he feels your circuitry bending to his whims.
Next comes him forcing you into increasingly ruinous and degrading acts to break you. He has made himself acquainted with the things you wouldn't dare utter, much less share willingly with a con you claim to despise. He preys on your traumatic memories, forcing you into these simulated situations where he is the arbiter of your suffering. He inflicts your greatest embarrassments upon you, relishing in your once stubborn edge morphing into a state of panicked begging.
He does all of this because he needs a blank slate, after all. To recreate you in his image is the greatest honor he could bestow upon you. It isn't something you deserve, but if you are his most-loved subject, then you must be worthy of his praise.
It takes longer to make you compliant than he calculated. He feels a heaviness in his spark at this turning in your transformation. It's something he can't quite describe. It's gain with loss, and that is the nature of science. He's simply beginning to realize that as much as he abuses you, breaks your processor, and breaks your spark (metaphorically), he treasures the essence of you. He'll make sure that doesn't get lost on his way to making you anew.
𝚈𝚊𝚗. 𝙶1 𝙺𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 (𝚠/ 𝚑𝚞𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚍𝚊𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐)
Kick back and relax; you'll always have a good time with him. You'll have such a good time that you may never want to leave.
The other Insecticons can be a little much. He understands.
An Autobot ally—ugh, the word disgusts him so. But you'll never be able to tell. Some nasty Insecticons, whom his brothers and he may or may not have created, attempted to attack you while you were all alone! How scandalous. How vile. How bad. You poor thing. Then he jumped right into your life and saved you.
Don't cry, please; he isn't like the others. Not all Insecticons are so bad. You don't trust him. He understands. He'll prove it to you, even going as far as to save an Autobot, which he later offlined when they gossiped about him to you. He has no idea how your friend died! Oh, that's so sad.
He slowly grows closer to you, and that nasty, possessive feeling rears its head. That feeling that says you aren't quite as disposable as he planned on being. Which is bad. A human should capture his affections, but something about you is irresistible. You're so easy to manipulate. You'll sit in his servos and chat with him like he isn't fantasizing about having his way with you and then letting his kin join in. He just wants to slather you in honey and then lick it off of you. You're the sweetest treat he could ever have.
His charming nature will falter for less than a moment when you call him a friend. "Friend" is another word for "fool." He's far from that. He will be so much more than that. Just look at him. He's the perfect mate for you.
Now, now, he understands that he can't just pin you down and mark you. He wouldn't want to startle such a delectable thing as yourself. He's used to playing the long game. He's patient, and he will claw his way into every facet of your life.
Does his new interest mean he will stop using you to his advantage? Oh, never.
You're such a lovely, naive little informant for him and his siblings. Don't tell your friends you know him! Hush, they're so judgmental, but he isn't like the others. He just wants to get to know you. He enjoys hearing about your day, your entire life in fact! He catalogs each word of yours into his processor and stores the data for later use.
You provide him with such sweetness. Yet you leaving to go back to the Autobots leaves a certain bitterness gnawing at his plating, threatening to dim his spark. He'll make sure he can monitor you. A tracking chip never really hurt anyone—well, maybe it will considering he was able to get you under Bombshell's knife and had his fellow Insecticon attach it to your nervous system with paralyzing capabilities. Such a small addendum. There's really nothing to worry about.
It's practically untraceable too! He can't let any awful accidents happen on his watch. Even if the tortured expression of betrayal on your squishy face would be delightful to intake.
Slowly but surely he keeps you in his nest later and later. He makes sure a nice concoction Bombshell cooked up keeps you submissive while Shrapnel uses his fine-tuned electric shocks to gently stimulate you. All of your yummy pheromones and hormones and other organic stuff releases. They can smell it. It makes them all chitter happily. All the while you're sleepy yet awake, blissful while surrounded by beasts that until late wanted nothing more than to eat you.
He feeds you such believable lies about how the Autobots betrayed your trust. The Insecticons are Decepticons, but they're nothing like that nasty Megatron and his degenerate crew. The world is so scary. Remember all the times you almost died because of the Autobots' carelessness? Crime is on the rise, he heard. And your so-called organic support system did such bad things while you weren't around. You didn't know? Now you do. It's a benefit of the Insecticons having wicked good hearing.
He treats you so good and gives you so many things! Some would say they are the best things. Anything and everything you would ever need. So he may make you do humiliating things and be his glorified pet. So you may get passed around to the other Insections. It isn't anything you can't handle. Has he ever steered you wrong? No, he hasn't.
You're his favorite piece in his collection: his collection of miscellaneous treasures. It reminds him of that organic saying he once heard, and he despises that he's even referencing it: "One man's trash is another man's treasure." Just don't get too out of place in his collection. He won't mind putting you back in line; it's only for your benefit, of course.
𝚈𝚊𝚗. 𝙶1 𝚂𝚑𝚛𝚊𝚙𝚗𝚎𝚕 (𝚠/ 𝚑𝚞𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚍𝚊𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐)
Having to live in such squalor―squalor for millions of years―years tends to drive one's processor to the brink of insanity―sanity.
Tearing through organic farms―arms is good for one's spark―spark. It's almost as satisfying as seeing how the humans―humans react to being fried―fried by his electrical shocks―shocks.
Such a little creature―creature as yourself should've stayed indoors. Instead―instead, you were met with three hulking metal insects chowing down on anything they got their dentae on. That includes humans. The organic matter of such fleshy creatures is delectable―delectable. It causes his mandibles to stim happily, oral lubricant rolling from his intake at the thought of devouring another one―one.
They would have to tear off your coverings. Those don't taste as good―good. But watching you cower―cower stirs something in his circuits―circuits. It gets so boring―boring when there is nothing to play with after their ravenous rampages. Flesh is so easy to break-ache under their digits. You'd be a short-lived distraction but an entertaining one―one. He churrs to his fellow Insecticons-cons, relating the plan to them.
Keep you―you. Use you―you. Easy disposal when done.
Shrapnel loves—loves to collect broken things, especially scarred things, things that deal with e-lec-tricity. He can do all to you while pointedly telling his fellow Insecticons that he gets to break you first—first.
Mold his fun toy into the perfect pet. Make your organic processor die out (from all the fun he'll have with you)—well, almost—a dead toy is no fun. Unfortunately, he's a little impatient. Constantly hungry. Loves your struggling but also finds that sometimes he doesn't have the time to deal with it. He'll hand you off to Kickback and Bombshell. At first, he practically throws them to you, wanting to hear those bones crack—crack, flesh squelch—squelch.
Then he's just a little more careful. He dumps you into one of their servos. He starts mumbling for Bombshell to put you back together. There isn't softness in his tone, but there is hesitance you can catch glimpses of, and that's the most you'll get for a long while.
You aren't close to being his equal—equal, so why should he care?
One of his favorite pastimes is zapping you. He doesn't exactly do research on how many volts a human can take before they offline. He prefers to find out himself (which really is the fun part when you think about it)! You never know when you'll either feel a tiny jolt or an entire lighting bolt. Lightning only strikes twice—twice? Much more than that. It either strikes you, those stupid Autobots, or a conniving Decepticon!
Mhm, Shrapnel adores—adores poking and prodding, rubbing, licking, and more over the electric burns and their resulting scars that he so willingly and lovingly gives you. It always causes his mandibles to clack against each other, inadvertently creating more electricity for him to use, most likely against you. You really are lucky! Most beings are taken down—down in one strike—strike! He even keeps the amperage down for your frail, human body. How kind.
He isn't the best at taking care of you, if you couldn't already tell. The resulting injuries from your shock therapy, as Bombshell has coined it (seeing as how he is always patching you up and logging how much does what to you), aren't pretty. His minor shocks only create superficial damage to your skin: first- or second-degree burns. The blisters adorn your body, so beautiful—beautiful and red—red—red! It may be his favorite color on you—you! His favorite canvas to chew on when you're already so deliciously—liciously groaning out in agony. It's overloading pressure to his audials—audials.
The higher the voltage, the more he's expressing his love to you—you!
Cardiac defibrillation and heart arrhythmias are irrelevant words. Spasming from his love just means you look even more like delicious prey—prey to him. Bombshell can find new organs for you! Kickback can whisper pretty words in your fleshy cartilage to get you to not shake so badly around him—him—him.
Entrance and exit wounds look so good on you. The skin around them blackens as your bones become superheated from his wonderful charge—charge. After a while the necrosis begins to irritate him. So much time—time before he can love on you again. He may have Bombshell reinforce your skin with metal. Ooh, perfect—fect! Then the zaps will hurt extra hard, and you'll still be alive for it!
Maybe after all of this, he realizes that he does want to bond with you—you—you—you—you! He isn't pleased with your memory loss from all his love, but that's okay! It makes it easier to be, what is the word Kickback uses, softer with you. Letting you recharge with him, refuel with him, and even engage in Insecticon traditions—traditions.
You may eventually exchange the shock therapy for something else, but it will be far more invasive and humiliating knowing Shrapnel. Don't worry too much though—though! He has the best aftercare—aftercare.
𝚈𝚊𝚗. 𝙶1 𝙼𝚎𝚝𝚛𝚘𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚡 (𝚠/ 𝚑𝚞𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚍𝚊𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐)
He's held many species within him that have been aided by the Autobots, but humans are by far the greatest mystery to him. He may reside on Earth most of the time, but that exposure does little in helping him learn about your nature. You, the unbonded human who resides within him—you, whom he has helplessly become enamored with. It was accidental, obviously. He can think of at least five intergalactic rules he's breaking by being infatuated with you. He just can't stop how his spark pulses, causing power surges all throughout the city, as his audials tune in to listen to you speaking with the others.
His feelings bring him great shame. Perhaps it would be better if you were human-bonded, married, he corrects himself. Spike has Carly with their offspring, Daniel. They seem so—happy together; even when the Decepticons threaten everything they still cling to each other, their bond growing stronger. He wonders if he could ever have such a thing with you.
He's gigantic. He's well aware. He's always felt such insecurity in his size; there's a lack of fulfillment in his duties. It is and will never be enough. Too many bots have died within him. He has failed many times over. Seeing you, though, soothes the ache of it all.
The ache grows when he realizes he could never be the partner you need. He's thousands of feet tall, greater than 305 meters, a gargantuan—a Titan. That has always been his greatest strength, but it's a weakness in attempting to connect with you. He's far too vital to mass shift just so he can spend time with you. Even if he did, he'd easily dwarf you, unable to touch you without fear that he'll break every bone in your human frame.
He can use his holoform, but he isn't actually sure how he's supposed to project himself. Would you prefer him or an organic version of him? Would you be disgusted, seeing as how you reside inside him? Do you even wish for him to form a relationship with you?
All these doubts circulate in his processor, creating problems for the bots. They aren't entirely sure what's wrong with Metroplex. These anomalies have never popped up before. Yeah, they recently had to fix his T-Cog, but the diagnostics didn't show any other physical irregularities.
In all honesty, it isn't Metroplex who you should be wary of; it's the bots that will do anything to keep their ultimate weapon, their greatest and final defense, in good health. He's too self-sacrificing to be selfish when it comes to you. He'll yearn himself to the Allspark, such a strain on his emotions that it manifests into tangible reality. The Autobots can't allow that.
They found out when some of the engineers heard something eerily similar to your designation being creaked out by his various mechanical components. Rumors spread fast in the city. Many chattered about whether a human could learn the art of cityspeaking. Others became panicked, realizing that if this human were to betray them, they'd lose their greatest ally.
"Anxious," "paranoid," and "fanatic," are just a few of the things you could call the bots who began watching over you like carriers, insisting on this and that about who you are and what you will do. Quite honestly, it greatly irritated Metroplex. The kin he has given protection to now betrays him in such a visceral way that it makes the anomalies normalities. More bots are spooked, more control is exerted over you by others, and he is further displeased.
A solution is needed—swiftly, at that. After a battle with Trypticon, Rodimus engages with Metroplex. Both Autobots want you to have a say in this, but Metroplex's spark threatens to collapse in on itself at the thought that he may be separated from you, for your own safety. Surprisingly, Rodimus got you on board with the Autobots' idea with ease in a way that makes him foolishly believe that he will have a chance with you.
You will work in his most intimate of places in exchange for the Autobots treating you (semi-)normally. You even have a habsuite right next to his spark chamber. He functions better than he ever has. He falls deeper in his need for you, to the point where your arrangement turns from a suggestion into a demand. Rodimus makes the hard choice to keep you locked inside Autobot City. Any time you leave, problems arise. They can't fix it, and sacrifices need to be made when leading—no matter how hard.
The Autobots only hope that being stripped of your autonomy to a certain extent won't anger Metroplex. Never in any time in any reality do you want to see Metroplex enraged. Scum of any kind threatening you has his gears already turning so that he may meet them faceplate-to-faceplate. Very few can meet his height. His judgment is swift. The verdict? Death. He has never felt more alive than when he crushes a threat under his pede.
He feels great peace knowing that you will no longer be in danger. His fuse may not be short, but when it blows, it is explosive.
He feels more insecure than angry about the Autobots keeping you trapped so close to him. He wants to push against the notion, but you're so vital to him that you are bonded to him—even if you aren't aware of it.
