#doey + reader

[backtothedrawingboard]

Take a Break

Ler!Doey + Lee!Reader

Summary: Poppy has been pushing you way too hard. Doey notices your unusually erratic behavior and encourages you to rest.

CW: Tickle fic, mentions of starvation, momentary spiraling of negative thoughts, cussing

TW: None

AN: Poppy is portrayed as a bit of a villain. I don't like or trust her, so I'm showing my true feelings of her XD

Part 2

~~~~~~~~~~

Help. Help. Help. That's all you ever had to do. You used to be an employee at this hellscape of a factory but faced experimentation. Now here you were. Stuck as one of the only adult figures in the Safe Haven. The children naturally gravitated towards you. You were an adult, and thus all-knowing and all-caring. The truth was, you had no idea what you were doing. You just unwillingly took the burden.

Poppy always put everything on you, Doey, and to a lesser degree Ollie. You supposed Kissy Missy was also given a lot to do, but she basically served as Poppy's own personal slave. You never liked that. The poor toy was used primarily as a body guard and escort and treated with minimal care by Poppy. You understood why Missy put up with it, but it was still...not right.

You rested on a sleeping bag in your little corner of the Haven. Since you served as an authority figure, you were lucky enough to get a tent and string lights around the area. You shared the space with Doey, but he usually slept infrequently. You snatched a pillow from his pile and put it behind your head.

The last couple days were hell. Food was so scarce that whenever you went in search of anything to bring back for the kids, you had to eat it for your own sake. The couple scraps you did manage to bring back were gratefully devoured by whoever could get to it first. Unfortunately, this led to you breaking up fights. The little smiling critter kids could go feral for any crumb and you, Doey, and Missy had to pull them off each other almost every time food was distributed. You were just glad that they were so small that they were easily stopped.

You rubbed your face tiredly. Poppy wanted you to get spare parts for lighting. You managed to hold your ground and insist on going tomorrow. You could still feel the hard glare that the doll gave you. You rolled onto your side and curled up. You could feel a headache starting to pound in your artificial skull.

You should just go ahead and get the scavenge over with. It's just one less thing you'll have to deal with tomorrow. That way all you'll have is scavenging, reading to the kids, repairing any instability in the Haven's fortifications, and-...

You covered your head with Doey's pillow. It didn't stop the thoughts from flowing in. Keep the kids happy and safe, stay alive, keep the kids happy and safe, stay alive, keep the kids happy and safe, stay alive, keep the kids ha-

You rolled onto your back and screamed into the pillow. Dammit, stop thinking. Stop. Thinking. Everything was fine. No one was lost to the Doctor or the Prototype in a while. Everything was running smoothly. The kids were happy- well, as happy as one could be here- and Poppy had a plan in the works.

You twisted and turned fretfully on the sleeping bag. Any effort to shut out your thoughts was met with even more aggressive reminders and memories. You kicked the blanket off of yourself without any intention of getting up.

"Hey, pal...Something wrong?" You stopped moving upon hearing the gentle voice. You kept the pillow over your head. The soft thumping of Doey's footsteps were heard approaching your cot and a soft hand pressed on your shoulder.

"Hey..." he started. "What's wrong?"

You shook your head. "Nothing..." you mumbled back.

You could feel Doey try to pull the pillow off your head. "Come on, Y/N. I'm not that gullible." As you pulled the pillow back down over your head, the doughman huffed and yanked it off. You curled in a ball to block out the light from the string lights.

"Stooop," you mumbled. You were met with a light smack of the pillow.

"Alright. Enough pouting. Get up," Doey teased. You grumbled and hid your face in your arms and knees. He was used to an occasional bout of grumpiness from you and figured this was what it was. He smacked you again a few more times.

You snatched the pillow and yanked it violently out of his hand, smashing it against him several times angrily. "Stop! Just fucking stop!" you yelled. You attacked him with the pillow more before bursting into tears.

Doey flinched and stood still as you hit him. It didn't hurt. It was just a pillow and he was just dough, after all. But the shock of it left him motionless. Once you're done attacking him, he shifted a little and gave you a sad look. He sat down next to the bag and put a hand on your back.

"I'm sorry..." he whispered. "I didn't realize. What do you need?"

You shook your head and covered your face with your arms. "I don't-" You were cut off by your sobs. "I don't know." You sniffled and sobbed louder as you felt the doughy hand rub your back soothingly.

"Shh...Take your time." The doughman stayed with you and rubbed your back and played with your hair soothingly through your entire meltdown. You didn't know what was happening. It never happened before. You wiped your eyes and sniffled pathetically.

After a few minutes, you took Doey's arm in your hands and hugged it to yourself. He cooed softly and ruffled your hair with his free hand.

"Feeling better?" he asked gently. You nodded and nuzzled his hand. He scratched under your chin.

"Y-yeah..." you mumbled. "Thank you..."

"Of course." He continued scritching your chin as he spoke. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Ordinarily you would decline immediately...But your head still hurt, and your chest hurt, and you just...couldn't do it anymore.

"Y-yeah," you answered shakily. "But, um...Can I get some water first?"

Doey nodded and stood up, drawing his hand away from you. "I'll be right back."

You curled in a ball and stared at nothing while he was gone. You didn't think, which was a relief. But you didn't feel either. You didn't know what to do, but you didn't bother trying to figure it out. Doey returned with water and a light snack.

"Hey, pally. Here you go." He tried to sound cheery, but his voice had a hint of sadness in it. You rolled onto your back and sat up enough to drink the water and eat. Your headache immediately lessened.

"Thank you..." you mumbled. Your friend nodded and smiled sympathetically.

"Of course, Y/N. Now, do you want to tell me what's wrong?"

You closed your eyes and nodded a little, rubbing your eyes. "Yeah..." You took a breath to steady your shaky voice. "I'm just...tired. So tired. I don't...I don't know what to do." You stared down at your lap glumly. Doey sat next to the cot again and took one of your hands in his own, giving it a little squeeze.

"I know exactly what you mean..." he muttered gently. You looked up at him. "I'm guessing it's Poppy?"

You nodded and wiped your eyes. "Y-yeah...She just-" You growled. "She won't stop. I'm so...so tired. And she's always nagging me to keep going stuff again and again and...I can't." You sniffled as your eyes prickled with tears again.

Doey reached up and wiped your tears. "Hey...I know. Don't let her walk all over you. You gotta be strong and flexible." He smiled and stretched out a hand inhumanely far. "Like me!"

You couldn't help but giggle a little, your laughs cutting with a short sob before turning back to giggling. Doey smiled more and ruffled your hair.

"There we go. I'm here to help. Take all the time you need," he ordered happily.

You couldn't help but frown a little and looked down at your lap again.

"Um...I was actually thinking of going out for lighting like Poppy said...I was just resting a bit first..." you said carefully. You could feel the disapproving scowl from your friend without even looking up. "I know...But it's just one less thing I'll have to deal with."

"Absolutely not. You are taking a break," Doey demanded. You could already tell he wasn't going to give up easily. He was stubborn. But you were too.

"But it's better to just get stuff done. I've kept up with everything and want to get ahead on it," you said with a determined pout.

The doughman shook his head firmly. "No. You are taking a break. Digging yourself into the ground is not going to help anyone in the Haven. And more importantly, it's not going to help you. You need to take care of yourself."

"I am. By taking care of the others," you retorted. You crossed your arms and glared at him. He glared back. The truth was, deep down, you did want a break. Just some time to relax and let someone else deal with your worries. But you weren't going to admit that without a fight.

Doey just glared right back. "Come on, pal. You need to rest. Please. Burning yourself out isn't healthy." He poked your belly for emphasis. You but your lip and couldn't stop the squeak that escaped you. Unfortunately, it didn't escape your friend's notice.

Doey raised an eyebrow and smiled a little. He didn't bring it up and continued on his lecture. "Taking breaks is important both for your physical-" Poke to the belly. "-and mental-" Another poke. "-wellbeing." You squeaked and squirmed a bit at every poke.

The doughman frowned in fake offense. "Why're you laughing at me? I'm trying to help you," he sighed.

You shook your head and narrowed your eyes. "Oh, stop. I know full well what you're trying to do," you growled. He tilted his head in "confusion."

"What?" he asked innocently. "What am I trying to do?"

You pouted. "Tickle me."

You immediately regretted your words. Doey grinned widely. "Whatever you say."

You squealed as he pounced on you, his doughy fingers digging into you sides. You wriggled all over the sleeping bag, grabbing the hands on your waist frantically. "Doey! Nohoooo!" you shouted. You didn't really mean it...No. Yes you did. Shut up.

"Awwww," Doey cooed. "What's wrong? You told me to." His hands morphed to precisely dig between your ribs. You shrieked and kicked, laughing madly. Your hands scrabbled against his helplessly. Dammit, he already knew where to get you!

"NOHOO!" you yelled. "Not thehehEHEHEhere!"

Your friend laughed and continued to vibrate his fingers in your ribcage. "Not here? Why's that? Is is baaad?" he teased. You nodded frantically, squirming and squealing. You hugged yourself in hopes of getting him off, but he just flattened his fingers to fit under your arms.

"Thanks for the new spot, pal!" he said cheerfully. You squeaked and squashed your arms down.

"Doey!" you cried through laughter. "Not there!"

Your friend grinned evilly. You closed your eyes and pressed your face against the bag as you felt one of your arms get raised above your head. You giggled nervously.

"D-Doey...? What're you doing?" You stiffened as you felt his fingers thin to tendrils and wiggle against the inside of your elbow.

"Why, I'm not doing anything!" You giggled and scrunched up as much as possible. The feeling moved up just above your armpits.

"Eee! No! Doey! Pleaaaseee!" you whined. You couldn't even fully laugh. It was just the anticipation!

"No? But you look like you're having so much fun!" the doughman giggled. He poked your belly, causing you to flinch and squeak. "Come on! You've been stressed lately. This is a nice way to take a break." His doughy fingers inched to your armpit. You squealed and giggled, trying to pull your arm down.

"Stop teasing and get on with it!" you managed to shout.

Doey squeaked excitedly. "Oh? Get on with it, you say? Whatever you want, Y/N!" He dug his fingers into your armpits and wiggled them ruthlessly.

A shriek escaped your lips. You found yourself wriggling back and forth like a fish out of water as loud laughter spilled from you. You grabbed at your friend's hands, but it was no use. He was too strong for you.

"FAHAHAHAHAAAACK! DOEHEHEHEHEE! NOHOHOOOO!" you laughed.

Doey giggled and scritched down your ribs. "Awwww. Is my little friend a little sensitive? Tickle tickle tiiiickle!" he teased.

You thrashed from side to side, squealing and laughing. Your hands didn't pull at the attacker's wrists but instead sat limply on top of them. This didn't escape his notice. He scribbled his fingers all over your belly and ribs.

"D'awwwww! You aren't fighting back! Just squirming!" he cooed. You felt your face heat up and pressed it against the cot like you had it before.

"Shuhuhut uuhuhuuup!" you whined through laughter.

"What's that? You aren't telling me to stop? Guess I'll keep going then! Coochicoochicoooo!"

You shrieked with laughter, kicking weakly and keeping your face hidden. As much as this was absolute torture, it was also...nice. All your worries and anxieties were out the window and you could let loose and enjoy some fun. Not that you would ever admit that. That would just give your friend another way to mess with you.

"You ahahahAHAHAHAAA! NOT THERE!" You arched your back away from Doey's fingers. They were poking and drilling between your shoulder blades experimentally. The doughman giggled and kept digging into the sweet spot.

"Oh! So your back is ticklish too? That's unusual," he observed.

You kicked and flailed with renewed vigor. "DOEY!" you shrieked. "STOP STOP! PLEHEHEHEHEEEEASE!"

Doey's smile softened and his fingers drew away from you. You wheezed and rolled onto your belly, resting your face in your arms. You wiped the gleeful tears from your eyes. Your panting slowed to peaceful breaths and a soft hand settled on your back.

"You ok, Y/N?" You looked up from your arms. Doey sounded...so sincere and warm. His smile radiated care and concern, and you couldn't help but smile back a little.

"Um...Yeah..." you answered breathily. "I am now...Thank you."

Your friend grinned and crawled in a little circle on his pillow pile before settling down. "Of course. I'm always here for ya, pal. Don't forget that."

You watched him a second as he kneaded his pillow a bit to get comfortable and then spoke up. "Um...Doey?"

The doughman's head perked up. "Hm?"

"Can I...um..." You looked down at your hands. "Can I-...?" You beckoned at the spot next to him.

Doey smiled and nodded, patting the pillows. "Of course. Come here, pal."

Your eyes lit up and you scooted over to the edge of the sleeping bag, crawling on the soft pillows. Your friend grabbed you and pulled you over, nuzzling you affectionately. You giggled and nuzzled him back.

"Awwww. You're too nice. How did the Haven get yoouuEEEE!"

Doey dug his fingers back in your ribs with a snicker. Good luck.

[potatobugxo]

Hi I have an idea

Imagine the reader got all the toys from Safe Haven, Doey, Poppy, Kissy and Yarnaby out of the factory and make their basement the new home and how life would be like because I imagine all the toys need a wash, they probably forgot about privacy or knocking before entering so would lead to embarrassing moments like Yarnaby walking into the bathroom while the reader is showing and just joining them not understanding that it's wrong but the reader would make a huge meal of pancakes, bacon, sausage and eggs as soon as they're out of there no matter what time of day it is

Sorry if this is long just thought it was a good idea

this is such a silly idea I love this 😭😭

pairings: platonic!doey, poppy, kissy, and yarnaby x player!reader (plus smiling critters!)

-after everyone escapes the factory (and nothing bad happens!!) you take the toys back to where you live, as that would be the safest place for them now that they're out of the factory!

-lets hope your basement is big enough to fit all these critters bc if not, there might be some capacity issues sgfhs

-doey and poppy have the easiest time settling in compared to the others, as they're the most sentient/human, while the other toys are a bit like animals you just brought back from the adoption shelter lol

-the toys are all extremely grateful you saved them and are now giving them a safe place to live outside of the nightmarish factory

-but be warned, they WILL raid your fridge, these guys are starving 🥺

-yarnaby immediately dominates your bed, taking up the entire mattress with his body, so everyone will have to sleep around him. kissy will probably curl up beside the bed with poppy while you and the smiling critters pile up onto yarnaby

-they cannot be without you for more than ten seconds apparently, especially yarnaby and kissy, they are always following you around like lost puppies and wanting your attention!

-say goodbye to privacy because now with giant toys in your house, you never get an ounce of alone time lol

-yarnaby likes whenever you play music, he'll lay down and purr and listen to it for hours!

-poppy is glad to finally have the chance to be a real girl, and asks you if you'll teach her ways about the real world so she can fit in someday!

-doey helps you a lot with chores, since he's the most mature out of the toys. he also feels like they're all a burden to you but you assure him they aren't, and that you appreciate his help!

-the smiling critters kinda just chill, they don't cause too much trouble, aside from climbing all over the place, especially the fridge to reach the sugary cereal you put up high!

-they all LOVE it when you cook breakfast for them, or any meal really! they've only ever eaten scraps from carcasses in the factory, so getting to taste bacon, eggs, and pancakes for the first time is a wonderful experience for them!

-overall the toys are very happy to be at your side, as now they get to live a happy life, away from the cursed playtime factory

[voxslays]

PROTECTION CHARM — POPPY PLAYTIME

SUMMARY: How the cast of Poppy Playtime would protect the player. PAIRINGS: The Doctor, Doey, Kissy, Dogday x Reader.

THE DOCTOR

✮ This man has eyes everywhere. His multiple feeds through the darkened hallways, due to his high tech security cameras and monitors. Although, he would 100% prefer to accompany you. This man is tall and strong. Harley Sawyer isn’t afraid of a fight.

✮ But, if Harley can’t be with you for some reason (working on a classified and undisclosed project with the prototype), he will send Yarnaby to protect you. Some protection is better than none at all, right? He’s still spying through the cams though…

KISSY MISSY

✮ Kissy is a lover not a fighter, which is one of the reasons she was so damaged in the first place. Unlike many of the angry, animalistic, and monstrous toy experiments roaming the abandoned factory, Kissy hasn’t killed anyone—and never will.

✮ However, if you’re in danger? She will pick you up with those long fuzzy arms of hers and run away as fast as she possibly can, her feet squeaking with every step she takes. It would be incredibly cute if you weren’t seconds away from death.

DOGDAY

✮ Dogday doesn’t like fighting, but will if he has to. In the past, he wouldn’t waste a second before attacking if he or someone he had grown to care about was in danger. But now that he’s lost all his limbs from the torso down, he can’t.

✮ It annoys him more than anything, especially now, since Poppy practically forces you to run a bunch of ‘mindless’ and ‘pointless’ (as he would say) tasks that risk your life—and he can’t be there to protect you, which scares him more than he’d care to admit.

DOEY

✮ When Poppy asks you to do her bidding and do small tasks for her, it deeply frustrates and infuriates him (specifically kevin, lol). Doesn’t she know how dangerous the factory is for a human? It’s dangerous enough for a toy already, and being a ‘fragile’ human isn’t much better.

✮ Doey understands your limits—which is one of the reasons he insists on going with you. What if the prototype attacks you, and you’re too exhausted to fight back? Doey is a very laid back guy, but as seen in chapter four, he can and will attack threats.

[dodgeballstuckonthegymceiling]

Could you do doey, kissy, poppy and dogday with a teen player (14-15-16)

Ended up just doing Dogday and Doey because I couldn't think of anything good to write for Kissy and Poppy.

If you like my work, please consider commissioning me or leaving a tip on Ko-fi (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶))

Dogday & Doey & teenage Player

Dogday

★ He's horrified when Poppy's angel turns out to be so young. You shouldn't have been given such a hellish burden. He looks at you with pity "You need to get out of here, please, it's not safe for you to stay." He begs you to leave.

★ Despite his fear, Dogday steps up as a reluctant leader, guiding you through the factory. Without concern for his own safety. In his eyes, it's too late for him. But you, you have a chance. He needs you to survive.

★ Dogday rarely lets you out of his sight, always staying close by. He gets visibly upset whenever you get a minor injury or close call. When you sleep, he stays awake to ensure nothing happens to you during the night.

Doey

★ He's furious at Poppy for dragging you deeper into this place. She could've gotten you out of here with the train! Look at you, it's a miracle you've lasted this long! Between you and Kissy's injury, he's on high alert.

★ Doey tries to be gentle with the Player. Doing his best to convince you to rest, as you look exhausted. He treats you like one of his friends in safe haven. "it's naptime, buddy." He says while covering you with a blanket.

★ Knowing what you've been through, he tries his best to shield you from the rest of the factory's horrors. Even when you tell him you can take care of yourself. Somehow, he doesn't believe you.

[yey56]

HARLEY SAWYER X PSYCHOLOGIST READER

You have been working at Playtime CO for some years now, you worked as the head department of psychology but most of your work consisted on providing profiles of the children in the lower levels or as your coworker called them, experiments.

Over the years of working with them and knowing what they are being turned into, you've learned to work with them pre and post experimentation. Another thing you've learned through time was to deal with the partner you were assigned for the project. Harley sawyer.

What is there to say about that man. He is the head scientist in the project but he is absolutely horrible at dealing with them, or with anyone. That's how you were assigned to work along side him . He made the experiments and you maintained them under control.

Initially the ones who needed to be under control where you two because of your crashing personalities. While he was a serious control freak and borderline antisocial you one the contrary seemed to not take things seriously, constantly taunting him and the other stuff and with a permanent sarcastic tone in your voice voice.

Of course at first he didn't like you much, and to be fair you didn't make it easy. Everything he said refering to the experiments was refuted by your obsession to keep a mildly stable mental health in the subject.

Dr Harley sighed heavily looking your way with an annoyed look- What now?- he asked

If you keep treating the subjects like that your are going to break them.-you said in the observation room with him while you were both supervising experiment 1355, a young girl turned into a smiley unicorn.

They're toys, they can be fixed easily- he responded as if he had repeated you that phrase for the 11th time (he did)

You know what I mean Sawyer, they are of no use if their minds break-you explained with a calm smile- or have you forgotten what kind of problems an unstable subject could bring?- your asked him, your question mocking him.

It turned out well with Yarnaby or have you forgotten Dr (Y/L/N)?- he said imitating your question

You laughed slowly- ah yes the kid you isolated as your pet, great example Dr-

Harley Sawyer was well known for working alone, he didn't like others company and whenever he got an assistant or a guard, he scared them off by being authoritarian or exposing them to dangerous situation. You were the only one at the company who actually could keep up with him.

In the interviews with the children you would lead the conversation while Harley observed and took notes. In the laboratory you were more of an assistant, helping the Dr with whatever tool he needed or just preparing the chemicals.

Even though he hated to admit it, his experiments have been more controlable and causing less troubles since you started working together.

You would be unbothered by the kids, showing enough compassion for them to not recognise you as a threat, but showing not an ounce of regret in your eyes while seeing how Harley turned them into toys.

Do I have to remind you that compassion is useless in this job?- Sawyer said while closing a wound he had made on the experiment while operating

You haven't realised how much time have passed since your prior conversation have ended. It was strange for the doctor to initiate them, usually preferring silence but you weren't complaining.

Compassion can make a person go through great lengths- you said- But I understand that in this line of work it's nothing but a limit, a wall that needs to be broken in order to obtain results.-

For once in a long time both you and Harley agreed on something.

He finally stopped sewing the toys fresh wound and started reading the inform you had redacted about the psychological profile of the child before the operation- you should do another one once she wakes up (Y/L/N)- he reminded you while reading the little notes and highlights you left about her.

You always reserved a space the paper work to express your personal opinions on the experiment and Harley always read them. It's another thing he started doing, considering your opinions and advice as something worth of noticing.

-Doc...-

-Sawyer...-

-Sawyer??...-

-HARLEY!!-

He looked at you not noticing how he had spaced out of his mind for a moment while reading your report.

What is it?- he asked actually surprised that he was actually distracted enough to not hear you.

I was asking you about the experiment 1322, Doey. How are the three conscience developing? are they getting used to they're new body?-you asked. Doey was your favourite experiment so far, it was the one you have showed more interest in and your involvement with him was way bigger than with others. Sawyer didn't understood your fascination with Doey.

Since you both started developing the project, you had shown special interest in the idea of three people combined in a toy. In fact, the reason you had starting working more time with the doctor was because of your eagerness to see how the experiment would turn out.

You have become much more comfortable with one another, even after years of coexisting with each other in the lower levels of Playtime.

Sometimes he would catch himself looking at you while you were with the kids in the interviews. He observed your calm demeanor through the crystal of the observation room. He could see how the children grew more confortable with you while you were joking.

The cognitive abilities of the toys were improving each day thanks to your work so of course the bosses permitted you both to perform as many experiments as needed.

Another thing Harley noticed about the last week's was how you would spend most of your time testing and conversing with 1322. He had grown so used to your presence that it was getting harder to work without you present.

He would never admit that he missed your sarcastic comments about the designs of the toys or how he missed to call you a germ, his germ, whenever you were getting to annoying.

Sometimes when you went to the cafeteria upstairs to get some coffee or a sandwich to eat, you would get him something too.

You haven't brought anything recently and that was because of your new obsession.

He finally finished the last transformation successfully, now the only thing left was for the experiment to wake up and for you to examine them.

Harley wandered through the corridors searching for the one room he knew you would be in, this time, he was the one bringing you a coffee.

He watched you through the crystal of the observation room. You always insisted on talking face to face with Doey. The mass of doe seemed calmer with you around. The two more peaceful personalities of Doey talked to you, voicing their regrets and fears. Though the violent part of the creature always seemed reluctant to talk to you. Not responding what was asked of him or simply not responding at all.

Dr ( Y/L/N), your presence is required in the observation room number 29- Sawyer interrupted your conversation. Doey seemed afraid for a moment only to turn his expression into an angry one. With a gesture of your hand you calmed him down and signaled silently for Harley to turn on the ice so the doe wouldn't scape.

You exited the room to find your coworker handing you a cup of coffee. You looked at him with a raised brow but accepted it either way.

Well, look who it is.-you said with satisfied grin- I thought you were supervising Yarnaby?- you commented

Yes I was, are you aware of how much time you spend with that... Mass?- he said with contempt- what's so fascinating about him anyways? He's only been trouble.

You're only trouble as far as I'm aware- he rolled his eyes you sipped again- he's a time bomb and I want to be there to see it explode- you finally responded- I want to be the germ that makes him mutate.

Germ... It's a fitting name for you- he laughed with a smooth voice.-

You both stayed silent in the middle of the room, he looked at you calmly while you ended your coffee. He was looking at you trough his glasses without blinking, with his tired eyes.

You looked back at him and when you realised he had his fist raised at you, brushing with his tumb the remaining coffee right next to your upper lip.

Neither of you realised how close you where, the dim light of the room illuminated both of your bodies. Yours against the door and his right in front of you, your external layers of clothing touching lightly.

He got even closer, feeling his breath against your own. His thumb caressing your cheek

He thought about everything that had happened recently. How Pierre and the ones closer to him had started to go against you both in the semanal meeting with the executives regarding the experiments. Pierre's demands being met by your indifference, claiming that you will keep securing the experiments as much as possible.

The doctor remembered how you, just as him, were completely devoted to the project. He had became paranoic for the past months. More irritable, unwilling to socialise with someone who wasn't you or the toys

He got even closer to you, he though he heard you whisper his name. You closed the gap between the both of you. Hands on his shoulders

Lip against lip, his hand still in your face. You felt that Harley was the only human you could trust down here. No one understood you like he did. Your desperation to contribute to humanity, your desire of achieving a more lasting body. One that could endure more.

If you ever shared this with anyone else, you'll probably be in trouble.

Your closeness with Harley and his with you was out of understanding, a feeling of trust and comfortability that had just materialised thought he kiss you were sharing with each other.

He slowly pulled apart, his breathing uneven and one of his locks of hair misplaced a slight smile on his face. His forehead touched yours and he whispered just above your lips- My germ~

Only if you knew... That exact same week Harley Sawyer would be reduce no nothing more than a system, a screen, a conscience.

At the mercy of playtimes desires while you... Well ... Your whereabouts were unknown, even though they knew you didn't get out of the building.

Somewhere... hiding between wires and toy corpses...

I'm in love with the voice of the doctor AKA Harley Sawyer.

My drawing of Harley Sawyer:

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Since you’re writing for Poppy Playtime again, may I request a sequel to the Janitor who is still at Playtime Co? The toys aren’t sure if they’re a ghost or just really good at hiding.

Oh I remember that one! Glad you do too ^^

Here's the first part for anyone curious

.........

Catnap

You were a survivor of the Hour of Joy...or so he thought.

A lone janitor? Working and listening to music throughout the slaughter?

It sounded impossible.

But after all the toys dragged the corpses down below to be eaten, you were still cleaning their blood off the steps 10 years later, somehow not feeling as terrified as any normal person would be.

Despite his best efforts, Catnap could never capture you.

Just when he's finally ready to pounce or thinks he has you cornered--you vanish before his very eyes, almost as if you were a ghost.

Yet you wear a gas mask through the clouds of red smoke, so...you must need it.

Therefore you must be a human who was really good at finding hiding spots he wasn't aware of.

But you can't hide forever.

Your luck will surely run out soon...right?

Dogday

The Playhouse had turned into a torture chamber for nonviolent toys and anyone who went against the Prototype's will according to Catnap.

That being said...why would you enter this place willingly? Why would you keep doing your job despite the horrors those two have orchestrated?

Surely one of them would've caught you by now...

But from within his cell, he catches glimpses of you cleaning the blood off the playstructures, or removing the corpse of a feral Mini Critter from his sight.

He tries calling out to you, but you never seem to hear him...

Maybe all the trauma and blood loss is making him hallucinate?

Or maybe it's the red smoke. Who knows?

He's not so sure anymore, and he doesn't count on you being able to help him.

Pianosaurus

Cleaning his enclosure was no small feat.

Sure, he wasn't a massive Bigger Body, but his hunger was about as great as theirs.

And he only sees you, the janitor, as a snack leaving themselves wide open.

His piano teeth have been malfunctioning, causing a tune to go off every once in a while.

That gives you an advantage, as it allows you to figure out where he is in proximity to you--even in total darkness.

After the Hour of Joy, Pianosaurus returns to his enclosure, finding you cleaning somebody's carcass so calmly.

Yet when he charges....you suddenly vanish, and he rams headfirst into a wall.

Since then, he hasn't been able to find you anywhere. But under Harley's orders, he stays put in that same place for years.

He can wait. He's a patient hunter.

Unfortunately for him, he'd never find you--yet you were there to witness his demise at the hands of Doey when another employee fell into his enclosure.

While you pitied him, it was best that his suffering ended.

Doey

He didn't partake in the killings (at least none that he could recall), but he's shocked to find you alive, cleaning blood off of a machine he was inspecting.

But how did a janitor get this far down into the facility without proper clearance?

"Hey, buddy! Are you......huh??? Where did you go????" In the blink of an eye, you're gone.

He hears footsteps, but doesn't find you when he tries following their sound.

Did you go down some secret path he wasn't aware of?

He keeps catching glimpses of you in No Man's land, as well as in the caverns around Safe Haven.

Despite his best efforts, he could never quite catch up to you, even with his doughy abilities and dozens of shortcuts.

But somehow, throughout the years, you've been finding Mini Critters and Huggies/Kissies to bring to him, and they all claim that you've spoken to them and cleaned their wounds.

Yet for some reason...you either couldn't or wouldn't visit Safe Haven yourself.

He understands why, but...he just wanted to thank you for helping innocent toys find safety here.

[rorydrawsandwrites]

Hee hee hee... it has been finally done

Not the first to be inspired by this fic (and definitely not the last, especially once it continues) by @wakebymoonsleepbysun, but I just had to sketch some of the moments in it

Don't mind the fact that he looks different on every one of these... I was still uh... figuring him out ^^"

I could just envision every scene so clearly, no doubt thanks to the vivid writing!! I was very charmed!! And I love AUs where we get to save him in some way, he (they) deserved so much better. Doey being so small is of course adorable, 10/10 would store him in my shirt pocket and feed him whatever he'd like

Though I saw he'll return to big boy size eventually... ah well

And oh yeah here are the paragraphs these are referencing, in order:

[wakebymoonsleepbysun]

Untitled Doey X Reader Ch 1

Update: Now on ao3, updates will be posted there (and linked via tumblr) -> https://archiveofourown.org/works/63346465/chapters/162287860

So uh. Decided to do this. I'll put it up on ao3 eventually (with slightly more editing maybe), probably sometime after I get chapter 2 written. And after I figure out a title.

Summary: After the destruction of the Playtime Co factory, Doey finds what little remains of himself falling through the cave systems and into a river, where he's brought practically to your door.

----

Doey had been so sure he’d been killed.

He’s died three times after all. It’s a familiar feeling.

Darkness. Numbness. A chilling cold that reaches through his body and wraps around his very consciousness, pulling him down…down…down……

Surely this time he won’t be pulled back. Who’s left to even try? The Doctor’s dead, Doey’s family at Safe Haven are all dead…whatever few remain alive in the factory’s underbelly are probably close behind, if Poppy has anything to say about it.

Doey’s not sure how much time passes between that thought and the explosion. A minute? An hour? A week? A year?

He’s not formed enough to see, nor to hear. But he feels the depths of the factory, of the very caves themselves, shudder and then quake as a fierce explosion rips through the labs. Fire and smoke rush through the lab, then the prison, then Playcare, and finally the factory proper, leaving a trail of destruction in their wake.

Not everything is burned. Much of the lower levels are made of steel and rock, after all. The heat that does pass over the puddle of dough that had once been Doey is intense, and would probably leave humans and plush toys singed, but it only serves to dry Doey out ever so slightly. Not enough to make much difference though. He’s still too weak and liquified to pull himself together, assuming he could even care to try such a thing.

Silence settles over the factory and the caverns below. Once again Doey is not sure how much time passes before the peace, if it can be called that, is broken.

Something, some support or load bearing wall, finally gives way somewhere in depths, starting a chain reaction, and the whole wretched place begins collapsing in on itself, just as Poppy had wanted. What the fire had spared the collapse does not, and the floor below Doey slants, causing him to slide along it as gravity takes hold.

He doesn’t even try to stop himself from spilling down through the caverns, the bits of dough that still contain hints of who he used to be rolling and tumbling down the crevices. Even the unpleasant sensation of sliding into a frigid underground river can’t motivate him to try and re-form his body.

Doey fades in and out of consciousness, each time wondering if he’s fading in and out of existence. The water eventually warms, and Doey’s aware of occasional glimpses of light as the river carries him out of the underground.

After awhile, the rushing river fades into a shallow, trickling creek. Doey’s dough bumps numbly along the smooth pebbles of the creek bed for a time until getting caught on a fallen log.

He can almost muster the strength to be surprised that he’s made it out of the factory. Almost. But he can’t imagine he’s meant to survive much longer.

So he waits. Waits to sink just a little bit further into the cold, to sink far enough that he won’t be pulled back ever again.

Time continues to pass. Several days, maybe even several weeks. He still can’t bring himself to stay conscious long enough to mark time, but it goes from dark to light and back again more times than he can count.

He lets the days pass, feeling the creek wash over him. He begins to hear again, just a bit. It’s muted from where he is beneath the water, but he can still make out some noises. So he contents himself with listening to the babbling of the creek, the chirping of birds, and the wind through the leaves. He thinks he’s in some kind of forest. How far from the factory he is, how far away from anything he is, he can only guess.

Maybe this is what death is. A drifting, vague awareness…barely aware of his own body, his own senses, but just feeling the world pass by around him.

It’s not terrible. Certainly not the worst thing he’s been through.

Doey has just enough time to adjust to his new existence when he hears something he hasn’t heard in a long, long time.

Voices.

*

Hiking through nature is always the first thing people seem to want to recommend to you when they sense you’re dealing with some kind of struggle. Especially those who realize you live on a few acres of mostly forested land.

To be fair, they aren’t entirely wrong…though admittedly you do find it a bit tedious to be recommended the same thing over and over when it’s already been a habit of yours for a few years.

Especially when you hadn’t asked.

But what are you to do when your main source of stress actively--physically--follows you on said hikes?

Ethan Barlowe, who owns the acreage just to the west of yours. You’re not sure how long he’s owned it, but it’s at least a few years more than your family’s owned your plot of land.

He’s roughly middle-aged, a bit older than your parents would have been, you think. He’s taller than you and decently fit, usually wearing some combination of flannel and denim. His face has the slightly weathered look of one who’s spent most of their life outdoors.

“They can even divide up the plot so you can keep your house right where it is,” he’s saying. “You don’t even have to move!”

A sales pitch you’ve heard dozens of times before…and it’s no more compelling today than it had been six months ago.

“Ethan, I said no,” you say for what feels like the millionth time. 

“Oh come on! It’s not good for a kid your age to be living alone, without even any neighbors,” he protests.

You give him a deadpan look. Do you point out that, at twenty-four, you’re not exactly a “kid” anymore? Or tell him he’s currently doing a terrible job of selling you on the idea of neighbors in general?

“Look, I’m sure your dad would have rather the house itself stayed with you, even if the land doesn’t.”

That’s a new one.

You stop so abruptly he almost crashes into you. “I think I knew him better than you, Ethan,” you say tightly.

“In some ways, but--”

“In every way!” you shout, actually causing his eyes to widen for a brief second as he takes a step back.

It’s that shout that attracts Doey’s attention. He’s so used to intervening in fights in the Playcare as Matthew, then in Safe Haven as Doey, that it doesn’t even occur to him to do differently now. He immediately begins re-forming his body, listening closely to the conversation as he does.

You suck in a shaky breath. “Get off my property. Don’t ever come here again,” you say coldly.

Ethan stares at you in stunned silence for a moment before scoffing and shaking his head. “You can’t do that. Your dad and I had an agreement about the pond--”

“Yeah, and that’s done,” you say tersely. “Now leave, or I’ll be calling the cops.”

Ethan scoffs. “Right, because you have such a great track record with them,” he sneers.

Doey’s body reforms, and he realizes with a surge of dread that there’s not nearly as much left of him as he’d been assuming.

He’s barely six inches tall!

He’s not sure what he’s going to do now…although, in retrospect, he’s also not sure what he would have done before. You and Ethan would have been too shocked by the nine-hundred pound dough creature for Doey to have done anything in the way of mediating or intervention.

…Though it definitely would have ended the argument.

You and Ethan are a few feet away, on some kind of dirt path. The type that seems to be formed from repeated hikes rather than a deliberate attempt at making a pathway. The path runs alongside the creek, and Doey currently stands hidden in some tall grass and reeds that grow at the edges of the water.

The surrounding area is dominated by the rusty browns of late autumn, the yellows and oranges have faded away as the leaves begin to fall.

Doey’d been down in the factory for so long he’d nearly forgotten that seasons even exist.

“Th-That doesn’t matter!” you protest, though the uncertainty in your tone is clear.

“Doesn’t it? You really think they’ll believe some hooligan kid over me? I got a clean slate, kid,” Ethan smirks, stepping towards you.

Your eyes widen at his menacing tone, and now it’s your turn to step back.

Doey can’t help but glower at the implied threat. He generally tries to not pick sides, but if he were to pick a side, it certainly wouldn’t be Ethan’s.

Ethan grabs your wrist, pulling you towards himself as he glares down at you, and you’re suddenly very aware that you’re out in the woods alone. The only nearby houses are yours and Ethan’s, and you left your cellphone at home.

It’s all Doey can do to keep silent as he tries to come up with a plan. If he were his proper size, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself rushing forward and putting himself between you and Ethan.

“Now listen, kid. There’s no way you’re making enough to keep this place. You think you’re fine to coast along on that little nest egg your dad left, but it’ll be gone before you know it. Trust me. I know how the world works. I’m doing you a favor.”

“L-Let go…” you finally manage to utter a meek protest.

Ethan’s gaze hardens, his grip only tightening when you try to pull away.

Doey’s eyes narrow as he resists the urge to let a low, angry growl at how this man’s treating you. If he thought running at the man only to be effortlessly kicked back into the creek would somehow help you, he’d certainly do it, but…he’s not convinced such a gesture would help.

In a split second, the solution comes to him. Well, a solution, anyway.

He steps back into the tall grass, hiding himself.

“Hey, what was that?” he calls out. He pitches his voice up slightly, hoping it sounds convincing as a second person, and answers, “Dunno, sounded like yelling?”

Ethan blanches and quickly drops your hand, taking a few hasty steps back.

Doey grins. The plan’s working! Switching back to his normal voice, he calls out, “Hey, everyone okay over there?”

“Perfectly fine!” Ethan quickly calls out. He clears his throat awkwardly, his eyes darting to you. His brow lowers in a warning glare. “Think about it, kid,” he says quietly.

With that, he turns on his heel and leaves, heading down the dirt path while you stare after him.

Doey pumps his fist in a silent cheer. That went perfectly! Better than he thought it would, in fact. He’d been hoping Ethan would simply cool it with the intimidation if he’d thought there could be witnesses. Him leaving entirely had been but a distant hope.

Once Ethan rounds the corner and disappears from view among the trees, your gaze snaps towards the voices. They’d sounded close…so close you’re surprised you don’t see any sign of the ones who’d spoken.

“Hello?” you call out, walking towards the creek.

Doey’s smile vanishes and he tenses. He hadn’t considered the possibility that you or Ethan would try to find the source of the voices.

“Who’s there?” you call. You walk forward, the edge of the shallow creek lapping at your boots as you stand only inches from Doey’s hiding spot. “N-Not that it’s…a big deal, but…whoever you are, you…you do know this is private property?” you call out timidly, only to wince at how meek you sound. You’re not exactly feeling confident about protecting your land from intruders at the moment…

Doey flinches. Shoot. Maybe tricking you into thinking there were two more people wandering your property without your knowledge or permission hadn’t been the greatest idea.

“Um, we um, won’t be staying long!” he calls out hastily.

You frown. Why did they sound so much more nervous now? Are they up to something? Or just fretting over their (presumably accidental) trespassing?

And why did their voice sound so close…and so low to the ground? Sound can carry oddly in the forest sometimes, but usually people sound further than they are, not closer…

“You’re not…lost or something, are you…?” you ask.

Something about the simple question tugs at his heart--or whatever mass of clay in his chest serves as such.

Because, he realizes, he is lost. In every sense of the word. More than he’s ever been in his entire life.

He lifts his gaze to you, watching as you continue to glance around for the source of the voice, your brow knit in worry. Worry for yourself, at the prospect of unknown strangers wandering around on your property? Or worry for said strangers, lost in the woods?

Doey could show himself and ease both worries, but that might just cause a whole new set of problems. Not for Doey, of course…unless you have some freezing gas on you, it isn’t as if you can really hurt him. So whatever your reaction, he’ll be no worse off than he already is.

He doesn’t want to frighten you…Many children in the factory, and even adults sometimes, had been frightened of him, especially at first glance. While his height is about average as far as Bigger Bodies go, he’s one of the more stoutly build ones, and his lack of fluff and fur make him a bit less approachable than many of the other Bigger Bodies.

There’s a reason Doey the Doughman was usually portrayed as tiny in the commercials.

…Actually, that’s about the height he is now. So maybe the sight of him won’t be that startling to you after all.

“H-Hello?” you call out, pulling Doey from his thoughts as he realizes he’s been silent for several moments.

“Yeah! I-I’m here!” he says quickly.

“Where?” you ask, still glancing around, clearly looking for someone closer to your own height.

Well. Time to see if he’s going to be punted into the creek. “D-Down here.”

You glance down, seeing the tall grass part. A small blue figure peeks out. You don’t for a minute assume this little thing is the owner of the deep, resonant voice you’d been hearing. You don’t think the figure itself has any sort of voice…it just looks like a little toy made of colored dough. It looks familiar, but you can’t quite place it.

You crouch down for a closer look and Doey scoots back nervously. He’s…really not used to being towered over like this. But he forces a small, awkward smile, lifting a hand in the wave. “H-Hiya!”

You hadn’t expected the figure to move so fluidly. Even his face and eyes change shape as he speaks, and there’s a slight wobble to his round belly and big arms as he moves that a mere remote-controlled toy wouldn’t have.

He’s REAL.

The abrupt realization causes you to squeak in surprise, stumbling back. Your boot catches on a rock and you fall sideways into the creek. As you try to catch yourself, your hand hits the pebbly creek bed, causing a bolt of pain in your wrist.

The creek’s only about four inches deep, but falling onto your side and then thrashing about as you try to scramble away from the creature has left you completely soaked.

Doey winces. Evidently the sight of him is still shocking, even at this size.

But…he supposes you’d’ve never seen anything like him. Unless maybe you’d gone on a tour of the Playtime Co factory as a kid, but even then…grownups almost always dismissed the living toys as some kind of animatronics, sophisticated puppetry, or other such illusion.

Did anyone outside of the factory even realize that living toys had been in existence for…decades now?

“S-Sorry, pal…didn’t mean to scare ya,” he says, holding up his hands. He slowly approaches you, much the way he would have a frightened child in Playcare…despite you being well over ten times his size. Not to mention an adult.

“Wh-What…a-are you?” you manage to stammer out. Your eyes are locked onto him as he moves towards you, but manage to resist the urge to scramble back any further.

“The name’s Doey!” he says, puffing his chest out slightly. He reaches up to remove his hat, only to find it missing. Of course, there’s no way it would have stayed with him on his involuntary journey. Pity…he liked that hat.

But the problem is easily remedied.

He forms a new hat in his hand, this one the same light blue clay as his upper body instead of the darker blue plastic of his old accessory. Hat in hand, he brightens and takes a bow. “Doey the Doughman!” he finishes, placing the clay hat atop his head.

Doey grins up at you, watching your look of fear fade to curiosity. He can almost see the tension--some of it, at least--leave your shoulders as you relax ever so slightly. You clutch your injured wrist to your chest, canting your head as you regard him.

His kind tone and jovial nature seem to be winning you over, just as they’ve won over so many orphans and factory visitors (and even a few staff) before.

“Doey the Doughman…?” you repeat. You suddenly double take, blinking rapidly as you finally place both the name and his appearance. “A-As in…Doey-Dough?”

“Yep! That’s me!” he says proudly. “And what’s your name?” he asks in the gentle yet exaggeratedly eager tone of an adult trying to get an answer from a very shy child.

“Um.”  You’re still reeling from being in the presence of some kind of…talking clay creature, so it actually takes a moment to process and answer the question. But, after a moment, you manage to speak your own name, mostly without fumbling. Mostly.

“That’s a nice name!” he says kindly, his eyes closing into happy crescents as beams up at you. His smile fades slightly, his expression growing concerned. “But that looked like a nasty fall. You alright?” he asks gently.

“Y-Yeah, I um…just tweaked my wrist a bit…” you say distantly.

“Can I see?”

You hesitate. He’s so small…not to mention being made of sculpting clay. It’s hard to imagine such a creature is even capable of doing you harm, and he’s certainly not acting like he wants to.

You’re just about to extend your arm to him when he lets out an embarrassed laugh, shaking his head. “Oh, but you’d probably wanna get out of that creek first, huh?”

Despite your shock, you manage a small laugh at the quip. Not only because you’d managed to forget you were even sitting in a creek, but…well, Doey’s laugh is more than a little infectious.

“R-Right…” you manage. You pull yourself out the creek, taking a few steps to find one of the larger, flat rocks beside the creek to sit on. You don’t take your eyes off Doey for even a second. Not because you think he’d do anything, but…this whole thing feels so surreal, you can’t help but wonder if he’d disappear entirely if he left your line of sight.

You’re debating if you should offer him a hand up, but to your surprise he stretches his arms high above his head (nearly a whole two feet) and grabs onto the edge of the rock, pulling himself up effortlessly.

“Now, let’s have a look, huh?” he asks, holding out his hands.

“I-I think it’s just a sprain…and not even a very bad one…” you say, holding out your wrist to let him examine it.

“Well that’s good!” he says earnestly, taking your wrist in his hands. Holding a human wrist that’s almost as big around as him is a bit jarring, but he doesn’t let that show as he checks over your injury.

You’re surprised that his hands actually give off a bit of warmth. Not much, but more than you’d expect from clay that’s been sitting out in the autumn chill. It also has a bit more give than you’d expected. Not quite as soft as human hands, but just slightly squishy, similar to putty or clay that’s been worked for awhile.

He holds your wrist in one hand, using the other to carefully move your hand up and down, watching you closely for any signs of pain.

“S-So um, where’s the other one?” you finally ask.

He glances up at you blankly. “Other? Oh!” He laughs, shaking his head. “Just me,” he says. “Figured one witness might not be enough to drive the guy off, but two probably would be.” He releases your wrist, giving your hand a light pat. “You’re all set! Just be careful with it for a couple days.”

You’d been too surprised at just the existence of this creature that you hadn’t had time to ponder the reasoning for what he’d been doing. But as you do, you cant your head in confusion. “Why’d you want to drive him off?”

Doey seems surprised at the question, mimicking your head tilt as he looks up at you. “Because he was bothering you.” He pauses, wondering if perhaps he’d misread the situation. “...Wasn’t he?”

You grip your sore wrist, lightly rubbing at it. “Well…yeah, but…you just…decided to help me? A stranger? For no reason?”

Once again he meets your confusion with his own. “It’s not for no reason…I don’t like seeing people get picked on…”

“But isn’t it dangerous for you? What if he’d seen you?”

He blinks, momentarily surprised at your concern, but then grins up at you playfully. “Worried about me? A stranger?”

You pause a moment, then give a slightly sheepish laugh. “Heh…point taken…”

“Besides…I’m pretty durable,” he says, placing a hand on each side of his head and briefly squishing it like a bouncy ball.

You don’t find the action as amusing as Doey’d hoped you would. You blanch slightly, giving a slight shake of your head that looks more like a shudder. “This…This is impossible…” you say in a small voice.

His grin falters a bit. Maybe he shouldn’t be surprised that the wonder and whimsy of a living toy is easy to accept as a kid in a toy factory…less so as an adult out in the woods.

“Where did you come from? And why are you just…out in the woods like this?” you ask. Despite the situation, there’s a note of concern in your voice at the thought of the little guy out here alone. Even if he does insist he’s quite durable.

Some fragments of Kevin and Jack stir unpleasantly at the questioning, but Doey manages to quickly still them. He’s not sure how much he should tell you…how much he could even stand to tell you. But he’s not partial to lying, and some amount of explanation would probably put you at ease.

The slight pause before he speaks is barely noticeable. “I’m from the Playtime Co factory, of course!” he announces cheerfully.

You frown. “The one that was demolished?”

His face falls. “...Demolished?”

Not demolished! Lies. Destroyed. By mean Poppy, mean Doctor, mean employee…HURTS. HURTS US.

Doey shudders, staggering back and wrapping his arms around himself. “We’re okay…you’re okay…” he mumbles to himself. To all the pieces of himself.

His pained expression pulls at your heart, pushing aside the impossibility of the situation. You suddenly realize that whatever journey he’d taken from the now-demolished factory to way out here was probably not a pleasant one.

“I-I’m sorry!” you say quickly. You reach forward, cupping a hand beside him to steady him, though not touching him. “I…I shouldn’t pry…you don’t have to tell me if…it’s painful…”

To your surprise, he slumps against your hand, a dejected look on his face. He’d seemed so bright and cheerful a moment ago…you guess you’d bumped up against quite the wound to have his mood do such a turn.

Well…you can certainly relate to that.

Doey’s not even looking at you as he stays slouched against your hand, hugging himself and occasionally muttering things you can’t quite hear.

He’d managed to slip into his old role of protector and caretaker when he’d stepped in to help you. Calming you down and easing your apprehension had been much like his time before the Hour of Joy, when he’d play with the kids of Playcare. He’d always been good at making kids feel safe…and he’d been relieved to see those techniques could work on you, even if you’re an adult.

He could almost pretend it was the old days. The setting had changed a bit…and you may not be a child, but you still needed protection from bullies and comfort for only minor, very manageable injuries.

Nothing perilous.

Nothing life threatening.

He could still be the protector, the caretaker…just as he had back when the crown had been lighter.

“Um…Doey?” you prompt gently, pulling him out of his spiral and causing him to blink up at you in confusion.

He pulls away from your hand, his own hands fidgeting awkwardly as a halfhearted smile returns to his face. “Yes?”

“You don’t have to answer if you’d rather not, but…is…is there somewhere you’re going? Somewhere I can help you get to?”

Doey’s eyes widen slightly as he’s caught off guard at the question. He laughs, waving a hand. “Oh, no no, pal, you…you don’t gotta do anything for me!”

“You didn’t have to do anything for me,” you counter. “Besides, maybe it’s…none of my business, but…the woods doesn’t seem like a great place for a little guy like you…” As you speak, a poorly-timed (or well-timed, perhaps) gust of wind cuts through the trees, making your already chilled, wet clothes positively frigid. You shiver, puffing warm air on your hands and rubbing them together. “And I think it’s going to be cold tonight…they say it’ll snow this weekend…”

Doey’s not technically capable of changing color, but you swear the blue clay of his face gets a couple shades paler as a look of pure dread crosses his face. “Well I’m…I’m not…heading anywhere…” he finally says.

“Then…would you like to come with me?” you ask, holding out your hand again.

“With you? To where?”

You laugh awkwardly. Maybe you could have phrased your offer a bit more directly. “My house,” you say.

Doey sputters in surprise, at a loss for words. “Y-Your…house?” he finally manages. “I…you’d…take me in? Just like that?”

“You did help me,” you say. “And I wouldn’t feel right leaving you out here all alone…” you add, your expression softening.

His hands fidget nervously as he glances at your open palm beside him. “If it’s…really not too much trouble…” he says, resting his hand atop one of your fingers.

You smile, shaking your head. “It’s really not,” you say kindly.

He hesitates once more, then finally climbs onto your hand. “Th-Thank you…” he says softly…almost somberly, in fact.

You slowly lift your hand, cupping your free hand near him protectively. You carefully slide off the rock and begin the walk home. 

Doey’s a bit of an enigma--in more ways than one. You should be reeling from his mere existence. Maybe you’re just in shock or something, and the staggering reality of a living clay toy will hit you like a brick wall later on.

You suppose you’ll just have to hope it’s a bit gentler than that.

But what’s mainly on your mind at the moment is his behavior. He’d seemed so at ease when you’d first encountered him. Almost more concerned about you than himself. But mentioning the demolition of the factory had shattered that.

You reach the same conclusion you had earlier--whatever circumstances had led a lone, sapient toy to be lost in the woods--so lost and alone he can’t even suggest a place for you to take him--can’t be good.

You keep the hand he’s seated in close to your body, cupping the other hand near it to keep him from falling. Not that you’re walking anywhere near quick enough for that to be a real concern. He’s actually a little surprised at just how carefully you hold him, even after being told he can’t be hurt.

“So um,” he begins hesitantly, wanting to fill the silence. “Does that guy bother you…often?”

“Ethan?” you ask. “It uh…depends on your definition of ‘often’, I guess, but more often than I’d like. He’s my neighbor. He’s been coming by during my walks to try to talk me into selling my land…I guess I’ll just have to change what time I go for walks.”

You’ve already tried that three times now. The first time had brought you a couple weeks of peace. The second had brought one week. The third had brought even less.

“He wants to buy your land?”

You shake your head. “Not exactly. He has some…housing developer or something that he’s in touch with. He wants us both to sell our properties together for a subdivision. I guess they’ll pay more if they know they can get both properties? I don’t…really know all the details,” you admit. “I haven’t been interested in finding out. I just know that I want to keep this place.”

“Is there anyone you can ask for help? A parent or a counselor, maybe?”

You quirk a brow at the “counselor” suggestion…but if he was in the factory, maybe he’s just more used to talking to children? He probably just doesn’t know what options adults out in the real world have at their disposal.

“Well, I don’t have a counselor, and both my parents passed away,” you say simply.

“Oh…you’re an orphan?” he asks, looking up at you sadly, gently resting a hand against one of your fingers in what you assume must be meant as a comforting gesture.

“Er, not exactly? Dad only died a few years ago…I was an adult,” you clarify. “People usually only say ‘orphan’ if you’re still a kid.”

“Do they? I…I hadn’t realized…” he admits thoughtfully. “Still, though…” he adds, looking up at you worriedly, an unspoken question hanging in the air.

It’s the same unspoken question that always seems to hang after you tell people your parents are dead. A question you usually brush off with some platitude about being fine and just trying to live a life that would make them proud before steering the conversation away.

But…Doey’s sadness seems so genuine. Not that you think other people fake it per se, but a lot of them seem more awkward about the potential landmines they might step on or just at a loss for words, but…Doey seems like he’s actually more concerned about you rather than any sort of social etiquette.

He’s probably worked with orphans before, you realize. There was some sort of adoption program or orphanage associated with Playtime Co. You don’t know all the details, but maybe Doey had worked with those kids?

You smile sadly. “I’m alright. They’re at peace. And I’m um…getting there,” you say. Usually you just say you are at peace, but something about his earnest sympathy invites honesty. “I just um…try to do right by their memories, y’know?” you add.

Doey’s smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “They’d be very proud of you. You’re very brave, you know,” he says. It’s a line he’d repeated hundreds of times to hundreds of orphans in the Playcare, and then in Safe Haven. And he’s meant it every time, including now.

You, though, are not used to being spoken to so warmly, so soothingly about the matter. Even your grief counselor had been…well, not cold but…she’d had a job to do, you suppose, so her tone and manner had seemed more…distant, than the way Doey’s been speaking to you.

It catches you off guard, to put it mildly.

You glance away, clearing your throat and pretending to scratch at a spot on your cheek so you could wipe away a stray tear without Doey noticing. “R-Right, th-thanks…” you mumble hoarsely.

It’s been years since you’ve gone to pieces in front of anyone, and you’re not going to break that streak now.

Doey frowns at your reaction. It hadn’t been quite the one he’d hoped for.

You force a smile at him, not wanting him to think you’re upset with him. “Sorry. It’s just…been a busy day. I’m a bit…um…tense right now, I guess,” you say in a flimsy attempt waving off your reaction.

“You don’t gotta apologize, pal!” he says easily, patting your hand.

You emerge from the forest and begin crossing the small patch of grass that surrounds your house, serving as the lawn. You tilt your head towards your home and Doey follows your gaze.

“We’re just about here,” you say.

Doey peeks over your fingers, following your gaze towards the house. It’s one story tall, and…well, it’s hard for Doey to guess much more of that. He thinks it’s slightly bigger than Matthew’s old home but slightly smaller than Jack’s, but between his new size and how hazy those old memories are, even that rough guess is hard to put much stock in.

You enter through a small side door that opens into a mudroom. You kick off your boots and step onto the kitchen. “Do you mind waiting here while I change? I can show you around a bit more once I get into some dry clothes,” you say.

“Of course!” he says easily.

You make as if to set him on the counter, only to pause. “Um, would you rather be on the counter or the floor?” you ask.

He looks amused at the question, chuckling. “Eh, you can just toss me wherever,” he says playfully, waving a hand.

You laugh, shaking your head as you set him carefully on the countertop. “I’m not going to toss you, Doey!”

Once again, something in him warms as you take far more care with him than you need to.

“I’ll be back in a minute,” you say, heading to your room on the other side of the house. You lift your hand in a small wave, which Doey returns with his usual large grin.

Once you’re gone, he glances around the kitchen. It doesn’t look much different from any of the kitchens Matthew, Jack, and Kevin had glimpsed in their time before coming to Playcare. Off-white laminate countertops and floors, brown wooden cabinets, flowery wallpaper that’s peeling in a couple places, and the usual assortment of appliances.

You change quickly, not wanting to leave Doey alone for too long. You’re still pulling on your hoodie when you re-enter the kitchen. “Are you cold at all?” you ask. “Do you need like…a blanket or anything? Something to eat?” You pause. “Erm, do you eat?”

Doey’s expression goes slack for a moment and you’re not sure what to make of the reaction, but clearly the question has struck something in him.

“I um! YES--NO!!” He cuts himself off so abruptly it almost sounds like he’s being silenced by someone else. “YES--SOMETIMES!!” He clutches at his head, clenching his eyes shut. After a moment he seems to relax, running his hands down his face to reveal an utterly exhausted expression. Somehow it even looks like he has bags under his eyes.

“Hey, it’s alright…just relax…” you say gently. You reach out to put a hand against him, only to pull back without touching him. You’re not sure if being patted by a hand nearly as long as him would really help with the whole relaxing thing.

“S-Sorry…” he mumbles, looking away shamefully at his outburst. “I um. I…I forgot how hungry I am. I…I usually just…try not to think about it.”

“So you do eat…” you say. “And it sounds like you haven’t in awhile…?”

“I…don’t have to. I’ve gone months without eating. It doesn’t seem to matter. The hunger is…it’s just a feeling. I can tune it out most of the time,” he says, not meeting your eye as he wrings his hands.

You pull back in surprise. “Doey, I’m…I’m not going to make you go hungry!” you protest, aghast.

“But…it’s just…food’s not free, right?” he asks hesitantly, finally lifting his gaze to you.

“Well, no…” you admit. “But it’s not gold bars and diamonds, either.” You smile gently. “Besides, you’re six inches tall…I doubt you eat more than I do,” you say lightly.

He gives a sheepish smile and nervous laugh, which you chalk up to general nervousness. “Heh…right…”

“I was about to make dinner…I usually make enough for a couple meals, so it’d be no trouble to fix you a plate. Whatever you don’t finish can be breakfast tomorrow. Anything in particular you like?”

Doey briefly pulls a face as if he’s literally biting his tongue to keep from speaking…though you’re not sure if he actually has a tongue. “Um. Wh-Whatever you’re eating is fine. Doesn’t have to be anything special, I…I can eat just about anything…”

He hasn’t liked any of the “food” he’s had in years. Not since Hoppy found that last box of candy up in Playcare…and even then, it had expired years before she’d found it. But easing the hunger, even for a moment, had always been such a relief that he’d actually started to forget that flavor is even a factor in food.

You rest against the counter, debating whether to press the issue. After a moment you decide not to. “Mac and cheese?” you offer.

He gives a sigh of longing that sounds halfway like a sob. “Y-Yes. That…that sounds wonderful.”

“Then mac and cheese it is,” you say warmly.

You begin the prep work, letting the conversation lapse as you wonder at your strange new guest. You’ve barely scratched the surface of who and what he is, but it still breaks your heart how reluctant he is to accept any sort of hospitality from you…especially with how readily he’d stepped in to help with Ethan.

It’s possible he just naturally has a very giving and self-sufficient personality, but you can’t help but wonder if someone, or several someones, in his past had made him feel just…undeserving.

The boxed mac and cheese you make is a family-sized meal, so even scooping out two full portions for yourself and Doey leaves plenty for tomorrow’s leftovers.

Doey’s eyes widen at the sight of the full bowl. He tries to utter a protest--you don’t need to give him that much, that just half a bowl would be more than enough, but fragments of Kevin and Jack bubble to the surface, silencing him as their hunger roars within him.

You take the bowls to the table before returning for the silverware. You’re not completely oblivious to Doey’s inner turmoil, but you don’t even come close to guessing the extent of it, assuming he’s just a bit shy about accepting your hospitality.

As you’re reaching for forks, you pause. The forks are longer than Doey himself…would he be able to use one? You open the other drawer, grabbing the smallest measuring spoon you have. It’s still a bit big--but trying to eat mac and cheese with a garden trowel is still easier than eating it with a pitchfork, you suppose.

You set the silverware on the table and return to the counter to get Doey. Before you can, however, he leaps from the countertop, causing you to let out a wordless cry of protest, scrambling to catch him.

He lands with a splat, his lower body flattening against the floor. But before you can even wonder if such an act is painful, he bounces back up, his lower body rounding back out so quickly his feet actually leave the floor for a second.

Doey gives a sheepish giggle at your fretful look. “Eheh…sorry pal, didn’t mean to scare you.” He winks, waggling a finger at you playfully. “I did tell you I’m durable, though,” he reminds you in a slightly teasing tone.

You feel your cheeks warming with embarrassment. “R-Right…it’s um…just a bit jarring to see, is all…”

“Well, I’ll be sure to warn ya next time then,” he chuckles.

You hold out a hand, assuming he’ll still need help getting onto the table. He laughs again, shaking his head as he walks past you. “You don’t need to carry me around either, much as I appreciate the offer,” he says.

Not that he’d minded being held, but…well, it’s probably not something you’d choose to do if you were aware of just how mobile Doey is, even at his smaller size.

You get to your feet as he walks past you. “Oh um, alright…” you say, figuring he knows what he’s talking about.

And indeed he does, for he stretches his arms upward, gripping the side of the table. He then lifts himself so quickly that his momentum carries him over the edge. He rolls as he lands, ending up sitting atop the table facing you. He grins widely, giving you a thumbs up.

“Heh,” you laugh weakly, returning the thumbs up before taking your seat. He’s more physically adept than you’d initially assumed…maybe his time in the forest hadn’t been as harrowing as you’d thought.

Doey manages to keep the more impulsive fragments within him in check. It’s incredibly difficult to pick up the little measuring spoon and eat with anything resembling decorum, but Doey manages to convince Jack and even Kevin that good manners will get them more meals. You’re not going to want to keep making him food if he splatters it all over the table and walls, or even if he just grosses you out with poor mealtime etiquette.

Jack is pretty easily swayed by this argument, as it matches up with his childhood memories from home. Kevin is less convinced--he wants to take all he can before you change your mind, but he’s overruled, and even he can’t completely discount how readily you offered the meal even knowing Doey doesn’t technically need it.

Still, while his manners are far more polite than not, he doesn’t even come close to hiding how much he’s relishing the meal. Each bite causes him to emit a happy little hum at the delicious flavor--oh how he’s missed flavor--and occasionally do a little bounce or kick his feet as he savors the taste.

You try not to react at first, not wanting to make him self-conscious, but eventually a small giggle escapes you, causing him to flinch sheepishly, giving you an apologetic smile.

“S-Sorry, it’s…it’s just very good!” he says with an awkward giggle.

“No sorries!” you say quickly, waving a hand. “I’ve just never had anyone enjoy my cooking nearly that much. If anything, it’s flattering!” you assure him lightly.

Well, that’s a relief, though Doey’s still not convinced flattery would be the first thing on your mind if he allowed himself to eat as greedily as he wants to.

He only eats a little more than half his portion. Not quite enough to fully quiet his long hunger, but enough to appease the fragments of Kevin and Jack. He doesn’t want to appear greedy, and despite your earlier comments, he can’t help but feel he’ll quickly wear out his welcome if he eats as much as a human, especially at his small size.

It’s still a far better meal than he’s had in over a decade, though.

“Mmm…that hit the spot,” he sighs contentedly, laying back on the table. His belly is noticeably distended, to a degree that would be concerning for a human. You debate asking him about it, but decide against it. He seems happy and content, and despite how jovial and even playful he seems a lot of the time, you’ve also seen how quickly that can turn.

Again, you can relate.

“Thank you, by the way,” he says in a more somber tone as he lays back, staring up at the kitchen ceiling. “F-For dinner, and…e-everything…”

“Thank you for helping with Ethan.”

He gives a vague hum of affirmation. “Didn’t do much…Should help with…the dishes…” he mumbles.

You quickly stash the leftovers in the fridge and return to the table. “Doey? Are you alright?” you ask, letting a bit of urgency slip into your tone.

His eyes are closed, his hands folded atop his belly. “Hmm?” he mumbles tiredly.

“You’re…um, you’re just falling asleep, right? Do you…need anything?”

“Mm-mm,” he mumbles. “Just sleepy. Haven’t really…slept in awhile…”

Your brow knits at the statement. Does he mean that literally? Or just that he hasn’t had a good night’s sleep in awhile? Or is sleep “optional” for him the same way food seems to be?

“Well, why don’t we get you somewhere more comfortable, then?” you offer.

He doesn’t answer, but you faintly hear the sound of the slow, steady breathing of someone fast asleep.

You don’t want to leave him on the table. You’re not sure how much ergonomics matter to a little dough man, but…surely a bed would be more comfortable? If only mentally.

You gently scoop him up, cradling him in both hands. He stirs slightly, but gives no indication he’s really awake or aware of what you’re doing.

He feels slightly heavier than he did before. Or maybe your mind is playing tricks on you, and you just expect him to feel heavier after that meal.

You carry him to the rarely-used guest room, gently setting him down on one of the pillows. You pull the blanket up slightly, covering him up to his waist. Covered enough that if he gets cold at night he can find the blanket and tuck himself in more, but not so covered that he’s liable to get lost in the (to him) huge blanket. 

You lean against the wall beside the bed, watching him for a moment. You can barely believe he’s even real. Part of you thinks you’ll just wake up tomorrow and realize it was all some silly dream.

But…you hope not.

“Goodnight, Doey,” you say softly, finally heading out of the room, turning off the light on your way out.

You wonder if taking him in like this, letting yourself get attached, is really a good idea. You don’t know much about who he is, and you probably know even less about what he is. You don’t know what he might want or need, or what he might do. What he could do.

Then again…he’s a six inch toy made of dough. How much trouble could he really cause?

[bunji-enthusiast]

I had this in thought alot! (It's gory if you don't mind!)

Poppy playtime player becoming so hungry at this point that their losing their sanity and thinking of eating the corpses For survival so the rest has to hold player down from eating the corpses!

(I know its gory and so sorry if it made you uncomfortable)

𝐖𝐚𝐲 𝐃𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐖𝐞 𝐆𝐨

Sypnosis [The tempting smell of the corpses becomes more and more frequent, it eventually became too hard for you too ignore due to your increasing hunger. Luckily, you had some allies to help you resist it; even if forcibly.]

Characters [Kissy Missy, DogDay, Poppy, Doey The Doughman. (Seperate)]

Note || you didn’t make me uncomfortable at all! Don’t worry, but it’s a topic I tried to write with care. This shit is a very real thing that can happen, and should be treated with caution and respect.

Kissy Missy

You had never imagined it would come to this: an insatiable hunger gnawing at your gut, unrelenting as the hours passed. You, once a proud employee of Playtime Co., found yourself trapped in the eerie, decaying remnants of the factory, alongside strange, monstrous beings that had once been your colleagues. The stench of death lingered thick in the air, a heavy reminder of the atrocities committed during The Hour of Joy, but now it did more than just disgust you. Now, it tempted you.

At first, you fought against the gnawing cravings that threatened to overtake you. How could you—someone who had worked here—ever think of consuming the bodies of the very ones you had once known, even if they were twisted remnants of their former selves? And yet, each passing hour made it harder to resist, each sight of a fallen figure, each whiff of their decaying flesh, made your resolve falter. Hunger, once a mere inconvenience, became a ravenous beast clawing at your insides.

But you were not alone in this misery. Kissy Missy, who had once been just another experiment under Playtime Co.'s cruel reign, was there, always by your side. Tall and slender, her pink fur now marred by the scars of countless battles, she seemed almost... human in a way. Her blue bow and yellow hands stood out against her once pristine pink fur, now tattered from years of neglect and violence. She had been through her own trauma, the burns on her right side proof of that, yet she still managed to offer you a strange sense of comfort, a reminder that you weren't the only one left with so much lost.

You hated the hunger, but it was her presence that kept you from succumbing. Despite her own pain and injuries, she remained strong, acting as a barrier between you and the darkness threatening to overtake you.

Kissy's efforts were not subtle. She could see the desperation in your eyes as you edged closer to the corpses scattered around the facility, the lifeless remains of those who had been victims of the Prototype’s reign. She had already seen what the hunger could do to a person, and she would be damned if she allowed you to fall victim to it.

"Don’t," she would warn, her voice surprisingly gentle despite the fierceness that radiated from her. "Stay with me."

You hated that she had to intervene, to hold you back with both her force and concern. But you knew deep down that she was right. If she weren't there, you might have already given in, becoming something far worse than you already were. The hunger was more than just physical. It was a pull, a drive to consume the very thing that you had once been, the remnants of a life that had crumbled away into twisted, grotesque shapes.

Each time you got too close, her grip tightened around your arm, pulling you away from the gruesome temptation. There were moments, though, when you could feel your resistance weakening, when the hunger surged so strongly that it drowned out every other thought. At those times, she was not gentle. She would force you back, pushing you away from the remains, her sharp eyes filled with a mix of sorrow and fierce determination.

It was only then, in those moments, that you saw the lengths she was willing to go to keep you from crossing that line. The force she applied was not cruel but necessary. You were no longer yourself, a mere shell of who you once were. And she, though herself a victim of this cruel factory, refused to let you become something even worse.

"You’re not one of them," Kissy would say, her voice laced with a fierce protectiveness. "Don’t lose yourself."

There was something strange about the way she said it, as though she knew something deeper, something that had been lost to you. You were not just another victim of the Prototype’s horrific games—you were something else, something worth saving.

The hunger didn’t go away, not entirely. But you fought against it, clinging to the memory of who you used to be. And as each day passed, as each battle with your own cravings grew more intense, you realized that you weren’t alone in this anymore. Kissy Missy, despite her own pain, was there, holding you back from the abyss, keeping you tethered to whatever humanity you had left.

She would do anything to prevent you from falling, even if it meant pushing you to your breaking point. And in the end, you knew you owed her more than just your survival. She had become your anchor in a world that had long since drowned in darkness, guiding you through the factory’s nightmarish halls with a strength that you had long since lost.

But even then, there were moments when the hunger threatened to overtake you, and in those moments, you understood just how far Kissy Missy was willing to go to save you from yourself. She was more than just an ally; she was a reminder of the last shred of humanity that existed in this forsaken place.

Would you be able to resist the temptation forever? Could you both survive the horrors that awaited you in the depths of Playtime Co.? Only time would tell, but as long as Kissy Missy was there, you felt a sliver of hope that you might just find a way to escape the darkness together.

DogDay

You stagger through the cold, decaying corridors, your stomach gnawing at you with an unbearable hunger. It's been hours since you last found food, and your body is betraying you. The thought of cannibalism has been creeping into your mind, tempting you like a forbidden fruit. The idea repulses you, but with every passing hour, that same thought grows more and more alluring. Your lips are dry, your body weak, and every fiber of your being is screaming for sustenance. You grit your teeth, trying to push the urge down, but it rises again, a terrifying whisper in the back of your mind.

"Why not?" it asks, a cold voice that isn't your own. "What else is there? Food is food, isn't it?"

You stumble forward, your vision blurred from exhaustion. The floor beneath you seems to shift, as if the very foundation of this forsaken place is alive. You know you're being driven mad, but your hunger, that primal instinct, is overpowering. The walls seem to close in on you, their decay a reflection of your own deteriorating state of mind.

Just as you're about to give in to the temptation, a voice, soft yet commanding, cuts through the haze of your thoughts.

"Don't," DogDay says, his monotone voice a calm anchor in the storm that rages inside you. His words are a gentle plea, a reminder of the bond you share with him.

You turn to see him, his disfigured form standing in the shadowed corner of the hallway. His orange fur is a stark contrast to the darkness surrounding you, and despite his monstrous appearance, there's a sense of comfort in his presence. His body is a grotesque mockery of what it once was, bisected at the waist and held together with leather straps, yet his eyes, black and expressive, seem to convey nothing but concern for you.

"DogDay..." you mutter, your voice hoarse, as you struggle to stand. "I can't... I don't know how much longer I can hold on."

DogDay's head tilts slightly, as if he understands the torment you're going through. He knows. He's been there before, though perhaps in a different way. His stitched-together body speaks of an existence far more painful than yours could ever be. And yet, he chooses to help you, to guide you through this madness.

"I won't let you," DogDay says firmly, his voice barely above a whisper. "You can't. This isn't the way."

You can feel the weight of his words sink into you, and for a moment, you close your eyes, trying to push the hunger down again. But it lingers, gnawing at your insides. It's tempting, so tempting to give in.

But DogDay is here. He always has been.

You turn to him, and for the first time in what feels like forever, you take a step back. Not just from the hunger, but from the madness that has consumed you. You're not alone. DogDay is here, and though he can't move as freely as he once did, he is steadfast in his support.

The moment passes, but the hunger is still there, lurking beneath the surface. It's waiting for you to falter, to give in. But DogDay won't let that happen.

"Stay with me," he urges, his voice as steady as ever. "I know the darkness calls to you, but you're stronger than it. We just need to keep moving. Keep moving, and we'll find a way out."

You nod, wiping the sweat from your brow. The hunger doesn't go away, but for now, it's bearable. You can withstand it. With DogDay by your side, you will survive this.

As you walk together through the decaying corridors, the weight of the past still hanging heavily on your shoulders, you can't help but wonder just how far DogDay has come. He was once part of a group, the Smiling Critters, living in harmony with the experiments, but all of that changed during The Hour of Joy. The chaos, the bloodshed, it shattered everything. DogDay was left behind, a solitary figure in a world gone mad. Yet, through it all, he remained resilient, steadfast in his determination to help you.

"I was not always like this," DogDay says quietly, as if reading your thoughts. "I had a family once. A purpose. But that was taken from me, just like it was taken from everyone else."

His words hang in the air, heavy with grief and longing. You know the story, of course. The Smiling Critters' revolt against the Prototype, their deaths, and DogDay's subsequent imprisonment by CatNap. It was a tragic tale, one that left DogDay scarred in both body and mind. But despite it all, he chose to survive.

And now, he chooses to help you survive.

The thought is enough to steel your resolve. You can do this. You will not succumb to the darkness. Not while DogDay is here to keep you grounded.

The two of you move forward, one step at a time, the silence between you comfortable, yet filled with unspoken understanding. The hunger still claws at you, but for now, you resist. With DogDay by your side, you know you can make it through this.

Poppy

The atmosphere in the factory was suffocating. The low hum of machines, the distant clattering of metal, and the unsettling silence in between all gnawed at you. You'd been walking for hours now, your stomach growling like an angry beast inside of you, each hour dragging the hunger closer to the surface. There was a time when you’d had a deep hatred for the idea of cannibalism. But now? The thought didn’t seem so absurd. Every inch of your body ached with need. The edges of your vision blurred with hunger, but still, you resisted the impulse.

"You need to hold it together," you muttered to yourself, your voice hoarse and desperate. You couldn't let your mind go there, couldn’t let the gnawing hunger take you to such a dark place.

Then, out of the corner of your eye, you saw her—Poppy. A doll, yes, but one that seemed to hold some kind of strange power over you. She was small, porcelain skin cracked, but her eyes... her eyes were too real. Too alive. The crack running across her face only seemed to add to the unsettling, almost haunting nature of her presence. Yet she was there, watching over you, her concern evident even with her painted smile.

"Are you okay?" Poppy's voice, though childlike, held an unexpected firmness, as if she knew exactly what you were going through.

"Do I look okay?" you snapped, frustration bubbling to the surface. "I'm starving. I'm dying. And you're... just a doll. What could you possibly understand?"

Poppy didn't flinch. She merely tilted her head, her glassy blue eyes reflecting your pain in a way that only made the hunger worse. But there was something else behind those eyes. Understanding? Sympathy? It was hard to tell.

"I understand more than you think," she said quietly. "You don't want to go down that path. Trust me."

Her words held a strange weight. Despite her being a mere doll, she exuded a certain authority—like she was guiding you, almost protecting you from your own darkness. It was unnerving and, yet, comforting at the same time.

You stepped back, wiping your brow, but the hunger wouldn't let you go. It clawed at you, deep within, screaming to be fed. Your hand instinctively reached towards the nearest source of food—a small, half-eaten rat carcass lying in the shadows.

Before your fingers could wrap around it, Poppy's small, porcelain hand shot out. "No," she said sharply, her voice cutting through the fog in your mind. "I won't let you."

You froze, staring at her, confused. "What... what are you going to do about it? You're just a doll. What power do you have?"

Poppy's eyes narrowed. "I have more power than you think. And I will stop you."

Before you could process the words, Poppy was suddenly in front of you, her small hand placed firmly on your chest. You felt a strange warmth spread from the spot where her hand met your skin, and for a moment, the hunger seemed to ebb away, replaced by something else—something deeper. But just as quickly, the warmth was gone, replaced by a biting cold as Poppy stepped back.

"You don't understand," she said, her voice softer now. "I won't let you become like them. I won't let you become like... him."

You stared at her in confusion, your mind too clouded with hunger to process what she meant. You'd heard the whispers about the Prototype, the monster who twisted everything around him, but you couldn’t focus on that now. Not with the gnawing ache in your gut.

"I can't hold on much longer," you whispered. "I need food. Real food."

Poppy took a deep breath, her porcelain face still. She seemed to consider something before her eyes flickered to the side, as if she were contemplating an action. Then, with a sudden, sharp motion, she grabbed your wrist.

"You will not fall to this. Not while I’m here. Not while there’s a chance."

The intensity in her voice stunned you. You'd never expected a doll—a toy—to show such determination. But it was there. Her unwavering resolve was impossible to ignore.

"You don't understand," you said again, more urgently this time. "You can't stop me. You don't know what it’s like to be on the edge like this... to be so desperate."

Poppy's eyes softened, but her grip on your wrist tightened. "I do understand," she whispered. "I've seen the consequences of desperation. I've seen what it can turn you into. And I won't let you become that."

You looked into her eyes, seeing not a doll, but something much more complex. Something alive, struggling with the same darkness you were. She was just as broken as you, perhaps even more so, trapped in this hellish place for who knows how long.

"I will fight this," you rasped, voice trembling.

"You will fight this," Poppy repeated, as though reinforcing the promise to yourself. "I won't let you lose."

The hunger still gnawed at you, but there was something in Poppy's words—a lifeline. A chance. You weren’t sure if it was enough to save you, but you weren’t alone anymore. She had no power over your body, but in this twisted game of survival, she had become your tether. Your reminder of something you had long forgotten: humanity. You just had to hold on.

And for the first time in hours, you didn’t feel entirely alone.

Doey The Doughman

It had hours, maybe even more then a couple days—you couldn’t tell anymore. Time had become a blur, and the hunger gnawed at you with an intensity you could hardly describe. Your stomach was a hollow pit, and every hour that passed, the sensation grew worse. You hated it. You hated the very idea of what you were beginning to consider. But your options were running out.

The factory, once a place full of life and color, now stood desolate, a rotting carcass of what it had once been. Its walls, dim and cracked, seemed to close in on you with every passing moment. Your search for food had been fruitless, and what remained of the once-thriving operations was little more than discarded remnants of forgotten lives. Desperation had begun to seep into your thoughts, and with it, a temptation you never thought you would entertain.

Cannibalism. The idea lingered in the back of your mind like a whisper in the dark. You knew it was wrong, morally abhorrent, but the hunger—it was becoming unbearable. You couldn’t deny that the flesh of another being, even one of the toy creatures that had once roamed this place, might offer a solution. You didn’t want to think about it, but your body cried out for sustenance.

It was then that you heard the soft squish of footsteps approaching. You turned, blinking against the fading light, and saw him: Doey.

The dough-like creature was an oddity in this forsaken world. His body, made of multicolored, clay-like dough, seemed to shimmer in the dimness. His long arms—orange and yellow—hung at his sides, his short, stubby red legs moving with surprising speed. The blue bowler hat perched on his head was almost comical against his mismatched features, and his simple, expressive face, with a line for a mouth and two holes for eyes, always seemed to radiate an air of cheer, even in the darkest of times.

"Hey there," Doey’s voice was calm, but there was an undertone of concern that you couldn’t ignore. He could always tell when something was wrong, even if you hadn’t spoken a word.

You had never been one for speaking about your feelings, especially with a creature like Doey. You didn’t trust anyone—not after everything you’d been through. But there was something different about him. Something about his kindness, his willingness to help, even when it meant putting himself in danger.

"I know you're struggling," Doey said, his eyes narrowing as he read your expression. "But you have to resist it. You can’t let the hunger take control of you. Not like this."

You swallowed hard, feeling the knot in your throat tighten. "I don’t know if I can hold on much longer," you muttered, your voice barely a whisper.

Doey stepped closer, his large arms almost seeming to engulf you in their reach as he gently placed a hand on your shoulder. "I’m not going to let you fall into that darkness," he said firmly. "I promised you. I’ll help you resist, even if it means doing things you might not like."

You blinked, looking at the doughy figure in disbelief. "What are you talking about?"

Without warning, Doey’s expression shifted from that of a friendly companion to something far more serious. The playful demeanor that usually characterized his every move was gone, replaced by a cold determination. "I’m going to stop you if I have to," he said, his voice stern, yet full of understanding. "I won’t let you give in to it."

Your breath hitched, and for the first time, you felt a flicker of fear. It wasn’t from Doey himself, but from the fact that you knew, deep down, he was right. If you gave in, it wouldn’t just be your body that suffered—it would be your soul, too. But the temptation was so strong. It was almost impossible to push it away.

"Don’t make me do this," Doey warned, as if sensing your internal struggle. "You don’t want to go down that path."

The hunger inside you raged, a beast that tore at your insides. Your thoughts were clouded by the vision of the soft, tender flesh that could satiate you. You tried to push the thoughts away, but they clung to your mind like a shadow.

You took a step forward, your hands trembling as you gripped a nearby piece of metal, your mind flickering with the thought of using it, of ending the misery that had overtaken you.

"Don’t," Doey’s voice was sharp, his body blocking your path. "I will stop you, even if it means I have to restrain you."

He wasn’t threatening. He was determined. And in that moment, you knew he would do it.

You locked eyes with him, the weight of your internal battle becoming unbearable. The hunger had made you weak, both physically and mentally, but Doey was your anchor, a reminder of the better part of yourself. He wasn’t just a friend; he was a lifeline.

"Please," you whispered, the word escaping you before you could stop it. "I can’t—"

Doey didn’t give you a chance to finish. His long, orange arm shot out, grabbing you by the wrist with surprising force. "I won’t let you go there," he said softly, but with an unmistakable firmness. "You’re not alone in this. Not anymore."

For a moment, you struggled, but the strength in his grip was like nothing you had ever encountered. He wasn’t trying to hurt you—he was holding you, not with force, but with care.

"Just breathe," Doey said, guiding you to sit down on the cold concrete floor. "We’ll get through this. Together."

And for the first time in what felt like forever, you allowed yourself to lean into him. The hunger was still there, gnawing at the edges of your mind, but with Doey by your side, the battle didn’t seem so hopeless.

You weren’t alone.

And that, you realized, was more than you could have hoped for in a place like this.

[arimbaudspierre]

i have been ADORING @kalwithatrenchcoat's summer series.. i dont know where they are but i put angel and doey in thailand

doey design is kal's!!

[backtothedrawingboard]

Take A Break part 2 but it turns into a tickle fight

Take a Break Part 2

Switch!Doey + Switch!Reader

Summary: You plan on doing one of Poppy's tasks again, even after agreeing with Doey to take it easy for a while. While the two of you relax, chaos ensues.

CW: Tickle fic, cussing, mentions of starvation

TW: None

AN: Part 2 of this fic!

~~~~~~~~~~

The wiring was annoying as hell. You growled and tore out the useless stuff. Poppy's instructions to fix the lighting pissed you off. You weren't even an engineer. Why did she always give you the mechanical stuff?? You held the flashlight in your mouth so both hands were free as you fiddled with the lighting.

It had been a couple days since Doey forced you to relax. You appreciated his care for you...but it just led to a more difficult job of fixing the damn lights. Just those two days caused the system to break down more and melted the wiring together. You took the parts retrieved from a scavenge and replaced the old broken down pieces. You flinched when bright lights filled the lobby. Finally.

You stood up and rubbed the back of your head wearily. Now to find food. You headed towards the infirmary to exit through the sewer system. As you walked, a large hand grabbed your shoulder.

"Hey, wait," the deep, comforting voice said. You turned and looked up.

"Oh. Hey, Doey. What's up?" you asked.

"Are you doing more scavenging?"

"Yeah. Gotta find some food. Why?"

Doey's expression turned serious. "I'm coming with you," he growled. "I don't like you being out there by yourself. And besides, I can carry more than you."

You smiled. Ordinarily, you would decline the offer. But the company sounded nice. "Alright. I was thinking we could look by the offices. There could be some snacks we missed last time."

You led the way out of the Safe Haven and started the trek to the office wing. It was risky with the Prototype out there, but there was a good chance of finding something there.

The scavenge proved more than successful. Doey had accidentally bumped into a large chunk of debris and revealed a door neither of you were aware of. Inside, there was a decent store of canned goods and snacks. The two of you collected absolutely everything. It was enough for everyone in the Haven to have a small portion and put the rest in the pantry to ration.

The success put both you and Doey in a good mood. You arrived back at the Haven and dumped the goodies on the ground. The kids all excitedly swarmed. No surprises there. You, Doey, and Kissy helped separate portions for everyone. The sickest and those that were starving got more than the rest. Their survival depended on it.

You put the remaining rations in the pantry. Before leaving, you snatched yourself your share: a couple pieces of canned mango. You headed back to the lobby and settled on your sleeping bag. Doey was next to you on his pillow pile, nibbling at a piece of peach and some chocolate. You grinned at him.

"Trying to savor it?" you teased.

Your friend smiled sheepishly and nodded. "Ehe. Yeah. I haven't had anything sweet in a long time."

"Yeah. Me neither." You sucked down your mango pieces ravenously. Doey laughed.

"Jeez! How did you not choke?" he giggled.

"I dunno!" you giggled with him.

The doughman finished off his rations and sat back with a sigh. "Thank goodness we found food when we did...I don't know how long most of them would've lasted," he muttered.

You sighed and nodded. "Yeah. Hopefully Izzy will be alright now..."

"I'm sure she will be. She's always been a fighter"

A comfortable silence fell between the two of you as you looked out at the rest of the lobby. With a little food in their bellies, some of the toys played a game of soccer with their newfound energy. You sighed and stood. Doey looked up at you in confusion.

"What're you doing?" he asked.

"Ugh. Poppy told me to-"

"Poppy told you to do something? Seriously?"

You looked down. "Uh. Yeah," you murmured.

The doughman shook his head in exasperation. "Y/N. We talked about this. We both need to relax for a while. The lighting had to be fixed, but I know for a fact nothing else is required now. A couple days isn't enough to recover from a mental breakdown." He set a hand on your back. You nodded a little and leaned against him, settling your head against his chest.

He sighed and played with your hair gently. "Does this mean you'll relax a little?"

"Y-yeah..." you mutter. "I guess I could still use a break..."

"Good. Cause I always know a method that'll work for you." You could hear that silly tone in his voice. It always meant he was up to something. You looked up just in time for his fingers to dig under your arms.

"Eee! Wait! Doeheheheheeey!" you giggled.

"Hehe! Yeeees?" He wiggled his pointer fingers, causing you to squeak and kick a little.

"Heheheeey! Whyyyyy?"

"Why? Cause you need a laugh!" Two more hands sprouted from his torso and grabbed your waist. You squealed and jumped as the fingers squeezed your ribs and hips.

"Doeyyyahahaha!" you cried. You bucked and squirms from the left and right and gripped the hands on your hips frantically.

"Hehehe! No escape! Unless you tell me to stop!" He grinned down at you and narrowed his eyes. Your face went red. You didn't protest, just laughed and squirmed.

Doey giggled and tweaked your ribs. You squeaked and jolted at each pinch.

"Awww! Is that a bad spot?" he teased. You giggled and nodded, hiding your face in your hands.

"Heyyy! Dont hide your face!" He halfheartedly pulled at your hands but didn't force them away. You squealed and kicked.

"No no! Not there! Kkkehehehehe!" You squirmed. His fingers were pinching in between your ribs and sending jolts of tingles through your body.

"Oh? Not here? How about here? Or here? Or here?" He pinched different ribs, causing you to lean against him further and giggle madly.

"Eheheee! Doeheheheeey!" You kicked yourself somewhat free and managed to turn and face him.

"Whaaat?" he teased. "I'm just cheering you up!"

"Yeah? Wehell take THIHIHIS!" You squished his belly in your hands. You didn't know if it would work or not but-

"Heheheey! D-don't do that, pal!" Score.

You grinned and kept squishing. "Oh? Why's that? A little ticklish?"

"Yes!" Doey giggled. "Very! Hehehehe!" He squirmed against you. His hands clutched the sides of his head rather than pushing at yours.

"Awww! What're you doin' bud?" you snickered.

"I don't- hehehe!- I don't wanna hurt you!" he cried.

"Awwww. I appreciate the concern. But now that just means I can do this!" You skittered your fingers up under his arms. A wheeze escaped him and his hands slammed down to his sides.

"Oops! Guess I'm stuck here now!" you teased. You wiggled your fingers vigorously. He wheezed again and kicked his stubby legs a bit.

"Oh my gohohoHOHOOOSHHH!" He squealed and twisted around. His laugh went up and down in pitch.

"D'awwwww! You have a cute laugh bud!" you giggled.

"Shush! I do nohot!" He covered his eyes with his hands.

"Yes you doooo! Just the cutest laugh!" You pulled your hands free and skittered your fingers all over his torso.

Doey squealed with laughter. His little legs kicked every which way and he rolled from side to side. "You little-!"

"What? Bitch? Is that what you were gonna call me?"

"Hey!" Your friend tried to sound serious, but it was hard to through his giggles. "Don't cuss!"

"Yeah, yeaEEE!" He grabbed your sides and poked them repeatedly. You toppled against him and giggled against his chest.

"That's what you get for cussing!" He squealed when you kneaded his sides.

"And that's what you get-" You were cut off by your own snort. "-for fighting back!"

Doey laughed, both at you and because of the tickles.

You felt four hands poking and skittering all over your sides and belly, occasionally wandering to squeeze your knees and lower thighs. You couldn't help but flail against him and laugh, but you held strong and squeezed his belly and sides.

"Doey! Nohohot theheERE!" You couldn't stand the hip and rib squeezes.

"Then gihive up!" Doey teased. You stopped tickling him and squirmed madly, trying your hardest to wiggle away.

"OK! Ok! You wihin! Stahahahahaaaap!" you cried.

The doughman let go of your ribs and hips, retracting his extra set of hands back into himself. You pulled you close and rubbed your back gently. "Hehe. There we go. Glad you took that break?" he murmured.

You nodded and yawned. "Yeah. Thanks." You leaned against him and settled with your head on his lap. He smiled down at you and rubbed your arm.

"Remember, pal. It's alright to take it easy every now and then. Your health matters just as much as any of ours," he said softly.

"Yeah. I know...Thank you..."

[potatobugxo]

Hii! Can I request platonic headcanons of doey with a toy reader whos a child, so they could be just like him but could be the youngest

I hope its no bother! Have a lovely day/night! Thank you!

of course! I hope u have a lovely day too 💚

warnings: mentions of cruelty against children (it's poppy playtime cmon) doey being an older sibling/parental figure to reader!

pairing: platonic!fatherly!doey x child!toy!reader

-when doey found you you were trapped in the prison with the other miniature toys

-you were scared and alone and balled up in the corner of your cell, crying softly to yourself when doey approached you

-"hey, there, kiddo, are you okay?" doey asks, his deep voice soft and soothing

-you wipe your eyes and look up at him, frightened by the large doughman at first

-"it's alright, I'm a friend!" doey says. "you don't have to be alone here anymore. I can take care of you."

-you reluctantly take his hand, and he wipes the tears from your eyes with his thumb

-doey takes you back to safe haven where the other toys he rescued are gathered

-when you start to see other toys that are just like you, you start to calm down, knowing they arent going to hurt you like the others

-doey makes sure you're settled in and tucks you into one of the beds so you can get some rest without having to fear for your life

-it takes you a long time to get used to the other toys, the horrors of the prison still haunting you

-you follow doey around most of the time, clinging to him for a sense of safety

-doey always makes sure all of the toys in his care are taken care of, especially you

-even though doey presents a more paternal front, he's still a kid on the inside, and having someone like you follow him around is like having a little sibling and he loves you very much!

-he notices you're a lot more immature than the other toys are, including him, and he wonders if you were only a few years old when the doctors turned you into this toy

-it breaks his heart to know that and fuels his rage toward the doctor and other scientists, but also fuels his urge to protect you and keep you safe

[voxslays]

YANDERE POPPY PLAYTIME CAST

SUMMARY: What the cast of Poppy Playtime would be like as yanderes towards the player/reader (slight stalking mentions). PAIRINGS: The Doctor x Reader, Doey x Reader (platonic), Dogday x Reader.

THE DOCTOR

❀ The traditional yandere. Harley does not want you out of his sight for any reason, especially when he knows how dangerous the other toys in the factory are. He may be on (sort of) good terms with the prototype, but that doesn’t mean you are exempt from attacks.

❀ The doctor is not afraid of tying you down if he has to—which is even easier since you are a ‘frail little human’ in his eyes. Humans are easily breakable, and he has the tools to turn you into a toy if you misbehave. Don’t anger him, he’ll warn.

DOEY

❀ A platonic yandere. You are one of his best friends, despite 1/3 of him automatically disliking you for working at the factory years earlier (and possibly working on the experiments?) Doey won’t let anything bad happen to you, don’t worry.

❀ Although, his ways of protection are a little grotesque. He will stalk you from the shadows as you complete tasks for Poppy—one of the times his doughy, putty-like body comes in useful. He can sneak into small cracks and watch you progress through the factory.

DOGDAY

❀ This may be controversial, but Dogday is a top-tier guilt tripper. He will use his lack of legs to guilt you into staying with him instead of leaving the factory—even though he knows of the potential risks it brings your fragile human body.

❀ Oh, remember that one time you had to stitch him up because he was ripped open? What if that happens again while you’re gone? Who would be there to stitch him up again, and etc. He feels bad about it, but it accomplishes what he wants in the end, doesn’t it?

[dodgeballstuckonthegymceiling]

helooorrr may i request u to write about a what if the Player dies instead of Doey, can be either strangulation (from Doey) or hypothermia, then Doey regrets it after? whhahah its okay if it makes you uncomfortable but thank you ‼️

Thats a good question, Anon! You just can't beat some good angst👌

If you like my work, please consider commissioning me or leaving a tip on Ko-fi (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

Doey's reaction to the players death

★ He didn't really want you to die. It was just a temporary lapse of judgment where his emotions got the better of him. In a panic Doey drops your body, now lifeless, onto the ground. The personality of Mathew shining through. "No, no, no… Please, wake up!"

★ The moment Doey realizes what he's done, a wave of horror crashes over him. The personality that lashed out quickly retreats, leaving the other two to grapple with the reality of the situation.

★ He regrets his actions, his three personalities are in turmoil, each feeling some responsibility in this tragic outcome. Jack's side is devastated, mathew is mortified at their collective failure, and Kevin is filled with a crushing sense of remorse.

★ In the fallout he clutches at his head, sobbing uncontrollably. He can't stand to be around anyone for a while after. The personalities that make his being argue and struggle to come to terms with the event.

[yey56]

HARLEY SAWYER X PSYCHOLOGIST READER pt2.

That day wasn't something you could easily forget.

It started as any other day, after the moment you had with the doctor a few weeks ago, he received a call from the office of Elliot Ludwig, claiming there was an important matter to discuss. He left not without savoring once more your lips.

That day, while you were conversing and trying to help process the changes to a little girl now turned into a toy, one of the other phycologist, Martha Hendswort, one of the few friends you had there; told you that Elliot was expecting you in his office.

You didn't exactly despised Elliot, unlike Harley who took the man for a rotten idealist, you though of him a wise man who was far to kind for his own good. Someone who learned to put the foot down when it was already to late...

Once you arrived there, the man awaited for you seated in his chair, looking at a photograph on top of his desk, his mind wandering somewhere you couldn't see.

Finally noticing your presence, he gave you an apologetic smile. Nothing good could come from that look that was silently apologising for something he hadn't even said yet.

You greeted him as usual, with a light hearted manner. Jokingly sucking up with him-you look good Eliot! New glasses?- you said while he spared you a little smile.

He finally took a more serious stance and started the conversation- (Y/N), as I've said to Harley before, both of you together have reached great progress with your projects...-he paused looking at you trying to find a way to deliver the blow delicately- You both have achieved great things and the company is grateful for that... But, I cannot longer ignore your lack of boundaries regarding the... Subjects of your experiments.- he looked at you again.

So... This is about me and Harleys methods, I'm sure we can get to some kind of middle groun- Ludwig suddenly interrupted you- No, I don't mean that. I've talk about this with him as well. I don't think you should be directing the experiments no longer. This experiments should not be made in name of progress but in name of humanity, and I think that's something you have forgotten- he finally finished.

You felt a shiver go down your spine- What?- you whispered forrowign your brows- do you have any idea how much we- How much I have invested in this project-in -in those children?!- you tone was still moderately calm, but getting more threatening.

Harley lacks the humanity needed for this project-His tone still calm, trying to soothe your anger- unlike him, you do have that trait but you have chosen to ignore it in favour of your own curiosity, your own agenda.-He expressed severely- you are a brilliant psychologist, the best one I have in here and working with you has been enlightening from all points of view but I cannot keep ignoring your recklessness...-He finalised.

You looked at him, without talking, still half processing what he just told you- So you're firing me? After all the time I've invested here?- Hou said, resentment was starting to get more noticing in your voice.

No! Of course not, neither you or Sawyer are fired, just... Relocated.- He explained- I've assigned sawyer to Dr whites lab and you... Well I think it would be great if you could work in the innovation department, under Pierre's direction...-Your eyes didn't leave his- You're asking me to quit the career I've been building for the past 11 years to work under that lousy coward?- You asked in reference to the nervous nature Pierre seemed to have since you once accidentally scared him while being in the corner of a dark place.

You are great at innovation, I know you talk frequently with the design department and your adaptable nature will be very helpful there.- Ludwig, observing that you still weren't really on board with this said- look, I don't expect you to understand right now but at least give it a try. I've never known you for saying no to a challenge. I will ask Pierre not to be so restrictive with you.- his attempt to cheer you up where useless

You only raised from the chair and proceeded to get out of his office. You knew you weren't going to quit because that would mean you turning into one of them.

You kept walking through seemingly infinite corridors, tightening your fists to the point your knuckles were turning white.

You arrived to your office in the lower levels and started to take out certain objects you knew you would need with you for your relocation. You had on top of your desk the file of 1322-Doey and in one of your open drawers, a photo with you in the kindergarten area with the kids that now composed the toy.

With the box with your belongings in hand, you started walking towards Harleys office, at least to notify him about your new place of work.

The place was empty, which was strange. You were aware that Sawyer didn't have any surgery scheduled so it was not normal for him to not be there.

The following days you didn't see Sawyer at all, you asked the staff around, asking if they had seen him, no one had.

It was hard adapting to work with Leith. Both of you always thought your proposed designs were better than the others so of course there were always conflict between you two.

Strangely, you manage to work it out for a couple of weeks. Using your knowledge in psychology, in child psychology and using data of sociological studies from children.

You proposed new updates to the backpack, a tool used by the employees of the factory. Also you found ways to improve the designs of some toys. Something that Pierre respected, even if he didn't admit it put loud.

And you were even able to design a toy that got launched to the public! Pianosaurus, a funny dinosaur that was also a piano.

Sadly, this toy was also included to the experimentation list. And in no time, you own creation took live. Sadly it didn't work as well as the company expected since some of its cognitive and coordination abilities failed, therefore, it was discarded and abandoned in an old enclosure.

The sudden disappear of Harley worried you. You knew he wasn't fired and you knew he was not in the factory. Finally fed up with the doubt you decided to go check the staff record to see if he even had checked out of his work hours (which he almost never did).

You left the designs you were working on to improve Doeys resistance of the cold and wandered through he corridors to check your theory of Sawyer never leaving the factory.

Before you could get to the next corridor, three voices stopped you. You couldn't hear much since they where inside one of the labs of that area but you could make out Leith's voice, saying something about having gotten rid of someone.

And something along the lines of "damned doctor"

You are well aware of what "taking care" of someone meant here. You had suggested it a couple of times with unloyal stuff but something about the timing of the conversation seemed off.

Before you could get away from that area again, you felt something hitting your head and the only thing that could be heard in that hall was the crash of your belonging against the floor.

————————————————————————

[Tape recording: The doctor]

[Dr white]: Oh, it looks like he's waking up

{The doctor}: where am I, what... Is this?... Oh no they didn't, those backstabbing traitors

[Dr white]: Dr Sawyer? can you hear me?

{The doctor}: White?! White is that you?! Who else is there with you?

{The doctor}: You enjoying watching me writhe like on of them- *Groan in pain*-my head feels like it's splitting in two *groan*- This is wrong, you must have done something wrong.

[Dr white]: Some disorientation is to be expected it'll-

{The doctor}: Who gave you the order? You spineless cowards, after all I've done for this project, for this company-

(Lith Pierre): I gave the order, Sawyer

{The doctor}: Leith Pierre... of course it'd be you, YOU have no idea what kind of mistake you've just made.

(Leith Pierre): Really? From where I'm sitting, you're the one who keeps making mistakes that need fixing. You and (Y/N) were warned.

(Leith Pierre): We gave you both so many opportunities to clean up your messes, but you just couldn't do it could you?

{The doctor}:What, do you think YOU can do better?? Nobody else can do what I do. You need my knowledge, my intellect!! You need (Y/N) and they will not collaborate!!

(Leith Pierre): Why do you think you're sitting in there right now, and not in Boxy's stomach? Let me tell you how this is gonna go, Sawyer. From now on you're here to give the lab boys answer when they need them and carry out procedures when and how we tell you to. That's it

(Leith Pierre): You'll be an open book to us whenever we want. So fight or have in, or whatever because either way we own the infrastructure you're wired into. Here's your first task, find us Dr (Y/N) (Y/L/N) so they can join you.

{The doctor}: You'll die for this Leith. When I get my hands on you you're a dead man!!!

(Leith Pierre): This temper is a bad look on you Harley!

[Tape Ended: The doctor.]

————————————————————————

[Tape recording: the escape]

(Y/N): What?- Where?-

Dr 1: are they- no I can't be- they're waking up *mumbling*

Dr 2: it cannot be!- increment the dosis!

(Y/N): what... Are you-? What do you think you are-? *Groans*

Dr 1: don't move- restrict them!!

(commotion sounds)

Dr 1: wait! Dont!- (static)

(Crashing sounds)

(Screams)

(Y/N):*groans* so... This is what you were trying to do... To me?

Dr 2:*coughing* Lab 19... Dr (Y/L/N) is *coughing* awak-

(Gunshot)

Leith :* through the phone* Dr? Dr?!-

(Static)

[Tape recording: the escape]

————————————————————————

You felt cold with the operation robe you had on, a harsh contrast with the warm blood that was scattered over your upper torso after stabbing one of the doctors with a scalpel.

Your ears ringed. After quickly taking the gun off the scientist body you aimed at the other one who was calling who you supposed was Pierre.

You shot him before he could end his message. You took the documents they had half completed on the desk: Experiment 1812- (Y/N) (Y/L/N)

You broke the papers with disdain. You though of Harley, were they doing the same to him? It wouldn't be so unusual to think that Pierre might have try to remove Sawyer out of the equation.

You then remembered that Leith must have sent someone to neutralise you, so hurrying you went out of the operation room,with the gun in hand, to the control room. Sawyer, Leith and Ludwig were the only ones with a key but Harley had made you a copy without the other two knowing. Of course, that copy was confiscated from you when you were left unconscious.

Once you got to the control room, you started noticing the cold on your bare feet, the blood dripping from your clothes and the rushed footsteps that seemed to be getting closer each second.

You punched the door in the handle repeatedly in desperation to get in. And just before you could see Leith rushing to you at the end of the corridor, the door automatically opened on its own, letting you in.

It immediately closed right after you and the sound of the mechanical lock echoed in the room, all of this followed by Pierre's hits on the door.

You ignored it, concentrating on the several cameras that formed the room. Complete access to he enclosures of the experiments.

1160-Boxy boo, 1163- Pianosaurus, 1166- Yarnaby, 1170- Huggy Wuggy, 1188-Catnap, 1222- Mommy long legs... To mention some of them.

In desperation, Pierre started shouting, already imagining what you would do in your anger.

(Y/N)!! Stop this. You are not thinking straight! They will kill you, all of us!!!- he said completely desperate, attempting to convince you to stop whatever you were planning, banging the door even harder.

You were always aware that what you did was not good, neither moral, neither human. But you did it either ways.

You understood their pain, specially their anger, you would be angry to in their place. Now you needed that anger, you needed that rage against Pierre and all of Playtime Co.

Even if you would be affected in the process, right now you don't care what might happen to you, you only care of what will happen to Pierre.

You pressed the bottom with no hesitation, the red lights illuminating the whole compound. You could hear Leith's shouts of desperation- WHAT HAVE YOU DONE!!!- WHAT HAVE YOU D- his voice sounded like murmurs, likely because of the effect of the anesthesia inside you.

Actions have consequences Leith, sooner or later both you and I were going to face them, I just accelerated the process.- you said with a mocking tone that brushed insanity-Im just helping you learn how to take responsibility for your actions.-you finished with a harsh tone in your voice.

While this was happening, the monitors in your back started to flash images of a single eye surrounded by static.

————————————————————————

Harley had observed through the cameras that now were part of his system how you escaped the operation room leaving two corpses behind. The moment Leith left the room in which his monitor was in to go and stop you, he started taking over the system.

He wanted to make you know what had happened to him, that he hadn't manage to escape and was now trapped there.

He opened the door to you once he catched on what you were trying to do and he tried to comunicate with you through the monitors in the room. You seem so angry and so full of adrenaline that you didn't notice how he couldn't even voice a though through the speakers.

Once Leith had escaped the corridor, hoping to save himself, he saw you sprinting out of the room to a direction that was way to familiar for him. The enclosure of 1322 or like you liked to call them: Kevin, Jack and Mathew.

He knew how much you insisted in refering to the experiments as there original names. You used to say that it helped them to stablish trust with you and he still insisted in naming them after their assigned numbers.

You arrived at the enclosure of the doe mass, while he tried to figure out how to control more of the systems so he could reach you.

Get out, come on- you said to Doey who looked at you as if you were the sunlight.- but- but what's happening, why is there so much noise?- he asked afraid- I freed them, all of them, come on, here is no longer safe- you said rushing him and sparring him the details of your actions.

But the doctor!- the bad people, they are going to hurt us- to starve us- he started having a meltdown- I don't know where Harley is but with the chaos that has ensued out there we can still hide somewhere they won't find us. Quick!- you were trying to rush the toy to the exit. You remembered that Harley mentioned you that there were building more floors deeper and deeper but they were still very much isolated from the rest of the factories system.

You guided the toy through the stairs and the chaos and while you were waiting for him to open a door from the other side, you took the opportunity to search in on of the few computers nearby some information that may lead you to Harley. You tried cameras, reports and all kinds of stuff but you couldn't find anything recent.

Harley didn't have access to the computer you were using. Growing more and more desperate he could feel himself getting overloaded until one of the nearby cable started igniting.

Doey quickly wrapped you around him and started running without a clear direction while the whole placed burned, dragging you both deep enough to not be found for a while.

————————————————————————

Harley was beyond furious, he was frustrated, defeated. Backstabbed by his coworkers and confined into a screen.

When The Prototype found him, he didn't face him with fear. He was well aware that he was useful for him and only for that, The Prototype would keep him alive. But he also knew that it was a means to an end. The prototype needed the doctor for his abilities and intellect but the doctor knew that, for the prototypes plan to actually work, they needed you and your ability to stabilise the toys mental state.

You had made sure to establish a relationship of trust and even some kind of bond between you and the toys. With some of them more genuine than with others. He never understood that, and for a long time he mistook it for simple compassion but the explanation you gave him catched him completely by surprise.

Why do you insist on bonding with those... Creatures, hmmm?- he asked you with his hand on the bridge of his nose and his glasses in the table.- are you aware what you are doing to them?right? Trying to save your morality is impossible here.

You laughed silently while eating a piece of sandwich.- this is lot about mortality, Harley- you responded to him. He felt oddly good when you pronounced his name. You usually referred to each other by surname but he could get used to hearing his name from your lips more often- Do you realise that those experiments are incubators of anger and resentment right? They are essentially human. Humans reaped from their bodies.-you took a bite- that, plus the abuse they endure from the guards, only breeds anger, anger that is eventually going to explode in our faces.- he looked at you curiously. Finally understanding your point.

You continued after he nodded, agreeing with you- By letting them know I empathise with them, which I do by the way, I'm basically letting them know I'm not much of an enemy but more of a shoulder to cry on. You understand?- your reasoning was calculated and based on assuming the worst but after all, you were right. He hadn't missed how much closer you had got to him, standing up with your hand on the top of the chair he was sitting in.

The experiments who demonstrated intelligence were not happy with the stuff at Playtime co and that was no secret. He finally understood what was your strategy. A point of view he had never seen before but one that made sense nonetheless.

That's how Harley understood that, in order to control the whole place and assure the prototypes plan, they needed you. That way he could have a valid excuse to give to the prototype for wanting to reach you and have you with him. That way you weren't perceived as his weakness and you could stay alive out of usefulness.

But he was going to find you, one way or another, sooner or later. He wasn't know for being a patient man but he could wait. He just needed time and nothing more. Just time...

————————————————————————

Doey finally put you down on the floor and you both stopped, catching a moment to breath.

You were in some sort of underground sewer, you didn't know where it would take you but as long as you were not in the upper levels with the rest of the free toys, you were safe for now.

Hey kid, how are you going?- you asked Doey who was starring at the ceiling, hearing the vague screams that could miraculously reach the underground.

Those screams are from...- he started, not daring to finish that sentence- (Y/N)... What have you done?.- you leaned against a wall, still dizzy from the remaining anesthesia in your body- What?- you asked, not expecting this reaction- Those screams!! They are from people, the toys are eating them!! Why did you do this?!

You paused a moment, not knowing what to respond. Keeping eye contact with the toy- I got fed up- you weren't exactly lying on that answer- I'm making it up for my actions, I was an accomplice in captivating you,in captivating them. Now I'm freeing you.- you took a deep breath, trying to clear your mind- look, I understand that you are upse-

NO, YOU DON'T!!!- He screamed- you try but you don't- He started sobbing- you don't hear them! you get to have silence, you don't hear the voices! the kind voices that always lie!! Your kind voice won't deceive me anymore- he stared at you, furious.

You got serious, taking a stance and looking him dead in the eye, you told him- I'm not a kind voice, Doey. I'm an honest voice and I made that very clear since the first moment I met the three of you.- he stayed silent after your statement, pouting, like a child would take after being scolded by their parent.- I will tell you the honest truth...if you can handle it. - you looked at him and proceeded- I don't think it's a good idea that we stick together. Kevin, you're obviously angry at me and I won't force you to change that. I'll let you cool down. Search for me when you are ready. .- and with that you turned and leaved, not willing to defy a 400 kg of mass

Doey extended an arm in your way trying to reach you before you would go down another path than him. You were the most similar thing he had to a parent, to a friend down there and he felt lost without your help and guidance.

The toy stayed there, sulking and trying to keep himself at bay.

You wandered through the sewers until you found a way out to a set of underground halls with a few computers to settle in. You stayed there, thinking about what to do next, what to eat. The only option where the toys of course. But mostly you spend your time wondering, wondering where could Harley be, if he even was still alive after what you did.

And Harley, well... He was determined to obtain absolute control over the whole facility, upper and lower levels. Searching to find certain germ that had crawled inside of his system, and former heart.

Searching for the direct culprit of the hour of joy...

The picture of the Kevin, Matthew Jack and Y/N

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Hi, I was wondering… could you write a scenario/one-shot with the player Player(Reader) where instead of the final battle with Doey we manage to calm him down and comfort him after Safe Haven was destroyed.

idk I just want to hug the Dough Boy

Ngl I had this one requested to me by like 5 people. So here's that much-needed fix it fic <3

.........

Hearing the distant screaming of who you could only assume was Doey, you rushed through the tunnel with a pounding heart.

You've never felt more terrified than you did right now.

Not long after killing the Doctor, the Prototype decided to make his move and lay waste to the Safe Haven. Ollie alerted you to the situation and told you how to repair the generator while Doey and the others fended off the outside threat.

Then you headed down to the foundation at Poppy's insistence, setting up the explosives you collected and eventually running into the doughman again within the caves.

He seemed utterly confused, having been chasing the Prototype away from Safe Haven...

Only to realize too little too late that was his intention all along..

An explosion suddenly rocked the sanctuary, prompting the two of you to rush back to see how bad the destruction was. It took you a while to get there considering your limitations as a human wearing a grabpack, so you could only imagine what Doey was seeing to make him scream that loudly.

When you finally made it through the infirmary, past a handful of Mini Smiling Critter corpses, your heart sunk into the pit of your stomach, horrified at the scene before you:

The decrepit yet colorful place the toys once found safety in...was totally reduced to rubble. Small fires burned all around you---and in the midst was a little Bobby Bearhug, who Doey was currently grieving over.

They might have been a nuisance to you in the playhouse, but these ones--the ones who refused to give into their savagery during the Hour of Joy--were innocent little souls. Doey had sworn to protect them over the years, keeping them sheltered from the outside..

And in an instant, they were gone.

All of them.

Because he wasn't there.

"I'm sorry...I'm so, so sorry." He choked out, seemingly unaware of your presence. "I failed you. I was never what any of you needed. I-I was only made to hurt things. My fault...my fault..." With a small sob, he brought his hands to his face.

You were utterly devastated, too.

How could this happen?

How could you let that damn machine trick you?

"Doey, I'm..." You stepped forward, only to freeze as he suddenly turned to you, now eerily silent.

The look in his big hollow eyes...was nothing short of pure anger.

"Hurt...everything hurts." He snarled, his nubby fingers balled up into fists. "Hurt back. ALWAYS hurt back. Parents. Scientists. Everyone! Have to-"

His body experienced a tremor, and he now looked utterly grief-striken once more, his voice now sounding depressed and weepy. "My friends! He killed my friends!" He sobbed, wiping at his tears.

At first you wondered what was going on with him, until you remembered the tapes and notes you've gathered throughout your journey--quite a handful discussed his time as an experiment and how he came to be, well, Doey.

Apparently the mad scientists here had the brilliant idea to take three children--boys to be precise--and blend them into one 900 pound pile of dough and bring it to life, thinking that nothing could possibly go wrong.

One of them, Kevin, had anger issues that drove him to become violent towards other children--even those who were his friends. The other was Matthew, who seemed to be the calmest and most mature, and the one you've most likely been talking to this whole time. Then there was Jack, a very young kid who fell into a dough mixer and was forced to become part of Doey as some "life-saving" measure.

Had it not been for the information you discovered, you never would've understood what was happening to the toy you've allied yourself with.

But now you realize he was unstable.

Because of the sheer trauma of Safe Haven's destruction.

"You. It all started with you." Doey pointed at you accusingly, Kevin dominating the conversation once more. "You and her...IT WAS YOU WHO RUINED EVERYTHING!!" He screamed.

"What?" Your eyes went wide, horrified that he'd blame you for all of this. "No, that's...you seriously think this was all my fault?! I had no idea this was going to happen!"

"LIAR!! You two led him to us." He growled. "You shouldn't have come back...NEVER SHOULD HAVE COME BACK!!"

His body wriggled once more, with Matthew trying his best to stay in control, afraid of what he'd might do. "No, no. That's not true. They jumpstarted the generator, they--" He smacked the side of his head, and he was lost again, Kevin's rage being too overbearing. "DESTROYED EVERYTHING!! I'LL KILL YOU!!!"

'No..no, no, no...' You panicked internally, slowly backing away as you saw sharp orange teeth starting to break through his mouth. 'Please, god..don't make me hurt another one...'

Why did this have to happen again?

You were so, so tired of having to fight.

After he saved you from Pianosaurus, made his sanctuary a home to you, and kept you smiling throughout your trip inside this hellhole....it was now going to come down to either you or him walking away alive?

In a blind rage, Doey's enlarged fist swung at a concrete pillar beside him, and as it crumbled....so did the ceiling above him that was barely supported by that single pillar.

Now nothing could stop the rubble from crashing down onto him--

Except for you and your quick thinking, using both grabpack hands to grip his arms and drag him towards you with all your might. Upon release, you jumped back as he fell to the ground, looking to see the massive pile of debris he would've been buried under.

It made you feel relieved, afraid of what might've become of him.

"You...why did you do that? You think that makes you a hero?!!"

Before you could blink, Doey suddenly had you in his grasp, holding you up high in the air with both hands, itching to crush you and eat you alive. "WHY DID YOU DO THAT?!!" His features began distorting, looking more reptilian in nature. "I said I'd kill you!! KILL EVERYONE WHO HURTS ME!!!"

For a brief moment, you thought you saw a few pairs of glowing red eyes within his widening mouth, but they quickly retreated--except for one angry-looking set.

Yet you stared at them, your resolve unwavering. "You're an idiot, you know that?"

"....what?" He was shocked by your cold answer, and that only fueled his outrage. "IDIOT?! I'M NOT THE IDIOT!! YOU'RE THE IDIOT!!!"

"Don't you get it?! This is exactly what the Prototype wants! He wants to see us fight and tear each other apart! Destroy whatever unity we had left!" You snapped, despite your voice trembling. "You think I wanted this to happen?! You think I wanted Poppy to drag me into this mess?!"

"......."

"I only came here because of a stupid note. From somebody I knew who claims they're still alive. But...they can't be. I was tricked by him. I tried to leave, but Poppy...she redirected the train that was my only way out of here, saying I'm "the only one" who can help her...but I never wanted that responsibility, Doey."

For once, "Kevin" remained silent, although he still had you in his clutches. But he looked surprised to hear that she took away your chance at escaping this place.

She never mentioned that to him.

She only said you came willingly..

"Something's not right with her. You know it. I know it. And I'm sure Kissy knows it even if she can't tell us. We've all felt used by her. To do the dirty work that somehow keeps bringing the Prototype closer to us."

"...you could have talked her out of it.." He finally responded. "Yet you...you went along with her plan anyway. YOU KILLED THEM!! KILLED MY FRIENDS!! Our friends.." Jack briefly returned, sniffling. "T-They thought you were good...they thought you were nice..I-I thought Poppy was, too."

"I know, and I'm sorry. I should have heard you out. I had no idea it was gonna lead to all of this. I swear to god..I didn't know.." You sighed shakily, hoping he'd be willing to listen to reason. "You have every right to blame me. But..we can't let them die in vain. The Doctor's gone, so all we have to do is get to him. But first...I need you to put me down."

"......"

"Please, Doey. I don't care if you hate me for this. I don't expect your forgiveness. Let's just....kill the Prototype..and you can do whatever you want to me afterwards. I'm tired of fighting people I've come to see as friends. I've got enough blood on my hands."

At first, it seemed like all your attempts at resolving this without violence were futile, as he was just breathing raggedly, like he were an animal who was too far gone.

But then you saw his features twitch, resembling what they were before. His eyes also had that familiar sad look to them, indicating Matthew had somehow regained full control--at least for the moment.

"I..." He sniffled, setting you down on the ground. "I'm sorry. We--I was just...so hurt by what happened. And....And I just looked for somebody to blame. I shouldn't have lashed out. I shouldn't have-"

"Hey, it's okay, Doey. I know you didn't mean it." You reassured him, happy he returned to his senses, before you turned around to see that same Mini-Bobby still laying on the floor, who somehow didn't get crushed by the rubble.

Without saying a word, you crouched down to pick up the little Smiling Critter, cradling her despite the blood. You saw a piece of playmat that managed to survive the explosion. Although it wasn't much, it was better than her laying on the ash-ridden concrete, so you decided to set her down on it.

Doey just looked on in silence, removing his hat as a show of respect, still mulling over his angry words and how he threatened your life.

There's no way you could have predicted the Prototype's next move.

Then, as though a miracle were sent from above...Mini-Bobby suddenly gasped, coming back to life.

Both of you were initially shocked, although you were quick to comfort her as she coughed a few times, smoking clogging her senses. "Hahh..gah..wh-what happened?" She hoarsely asked, seeing you two and the surrounding flames, before it all clicked. "The Safe Haven...it's..."

"I'm sorry. It's no more." You frowned a little, helping her sit up. "Go through that tunnel and stay quiet. I'll be there to retrieve you. Just keep yourself away from all this smoke."

She nodded managing to get up and limp towards the tunnel you came from.

Doey was astonished. "Bu....But I thought..she...."

"Looks like not everybody perished. There might be more survivors-" You turned back to face him.....only to get engulfed by his arms, and for a moment you thought Kevin returned and was about to crush you like a grape.

Until you heard loud sobbing and felt his entire body tremble, realizing it was Jack instead, and your relief returned.

"There, there, big guy." You hugged him back, smiling sadly. "You're okay. We're gonna get through this together. He'll pay for what he's done to our friends. I'll make sure of it."

"I-I don't wanna be here anymore..I just want mommy...a-and daddy..." He cried.

"I know. I don't wanna be here, either. We're gonna find a way out."

"...I'm so sorry. I-I didn't mean to get so angry.."

"I know you didn't. I forgive you."