#G: Hurt/ Comfort | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jensettermandu · 6 months

Text

six feet under - yu jimin

genre; smut, angst, hurt/comfort

pairing; karina x g!p reader

content; despite the title there's no character death (it's just for metaphors) , unhealthy relationship; lack of communication , difficulty dealing with acceptance/reality , unintentionally hurting e/o , smut; p in v :D , unprotected sex , top karina/service bottom reader , oral (reader giving) , slight breast play , some praising

synopsis; it had always been said that nothing stays the same, it had been said ever since they were little kids and that acceptance of it was important. it helped move forward because dwelling in a past that no longer existed did no one any good. to hang onto something that didn’t exist meant falling to the deepest parts of hell willingly because no matter how much it hurt it felt like it was worth it the second they looked back at what it used to be.

wc; 15.6k+

masterlist.

It had always been said that nothing stays the same, it had been said ever since they were little kids and that acceptance of it was important. It helped move forward because dwelling in a past that no longer existed did no one any good. To hang onto something that didn’t exist meant falling to the deepest parts of hell willingly because no matter how much it hurt it felt like it was worth it the second they looked back at what it used to be.

The silence could almost be dreading, it was so loud that it vibrated through their ribcage. It was so loud with their thoughts that they had no clue what to do. Love could be so many things, couldn’t it? It also meant that love got mistaken a lot of times too. It could make a bed feel comfortable, one they would always want to be at the end of every night, but it would always feel cold with spaces bigger than the ocean even if they were just an inch away.

At times it felt like acknowledging the damage would only damage the rest of the world too if it was brought up. It was for everyone’s best and they could silently try to fix the damage with minimum casualties around them.

They both fell blind and only realised that they forgot to do something about it when they were dragged out of the daydreams and brought back to reality. The daydream that was the past was what made Y/n look away from her monitor once her eyes fell on the time at the bottom corner. She slipped the headphones off of her head, loose bangs falling over her forehead as they no longer were held back by the gear and she turned the chair around. Her eyes fell on the bed that was empty despite it being 0:30 AM.

Routines changed, but they stayed.

It had become a game of avoiding the other to not bring up the actual problems. Y/n indulged in her video games the whole day so they could avoid even looking at each other. She hadn’t spared Jimin a single glance but was now looking at the empty bed with sentiment filling her veins heavily. She deeply inhaled, trying to fill her lungs with oxygen to air out the sadness and hang on to the hope of stitching the torn back together.

It was harder than it looked though when she had no clue how to put together a world that had been caught in a landslide and pulled them apart. It was all drifting apart, burning bridges they couldn’t stop imagining still existed. All they did was stand and look at it happening because there was nothing that they could do about these new feelings.

She placed the headset onto the desk and reached over to the power button on the PC, her index finger coming in contact with it. Y/n pressed it and still deep in lamentful thoughts she held it for a while longer than needed before letting go.

Just as she stood up the door opened and her tired eyes landed on Jimin whose gaze immediately was drawn to Y/n despite how far away they were. It was time to let go, but all that heaviness caused by the thoughts of finally mending their worlds and leaving the one they had built together in the past was hard to get rid of. There were so many reasons that told them to let go, but so many that told them to stay because of what once was their everything.

“I just have to take a quick shower.” Jimin nodded at that as she stepped inside the room, leaving the door ajar as she knew what it meant. It was too cold to fall asleep beside each other on the bed, it was too uncertain of what they should do in the familiar sheets. It was easier to fall asleep alone, but it was difficult to sleep fully through the night if they weren’t both in bed at the same time.

It had become a routine of leaving to let the other fall asleep before getting in bed too. The shower felt agonising, unsure if she had been in there long enough or if she should stay and continue to ponder. Everything around them still felt the same, but on the inside everything was different. Was it because of how suddenly it had happened? Was it because it was scary to let go of something that used to be all their comfort, scared that it was their only comfort after being it for so long? Was it because of how much they still had for each other?

What if they got lost and became wanderers once they would let go of each other and would end up walking life without a goal to reach?

The shower felt like the only place where she could ponder now since it felt like it was too much to cry in front of each other. That would mean that they would have to talk about what was wrong and what they had to do, to do the things they weren’t ready for. The past felt so worth holding onto despite the feelings of the future never looking like they imagined.

It was like every other time when Y/n walked back to the room, she quietly opened it, stepping inside the warmth and the comforting scent of Jimin that lingered in the air. Was it because all these things still brought her warmth and comfort? Her eyes landed on the bed that wasn’t empty this time, but would still feel cold once she settled in it. Never did they do it intentionally, but it had started happening at some point and there was nothing they could do to stop it.

She couldn’t just not care, she always did and always would as she threw her black hoodie onto the backrest of the swivel chair she had been sitting in earlier. It merely made a sound when it landed on the chair and she walked a few small steps over to the edge of the bed where Jimin was lying.

It had become a new routine to just stare at Jimin from a distance while trying to figure out what exactly was wrong between them. She had always adored the girl whether with words or just by looking at her from across a room, but this was different despite the adoration. This always made her eyes look a certain way, a way that whenever Jimin caught Y/n looking at her she could tell what she was thinking and Jimin found herself leaving to wipe away her tears.

So Y/n was crouched down right by Jimin who was asleep on the bed, her head tilting as a small frown adorned her features in thought. The longer she thought the more it all felt like a pipe dream as her eyes lingered on the girl's soft features Y/n adored. The white duvet pulled up to her chin and the younger reached over to Jimin, gently grazing her fingers over the tender skin. Nothing about it had changed, it still felt as good as it always had under her fingertips.

She pushed back some of the loose strands away from the sleeping girl’s face before she pulled her hand away fully, scared that she would wake her up, that Jimin would pull away from her touch, that they would both freeze and then go back to pretending.

Y/n sighed at the feelings she couldn’t decipher anymore and her forehead rested on the edge of the bed for a few seconds as she closed her eyes tightly. Her fists clenched and so did her jaw to shut out everything, the landslide wiped away from her mind, the future too, the past stayed as she fished for the answers from the burning bridge. She was utterly confused, she was so lost in that field where everything had burned to the ground.

Where did it all go? When did it all disappear?

She deeply inhaled and raised her head, shakily letting out her breath, doing it slowly to not wake Jimin up. Her fingers peeled at the cover, the small bear coming into view that Jimin was hugging–it was Y/n’s childhood plushie, but the comfort that it had held once had been transferred to Jimin. She had no clue if Jimin had transferred it further or if she still held onto it. It felt too cold at times, but they were still hanging on to the daydream.

“Goodnight, angel.” Her fists gripped onto the sheets as she left a ghost-like peck against Jimin’s soft cheek while standing up before climbing carefully over the girl to lie down by the wall. Y/n got under the duvet and laid on her back, staring at the ceiling that was empty while her head raced with thoughts that would make falling asleep so much harder. The itch to hold each other, but the fear of it not feeling the same anymore kept them at a distance and so the ache grew, but the silence didn’t dissipate. It was loud enough to mask the sounds of the heartbreak.

Jimin heaved a sigh, her eyes opening in the silent room, knowing that Y/n was lying just behind her, but she wasn’t able to feel her. The simple peck, the brush of fingers against her skin, the goodnight, the innocent pet name; all made her eyes burn hot in the freezing weather that the room was in. It made her stiffen up her lower lip to try and keep them at bay, clutching the little bear harder, burying her nose into its brown fuzzy fur.

Each time she blinked her eyes its fur soaked up the tears, being the only witness of them, the only thing wiping them for her, holding her sorrows inside its small frame. She was afraid that it would overfill soon enough, that the bear would turn salty and bitter from her tears, and that it wouldn’t want to give her any more comfort because of that. She longed, but they flew apart and she couldn’t figure out what exactly she longed for as Jimin felt just as lost and confused about everything as Y/n was.

Was it all broken or just bent? She had no clue, Jimin didn’t even know what exactly it was that was wrong. Or maybe she knew just what was wrong, but pretended that she didn’t?

It echoed in Y/n’s head after the alarm had gone off around 6 AM and she had turned it off–their last rehearsal before they were off to Tokyo, Japan. What their mornings used to look like kept replaying in her head, the sounds of them like an echo of silence now because they no longer happened. There was no room filled with giggles despite it being early at dawn or noon. No words that were sweet affection were exchanged between them. There was no holding each other, hugging, kissing, and just being there with each other, close and content.

Neither could remember the last time they had said an ‘I love you’ to each other.

It used to be always in the mornings, before bed and throughout the day.

It made Y/n exhale while turning to lay on her back as they slept with their backs turned to each other. She tiredly stared at the ceiling unable not to look over at Jimin whose back was still turned to her, it was like a big ice wall fell and blocked them off. ‘It’s fine’ kept repeating itself in Y/n’s head as she pursed her lips and grabbed her phone to see that the time still flew and didn’t wait for them. It did not wait and they were wasting time away from each other when they could be making it meaningful.

The footsteps outside were heard now and Y/n knew that they didn’t have more time to sit and wallow in their sorrows of holding onto something that wasn’t there.

“We have to start getting up.” The girl mumbled just to make sure that the first alarm had managed to wake up Jimin. It did for Y/n because she hadn’t been able to fall into a deep slumber because of all the thoughts.

It was harsh, it was like a strong tornado carrying all types of feelings in it came through the room and cut through Y/n’s skin. “I know, Y/n.” The softness was gone and Y/n bit her lower lip because despite it all they hadn’t been like two snakes around each other, ready to bite and leave venom any second. They hadn’t tried to make it sting more than it already did, but it seemed impossible to do for too long.

The younger still caught the sweet scent of Jimin that made the moment slightly less bitter, reminding her of all the good times when she’d be drowned in the scent. The duvet was thrown off of Jimin who got up from the bed, grabbing the hoodie from the chair on her way and all she left behind was a whirlwind of unspoken emotions after leaving the door ajar when she walked out.

Y/n grabbed the little bear that fell beside her and stared at it, looking for answers in the tears she knew that Jimin was shedding every night. She pretended that she didn’t hear it, that she was asleep, that she simply didn’t know that she was making the girl cry. It was easier that way and in the morning she would look at the bear and still get no answers. She couldn’t acknowledge her silent cries because they would have to do something about everything if she did.

Practice went as usual, almost as usual for the two of them. They both wondered if the rest had noticed their lack of communication and how they occupied themselves with the others to not make eye contact by accident. If they did notice, it wasn’t like any of them would comment on it since Y/n and Jimin’s relationship wasn’t their business.

It didn’t even seem to be Jimin and Y/n’s business anymore as neither of them spoke about it.

Still half panting, Y/n sat on the couch with Minjeong as the two got engulfed in the Nintendo 3DS Y/n had brought with her. There was an emptiness that she hadn’t been able to grow used to, she had become so used to having someone always right next to her for the past three years. It wasn’t constant clinging to each other, but even the small things such as brushing their legs or glancing at each other. The loss of that made a void grow bigger each second and the only thing that would fill it was if things went back to how they used to be.

It made Y/n wonder if Jimin felt the same and so she glanced away from the game, her eyes landing on her girlfriend. She was so used to it so she wasn’t sure if it was Jimin specifically or just a habit that was hard to let go of now, all that affection. The girl was busy talking to Aeri and no matter what they were doing someone’s back was always turned to the other. Y/n’s hoodie-clad the girl’s upper body and Y/n tilted her head, thinking about how maybe that was what brought Jimin the comfort of having someone next to her, just the warmth and scent.

Their confusion about the situation was what made it hard for them to get back to the intimacy they used to share.

The door opened and Ning walked in with their manager, catching everyone’s attention as it got noisier when they started to all converse while making it to the couch. However, Y/n looked back down at the 3DS to occupy her eyes with something for a few more seconds to not try to figure out where Jimin would sit this time.

Aeri was about to sit on the wooden floor, her eyes seeing the lone spot left beside Y/n as Ning was already on the floor by Minjeong’s legs with her drink and one of the pastries. Jimin made sure to insist that she could take the spot, but it still left her in an awkward spot on the floor by Y/n’s legs. Her shoulder brushed against them, bumping into each other constantly and she couldn’t bring herself to sit still, especially not when all the emotions were bubbling inside her.

She couldn’t remember being this emotional before.

How else was she supposed to be when everything felt out of control and she had no clue what to do? There was nothing she could do no matter how hard she tried to catch everything only for it to slip right through her fingers.

Jimin wanted to cry when she took a sip of her drink and something just had to top it all off when her order seemed nothing but wrong. Everything in her life was crumbling, she was in pure distress and despair. However, things only could get worse–they had yet to reach the bottom–and not better because among the cold there was always a warmth as she tried to stop the pout on her lips while staring at her drink.

Jimin felt like a puddle of water in the middle of the road, no one appreciated them and walked around them and all they did was harbour filth; filth being these feelings that only grew bigger, the mess of a puddle becoming bigger too.

She looked up at the hand that took her drink, her glossy eyes meeting Y/n’s for a split second.

The younger felt a heat shoot through her body, it was as if she broke a limb at the pain that she felt seeing Jimin actually harbour these tears and not just cry at night when she thought that Y/n was asleep. It hurt her chest, she cared about Jimin, and she knew that she always would because before she became her lover she was her best friend and member. Maybe that's why it hurt even more. Y/n had no clue who she lost in this silent war they were stuck in.

Was she losing a lover? A best friend? A member?

“You can have mine.” Y/n knew her, Jimin hated it because it made everything even harder and Y/n could see the way the tears grew as quickly as a high tide in the girl’s eyes. She looked hurt, she was hurting, they were hurting, but they continued to do so without saying anything. Why could Y/n tell from a certain pout that Jimin wasn’t satisfied with her food or drink? Why did they have to be so caring for each other? It made cold things warm and they had no clue why things were cold to begin with.

They didn’t want to lose it.

She took the iced green tea she knew that Y/n loved and the younger took her drink. All it took was a sip of it and it all got overwhelming once again because the thoughts didn’t stop crashing inside of her head, exploding and occupying every corner of her mind. It made her wonder if Y/n was busy thinking the same things throughout her whole day too and the thought of being the only one to do so hurt immensely.

“I will be back–restroom.”

The girls hummed, going back to what they were doing as Jimin excused herself, leaving everything behind her and she wished she could do that with the reality that she didn’t want to live in. It was haunting her.

She missed the days when her biggest worries in a relationship were that the promised forever wouldn’t be long enough and not that everything had possibly dropped dead like flies around them, that the forever would never happen. It was a painfully slow dance in a burning room that neither of them left just to see if they could still survive once everything had crumbled fully and the smoke had filled their lungs.

Y/n knew that letting time pass would be too painful to sit through. Nothing was waiting for them. Even if it meant a bigger gap, she gave her 3DS to Minjeong who continued on the game while Y/n had become a pawn in a game no one was controlling. It was a game of chaos no one could cultivate anything out of, no order, no logic, no helpful solutions. This was a game of walking a thin line of nothing and everything.

It was too tiring, walking inside the bathroom felt like getting locked in the confines of a place where no one would ever find her, no one would see her. No one would see if Jimin broke down in the bathroom and it made relief wash over her and the tears spilled like a broken dam. That was all it took and she tried to calm down, but it wasn’t possible as she turned on the faucet, letting it run to drown out her snivels and deep breaths.

It was exhausting to be crying almost every day, she didn’t know what sleep was anymore and all she lived for was sorrow, she lived to continue hurting.

Why did they make something simple so complicated? Love was what made it complicated.

She used the pads of her palms and wiped at her eyes while tilting her head back and letting out a shaky breath. It felt like there was no calming down from this and each second only made it worse. The silence despite the running water, the echoes in the tiled bathroom, and the stalls empty.

Jimin could still remember all the other times she had been crying in the same bathroom when everything felt like it was all for nothing because she couldn’t feel fulfilment despite her achievements. She could remember the way her girlfriend would end up in the same bathroom, coaxing it all out of her, taking all her burdens and carrying them for her. Could Y/n do the same thing now when they both were in the same shoes?

Everything reminded her of Y/n except Y/n herself. They both felt distant and like different people.

Even the light knock on the door was familiar and she took in a shuddering breath, turning to look at Y/n when she opened the door. It fell closed right after, her hands in the pockets of her sweatpants, restricting herself from all those instincts that always kicked in. Her eyes followed the hesitance that was clear in Jimin’s body that pulled to Y/n, but with so much trouble as she held the sleeve of the hoodie against her trembling lips.

“Come on,” Y/n mumbled, knowing that it was all that was needed to get the girl to just break down fully. “It’s okay to not be okay,” she mumbled as she wrapped her arms around the girl’s shoulders who shook in her arms. The hot tears were burning against her pale skin, wetting her neck, trailing down and spilling like they never had before. Her cheek rested against the side of Jimin’s head, pulling her closer to her body, into her warmth because it was all still the same, but it felt different.

What was it that exactly wasn’t okay? It wasn’t just them themselves, but them together and it ended up making both of them not feel okay.

Jimin tightly wrapped her arms around Y/n’s waist, crying into her neck. She got pulled closer, her head being cradled by Y/n’s hand. All of it made it impossible to hold the walls up, the ones that were supposed to show that she wasn’t as bothered by it as she truly was. In reality, Jimin could barely breathe through it without falling into a panic attack. Hearing Y/n’s words, and hearing that it was okay made it so much easier to let it all out, especially when she was with the girl and held by her.

The reassurance that it was okay to cry about the landslide made it easier. Y/n recognised the burdens and Jimin wasn’t alone.

“I’m sorry for how I took it out on you in the morning.” Y/n only hummed, holding her close as Jimin had been a rose with its thorns aimed at Y/n since they woke up. From the harsh words to the ways she blatantly shut her out even when it was a small question not to her girlfriend but to the leader of Aespa. Jimin was scared and it was affecting her role as a leader too, as a member of the group. The fear was consuming her life fully and was getting in the way of everything.

“I’m just so tired and I can barely sleep at night.” Or maybe she could sleep just fine but chose to cry at night instead of closing her eyes. She woke up more tired each day, every little second got more exhausting than the other.

“I know, I’m sorry for all of this.” The younger knew all about it, but what she didn’t know was what exactly she was apologising for. Y/n knew that Jimin was crying at night because of what was happening between them, but she knew that it wasn’t her fault or Jimin’s. It was natural, it would have happened at some point, right? Y/n inhaled, closing her eyes because it hurt her, but seeing how much it affected Jimin made it hurt so much more and it made everything more complicated.

“We can’t keep going without knowing where it’s all heading. I’m confused and–” Y/n stopped her before they got too deep into the truth because neither of them was ready to let go just yet, neither wanted to end it just yet. They needed some more time, some more time to find more than just one option to end their pain. There always was more than one choice.

She pulled away from Jimin, her upper body lingered with the warmth that the shorter girl left after her. Jimin gripped at Y/n’s sweater, knowing that once they let go they would be apart for what would feel like years again. The void between them would become even bigger than it already was and they would avoid it for much longer.

“I care about you, nothing will change that and it’s all fine, Jimin.” She held her face cupped in her hands, tears hitting her skin as the girl looked up at her with quivering eyes. They knew that these false paintings of their relationship would make them feel better for now. Not in the long run, but they tried to live in the present–it didn’t matter if they reminisced and avoided the problems of the present.

Jimin blinked her eyes, trying her best to run into the daydream, trying to escape reality. Her eyes closed, hoping that she would be thrown into her daydream as Y/n kissed her forehead.

She missed the pretty sunset sky, the fireworks, the green grass, the clouds that came in different shapes and would be fluffy. It was like a childish dream and possibly some people had been right when they said that young love was complicated. It wasn’t like they cared, they had always felt like teenagers in love with each other.

Why wasn’t it working though? Where did it all go? It no longer felt like a daydream. It no longer felt like it used to do.

It was so difficult to grasp something that physically wasn’t there, neither of them could grasp it, at the feelings. Love was so beautifully painful the way it painted them with all these different colours. The canvas would always be filled with them and to the eye it would always be beautiful but to the souls that served as the canvas it would always be heaven and hell. Among white there was blue, among blue there was green, among green there was red and it went on.

The daydream was constantly corrupted by the harsh reality.

It was like walking a tightrope.

The smallest mistakes felt deadly.

The stupidest mistakes.

It would be laughable if it weren’t for the fact that there was so much on the line.

It was part of the social culture and Y/n had happened to fall victim to it because a few cigarettes had turned into a pack or two a week. What were her reasons? Probably all that went on in her hectic life, but it hadn’t been easy to sneak around with an addiction. It got especially hard when the dorm arrangements changed because she and Jimin got together.

Y/n had managed to sneak around for a whole two months. All it took was one week of sharing a room with Jimin who gave up on pretending that she didn’t notice the lingering smell of tobacco on Y/n and slowly herself.

‘Fine, I will quit for you.’

‘Not for me. For yourself and your health.’

‘Doing it for you makes it easier.’

‘Only if you don’t start doing it again. It will hurt to think that doing it for me wasn’t enough.’

‘I promise.’

Even the simplest promises were being broken. It felt all the more hopeless.

It was hard, to say the least with starting to dose down on how much she smoked until it was nothing at all. Y/n had never thought of herself as someone who grew addicted easily, but nicotine turned out to be a bitch and even a year and a half after quitting the cravings came back. There were certain times when they were extra tempting, it made her irritated and restless. It was times like these that she always had her substitutes for them, from nicotine patches to nicotine gum or simply Jimin.

This time it felt like Jimin was the cause of the cravings.

The world around them no longer felt real because of how they had surrounded themselves in a fake reality.

“Did you slam the door in my face?” Venom, that was what Jimin spat out, pure venom behind her words as she locked the door to the green room. The rest were out and talking to their label mates, but it was better to make sure they didn’t walk in if they came back earlier. The last thing Jimin or Y/n wanted was for the rest to notice that everything around them was crumbling, that it had all become a smoke screen.

Y/n inhaled deeply, rummaging through her stuff, ignoring the clatter as she was on the brink of losing it. “I didn’t and if I did, it wasn’t intentionally. I had no fucking clue you were behind me.” It was a low mutter, but it was just as poisonous as Jimin’s tone which had been louder. At the back of her head, Y/n had been expecting Jimin to be right behind her, she was the whole reason why she was buzzing with cravings.

“You slammed it in my face and an apology wouldn’t hurt you, Y/n.” Jimin had no clue why she was letting it drag on. She could have dropped it, she was aware that Y/n didn’t know and even if she did, Jimin knew she deserved ten more doors slammed closed in her face.

“You want me to apologise?” Y/n snapped that easily and it had never happened between the two of them–the cravings only made it worse together with the tension of constantly being on their guard not to let anything slip past them.

They never really fought to begin with. All those small fights that never meant anything, that never held any real frustrations, it was different now. Those pent-up emotions came out and spilled right over the head of the other. Y/n wanted to throw it at Jimin because her girlfriend had been doing it since they landed in Tokyo. They were being petty for the sake of being it and not for any good causes. Y/n tossed the stuff onto the table, ignoring the even louder clatter of the things and continued to look through her stuff.

“Called manners.” She commented. It was like she knew that something so simple would irk Y/n more than she already was, especially in this state.

“Oh, so Karina wants to talk manners.” Y/n huffed and turned around, leaning back against the table. Her arms crossed as she gripped onto her arms, hiding the tremor in her fingers as the anger and everything else was overwhelming. She hated fighting with the girl, but it felt inevitable when they were alone in the room with so much tension already lingering between them.

The past couple of fights they’ve had been nothing but hurtful with no apologies after, pretending it never happened to begin with.

Jimin’s eyes squinted at the words, Y/n barely called her by her stage name even when they were on stage. Hearing her bring it up was enough to let her know what Y/n was pointing at.

Jimin was falling under the pressure of juggling work and a relationship she could no longer figure out. It had never been a problem for them, but she felt like she had failed her role in the group by letting personal conflicts get in the way.

Nonetheless, it would be impossible to admit to now when they were in an argument that grew by the second.

“Don’t comment on my work ethic when you barely have yours under control. You’re being sensitive.” She argued, knowing very well that she had been letting her complex emotions and confusion about where she and Y/n were heading get in the way of her professionalism.

“You’re the one crying over a door.” Y/n scoffed in disbelief, pointing at the door in question that was behind Jimin. The girl pulled on the strings of her hoodie in frustration at Y/n’s words. It only fueled her on, she couldn’t remember being able to get this angry with Y/n before, she had never thought that she could get angry with her. Or maybe it wasn’t anger that she felt towards Y/n, but just frustration because of how confusing their relationship had turned. How dead it was.

Maybe she was angry at herself, at the world, or at how confusing love could be. She was angry at the fact that they let it die to begin with.

“Because you slammed it in my face!” This time she let her voice fly way above what she imagined she would, her foot stomping down in frustration. The tears welled up in her eyes so easily, that constant haunting fragile mentality as everything was hurting and it didn’t let her breathe.

“Because you are doing a shit job at being a leader!” Y/n watched Jimin pace around, watching how desperately she tried to get rid of her tears. Those tears of frustration, not knowing how else to take it out she yelled at Y/n and cried, but there was only so much that could cover her tears now.

“Don’t comment on my work ethic, Y/n.” She repeated and found herself in front of Y/n, it almost felt dangerous to be so close to each other at a moment like this. It was scary because they had never had these fights and being so close to what used to be just comfort felt wrong, it felt wrong to bring these feelings into their safety net.

It ruined their purpose, the place they went to when they wanted to escape these feelings, the pressure, the world. It was all truly gone, wasn’t it?

She could feel it all spiral, leaving them with no control over what happened between them in the room.

“Someone has to when you forget how to separate relationships from work. Be a fucking leader and answer a fucking question instead of shutting me out because of our personal life.”

“It’s not easy when this is what it looks like!” She threw her arms, motioning to the mess they were together, the one they both had been avoiding because of how complicated it was. It was hard not to notice, but impossible to truly acknowledge and so it all mixed into everything else.

“Nothing is ever easy for you, is it? That’s why I always become your punching bag when things go wrong.” The words left Y/n bitterly, her hands gripping onto the table behind her as she exhaled these deep breaths that helped with nothing. Watching Jimin with tears in her eyes wasn’t helping, but Y/n felt like the girl had been trampling all over her. She was using her title as a leader and girlfriend in a nonchalant way, she was neglecting Y/n as a member and not a lover.

“That’s not true and you know it.” Jimin knew that it was all true, her tone faltering as she would feel even more guilty if she raised her voice to spit out lies. It hurt too much to say the truth of the situation.

“It has been even more true lately,” Y/n muttered, her eyes leaving Jimin’s.

It felt like the woman in front of her was trying to coax her into forgiving her without Jimin having to apologise. Y/n was done doing those things. She couldn’t put it all aside like all the other times when she accepted Jimin’s apologies she never even said. The ones where Y/n blatantly admitted to being wrong even when she wasn’t because she didn’t want to fight or see Jimin cry.

“Because–because—” Now came the difficult part for Jimin who had no good excuse for this and she knew that she was wrong. The problem bigger than this one was her pride and ego, they got in the way, especially now after how tense everything has been.

“It doesn’t matter. Nothing is changing.” It made Jimin’s heart drop, Y/n’s stomach twisting at her own words that she never wanted to say. It was what it felt like though.

She gently grabbed Jimin’s shoulder to have her step aside as she stood up to walk out the door.

“Don’t say that.” A quiver fell from between her lips, a lump in Jimin’s throat that cut deep and made it all bleed much worse than it already was. Her hand grabbed Y/n’s to have her stay because, in the end, she didn’t want her lover to leave, not just yet and she quickly stopped in front of Y/n. She would never accept those words, not now at least because hearing them made her lightheaded, it made her chest clench and she wanted to collapse onto the floor to be swallowed before she could feel more pain.

“Where’s our manager? I need her to buy cig–”

“You’re not smoking just because things go wrong for us!” It wasn’t possible to speak with a quivering voice, it was too soft so she raised her voice again. She still cared about Y/n as a member, friend, lover and person, it didn’t matter what was going on between them. Jimin would always care about Y/n. Her hand bunched up the material of Y/n’s shirt in her hand as to keep the girl from leaving her. She refused to let go, in the end, she wasn’t supposed to want anything else but Y/n and even if her feelings were different she clung to that idea.

That there was only one person for the both of them.

“Is this something else you want to cry about!? You didn’t bring my shit with you because you’re being petty and expect me to break habits.” It had become a habit, Jimin had become someone Y/n relied on with most of her things. If Jimin had been packing certain things for her it had become a habit that she would do it every time and it never crossed Y/n’s mind to do it herself anymore.

It had never bothered Jimin either and now it was doing nothing but pissing both of them off. Those flaws they had accepted and learned to love before were nothing but a hassle to deal with now and they wanted the other to erase them and change. To change so they could learn to love these new people they would become.

“If you said that you quit for me then fucking keep the promise or will you break them all just because it isn’t working out for us at the moment? And I’m not your mother, Y/n, why do you rely on me packing your fucking things!” She shoved Y/n by the shoulder, wanting to get her away from her even for a split second because she was boiling over with emotions. It would never end well no matter who they were fighting with when there were too many emotions.

Jimin felt conflicted at her own pushing and pulling as she one second wanted no one but Y/n and the other second she couldn’t stand the girl.

“Everything I did for you feels like a waste at the moment when all you give me is headaches, Jimin.” Y/n’s voice was rough and loud, ignoring that they had more performances tomorrow. Jimin could feel the vibrations in her ribcage and she harshly wiped away the tears. It felt like Y/n didn’t deserve her tears at this exact moment, not after those words. She snivelled, still unable to stop them though because how couldn’t she cry when this was what they were now?

They continuously watched what they used to be washed away with each wave that clashed with their shore and dragged away the good to leave filth behind instead.

“I fucking regret even giving you an ounce of my time and life because you’re nothing but a pain to look after. You don’t get to be angry at me because I had to worry about not forgetting my stuff and yours on top of everything!” She couldn’t help but feel like all the blame was now coming her way and maybe she had let Y/n get too comfortable. Jimin couldn’t help it then, but the longer it went on the more she realised that it wouldn’t work that way.

“You’re like a manchild for fuck’s sake.” Jimin groaned out as it continued to dawn upon her how much of an immature child Y/n could be. Had she been blind all this time? Why did she suddenly mind it? Why were these words even leaving her mouth when she had always loved and accepted Y/n for the person that she was? Were they just looking for reasons to make it all stop?

“You made it a habit and I stuck to it. Suck it up the same way I have to suck up when I’m your punching bag whenever things don’t go your way.” Y/n couldn’t help but truly realise how much she always let Jimin get away with. The things she would say, the things she would do that hurt, Y/n always forgave her for every little thing because Jimin could do no wrong in her eyes. Jimin was spiralling right now because Y/n hadn’t forgiven her yet for how she had been pushing the younger girl around for the past few days as a member of the same group.

Here she was, still letting the woman in front of her shove her around and blame her for her own mistakes. The way she always forgave Jimin within seconds when she saw tears in her eyes even if Jimin was in the wrong. Y/n felt played by the older now as she realised how their dynamic had worked.

Y/n would always be the one to take the blame even when it wasn’t hers to take.

Jimin would always be the one to suffer from how much she took on herself willingly because Y/n couldn’t do it.

“You were playing video games instead of packing even after you saw how stressed I was with my stuff. You got upset over your motion sickness patches, your headphones, fucking lenses and now your gum. I’m fucking surprised you packed your clothes!”

“I’m sorry that I couldn’t even enter the room without you getting pissed off because I would breathe. I’m not the one being immature but you, Jimin. You are the one who mixed our relationship into work, you’re the one who isn’t professional–” The older girl could feel herself boil over with anger with each point that Y/n made, each word pushing her closer to the edge. She felt like the points Y/n made were being invalidated, Y/n had yet to accept it for what it was and Jimin hated having the truth about herself being pointed out this way.

“–the one to force habits and then thinking you can just switch them up within a second because you suddenly don’t like what you wanted. Not the whole world revolves around you, but you’ve been too fucking selfish lately to realise it.” Despite all the coldness between them and all that seemed gone, they hung on because every day small things happened that gave them hope–small gestures were enough and they were brought back to the past. It felt as if Jimin hadn’t been trying to work towards each other, but away from each other. “I’m always looking out for you and caring for you.”

Jimin was simply too scared to move anywhere at all because it felt like the smallest mistake would make what was left fall apart fully. She felt paralysed by how scared she was of the truth. It was like having bricks constantly pile on her chest, it was difficult to breathe with them there, and it was difficult to move with them there. The girl felt like she was chained to the pits of hell while staring up at heaven in hopes of it coming down to her.

What it ended with was it looked like she was selfish for being too scared to move, as if she wanted the world to revolve around her. And maybe if it did it would make everything easier for her.

“Go fuck yourself Y/n and stop trying to make yourself look like a hero when you make as many mistakes as I do.” Jimin scoffed and wiped at her eyes as she pushed past Y/n, they both felt completely neglected and invalidated by the other. The reality of what it always has been wasn’t easy to swallow because it had never bothered them until now. She was aware that she made mistakes, but Y/n made them too and couldn’t claim the title of a hero when they did as much caring as they did hurting.

Y/n turned on her heels as Jimin pushed past her, she could see the anger, despair and distress clouding her. It was like a grey cloud over their heads, constantly being there for them when they didn’t want it. “It doesn’t excuse your mistakes either and considering my girlfriend won’t do it, yeah, I will ‘cause she’s too busy being stuck up.” Y/n could tell that the last of her words were too much, that they were too disrespectful and insensitive, and that she shouldn’t even be thinking about it right now. Maybe Jimin was right about being nothing but a ‘manchild’.

Y/n truly felt the consequences of her words when Jimin felt them dig deep into her heart and it was enough to throw everything else out. It was just for a second and she knew she could regret it and feel guilty about it later. The stinging on her palm would subside, but feeling disrespected by Y/n for the first time in her life would linger far longer as she turned back around and landed it across the younger’s cheek.

“You’re an immature fucking child, Y/n. I’m not just for your pleasure and needs, so fucking respect me.” She spat out, holding onto the girl’s shirt with her stinging hand as it all shut Y/n up. The two were able to very clearly see through each other like glass, it wasn’t even like glass, but air from how clear it was and all they could see was pain and hurt. They caused each other pain and hurt and everything else they used to make each other feel was gone—but then came those moments where it wasn’t gone even if it was for a second and so they held on.

They both felt horrible as Jimin grabbed her things while wiping her tears, not sparing Y/n more glances. All she knew was that she needed to cry to let it all subside for even a bit. Y/n slumped down on the couch, the nicotine cravings slapped out of her. She held her cold palm against her cheek trying to ease the pulsating pain she knew she deserved and Jimin did too as they both were suffering for keeping each other chained down.

Maybe they had never been perfect, to begin with.

Were all these things stuff they had always wanted to say and they now took the opportunity to do so since everything was already falling apart? Did they hold back on saying these things before because they were scared that they would ruin everything? Or were these things something that should have been brought up a long time ago to make it work out?

They couldn’t answer that. No one could because it was too late.

Jimin had known that she would feel bad after, that the guilt would eat at her. She was terrified that their relationship had taken a new step forward, towards a goal they didn’t want to reach when Y/n slept in Minjeong’s hotel room. The two peers–in age–were close in the end and so Jimin spent the night tossing and turning wondering if the truth would come out now. That their love was under ruins, crushed and bleeding to death, setting the truth in stone and burying what they used to have six feet under to start a new life.

She wondered if Y/n spent the whole night awake. Jimin could barely fall asleep knowing they were in the same bed, but with their backs turned to each other, let alone after what happened. She could barely sleep because of how her insides twisted in hopes of escaping to get away from the excruciating pain. The part of them being away after what went down only made her even more anxious.

The girl got her answers the next day when Y/n was tired and Minjeong went on about her day without a single knowing glance or word.

They had avoided each other unless they were on stage, but the second they came off it was back to normal. The new normal, they both missed the old normal but they seemingly couldn’t go back to it.

Or so they thought because once again all that they had been missing poured over them like a rainstorm.

The simple idea for all of them to go out and eat after the days of performing. There had been an undoubtful tension between the two and not for the same reason they would like to think. It felt horrible to sit beside each other without having apologised for what had happened. However, the longer they sat at the table the closer they seemed to get, but it could have been the alcohol in their veins.

“I swear, it’s the first time these two aren’t all over each other.”

Y/n felt a slight heat shoot through her, one of anxiety at Ning’s drunken words because now everyone seemed aware of the situation. It could have been the fact that they dared to speak up about it when they were drunk. Y/n didn’t know what it was, but she toyed with one of the side dishes, knowing that she and Jimin always got more affectionate when they were drunk.

“Tired, that’s all…” Y/n mumbled, trailing off as she looked over at Jimin who sat right beside her–the rest continuing the chatter. The two had been coming closer and closer with each shot of soju and every beer they finished. They could feel the other's heat on them, craving each other in this state no matter what had happened between them for the past months. They craved the affection of the other so much that it hurt, it was boiling from the inside and they were waiting for the other to cave in so they could be close.

She watched for a second more as Jimin struggled with the marinated perilla leaf, lip between her teeth as she gently swayed, going over her limit this time. Y/n would always be the one to cave in for the older girl. Jimin rarely drank more than she could handle and even that was a lot, but Y/n could tell she was trying to drown herself further. The older woman was already drowning in all her emotions and trying to drown them in alcohol only intensified it all and Jimin felt like she would burst any second and start begging in front of everyone else.

Y/n turned in her seat the slightest, her attention on the woman who was still the most beautiful one she had ever seen. The one she desired, but it was all so different no matter how beautiful they both were to each other. Her right hand reached over to Jimin, brushing the hair behind her ear and reaching with her left for the leaf.

Eyes were glossed over, like polished glass from alcohol when Jimin finally looked up and Y/n picked up the leaf, her hand still holding back the hair so it wouldn’t get in the way.

It was crushing both of them. Jimin felt her world brighten up with hope that had no space in their world anymore, but she wasn’t letting go yet. Y/n fed her with eyes gazing over Jimin’s features, feeling excruciating pain at the fact that she had made her cry, at the fact that they kept hurting each other unintentionally by holding on. It was worth it when these moments still managed to slip through the cracks and let in some light.

Y/n let go of the latter's hair and wrapped her arm around Jimin’s waist when she leaned into her, resting her weight on Y/n’s side. Her hands found Y/n’s warmth as they pushed under the girl's loose sweater, doing all the holding on that she could.

“I miss you.” They were sentimental words as Jimin gently whispered, her breath brushing over Y/n’s neck and the younger girl pulled her closer. Y/n took in a deep breath at how homesick she felt for a home she no longer had. They missed each other, they missed what they used to have, but no longer did and it dug into their hearts with no care, tearing them into pieces at how messy it felt.

“I miss you–miss us,” Y/n mumbled, their world shutting the rest out, inhaling the smog-filled air of everything that had burned down to ashes. Jimin hummed as her eyes closed, hoping that the drunk sentiment would be able to suffice for now even if it was for just one night. All they needed was one night to figure it out, to get to feel what they missed and see if they could bring it all back to life. She felt Y/n’s soft lips press against her head and she nuzzled her face further into the scent that used to be a home and now was only what was left of one.

Her lips gently pressed over Y/n’s skin, her nails gently scratching over Y/n’s back as she moved her other hand up. She cupped the younger’s face, thumb caressing the porcelain-like skin she deeply regretted putting her hand on but she couldn’t regret it when she thought back on what they said to each other. Jimin deserved to suffer for her actions and Y/n deserved to suffer just as much. They would continue until they did the necessary.

Y/n got her head tilted down and looked at Jimin who rested her head against the younger’s shoulder. Her eyes pleaded for a remedy for all the heartbreak even if it was for just one night. To just get away from reality for a few hours. Her fingers brushed over Y/n’s cheek. Y/n gave a small nod and reached over for the beer she had left, finishing it and hoping it would all last long enough and not end the way it did a few days ago.

“Will you guys mind if we leave early?” The girl asked, but it was already set in stone as she grabbed her jacket and helped Jimin up. They looked over at the two who were closer to each other than they had been for the past few months as Y/n put her jacket over Jimin.

“Not at all,” Aeri replied, the rest humming in agreement.

It was a short walk to the hotel, wrapped up in each other the whole way and not letting go for a second as they walked in silence, scared to let go or say something that would make it difficult to be this way again.

They at last did let go as they walked inside the hotel room, but it all shifted for a second as Y/n kicked off her shoes and sat down at the foot of the bed. There was no escaping this landslide, the clash that destroyed so much as she missed what she used to have with Jimin, but had no clue if they could get that back. It tied knots around her heart and tugged on it constantly.

The latter managed to get her shoes off, the jacket falling after her as she walked over to Y/n. Despite the slight blur, she could see clearly through everything else and now was the only time she knew she could apologise.

It used to be easier.

“Y/n…”

The girl took a deep breath and looked away from her hands and at Jimin who kneeled beside her. Her chin rested against Y/n’s thigh as she stared up at her girlfriend, her lower lip slightly jutted out. The younger one hummed, her hand running through Jimin’s hair as she caressed her scalp gently, missing the touch of someone else. The back of her fingers trailed over Jimin’s cold cheek who grabbed hold of Y/n’s hand, intertwining their fingers.

The silence braced them as they stared at each other, heads tilting, ears filling with the heavy yet soft breaths from alcohol-filled veins, the buzz of the outside world only faint. That silence of acceptance of what their love was, what it used to be and how it no longer was.

Jimin heaved a sigh and rested her cheek against Y/n’s thigh, staring off into the dimly lit hotel room. The sentiment of sorrow, sadness and nostalgia as everything had become too farro reach now and it would be hard to save anything. If they could continue to pretend then everything would go back to being fine. If they lived a lie long enough, it would become their reality.

“I’m sorry about the other day—” She mumbled, slumped on the floor and her gaze moved as she tilted her head to look Y/n in the eye. Their eyes connected, filled with the buzz of alcohol, and the perception of the fake reality they had created in their head washed over them. Those small gestures that made hope wash over them wouldn’t change anything, would they? They didn’t want to think about it. “I shouldn’t have raised my hand,” her lips momentarily formed into a pout at the disdain she felt for her actions.

Jimin knew there was no excuse for it even if she felt like an emotional wreck. They were losing control and it was starting to deeply affect them. They were going full speed through crossings with no hands on the wheels, covering their eyes to not look at the truth and soon enough they would crash right into a wall.

“It’s okay, it’s fine,” Y/n always let Jimin get away with everything and nothing would probably ever change that.

Jimin shook her head, lifting it from Y/n’s thigh as she got up to stand on her two feet. Y/n’s fingers tangled into the sweatshirt the girl had on as she stood between her legs. Despite the slight tremors in Jimin’s fingers, buzzing with more than just alcohol, but also a surge of feelings, the uncertainty, longing, feelings of loss and hope; she cupped Y/n’s face in her hands. Her touch was soft as Y/n’s glimmering eyes met her.

“I shouldn’t have acted the way I did either.” Y/n mumbled, closing her eyes and resting in Jmin’s hands who caressed her features with her thumbs. They still would always melt at the affection because it was normal to crave, but it didn’t feel like it used to. Aside from it feeling good, those other things didn’t spread across them. “I’m sorry.”

That sorry felt like it was for more than what happened in that room and Jimin knew it. She knew that the apology was because they both genuinely felt bad for letting a promise of forever die.

‘I love you.’

‘Never stop loving me, Y/n.’

‘I will love you forever, I promise.’

‘I will love you forever, Y/n, I will always care about you.’

‘Don’t cry, Jimin, I’m always here for you.’

Jimin deeply exhaled and closed her eyes before she could let the tears even form and with a lump in her throat she closed the gap between them. Their lips met in a kiss to suckle on the hope left in them. It was eagerness, it was to forget and not to remember. Y/n’s hands grabbed hold of Jimin’s hips, pulling her closer.

They tilted their heads to meet tongues that tasted as bitter as the beer they had and the longing for what they had lost, as sweet as the sake they downed and the reverie they lived in. It was with desperation because it felt like it was the last of them that was left and they would do everything to latch onto it and stick forever. The forever they had promised.

Jimin ran her fingers through Y/n’s hair, pushing deeper, wanting to feel more, she needed more. She needed Y/n, she missed the touch against her body and that was all that it felt like for them now. The fulfilment of each other’s needs and nothing else as Jimin discarded Y/n’s sweater, letting it fall to the floor. Her cool hands ran over the warm skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps, emotions swirling under their skin as they pulled away to remove Jimin’s top.

Their eyes locked, looking for something, searching, but they had no clue what they were trying to find anymore. It ended quicker than expected and their lips met once again, meeting tongues and letting out desperate sounds. Y/n’s fingertips grazed over Jimin’s skin as if the girl was made of gold, the gentle and careful touch making the latter bubble with more need. She ran them over her sides, tracing every ridge, coming to her spine with one hand as the other slid over her ribs until she reached the hem of Jimin’s jeans.

With ease she undid them and as they fell to the floor the older girl straddled Y/n who huffed at the weight that pressed down against her growing cock. As Jimin looked Y/n in the eye, the girl reached over to her face, brushing away the black strands of hair. She could still see a sparkle in Y/n’s eyes, but it was flickering. It wasn’t there for the same reasons that it used to sparkle. This was for the lust that would always linger inside their veins.

“Make me feel good, you owe me this,” Jimin mumbled, knowing that they both owed each other this for the things they had been putting the other through for the past months. This was finally their chance to make the other feel good in a way that was more than just sentimental. There was no sentiment in lust because it had never been part of it, but now it ruled them.

She grabbed Y/n’s hand which was still by her face and captured those sweet lips while guiding the hand to the back of her bra. Jimin trailed her kisses away from Y/n’s lips and along her jawline, slowly going further and nuzzling her nose into her neck. The scent was still one of her favourites. She took it in and ran her tongue over the skin before wrapping her lips around it.

It made Y/n stall with the bra, a faint whimper falling from between her lips as Jimin slowly started to gyrate her hips, rolling her heat against Y/n’s that was straining against her jeans. “I want your lips on me Y/n.” She breathed out against the red mark, wanting to feel the pleasure, they both wanted to be brought out of this hell they had painted as heaven. This was their chance.

Y/n bit her lower lip, her neck being plated with kisses by Jimin all while the girl continued to press against her cock, grinding slowly while releasing shaky breaths between kisses. The girl managed to undo the bra and only then did her girlfriend pull away, letting Y/n remove it fully whose eyes focused on her chest right away. Jimin’s words hadn’t fallen deaf to her ears and all she wanted was to give the girl exactly what she wanted. This was the only thing that they could make work.

“I love every inch of you.” Any other time the words would burn within Jimin’s soul and leave their mark and they had done so permanently, but they no longer reached as deep. They were all for the outside as they had changed from the inside towards each other.

Her fingers tangled at the back of Y/n’s head, gently making her look her in the eye as she tilted her head. “Show me instead.” It was like a whisper, her lips ghosting Y/n’s, knowing that she would be able to feel more from actions rather than words now.

Y/n manoeuvred them, laying Jimin down on the bed, legs wrapped around her waist as she stood by the edge of the bed. The girl bunched up the duvet beside Jimin’s head, taking one last look at her chest before she leaned down to show how much she appreciated her body. With fingers tangled in her hair and nails scratching her scalp Y/n started to leave scorching kisses along Jimin’s skin.

Her tongue soothed over the pulse, tenderly kissing down, her kisses tickling as she trailed down, taking in the soft hums and breaths that the girl let out. She came down to her collarbones, grazing her teeth over them, leaving her marks after her as those were the only good ones they managed to leave on each other now. Everything that went deeper hurt.

A faint gasp left Jimin’s mouth when lips fervently latched onto her chest, all the heat running through her body and shooting straight to her aching clit. “Fuck,” was all that she could mutter at the warm tongue playing with her nipple, sucking on the tender flesh. Y/n’s devotion to what was left of them was shown through the way she consumed her flesh, leaving her bites to linger.

Y/n moved her mouth to the other nipple, her hand coming down to fondle the older’s chest. It was enough for more sounds to start coming from Jimin at the way her nipples were being played with and her chest littered with kisses. It made her thighs tense around Y/n’s waist, pulling her closer and when the rough material pressed against her cunt a moan fell from her lips. The younger girl hummed, pressing more against Jimin while toying with the hard nipples with her mouth and fingers, twisting and pulling, touching her in a way only she knew.

It was yet another thing that was hard to let go of. The fact that they knew each other’s bodies so well and knew exactly what to do. It was all working against what should be done and driving them towards pipe dreams.

Her chest heaved, losing her words as they all came out breathless, being greedy for more to fill all the emptiness that had been growing for the past months. “You’re so good, baby.” She hummed, her eyes closing as her mind finally went empty, it went silent with everything else and all they could focus on was the moment and not what was and what would be. It was enough to make Y/n’s hips press more into Jimin, slowly moving them for friction while leaving the older’s chest glistening.

She slowly started to move down further, kissing along the heaving slim stomach until she was on her knees in front of Jimin. The lacy black underwear seeped through with her arousal and Y/n’s fingers hooked at their hem, looking up at Jimin who was sitting up and looking down at her with lust-clouded eyes. She leaned back against her palms, raising her hips and letting Y/n peel off the last piece of her body.

Her hands ran over Jimin’s thighs, spreading her legs further apart while biting onto her lower lip at the view of her glistening pussy that was leaking with juices. She lifted the girl’s leg and rested it over her shoulder before she started to kiss along her inner thighs, gently biting and sucking on the soft flesh as her hands needily kneaded them. It made Jimin heave a sigh, her hand coming to grab hold of Y/n’s head, dwelling in the feeling of the butterfly kisses left along her inner thighs.

Through her hooded eyes, she watched Y/n, making eye contact every time the younger looked up through her lashes for approval of what she was doing despite knowing Jimin’s body better than most things. Her fingers pressed into the flesh as her arm was wrapped around one of her thighs, inching closer until she reached the girl’s heat. It was enough to make the older girl squirm the slightest when she got pulled closer to the edge before feeling the wet muscle drag between her folds.

Y/n grabbed hold of her waist with her free hand, holding Jimin in place to not have her squirm too much. Her tongue ran between her folds, spreading the wetness as she dipped her head and circled the grasping hole. The grip on her hair tightened, ears being filled with soft moans and whimpers as she continued to work her tongue and lips around the puffy cunt. She sucked on her lips, enjoying the mess that was spreading on her chin, lapping every little bit up to get more on her tongue.

Jimin slowly felt herself lose her mind at the teasing tongue, Y/n taking her time to continue working her up. The need continued to bubble inside her, her clit throbbing for attention and her hole clenching as she wanted to be filled until she would feel numb in the brain for at least a few minutes. This was finally something they could grasp at, the escape from everything even the daydream they had created, getting to a real one even if it wouldn’t last too long.

The light moans filled the hotel room when Y/n’s lips at last wrapped around her swollen clit, her tongue coming out to flick at the bud. The pace between slow and fast, sucking and flicking was making Jimin’s thighs tremble around the girl’s head. Her fingers were tangled in Y/n’s hair, pulling her closer to her pussy as her hips faintly bucked at the pleasure.

Y/n drowned, getting as much pleasure from drowning between Jimin’s soft thighs as the girl above her was feeling from the tongue that was toying with her needy cunt. She caressed her heaving stomach with her other hand, kneading the plush flesh of her thigh as she felt Jimin pull her further into her with her leg that was on her shoulder.

“Fuck, Y/n–” She whined, her breathing picking up and growing heavier the longer her clit was played with. She could feel it all slowly approaching her and soon enough she would reach the edge and fall off of it.

The girl dipped her head, her nose rubbing against the swollen clit and her tongue lapped at the juices. The room filled with the sopping sounds of Jimin’s pussy and moans and Y/n’s mouth messily eating her out, moaning at the taste and tugs on her hair, her cock throbbing at how good it felt. With the sticky mess collected on her tongue, she circled her clit and went back to flicking at it and tugging with her lips.

“So close, ‘m so close, baby.”

Her body started to tense up, Y/n’s ears muffled at how the thighs locked around her head with her head being held in place. It made her sore tongue work harder to be able to hear Jimin’s voice go up higher.

That was enough for the older girl to lose her control and the sounds started to spill from her mouth, moaning Y/n’s name in a high pitch. Her body got consumed by heat as her vision blacked out and her ears started to buzz when the orgasm hit its peak as Y/n continued to flick at her clit. It was making her whine and buck her hips for more until she felt herself crash back down to reality. She heaved for air, loosening her grip on Y/n’s hair and the girl slowed down, only leaving small kisses along her skin that was scorching.

When she got back up on her feet their lips met in a vivid kiss, Jimin’s hands working on Y/n’s jeans to undo the loose material. She tugged them down together with Y/n’s boxers, her hand wrapping around the thick cock that was scalding in her hold as she pumped it, smearing the precum as she reached the swollen tip. The whimpers that fell from Y/n’s lips were swallowed by Jimin, moaning into the intense kiss.

She pulled Y/n down, making her lay down on the bed, the younger girl moved back until she was in the middle of the bed, leaning against her elbows. Her eyes were on Jimin who got on the bed before crawling over to her. They got engulfed in each other's heat as she straddled Y/n who slumped back, running her hands over the girl’s thighs and to the back of her ass to caress it.

“No one knows me like you do.” She whispered, leaning down and letting her lips brush over Y/n’s with her fingers tracing along her jawline. No one knew Jimin like Y/n did and no one knew Y/n like Jimin did and even if it looked the way it did, they carried that fact with pride. She pecked the girl's lips, pulling away and letting Y/n chase after her as she tried to grab hold of Jimin’s face, but got her hands pinned down to the bed.

“Jimin–” She tried although was cut off as she let her head fall back against the mattress, fingers twisting the duvet as her wrists were held down by the girl on top of her.

“I hate that now.” She admitted, hating that no one knew her as well as Y/n and that no one would ever get to know her as well again. They had learned from their mistakes and now no one would ever be able to compare. There was no one she would open up to like this again, not when it hurt so much when it all died. They didn’t want to go through this pain twice when they never wanted to experience it to begin with.

“I know.” Jimin huffed, her lips brushing over Y/n’s neck because obviously, the younger girl would know that Jimin hated it now. “Do you regret it?” Y/n mumbled, doing her best to not squirm under the girl who was leaving light kisses along her neck. The words from the other day still lingering, but Jimin knew that she never meant what she said about regretting it.

“No matter how much it hurts–” Jimin pulled away and looked Y/n in the eye, the younger’s head tilting to the side as she stared up at her with hopeful eyes. Y/n’s eyes alone were enough for Jimin to know the answer, she knew it right away as she reached her hand down to Y/n’s face, one still holding her wrists down. Her thumb tenderly caressed along Y/n’s cheek and over her lips. “I could never regret everything I’ve given you.” And everything she gave was all that she had after she placed herself in Y/n’s hands and she would always be there even if what made her give herself in the first place had withered.

Her thumb tugged down on Y/n’s lip before she leaned down and attached their lips once again. Sighs fell from between their lips, Jimin’s hand running between their bodies to grab hold of Y/n’s cock.

Y/n pulled away from the kiss, panting for air as her eyes fell between their bodies, watching Jimin drag the swollen tip through her folds, the slickness and warmth were enough to make Y/n bite back a whine at how good it felt. The grip on her wrists tightened when her tip made contact with Jimin’s clenching hole, slowly pushing into the tightness that sucked her in.

“So tight.” The younger mumbled, her chest heaving at the anticipation as she watched herself slowly disappear inside of the girl on top of her, splitting her folds with her cock. The tight walls engulfed her length, grasping it and sucking her inside with greed as they continuously clenched at the stretch.

“You make me feel so full.” Jimin sighed with a whine at the slight pain.

Y/n’s eyes stayed glued on how her cock got engulfed by Jimin’s tight pussy, splitting her lips around the thick shaft and she slowly moved. The older girl hummed, letting go of Y/n’s wrists. Both her palms rested on top of the girl’s stomach with her nails slightly digging in at the painful stretch. Hands caressed her thighs while she lowered herself until she felt Y/n deep inside her, filling her to the hilt.

Y/n dropped her head, shutting her eyes tightly when she was fully inside Jimin who let out a light moan at the feeling. Her cock was throbbing, twitching at how good it felt, the warm and wet walls were pulsating around her and her stomach flexed with every little move.

She slowly started moving her hips back and forth, her clit still sensitive from her first orgasm as it dragged along Y/n’s pelvis. Her walls fluttered, and being filled up was making her crave more at how good it felt. The feeling of Y/n’s veiny cock raw inside her tight cunt was overwhelmingly good, making out each vein that dragged along her walls.

She gyrated them as they whined back and forth on Y/n’s dick whose lips were parted at the way it dragged along the clenching walls. Her ears were graced by Jimin’s soft gasps and sighs, nails digging into her stomach. The older’s thighs flexed, her walls pulsating and clit throbbing as she slowly increased her speed, chasing her pleasure by using Y/n.

“I love using your cock to make myself feel good,” Jimin whined, her head getting thrown back and Y/n groaned at the words that made her dick ache inside the hot and wet cunt of the girl. Their bodies moved and fit together perfectly like waves that collided against waves, their bodies buzzing with that feeling from the inside as their head splashed with desires.

Her chest heaved at the sight of her girlfriend grinding along her cock, watching how she chased her high once again. The sounds were starting to get more lewd with each moan falling from the girl’s lips, Jimin’s wetness coating Y/n’s base and the mess only got bigger.

“You look so good doing it.” Y/n could feel the way the walls clasped around her at the words, the girl taking all the pleasure in using Y/n for her benefit as Y/n enjoyed it just as much. The way the girl would go on and have her orgasms before Y/n even got to think of hers.

Jimin was on top of her with a vice grip on her cock with her sopping cunt. Y/n’s hands were on her the thighs flexed with each movement and her tip was hitting all the right spots deep inside her. She watched the way the older gasped and threw her head back, dragging her swollen clit along Y/n’s pelvis. Jimin reached behind her and held onto Y/n’s tense thighs instead, rolling her hips in a way that was making her stomach tighten and warm up as she fucked herself on top of the girl.

“I’m so close, baby–fuck, so good.” Her voice cut into a higher pitch as the orgasm started to wash over her with her hips bucking for more and Y/n’s thumb found its way to her swollen clit. She circled the bud as Jimin kept bucking her hips against her, watching the way her chest bounced with each movement.

The throbbing walls clasped around her cock, squeezing it tightly enough for the movement to slow down. Her thighs quivered and she let out cries of pleasure, her voice light and bringing Y/n closer to the edge at how good she looked on top of her. Nails dug into Y/n’s thighs, heat pouring over Jimin’s whole body at her second orgasm.

She heaved for breath, stopping her movement and shivering at the shocks going through her warm body. Her body got engulfed in Y/n’s arms when the girl sat up, her cock still buried deep within the confines of Jimin’s pulsating pussy. She wrapped her arms around Y/n’s shoulders, palms running over her back which was covered in a sheen of sweat.

As Jimin looked at Y/n, she didn’t want to be done yet, she wished she could drag this out for the rest of her life. To make this serene moment last forever as their bodies became one and all that had been on her mind disappeared. Those worries were gone, it was just now, the present forgotten and the future didn’t exist until it was tomorrow and by then it was present again.

She tangled her fingers at the back of Y/n’s hair, slowly moving up and down while pulling Y/n more into her. Their breaths mingled, parted lips grazing until she caught Y/n’s lower lip between hers and gently tugged. It was all that they needed, to be back in each other’s arms, to be close and it started to ignite the spark of hope although it didn’t seem to glow strong enough as it continued to flicker back to life before disappearing.

“I miss you–so much,” Jimin mumbled as she pulled away, moving her hips back and forth as Y/n’s breaths grew heavier. The younger buried her face in the crook of her neck, planting tender kisses. Jimin could feel it all coming back, maybe she hadn’t been drunk enough, or maybe no matter how drunk she was on lust and alcohol she would never be able to drown out the pain of a breaking heart.

The alcohol and lust weren’t able to mend their hearts.

Y/n looked up when Jimin pulled her away from her sweltering neck, their eyes met, Jimin’s were glimmering and the entry to her soul had always been open for Y/n. The longer she stared into the window of her soul, the more she realised how crushed Jimin was and it was enough to clarify that they were both suffering. Her hand smoothed over Y/n’s jaw, running along it as she tilted the girl’s head back, her movement not stopping as she watched Y/n slowly crumble under her.

It was shattering her insides to see Y/n this way, the same way it was shattering Y/n to see Jimin like that. They had never thought that the person they loved the most would be the one to destroy them the most too.

Love was lethal no matter how much two people loved each other.

“Fuck–” Y/n breathed out, being cut off by Jimin’s soft lips, the girl could feel the length inside her grow harder and twitch as it was clasped inside her heat. They swallowed each other’s moans until they no longer could and the older’s pace picked up, her ass colliding with Y/n’s thighs each time she went down while letting out quick and sharp breaths. Y/n’s hands gripped onto her ass, fingers digging into the soft yet firm flesh as she helped Jimin move, feeling the movement slack off at times.

A soft and light moan escaped Jimin’s lips, grounding herself down on Y/n’s cock, arms wrapped around her shoulders as she panted against her neck. Teeth dug into her shoulder, the whimper suppressed from the younger as she could feel the ropes of cum shoot one after another into her, painting her walls white. Y/n pulled away from her shoulder, slipping out of Jimin’s warmth as they eased down to reality.

Everything stilled as the younger girl still held Jimin in her arms, caressing her warm back while taking deep breaths. It felt like neither of them planned to move any second as the girl snuggled closer into Y/n’s neck, burying her face in the crook of it, her eyes shutting tightly.

It was making Jimin’s chest heave at the panic she felt because she could only watch it all slip through her fingers, unable to do anything to save it.

The attempt to suppress her sobs was feeble as the first one slipped through and then a second followed and her tears were staining Y/n’s skin once again. “Jimin–”

“I’m scared, Y/n.” She cried into her neck, sobbing and snivelling as it overwhelmed her once again, this time she wasn’t able to hold back on releasing what was heavily on her chest. It didn’t matter how scared they were to bring up the obvious because the thought of how it would end was terrifying. Neither wanted it to end. However, the realisation dawned upon them and it would all end much sooner than intended if they did nothing about it.

“I’m right here.” Y/n slowly pulled her away, manoeuvring Jimin’s body like fragile butterfly wings that could crumble with a little too much pressure. The girl continued to cry, pulling her knees to her chest, crying into them as Y/n draped the duvet over her, covering her naked body.

She couldn’t grasp at it, at how all the promises died the second their love did, that they made promises they couldn’t keep and it never should have been this way. They promised to love each other forever and they did, but it no longer was the love that was beyond care and compassion. It was adoration and not love, the love; was gone.

Jimin refused to accept it, no, she couldn’t accept that and would dig through every little corner until she found something that would help the withered flower bloom back to life. She’d shed all her tears until her eyes would be bleeding just to have enough to water their flower of love that had died. There had to be some way to save it even if it hurt, even if it hurt more than it already did.

Y/n got back onto the bed after she pulled on her boxers, Jimin was still crying into her knees until the younger girl sat behind her, the duvet resting over the both of them. She held back on her tears as she cradled the weeping girl’s head, lending her shoulder to cry on once again and she would continue doing so until her last breath. It would never matter what type of love they held for each other, she would always care even if everything else they used to have that was deeper had died.

It was a death neither of them knew how to cope with.

“I’m here for you.” She reassured her, kissing the top of her head.

“I hate this, Y/n—” Her sobs cut through her words, her hands gripping the duvet before they let go, feeling hopeless; what was there to hold on to in reality? There was nothing to hold onto as they both freely fell through hell for each other. It made them weak in so many ways. “Nothing is the same anymore and I don’t know what to do.” Acceptance was hard for anyone, it had always been hard, but it was even harder when it came to something they made their whole lives revolve around. How could they just accept that their worlds no longer circled the other?

It stung, it hurt deeply to think that this was possible, something they had never thought about had become their reality. The flower that bloomed with their love was dead. Yet these tears and the pain they felt at the thought of needing to let go made them want to try again. One last try to revive something that had been dead and cold for months. If some miracle happened, they would be able to bring it back to life. Their love would bloom from a dead flower at some point, they would continue watering it with their tears, crying over the dead flower that was their love in hopes of it coming back to life.

“We can make it work again.” Y/n wasn’t brave enough to say the words, she wasn’t strong enough to say them for Jimin and herself. To admit for the both of them that what was lost was lost and that it was time to say goodbye and bury their love because there was nothing to save once it was already gone.It was too difficult to bury it when they had yet to accept its death. They had no clue how to cope with everything.

It was eating at them, tearing them apart and glueing them back together into an even bigger mess.

“We can fix everything,” Y/n reassured, knowing that these could as well be empty words and new promises to break, but she couldn’t give up. She couldn’t give up on Jimin even if they were mistaking care and compassion for a small ember of love that they could turn into a fire. That fire had gone out a while ago and what was left were ashes.

“Do you think that’s possible?” She whimpered, wanting to do anything to try and grasp at that false little ember of hope.

“I don’t know,” Y/n whispered, just as uncertain, but she would do anything for Jimin even if it meant ruining herself.

They couldn’t know, but at least it was reassurance that they didn’t have to let go yet and could continue no matter how much it hurt because it would hurt even more if they were apart. It was too difficult to let go of someone they had built their lives around. They would hurt for each other and they would choose that over happiness with someone else because no one would ever be able to give them what they used to have.

They longed for each other’s love. They missed it and just wanted to feel it again but it was all gone. It no longer felt like it used to and they missed those feelings they used to have. Where did they go wrong for it to happen in the first place? What were they supposed to do to fix it? Let go and move on. Stay and continue to drag through the impossible to try and fix it?

They weren’t in love anymore, they just loved each other.

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kodared · 10 days

Text

✰ Stanford & Borrower/Anomaly Reader ✰

fears not enough they have to tear him apart.

Chapter 1/?

Wordcount: 2,057

➤ Summary Based on the borrowers of many universes! I hope you enjoy it, and if you don't know about borrowers, let me be your guide into a world I've loved since I was young. ✰Written because I saw the severe lack of borrower content in Gravity Falls fanfic, i hope you enjoy <3 ✰ - ★Updates irregularly! I write when I want ★

★ - Also on AO3! - ★

https://archiveofourown.org/works/58879087/chapters/150070549

The cottage you moved into was poorly constructed and had many openings to various rooms because of the peeling wallpaper. It was partially why you chose to reside there after many weeks of venturing the forest once your parents kicked you out.

You lived with your parents in a tree until they decided it was time for you to make your way in this world. Oh, how you could imagine the looks on their faces if you told them the mess you got yourself into this time.

Your family chose the safety of trees and burrows rather than living in the walls of creatures that could kill you without so much as a flick of a wrist.

You wouldn't call yourself one for adventure, quite the opposite. Humans terrified you to your very core. You’ve been a first-hand witness to what they are capable of. When the cottage was in the process of being built you watched many trees torn and splintered by their impossibly large machines.

You rather despised humans. What you didn't despise however was routine and having access to food much easier than foraging.

Life in the cottage was relatively peaceful, it was about as peaceful as you could get for being only a few inches tall. You swore your species was doomed to fail if it wasnt for humans influence.

The scientist who lived in the cottage was paranoid, that much was obvious. Even when you first moved in after being kicked out he stayed up much too late and consumed too much coffee to be considered sane. You brushed it off because, after a few days of scoping out the walls of the cottage, you realized he had a very precise schedule that made borrowing easy.

He would wake up early, and go to bed late. Usually uttering to himself before going down into his basement to do who knew what. It gave you a lot of time to yourself, and a human with a predictable schedule was hard to come by. Most had kids or animals, both very dangerous to someone like yourself. Fortunately, this human only seemed to have one friend who came around periodically, but they stayed downstairs.

You had noticed that night you were running low on thread and crackers, and the human was in his basement. Of course, night turned into day much quicker than you predicted.

The shock and horror of hearing the vending machine door open while you were in the middle of climbing up into his shelf literally by a thread still shuddered through your body even now.

…So what if you screamed and ran off despite him shouting for you? So what if you have to move homes? It didn't even matter much to you that when you let go of the thread you landed on your foot and wrist wrong.

The faint memory of his hand reaching for you did rattle you to your core, despite how much you insisted you could escape him even if he did grab you.

The way his eyes bared into your very soul, the way even his shadow in the early dawn lighting engulfed your entire body. Your shaking hands as you pried the loose wood plank off the wall just as you could feel his body heat emitting from his hand radiating on your back.

…

…You push the memories away lest you give yourself another panic attack. You tried to not let it bother you much, though you would miss the plentiful amounts of jellybeans and other snacks he kept on the shelves.

No. What bothered you the MOST was the fact every little detail, every little move you made before you ran off into the wall, was now being documented.

You looked down from the crack in the wall with a grimace. There was a foul taste in your mouth as you saw the human below taking vivid and rigorous notes while sitting at the kitchen table. His pen scratched the page so hard you believed it would rip.

The red journal he carried with him was the bane of your existence. If any information about you or your species was going to become mainstream, it would doom your life as you knew it. Not to mention shatter any dreams you had of a normal life.

You weren't in any position to do anything about it yet. The effects of the adrenaline pumping through your veins were slowly ebbing away. Leaving a dull ache in your head and a nasty sprain on your wrist and ankle.

With a sigh, you pushed off the wall and made the long trek back to your room. Deciding that before leaving, you had to get rid of the page in his journal. He had to leave it unguarded at some point.

Your room in the walls wasnt much, but you spent a lot of time working on it. You hollowed out a space inbetween a few support beams and insulation and put a few pieces of cloth on the walls.

The pin cushion you called a bed practically screamed your name as you pushed your makeshift cloth ‘door’ open. You broke off a piece of a cracker you swiped a few days prior and shoveled it into your mouth before collapsing on the bed.

Getting that journal was your only hope. Ignoring the chalky residue left in your mouth by the dry cracker sleep soon found you.

…

That man did not leave his journal for one moment.

It's been two days since your last encounter with the human. You tried so hard to stay patient in the walls and bide your time until you could get ahold of the cursed page, but your rations were running short.

So you threw on your satchel and stabbed a needle in your pants just in case he was out. You used to not carry it, but you weren't taking any chances.

Pressing your hands to your eyes you tried to gather courage as you walked in the dark pathways of the walls. You tried not to think about what would happen if you were caught by the scientist.

You’ve seen him take creatures like yourself down in his basement, and they never come back up.

Despite this, you still for whatever reason chose to stay. You wished you never stayed. More than anything you wished you had just found a nice, abandoned burrow like your cousin had, and stayed in the woods.

In your frustration you kicked a piece of rock, it hit a nearby pipe with a satisfying twang.

There were more predators in the woods but atleast they would just kill you. There was no telling what the human would do if he caught you.

Taking a deep breath you consoled yourself, if you played your cards right and stayed out of sight this would turn out like it usually did.

You would take a few crackers and leave, that's all you had to do.

As you pressed your hands against the wall and shakily pushed, you felt the loose wood disconnect with a satisfying crack while you poked your head out.

You squinted as the bright light from the kitchen flooded into the wall and onto your face.

Everything seemed completely normal, which should have relaxed you, but it merely put you more on edge.

This human wasnt normal. There was no reason everything on the countertop was tidied away. He usually left dishes in the sink, and from where you stood you saw none.

You where about to slink back into the wall and go out a different time before you heard his voice.

“...It was bipedal!- have you ever-”

You were quick to pull yourself back into the wall, your hand slipping on the wood and giving yourself a splinter. You sucked in a breath and held your yelp as you heard footsteps coming closer.

“I know, you haven't stopped talking about it for three hours..”

The other human's voice sounded southern, you recognized it as the main resident's friend, or ‘associate’ he sometimes said.

You could hear them picking up various glasses and cups, if you had to guess the humans were probably making more coffee. Your hypothesis was only confirmed as you heard the cursed machine whirr to a start.

You finally let out the breath you were holding as you felt the splinter that now lodged itself in your palm. Wincing as you continued to listen.

“I know, I just wish I was able to capture it! I could put a more accurate sketch, what if its the only one of its kind?”

Predictable as always.

“Ford, I'm sure you already went scarin’ the thing half to death. I wouldn't be shocked if it left,”

Ford. The scientist was named Ford. As you picked at the splinter you internally berated the name, yours wasnt much better but atleast your parents loved you enough to not name you Ford.

…Maybe you where being a bit mean.

“I doubt it, more than likely I can catch it again early morning. It seemed shocked I was there, it more than likely has a schedule it keeps to.”

Or maybe you weren't mean enough. Seriously who did this guy think he was? You had half a mind to march out of the wall and stab his stupid hand.

You didn't bother listening to the rest of their conversation, too preoccupied with picking at the splinter. Trying to pull it out with little to no light proved itself to be difficult.

You could head back to your room, but the string lights in there had limited battery, and you tried to save it for only special occasions.

To your relief, the pair left a few minutes later. Only when you heard the vending machine door clunk shut did you press against the wood plank.

Using the small sliver of light provided you pulled the splinter out with your nails, flicking it away before turning and looking at the counter.

…He left a dish.

A dish in front of where he last saw you. A dish full of various snacks, ranging from two jellybeans to crackers and cheese.

You weren't some domesticated house pet. You scowled at the dish as if it had personally scalded you before walking past it.

You walked quietly despite there being no reason to. Wishing you had your fish hook and thread to get up on the higher shelf.

You could manage without it though. You only made it a few months prior so you were skilled enough to find some scraps on the counter usually.

To your dismay, though he seemed to have done a thorough cleaning, and without your hook you had no way to reach the shelves above to gather your food.

You pressed on and walked over to the sink, careful to balance on the edge. You looked at the faucet and walked over to the handle. Gently and carefully push it just a smidge before taking out a small thimble you used for water.

After drinking your fill and putting the thimble away, you turned the water off.

…Not fully though, he could deal with a leaky faucet for a few hours.

You where going to go back empty-handed until your stomach growled looking at the crackers he left out.

Surely taking one wouldn't hurt, if you left a message.

You picked up one and stuffed it into your bag, contemplating taking a jellybean but deciding against it. Right before you went into the wall you kicked the dish off of the counter. Shattering on the floor with a satisfying clatter.

Snickering to yourself you slinked off into the walls. You’d check back on the human that night to see if he left his journal on his desk this time.

…

A few hours later Ford had finally gotten to a stopping point with his research. Thoughts of the little creature in his walls beckoned at his mind as he rode the elevator up.

He sent Fiddleford home with a goodnight before practically sprinting into the kitchen, seeing the mess left by the mischievous thing.

One thing on the counter caught his eye in particular.

As he picked it up he examined it thoroughly.

A small splinter of wood, ever so slightly tinged at the edge with red.

“...Fascinating..”

---

Thank you for reading!! Ill more than likely be updating this when i can, but be assured Chapter 2 is already being written with plans for three others!

Hope you Enjoyed!! My Askbox is always open if you want to hear me ramble more about borrowers! V●ᴥ●V

#borrowers #gt #g/t #g/t community #stanford pines #gravity falls #fiddleford mcgucket #size difference #gravity falls fanfiction #hurt/comfort #angst with a happy ending #young ford pines #pre portal incident #no bill cipher yet #stanford pines x reader #ford pines #stanford x anomaly reader #fears not enough they have to tear them apart

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stanlees-stuff · 1 year

Text

"Cc we're sorry, just .... please don't be scared, I promise we won't hurt you..."

based on @kix-mm's story here

DAMM, I never knew I needed gt throuples in my life till now!! decided to draw one of the scenes in the story. AAAH THE STORY WAS SO GOOD!! The amount of love they have for each other is just so fricking sweet!! and how much you can tell A and B cherish C and want them in their lives

anyways kix is a really good writer, bye >:]

#g/t #giant/tiny #gt community #gt #gentle giant #g/t drawing #g/t fluff #giant tiny #g/t community #gt fearplay #fearplay #hurt/comfort #g/t comic #g/t angst #gt angst #polyamory #honestly reading it made me feel all giddy inside

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afraidparade · 1 year

Text

comfort

#trying to get back into drawing oc stuff but the only time i have for that is right before bed so everythings gonna be really messy #oc: faust #oc: luka #lufa #doodles #g/t #g/t ocs #giant/tiny #g/t art #g/t drawing #can we do more tiny comforting hurt giant pls and ty #gt community #hurt/comfort

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graceful-not · 10 months

Text

*grabs you* if the members of the found family aren't at least a little bit fucked up about each other what's even the point man. if the lines aren't even a little bit blurred when it comes to roles what's the point. buddy. pal. what's even the point of having a found family and then imposing strict nuclear family roles unto them, or never allowing the roles they do have to be bent or broken. what's even the point if one character (assuming they're the same age) is ALWAYS being taken care of by the other without it being related to one of their arcs. what's even the point if the found family doesn't take care of each other. what's even the point if they're normal about having people they are so so close to so as to trust with nearly everything and stick with and sweat bleed and die for. what's even the point if the roles arent flexible and based on a foundation of trust over any kind of imposed relationship, and the dynamics shift for what is needed in the situation. what's even the point if they're not a little bit in love about it. they need to LOVE EACH OTHER. what's the point if they are being kept at a distance the same to that of an acquaintance and it's not part of their greater arc or bc of their character. let them sleep together. let them cuddle. let them kiss (not necessarily romantically!!! on the forehead or the hand or a little peck on the top of a head). I'm so sick of sanitized found families I need them to care about each other so much it hurts they need to think about the others way too much do you get it. I don't want it to be a replacement for a real family I want them to Frankenstein together a new creation it needs to be elevated it needs to be bleeding and raw it needs to be REAL I want it to be ALIVE. WHY are your found family dynamics so fucking DEAD!!!! STOP SHOVELLING ROTTING MEET INTO MY MOUTH I CAN TELL ITS DEAD I CAN FUCKING TELL WHEN ITS DIVIDED SO CLEARLY BY CARETAKER/WHUMPEE WHY IS IT SO ONE-WAY THE FAMILY TAKES CARE OF EACH OTHER THEY DONT NEED TO BE JUST ONE ROLE. A PERSON CAN BE A FATHER A MOTHER A MENTOR A TEACHER. A BROTHER AND FRIEND IN SOLIDARITY OR EVEN A LOVER IF IT IS NEEDED. DO YOU GET IT. DO YOU GET IT.

#grace gvoices gthings (nothing starts with g and i wanted alliteration)#found family #found family dynamics #relationship dynamics #character dynamics #writeblr #???#DO YOU GET IT. DO YOU GET IT.#im sick of the caretaker/whumpee hurt-comfort sugary sweet dynamic where the caretaker is watered down so much #relationship anarchy #←JUST FOUND OUT WHAT THIS IS. FUCK YEAH

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original-person · 3 months

Text

First post on here let's go!!

SFW the only warning I can think of is argument?

I had a thought that made me want to try and write something with scaramouche

is probably gonna feel ooc? I don't think I know his character that well so most of this is based on what I deduced from YouTube videos and such.

BEWARE I HAVE NEVER WRITTEN ANYTHING OTHER THAT WHAT SCHOOL FORCED ME TO. ESPECIALLY SOMETHING WITH G/T IN IT. (I've used chat gpt to check gramatic mistakes so if anything blame the damn ai)

If you don't know what g/t is just search up giant/tiny

Note:I think this idea fits sagau soooo-

Angst and hurt/a little bit of comfort

Summary: you invite scara to your realm of solace (your room) to rest. Maybe you should have mentioned that you have another form besides your mortal looking one.

Scaramouche was sitting in his chair next to his desk, working on documents. His hand moved with the pen, the scribbling lightly echoing in the almost empty office. It would have been empty if not for you, looking out the window, staring at what used to be the sunset, now a starry sky.

You moved from the window towards the desk and behind the chair. You hugged Scara loosely around the neck and slowly rested your chin against his shoulder. He stopped his movements to not mess up the writing, put the pen down, and slightly turned his head to you.

"Is there any particular reason you're bothering me?" he asked, his tone irritated. Ignoring his tone, you knew he didn't mean it anyway, and you let out a tired sigh. "Didn't you do enough work already? You should rest." He scoffed, turning his attention back to the documents. "I don't require rest as humans do, and you know that. Besides, I'm not done yet."

Looking at the pile of papers, it seemed like it was going to take ages. "Well, I would have less if you knew how to do your own paperwork." Ah, you said that out loud. "But still, can't it wait? I want to be with you." Burying your head deeper into his shoulder and wrapping your arms tighter around him, Scara let out a sigh and put his hand on his forehead. "Great, Archon forbid you aren't with me for some time."

You stood up and sulked next to him. Scara furrowed his eyebrows and let out a big, annoyed sigh on purpose as he leaned back into his chair before getting up and stretching. Cracking his hand, he did feel sore, but he wouldn't tell you that. Jokes on him, you noticed anyway, and you lit up instantly with an idea popping up in your head.

The god glanced at their partner with a gentle, adoring smile. “Scara,” they said softly, reaching out their hand. “I’d like to show you something special.” Scara turned to them, crossing his arms. "What is it?" "That's a secret," you put your finger on his lips, "but it is going to help you rest."

Curiosity piqued, Scaramouche closed the distance between you, grasping your hand gently. "I somehow doubt that." You raised your other hand, and with a simple gesture, the air shimmered, and the room began to change. The familiar surroundings melted away, replaced by a realm—your realm. The realm unfolded like a dreamscape, an infinite expanse of tranquility that seemed to stretch on and on. Soft, ambient light bathed the surroundings in hues, creating an otherworldly pleasant glow.

Scaramouche almost forgot you were a god. Nowadays, it feels okay again, but it reminds him of when he first found out. Oh, how he felt betrayed. He felt worthless, only a mere plaything for you. But you assured him that you didn't see him that way. That you didn't come to Teyvat, to him, just to play god. No, you just wanted to experience it from their view.

“Welcome to the realm of solace,” you said, as he snapped back to reality from his thoughts, your voice resonating with warmth. The ground wasn't surprisingly smooth; rather, it felt like he was standing on a pile of pillows that seemed to shift subtly with each step. “This is a place where reality bends to offer peace and comfort. It’s where I retreat to find solace sometimes from the world.”

Scaramouche’s eyes widened in awe as he took in the sight. The atmosphere itself seemed to slowly wrap around him like a warm blanket. “Not like anything you’ve seen,” you continued with a hearty chuckle. “I also go here to sleep every night, so I guess that makes it my bedroom."

Scaramouche, still absorbing the strange beauty of the realm, nodded slowly. “It’s... incredible,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Guess I don't need to doubt you anymore.”

As you settled onto the bed? Ground? Its softness enveloped you, your presence reassuring. “I hope you find it as comforting as I do,” you said, scooting a little closer to him. Scaramouche took a deep breath and let his body relax, trusting in the promise of solace, staring at the seemingly endless, changing ceiling that looked really far away. The gentle hum of the realm lulled you slowly into a deep sleep. For Scaramouche, the comfort was otherworldly, a stark contrast to when he sometimes tried to rest before, as he was quite sensitive to any sounds. But as he began listening to your light breaths, he found himself falling more into a deeper sleep.

As the night wore on, you, feeling an unprecedented sense of comfort and trust with Scara next to you, unconsciously began changing to your godly form, as you always did when you slept here. The change was seamless and silent, but it had an immediate impact on the bed's dimensions. Scaramouche stirred half-asleep, his eyes fluttered open, pushing down on the ground to sit up. His eyes widened in confusion as he glanced around. The realm's soft glow seemed to dim slightly, reality seeping back in as he noticed the absence of your familiar form beside him. Was he really sleeping so deeply? How? Looking to where you were supposed to be, what he saw made him spring up in caution. Your comforting presence beside him had been replaced with a colossal figure, one that he did not recognize. Panic surged through him, and he bolted upright, his instincts screaming at him to run.

"Who—where?" His voice was a frantic whisper, his body trembling as he quickly turned his head in every direction for you. You were here with him, right? Where are you? Where did you go? Those thoughts were repeating in his mind that he didn't notice the slight stir the figure made.

You were drowsy, but sensing discomfort from Scara, as this realm allowed you to, you tiredly opened your eyes and saw him turning around, looking everywhere, before he felt eyes on him and locked eyes with you.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit. Scaramouche couldn't see you anywhere, and to make this considerably worse, the giant figure woke up, looking straight at him, looking almost at his very being. He felt his blood freeze in his body; he didn't think that was possible. Not wasting another second, he turned and sprinted. Can he even outrun it? Where is he running? Where are you? His breath is labored; it's hard to run on this plushy surface, almost falling at every step.

Your senses were flooded with Scaramouche's fear, and you reached out instinctively. He shouldn't be scared. Your hand, as gentle as it was large, moved towards Scaramouche to soothe him, to bring him back closer to you. But to Scaramouche, it was overwhelming.

Scaramouche’s mind raced as he stumbled, desperately trying to escape from the towering figure that had replaced the comforting presence he once knew. His heart pounded, not just from fear, but from a deep-seated sense of helplessness that he had tried so hard to bury. He hated feeling like a mere doll, a puppet whose strings could be pulled with little regard for his autonomy. The sensation of being so utterly powerless, so at the mercy of someone else, triggered memories—memories that he wishes he could forget. Memories of his early days, when he was first created and learned of his true nature. Back then, every interaction had seemed to confirm his worst fears: that he was nothing more than a plaything for a god's amusement.

The plush surface beneath him, which had seemed so inviting before, now felt like a trap, each step a reminder of his vulnerability. As he tripped, he cursed under his breath, the bitterness of past betrayals mixing with his current dread. “No, no, not again...” he muttered, struggling to get back on his feet.

You, now fully awake and aware of the distress you had caused, stopped in your tracks. Your hand hovered as you weren't sure what to do now, though intended to comfort, the hand seemed to loom over him like an ominous shadow. “Please, don't run,” your voice echoed softly, trying to cut through his panic.

But for Scaramouche, the giant form was a stark and terrifying contrast to the familiar person he had come to trust. The overwhelming size of the hand, the massive gesture, only reinforced his feeling of being a puppet caught in a storm of uncontrollable forces. He had always loathed the feeling of helplessness, of being manipulated—that's why he became a Harbinger, after all—but this situation exacerbated those fears.

"Scaramouche," the figure called, their voice resonant and soothing, but it only heightened Scaramouche's panic. Scara's eyes widened in terror as the god’s enormous hand reached towards him. Instinctively, he struggled, wriggling against the closing fingers that covered him. The sensation was overwhelming; the figure’s hand, though surprisingly gentle, felt like an inescapable force.

Your head hurt. Your senses were overwhelmed with fear, the opposite of what Scara should have been feeling. "Scaramouche," your voice was firmer now, hoping to break through his panic.

“Let me go!” Scaramouche shouted, his voice strained as he tried to free himself. His breaths came in short, panicked gasps. His mind raced with so many thoughts, memories, and fears.

Knowing you should listen, to give him at least a little bit of sense of control, you brought your other hand to the one holding him and slowly opened it, fearing he might try and jump off. Scaramouche felt his stomach flip as he was turned around in the hand. As the hand opened, Scaramouche, now on his knees, looked up, feeling forced to. He once again locked eyes with you. His violet eyes, usually sharp and filled with defiance, were now wide and vulnerable. They blinked rapidly, trying to get rid of tears that threatened to spill. Each flutter of his eyelids was a silent struggle to hold onto reality and calm his racing thoughts. The blinking slowed, but his gaze remained intense, flickering with a mix of lingering fear and desperate hope.

You slowly lifted your hands, your eyes softening with guilt almost to the point of tears. "I'm so sorry, Scara." Recognition dawned in Scaramouche's eyes. He froze, his breath coming in ragged gasps. "You—what...?" Confusion consumed him.

The confusion quickly morphed into anger. Scaramouche’s eyes narrowed, and he clenched his trembling fists. "Let me down," he snapped, his voice rising. "Now."

You flinched at the sharpness of his tone, setting him down. He took a few cautious steps back, guilt weighing heavily on you. "I didn't mean to scare you," you said softly. "I thought it wouldn't matter—"

"Wouldn't matter?" Scaramouche cut you off. "How could something like this not matter?" His voice was sharp, cutting through the tranquility of the realm. "Did you think I wouldn't find out? That I wouldn't care? You... you lied to me!"

"I didn't lie," you said softly, trying to keep your voice steady despite the tears threatening to spill. "I just... I didn't know how to tell you."

"That's a lie by omission," he spat, his fists clenched at his sides.

"Scara, please," you reached out a hand, but he flinched away, anger flashing in his eyes.

"Don't touch me!" he snapped, taking another step back. "How can I trust you now? What else have you been hiding?"

The guilt weighed heavily on you, the pain of his mistrust cutting deeper than any blade. "I never meant to hurt you. I only want to protect you."

"Protect me? From what?" His voice was a mixture of anger and hurt, a rare vulnerability showing through his usual bravado. "I don't need to be protected!"

"I know you don't," you said softly, "I'm sorry. I should have told you." You took a deep breath to calm your growing headache and began focusing to slowly form back into your smaller self.

Scaramouche watched as you shifted back, the process like one big fluid motion. His anger was still simmering but mingling with hurt. "You should have," he said as you took slow steps towards him, giving him some space. His voice was quieter but no less intense.

"Let's go back, Scara," you said as you looked at the ground in shame. Scaramouche looked at you, his expression hard but conflicted. "Fine," he muttered, not meeting your eyes. "Take me back."

You nodded, lifting your hand as the realm dissolved and his office materialized around you, the air thick with tension in the small space. Scaramouche immediately walked over to his desk, his movements tense and agitated.

You stood by the door, watching him with a heavy heart. "I'm going to get some fresh air. I'm truly sorry for all of this." He didn’t respond immediately, his back turned to you as he gripped the edge of his desk, his knuckles white. After a moment, he spoke, his voice low and strained. "Just... leave me alone for now."

You nodded, though he couldn’t see it. "Alright..." With that, you turned and quietly left the room, closing the door softly behind you. Outside, you leaned against the wall, taking a deep breath to steady yourself. The pain of his mistrust still weighed heavily on you, but you hoped that, given time, he might find it in his heart to forgive you. You pushed back against the wall as you paced back and forth, your mind equally chaotic. You couldn't help but replay the events over and over, wondering how you could have handled things differently. The weight of your guilt was overwhelming, but you were determined to make things right, no matter how long it took. You started walking towards the exit, ignoring everything around you as you walked.

Inside the office, as the minutes ticked by, the silence was deafening. Scaramouche's mind was a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. He hated feeling this vulnerable, this betrayed.

Scaramouche sat down heavily in his chair, his mind racing. He was furious, hurt, and confused all at once. The revelation of your true form had shattered the trust he had painstakingly rebuilt with you. He didn't know how to feel, but he knew he needed time to process everything.

BONUS

As you walked down the hall, your mind still reeling from the confrontation with Scaramouche, you barely noticed Tartaglia approaching from the opposite direction. Usually, you would exchange a few words, but today you couldn’t muster the energy.

He lifted an arm in greeting. "Hey, comrade, are you—" You didn’t even glance his way, storming past him without a word. Ajax furrowed his brows in concern. He stood there, watching your retreating figure. Something was definitely off. He had never seen you this upset before. You were one of the few who seemed cheerful every day.

Curiosity and concern gnawed at him, so he decided to head towards Scaramouche’s office. As he approached, he could hear the furious scratching of a pen on paper, punctuated by occasional grunts of frustration. Ajax frowned, pressing his ear to the door, trying to make out more.

Inside, Scaramouche’s anger was palpable. His pen moved with a fury that seemed to match the tempest in his mind. Ajax pieced together the situation, concluding that you and Scaramouche must have had a serious argument.

With a sigh, Ajax stepped back from the door. He knew better than to intrude on Scaramouche when he was in such a mood. As he walked away from the office, he instead decided to find you and see if there was anything he could do.

I Honestly hope this is okay I've been writting since midnight to 5am

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imagine-darksiders · 2 years

Note

So, what do you think of this? Bowser sees Y/N in an extreme state of danger, like, I dunno, trying to be taken against her will by an arranged Prince suitor or something, and the state of her distress/fear get's him so mad he transforms into Giga Bowser.

Well, first of all, I have done nothing BUT think of this for the past week! Thanks so much for the inspiration! Here's a little drabble <3

TW: Physical abuse, Kidnapping, Captive Reader, Implied arranged marriage, Giga Bowser is kinda scary? Mentions of being eaten etc

----

Bowser's thunderous footsteps come grinding to a halt of their own accord, stilling the colossal Koopa in his tracks at the opposite end of the docks, his eyes bulging open at the sight that looms out of the mist to greet him.

He's found you, his little runaway, for which he's rendered breathless with palpable relief.

But to his mounting dismay, there's another human with you.

A stranger...

A man.

And not only is this man encroaching well into your personal space, but his hands have captured your wrists as well, keeping you anchored in place with his chest shoved firmly against yours.

The pair of you are so wrapped up in the presence of the other, that neither one of you notices the King lurking nearby.

For a single beat, Bowser almost can't tear his wild-eyed stare away from the fingertips squeezing into your supple skin.

But then, he hears your voice, laden with thick and palpable alarm that's badly disguised by the composure you're attempting to maintain.

“Falkner, please,” you're shakily telling the other human, “Whatever agreement you may have had with my father is null and void now that he's dead!”

“Bullshit!” the stranger is quick to contend, giving you a rough jostle that throws fuel on the fire already raging in Bowser's gut, “Your old man promised you to me! I didn't sail halfway around the world just to be told no!”

Neither of you register the Koopa, not even when he lowers his horned head and takes a heavy, dangerous step towards you, his hackles starting to rise just like his gorge.

Just who the Hell does this idiot think he is to speak to you so crassly?!

Another step sends the pebbles near his feet skittering across the ground.

Your jaw is set, but you continue to tug at your ensnared wrists as you retort, “Promises made in a drunken stupor are hardly binding agreements!”

The man's face is swiftly changing from sallow and pallid to a vivid crimson and he parts his lips to shout, “You are mine by rights! You're coming with me!”

“Let me GO!” At last, perhaps inevitably, your voice cracks.

Bowser's jaw aches with how tightly his fangs are wedged together.

He can feel a fireball trying to crawl its way up his throat, leaving a sting that burns like venom along the walls of his trachea, but he gulps it down. No matter how great and terrible his rage might grow, he'd be remiss to let an attack loose with you so close to the firing line.

But there's something else building in his chest. Something swollen and ugly that rumbles like a slumbering giant just underneath his scales when he sees the moisture glistening on your dainty eyelashes.

Bowser hasn't ever seen you cry. Not even when he informed you that you'd be a permanent guest at his castle. Not even when it dawned on you that you could never go back to your old home across the seas. Not even when you fell from your window during an escape attempt and sprained your ankle, and the pain was great enough that you actually clung to him as he lifted you gently into his arms, your lips stuffed together to refrain from whimpering.

So to see you this close to tears now instills an outrage in him that differs from his usual temper. This is tumultuous. Primal, even.

He wants you to notice him now, to glance over and see that he's here for you, that you'll be all right because Bowser would never let anything bad happen to you.

Heart aflame, his pace quickens to a lurching gallop.

With a wrench, you manage to free one of your hands from Falkner's grip and use it to pry his fingers from your remaining wrist. “I said, GET! OFF!”

The anger in Bowser's chest dims only slightly to make room for a burst of pride.

But that momentary delight is stamped out as swiftly as it comes.

In an awful, jarring instant, the man - evidently fed up with your continued resistance – reels his hand back into the air behind his head, fingers pressed together, open-palmed...

Bowser can see the disaster unfurling right in front of him, but his shame is in knowing that he was too slow to stop it from happening.

The hand hurtles forwards...

A harrowing 'CRACK' ruptures the air as calloused skin meets the vulnerable flesh of your cheek.

Your head is flung sideways and you cry out, eyes wide with shock, and it's only then that your startled gaze land upon your audience. Cheek humming, the tears finally spill over the walls of your eyelids, tumbling in ceaseless rivulets down your face.

You choke on a wet sob, unable to drag your gaze away from the Koopa.

You can't summon the will to be pleased for his interference, if anything, you're ashamed to have been caught by your captor in a moment of such vulnerability.

Perhaps it's the tears distorting your vision, or perhaps the slap had knocked something loose in your brain, but through blurred vision, you think you can see a change come over Bowser, and if you didn't know any better, you'd almost swear that he was growing.

A hiss from your side catches your attention, but you don't turn to look at Falkner, though you can see him flapping his hand about to rid it of the lingering sting. “Damn,” he sucks a breath through his teeth, “Now look what you made me do... If you hadn't been so difficult, I wouldn't've had to do-” He finally notices the ground trembling beneath his leather boots. "-that...?"

Whatever had been hiding under the surface of Bowser's scales is howling out with rage, stirred from its slumber by the vicious and unprovoked attack on his friend.

Muscles ripple and bulge as they expand, bones snap, twisting out of shape. The Koopa King's gums burn as his fangs grow longer, sharper, squeaking against one another whilst his rapidly changing jaw struggles to keep up with their rate of growth.

It's agony, this transformation, but it can't be helped.

His friend has been struck. Hurt. And everything in him, every last instinct and sinew and atom, is bellowing out at him that he needs to protect you.

He would swallow this agony over and over again if it keeps you from experiencing pain.

He may be monstrous in size and temperament, but he isn't a monster.

He can't be...

Anger feeds into his expanding body, giving itself more space to spread like a wildfire, or perhaps more like a wave of churning acid that washes through his veins and takes the place of his blood.

It must... Because his body feels as if it's corroding.

“What the HELL is that?!”

Falkner's shriek adequately echoes your own inner monologue.

And you thought Bowser was terrifying before.

The tyrant must be absolutely livid with you for managing to escape from your room. If only you hadn't run into Sir Falkner on the docks. You went looking for a rescue party, but the man who did come to 'rescue' you might be even worse than King Bowser. At least Bowser, for all his uninvited clinginess, had never raised a hand against you.

Now though, locked in his blood-red stare, you start to wonder if you've pushed your luck just a step too far.

Pounding footsteps take off behind you, slapping against the cobblestone as Falkner simply turns tail and runs, leaving you frozen in place with your limbs as rigid as petrified wood, like your body knows instinctively that to turn your back and run from something with teeth that sharp is a very bad idea.

Inevitably, Bowser's head shoots up almost the moment Falkner starts to flee, and you're helpless but to watch on in horror as a gigantic paw surges over your head and snatches your would-be suitor right off the ground, hoisting the man up into the air.

Falker's resulting scream chills you down to the marrow in your bones, so wracked with terror and urgency that it sets your teeth on edge.

The oversized Koopa draws the thrashing human up to his maw and peels back his thick, rubbery lips, giving Falkner an uninterrupted view of his fate.

A constant growl spills between gleaming fangs, each one about the length of your own forearm, and the sound itself is loud enough that it could be mistaken for an unending grumble of far-off thunder, easily drowning out the man's screams.

It's gruesome to see. Your imagination runs wild with awful possibilities that you pray don't come to pass. Trembling in your boots, you lower your gaze to stare unblinkingly at the ground instead whilst short, sharp breaths fall out of your lungs, coming fast enough to leave you feeling light-headed.

Slowly, carefully, you take a single step back.

This might be your only chance to escape.

But then, like a damning acknowledgement of your cowardice, Falkner screams your name.

“Y/N!” he screeches, his back arched against the pain of being crushed in Bowser's grip, “HELP ME! PLEASE!”

'...You don't have to help him,' logic whispers into your ear, set on self-preservation, 'Nobody but his mother would miss him. He's a bad person, and you're not a hero.'

No. You're not a hero. And it certainly wouldn't be heroic to save a man like Falkner, who does more harm than good most days.

Bowser's immense jaws part in reaction to the human's screams, and his growl explodes into a deafening roar that blasts the man's hair back and forces him to pinch his eyes firmly shut.

Similarly, you raise your hands and slap them over your ears, teeth grit until the sound starts to fade. You can only imagine what the volume had done to Falkner's eardrums.

Even through the cushioning of your palms, you still hear him crying out once more, “DO SOMETHING!”

… Your head twists slowly towards a little wooden boat that bobs invitingly on the nearby docks. You're strong enough to work the oars, you could very easily jump into it, raise the little, white sail and let the wind carry you far out to sea, away from this place.

Away from Bowser.

This could be your only shot of escaping imprisonment and going home.

“I beg of you!”

… You could...

“Y/N!”

… Oh, damn it all.

Your eyes snap back up to Falkner and you immediately start to feel the burning of your cheek, as if to remind you of what he did.

But already, your scruples are disintegrating. A direct cry for help is a tough thing to ignore, after all.

On shaking knees, you reclaim the step you'd made in retreat and instead move towards Bowser, tipping your head back and peeling your tongue from the roof of your bone-dry mouth. “B-!” You falter on the first syllable and have to swallow roughly before trying again. “Bowser!”

Almost as soon as it had begun, the thunderous roar falls silent, echoing off in the distance until it's lost over the crashing waves.

Falkner continues to gasp and whimper inside the colossal fist, but those haunting, blood-red eyes turn gradually in your direction, pinning you once again in their subtle glow.

Your legs threaten to buckle as you realise he's now focusing solely on you.

You've no idea if he can be reasoned with in this state, but you know you can't do much else but try. “Release him, Bowser!” you yelp without an ounce of any real authority, “I'm the one who ran from you! Not him! Put him down!”

The docks are still and disarmingly placid for a time, disturbed only by the sounds of Falkner struggling to free himself, and the breaths that enter and leave a set of gargantuan lungs.

The hulking Koopa continues to glower down at you, his nostrils flared wide to reveal a red-hot glow from within, like a burning core.

Just as you begin to fear that your plea will go unheeded, Bowser hisses through his fangs, and then, without much ceremony, he simply opens his fist and Falkner goes tumbling out of it, landing awkwardly on his ankle and eliciting a yelp of pain. Still, he wastes no time in whirling over onto his backside and kicking madly to push himself out from under the behemoth's shadow.

You follow his retreat from the corner of an eye, but you don't break Bowser's stare.

You daren't, even as he takes a lumbering step in your direction. The ground underneath your shudders with the impact, as though the island itself is afraid of his wrath.

Another step covers much of the distance between you, and the realisation that he's coming your way snaps you out of your trance. You've given Falkner a chance to escape. Now, you'll be taking yours.

Skirts flying, you whip yourself about and take off in a dead sprint. Behind you, the air quivers as Bowser releases an urgent chuff, the heat from his breath washing disconcertingly over the back of your neck and spurring you to kick up your heels.

However, you barely make it ten paces before a colossal palm suddenly descends from the sky and crashes into the ground just ahead of you. You let out a yelp and hit the brakes, but you've already come too close to his hand, and so, like a venus fly trap closes around a hapless insect, Bowser's fingers spring to action, sweeping you up off your feet and pinning you against the soft, warm leather of his palm.

“No, no, no!” you bleat, scrabbling desperately at thick scales as the ground falls away below you and you find yourself lifted up to Bowser's big, yellow muzzle.

All you can do is wait for the crunch. For the pain. To hear your bones grind together when he eventually clenches his fist.

You're ashamed to cry in front of him, but you're too afraid to stop. Nausea churns your stomach and you screw up your face in anticipation, eyes clamped tightly closed.

The agony of waiting is almost too much for you to bear.

You're too wrapped up in your fear to notice that Bowser has yet to even slightly tighten his grasp. If anything, his hold is shockingly gentle. The pad of an immense thumb is pressed against your belly, exerting just enough pressure to keep you safely tucked in the hollow of his palm.

Several, unbearable seconds tick by whilst you quiver and breathe as though you've just run a mile.

You nearly lose your composure, biting down on your tongue to stop yourself from demanding that he just get your punishment over with.

And then, you feel it.

A gentle pressure, so light that you'd think a butterfly must have landed on your neck, but when your eyes burst open and you catch sight of a monolithic finger all but filling your field of view, you realise what a fool you were to close your eyes at all.

Bowser, it seems, has raised his unoccupied hand towards you, and the very tip of a single claw has come to rest in the hollow of your throat. You can feel it's ghosting presence as you swallow thickly and your larynx presses a little more solidly against it for all of a second.

You're too stunned to make a move.

With a gentleness that doesn't at all befit his size, Bowser slowly lifts his claw, and in doing so, your head is pushed up, then turned slightly to one side, exposing your cheek.

The cheek that had been viciously struck.

Why is he...?

Pinned under the weight of his scrutiny, you fall utterly motionless, your mouth stuck open as if you're emitting a silent scream.

A lonely tear escapes the confines of your lashes and trickles down to your chin when it dangles precariously for a before it falls, plopping down onto Bowser's fingertip.

The behemoth's muzzle shifts close, and those dark and dangerous eyes narrow to thin slits as he inspects your cheek. You'd almost entirely forgotten about the throbbing ache lancing across your face, and even now, adrenaline is doing wonders at keeping most of the discomfort at bay.

All of a sudden, Bowser's pupils shrink and a thrum of aggression starts up in his chest like the engine of some ancient and powerful machine. Drawing his head away from you, he twists it over his bulging shoulder and aims a vicious snarl in the direction that Falkner had fled.

You can't help but flinch when his fingers twitch around you, but he must have noticed the movement, because not a second later, the growl is cut off and he swings his nose around to peer down at you again, his slitted pupils expanding like ink in water once they land on you.

Your pulse is jackhammering against your skin. Nothing about this is adding up. He seems more agitated about Falkner than about you. But... you're the escaped prisoner...

You don't have much time to ponder over his strange behaviour though. Just as carefully as it had appeared, the Koopa's forefinger slides gradually from beneath your chin and you can finally gulp down a greedy breath of air, realising belatedly that you'd stopped breathing the moment he touched you.

All around you, the behemoth starts to move, pulling you close and tucking you against his chest as he takes step after impossibly lengthy step, turning his immense bulk about to head back across the island to your gloomy, familiar prison.

--------------

You used to wonder if it was simply Bowser's ostentatious taste in décor that made him choose such grand, wide doorways to separate the rooms of his castle. Now however, as the gargantuan Koopa squeezes himself through the entrance to your given chambers, his shell scraping noisily against the wooden doorframes, you realise the design might lend more to practicality than aesthetic, especially if this... transformation happens on a regular basis around here.

God, you hope not...

You've remained stiff as a board in Bowser's unwavering grasp all the way back, fearful of provoking a violent reaction out of him like you had when you tried to struggle out of Falkner's grip.

Shoulders sagging as he releases a massive sigh, the Koopa trundles to a stop at the foot of your bed and at long, long last, he peels you away from his chest. Your ears ring after so much time spent having to listen to a mighty heart thudding rhythmically right next to your head.

Again, with a care that you certainly never would have expected him to possess, Bowser cups you in his palms and lowers you onto the plush sheets, sliding his hands out from underneath you as if he's placing down a fragile, porcelain doll.

As soon as you're out of his grasp, he deflates, heaving a billowing breath and all but dropping onto all fours in front of you. Alarmed, you scramble backwards until your spine hits the bed's headboard, blurting out a yelp when Bowser's chin drops down to thwack on the sheets in front of you. The weight of his skull alone causes the bed to buckle and groan in protest, but to your astonishment, it somehow manages to support him as he gets himself settled, peering down the length of his snout and ensnaring you in that ruby-red gaze once more.

Your fingers flex into the sheets around you, bunching them up and wrinkling the fine cotton.

'Now what's he doing?'

His eyes are glued to your cheek again, his intense stare broken by the occasional, languid blink.

You're not expecting it when he suddenly moves.

He only extends his neck a little to bring his head closer to you, but he's so massive, the motion it far more jarring from your perspective. With a shriek, you slam your eyes shut and instinctively throw up your hands, pressing them hard against the soft muzzle, as if they alone are enough to keep him from advancing on you any further. To your immense shock however, the moment your fingers meet the warm surface of his nose, Bowser falls still.

You risk prying open an eyelid to peep up at him.

Judging by the impossibly wide smile that now stretches across his face, he's apparently delighted by this new development.

This is the first time you've touched his face.

Your palm is almost lost to a vast expanse of yellow skin, sitting right on the ridge of his nose between his flaring nostrils.

The Koopa's own gaze is heavy-lidded, each pupil angled to keep you within his sights whilst a pleased hum travels through his throat and causes the bed to quake underneath you.

His fangs remain safely tucked behind his lips, and as the seconds tick by without your hand getting snapped off, the tension in your fingers gradually begins to dissipate.

With your heartbeat receding as well, you allow yourself to lightly stroke just the tips of your fingers down his snout until they pause on the cusp of his upper lip, drawing a reverent shudder from the almighty juggernaut.

Pressing your teeth together, you inhale slowly through your nose, and murmur, “...Bowser?”

It's as if you've just broken him from some kind of trance.

The King's face suddenly twists up and he emits a throaty groan, like he's in pain.

Quick as a flash, you tear your hand from his muzzle and press yourself back as far away as you can when he peels his chin from the bed and brings both of his gargantuan paws up to clutch at his head, staggering to his feet.

“Bowser!” you cry again, this time in alarm, “What's happening!?”

A disconcerting notion occurs to you - that he could be on the verge of going bezerk - and you hurriedly throw back the covers with a view to scramble off the bed and make a break for the doors. But as soon as you move, the Koopa's eyes spring open again and zero in on you, trapping you in a stare so full of frantic desperation that you stop at once, though more from confusion than fear.

And so, you're left to do nothing but watch as the jagged behemoth undergoes another, painful transformation.

The heavy shell on his back grows smaller, losing the serrated quality of its spikes. His tail shortens, his jutting fangs soften around their edges. The sweeping horns on his head recede back inside his rapidly shrinking skull until only their tips remain poking out from between his mess of a mane.

You almost choke on a gushing sigh of relief when at last, the King is back to his regular, brutish self, knelt on the ground at the foot of your bed - though it strikes you quite abruptly that you shouldn't be feeling reassured by Bowser's presence, no matter which form he takes.

Despite your misgivings, you still find yourself croaking out, “A-are you okay?”

Arduously, he braces a palm on the end of the bed and uses it to push himself up onto his feet again, eventually dragging his eyes over to you. He gives you a brief, searching glance, focusing for an uncomfortable minute on your face, then, without a word, the Koopa spins around and staggers purposefully towards the adjoining bathroom, disappearing through the door.

Plagued by uncertainty, you allow your fists to tentatively unclench around the bedsheets, lowering them into your lap as the squeak of a tap filters out from beyond the ensuite door, followed by the unmistakable rush of running water.

Another squeak... and a few moments later, the Koopa comes stomping back into the room, this time with a wet flannel clutched inside his meaty paw.

“You should've let me pulverise 'im,” he grumbles, stalking around the bed until he comes to the side you're sitting on.

Gobsmacked, you let your mouth fall open, close it, then open it once more to ask, “I... I beg your pardon?”

“That GUY!” he snaps, “You shouldn't'a stopped me. He deserved the worst!”

You blink stupidly, lifting your eyebrows in tandem until they sit high on your forehead. “I'm sorry.. Are we... not going to talk about what just happened to you!?”

“What's there to talk about?” he grunts, flicking his tail up onto the bed before sinking his hefty backside down after it, fidgeting with the sodden flannel between his claws, “You got hurt. I got mad.”

“You got mad!?” Scoffing at the absurd understatement, you continue, “Bowser - you turned into a gigantic, terrifying monster who looked like he was three seconds away from chewing me up and spitting me back out! All because somebody slapped me!?”

You expect an uproarious retort, which would definitely be in keeping with your usual repartee with him, so it comes as a shock when Bowser glares heatedly at you for a few moments, then merely turns his nose away from you, hiding his expression.

It's... notably uncharacteristic of the hot-tempered Koopa. So much so that it prompts you to tilt your head and call, “Bowser?”

You can't see his face beyond the shell that covers his back, but motion on the covers draws your gaze down to see his tail. Slowly, the appendage curls inwards, tucking itself up against his thigh. Dejected.

“You didn't deserve what he did...”

You look up at Bowser again, blinking owlishly to find his arm reaching back towards you, though the King keeps his face stubbornly pointed in the opposite direction. The little, white flannel is draped across his proffered palm.

Keeping a dubious eye on the Koopa, you hesitantly stretch your hand out to his, pinching the fabric between your thumb and forefinger and pausing for a second to marvel over how cold it is. Drawing it into your grasp, you waste no time in bringing it up to your face and gently pressing the cool material against your cheek, unable to keep back the tiny smile that grows on your face with that slight modicum of relief.

You recognise his gesture is meant to be a peace offering, and you are grateful for the flannel... But you're also still bitter.

“So,” you hum pensively, eyeing his robust arm as it drops down to rest on the bed beside him, “I didn't deserve that. But I do deserve to be locked up and held prisoner in your castle?”

“I keep you safe.” His head twitches in your direction with a cursory show of teeth that are hardly very frightening anymore, not now that you've seen what they can become, “I keep you fed and warm and happy. I'd never hurt you.”

“No. You keep me fed and warm, and that's it,” you tell him sharply, “I don't feel safe here. And I am far from happy.”

You're more than aware that you're antagonising him, but you think you're damn well within your rights to do so. It isn't enough that he keeps you locked up in this castle and forbids you your freedom, but now he expects you to act as if you're happy about it too?

Another, disgruntled noise leaves him as he lurches off the bed, landing on his feet with a thud.

"Where are you going?" you demand.

"I'm-!" Bowser heaves a sigh, running a clawed hand through his thick, fiery mane. “I'm goin' to get you a proper ice-pack...” Trailing off, the King tromps heavily across your room, making his agitation known with every, deliberate step until he reaches the door.

Your teeth tug at a piece of loose skin on your lower lip. “... Bowser.”

He pauses, his hulking frame suddenly looking so small and vulnerable in the gargantuan doorway, with one of his hands sitting poised upon the handle.

Even from the bed, you can see the flash of his crimson iris swivelling in your direction.

You try to regard him passively, but the ice in your gaze is starting to melt fraction by fraction, and you don't know whether he can see it or not. “... Thanks,” you call gently anyway, lifting your shoulder into a shrug, “For... you know, for scaring Falkner off.”

You watch his eyelid widen, as if he's surprised to hear a word of thanks, from you of all people.

There's even the minutest quiver in his lip as it tries to tug itself up into the ghost of a smile. But then, he gives his head a rough shake, and the smile is gone.

“Just protectin' what's mine,” he rumbles, pushing the door open and slipping through the gap. The door closes again a second later, and your ears catch the sound of a heavy key sliding into the lock and turning, sending the tumblers clunking home.

… What's his...

Right.

A hollow space expands between your ribs, the familiar hole that disappointment often leaves behind.

Drawing your knees up against your chest, you wrap an arm around yourself for comfort, keeping the flannel pressed to your cheek as you wait for him to return with that ice pack.

#mario #super mario bros movie #bowser #bowser x reader #physical abuse #giga bowser #g/t #giant bowser #protective bowser #possessive bowser #the physical abuse isn't done by Bowser btw #hurt/comfort #pining #unrequited crush

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whumpsday · 2 months

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Ancient Evils

Whump Oneshot - Writing masterlist

find my G/t blog here: @smallsday

content: g/t whump, giant whumpee, demon whumpee, magical whump, isolation, claustrophobia, burns, forced to obey, rescue, hurt/comfort, caretaking

Whumpmas in July Day 21: Abandoned GT July Day 21: Coveted Hug a Giant Day

dammit i did that thing again where i write a oneshot and it turns into the setup for a miniseries. will write a followup to this eventually lol but it also works as a standalone <3 (edit: might just leave this as a standalone, who knows)

The tomb was covered in glowing runes Berian knew from his studies, but had never encountered in use until today. Symbols carved painstakingly into stone by ancients, covering every inch of the thirteen-foot stone box, all screaming a single purpose: keep whatever lies inside sealed within.

The magic used to activate them was powerful, powerful enough to seal the tomb for two thousand years, powerful enough that the caster had surely died, given what they had to work with back then. It was likely all they could think to do in their desperation, back then. Berian uttered a quick prayer for the caster who came before him, who had sacrificed themself to save countless: long-dead, but not forgotten.

At least he wouldn’t have to follow in their footsteps. Two thousand years was, thankfully, enough time to develop a better solution. A way of utilizing the demon’s own magic against itself.

Though it was always in the back of his mind as a backup, in case something went wrong. Hopefully, the knot of anxiety in his stomach would dissipate after it was done.

Berian looked to his watches, lined up one after the other on his wrist, all still in sync, and waited.

As soon as it hit twenty seconds until release, he began chanting as practiced, his staff pointed directly at the tomb. He had to time it just right, or his colleagues out at the entrance probably wouldn’t even be able to come retrieve his corpse.

“Finis.”

Precisely at the same moment Berian bound the spell, the runes ceased to glow, a forceful BANG sounding from within the tomb.

He exhaled slow. The lid stayed shut. After only a few seconds, the runes resumed glowing once more. He’d done it.

The entity inside screamed.

Berian jumped back. The screaming did not stop, a wail of agony and despair. Barely audible under it all, his phone beeped, the least of his worries.

“Hello?” he called out, hesitant.

A voice roared from inside. “LET ME OUT.”

In all his wildest imaginings, Berian had never imagined the demon would speak to him.

He could, he realized. The spell had bound the demon to his will: it would have to obey him even outside the tomb.

And it was the only chance he would ever get. And they had backup plan after backup plan in place in case things went horribly wrong.

“...Okay. Don’t move.” This would at least be a good test of whether the spell would hold, he told himself. It was safer this way, really.

Berian tried to lift the lid, but it was simply too heavy, a gigantic slab of solid stone. He pointed his staff to it, muttering just the right words to let it slide off to the side.

The demon looked like a man. He hadn’t expected that. He was as tall as the tomb was long, easily more than twice Berian’s height, with large, curled horns protruding from his head, but other than that, he looked human.

True to Berian’s order, he did not move a single muscle. His body lay stock-still within, his arms raised and palms up–he’d been attempting to push the lid off himself. Overlapping scars streaked down his skin wherever it touched the stone in the pattern of the runes, burned in as though with a branding iron. Massive shackles cinched tight around his wrists, ankles, and neck, chains binding him to the inside of the tomb.

The demon did not speak again, his eyes wide with overwhelming alarm.

It was only after a moment of taking him all in with awe that Berian realized it was him preventing the demon from doing so.

“You can move,” he amended. In addition to forcing the demon to use his own magic to re-activate the runes, the initial spell had contained a command preventing him from leaving the tomb. This would just be going overkill.

The demon gasped, his chest rising and falling rapidly. “OUT. OUT. YOU WILL RELEASE ME.”

Berian winced. “I can’t do that. You’ll hurt people, like last time, right?”

To Berian’s continued amazement, the demon began to cry.

“ONLY YOUR ENEMIES. OR NO ONE AT ALL. WHATEVER ARE THE TERMS. WHAT MUST I DO TO BE RELEASED?”

Berian could have sworn he heard that powerful voice break, just a little.

“NAME YOUR TERMS,” the demon insisted. Berian was sure now, the desperation palpable.

The demon shifted slightly, and everywhere the stone touched new skin, it burned.

“You–you will harm no one,” Berian started, before he’d even thought how this was going to work. “You will stay in this section of the cave. You will not touch my staff or any other conduit of magic. You may exit the tomb.”

Berian had never seen something so huge move so quick. The demon burst from the stone box like a firework, chains snapping like rubber bands under his freed might, the ends hanging limply from his shackles. The cave ceiling was not tall enough for him to stand and he did not try, scrambling as far away as he could get and huddling against the wall there.

His phone beeped again.

The demon glared at him, his chin tucked into the metal wrapped around his neck, breathing heavily.

This wasn’t right. This was a demon that had wrought terror across lands, responsible for thousands of deaths, a giant among men. He wasn’t supposed to be… pitiful.

“Hey–”

“I WILL NOT GO BACK IN.” Now that he was out of the tomb, Berian could see the true extent of the damage, the burns even more intense on skin that had been pressed against the bottom. As huge as the box was, it had been built scarcely larger than the man before him, big enough to fit him and no more. Skin that had been pressed against the bottom was particularly scarred, so much so that it was essentially a giant burn, the symbols impossible to make out.

“I’m not going to make you go back in there,” Berian promised. Maybe a stupid promise. What the fuck was he going to do? “So just… it’s okay. You’re going to be okay.”

He certainly wasn’t expecting that. The demon’s glare gave way to surprise. “GOOD.”

Berian took an experimental step forward, like he was coaxing out a feral cat. “Do you have a name? Mine’s Berian. I’m–” Don’t say caster. “...A researcher.” It wasn’t a lie, after all.

The demon picked his head up. “THEY CALLED ME ALARIC. ALL-POWERFUL.” The words rang bitter.

“Were you… awake in there, all this time?” Berian asked, dreading the answer.

The glare returned. “I DO NOT SLEEP.”

“We didn’t know you were awake. You weren’t supposed to be awake.” Berian took a couple more steps forward.

Alaric put his hand up, huge, sharp claws protruding from every finger. Berian flinched, squeezing his eyes shut with a small yelp, but there was no attack: his commands prevented it. When he opened his eyes, he found Alaric merely motioning for him to stop.

“DO NOT BRING THAT NEAR ME.” He pointed to Berian’s staff.

“Okay! Okay.” He set the staff down on the ground, bringing his hands up in a placating motion. “See? You follow my commands, I follow yours, it goes both ways. I don’t have it.”

Alaric lowered his hand. “YOU MAY PROCEED, MAGE.”

Heart fluttering and permission granted, Berian did. He walked right up to him: even huddled on the floor, Alaric was taller than Berian was standing.

“STATE YOUR PURPOSE HERE.”

“Right! I, ah, I was sent to… re-seal you. But I won’t!” Berian clarified hurriedly. “Really, I was just sent to make sure nobody gets hurt. Like–like the last time you were out. That’s fine, right?”

Alaric narrowed his eyes. “IT IS DONE.”

“Good! Good.” Berian hovered a hand inches from his skin. “You’re hurt.”

“YES. THAT.” Alaric nodded toward the tomb and shuddered.

In order to create something that could contain a demon, they’d had to make something so totally opposed that it had harmed him. Berian didn’t blame the ancients: they had to stop the massacres one way or another, and they worked with what they had. They were desperate.

But there was no massacre now.

Without his staff, the kinds of spells he could perform were limited, but not nothing. While he couldn’t cast outright healing spells–would they even work on a demon?--he could at least cast something soothing. “I could… help. If you want.”

Alaric eyed him silently for a few moments before responding. “DO AS YOU WISH.”

“I can touch you?” Berian asked.

The demon nodded. Berian laid his hand lightly against Alaric’s back, red with harsh welts. He could feel Alaric’s muscle underneath, tensed, twitching slightly at his touch.

His whispered incantation didn’t do much. It was the magical equivalent of putting aloe on third-degree burns. But it was something, and Berian felt Alaric relax just slightly under his hand.

Berian performed the spell again and again, touching wherever it looked the worst. Between this and the earlier binding, he quickly exhausted himself, but that was fine.

“Better?” he asked.

“...YES.” Alaric looked down at him with a little less apprehension now. “YOU WILL BE SPARED, MAGE.”

“Haha, great!” Berian squeaked. “Just–just like everyone, right?”

“THOSE WERE THE TERMS,” Alaric agreed.

Berian wanted to get those shackles off. He wanted to take Alaric out of here, bring him to the lab. No, the lab wouldn’t be big enough to house him comfortably. Nowhere would. They’d have to build a custom facility, and there was no way he’d get permission for that, much less the funding. He couldn’t so much as let anyone know the state in which he’d left Alaric, or they’d find another caster and find a way to finish the job.

His phone beeped twice.

“I have to go, okay? You just… stay down here for now. I’ll be back soon,” he promised. “I’ll bring you things.”

“BRING ME A SHEEP,” Alaric demanded.

“I’ll bring you a sheep! Sure! And–I’m sorry about this, but if someone finds you, it’s going to be really bad, especially for you. So… be quiet,” Berian ordered.

Alaric did not respond. He couldn’t. His features set back into a glare, but he nodded: he was the one who stood to lose, after all. At least he understood.

Before Berian could think better of it, he leaned in and wrapped his arms around the demon as much as he could manage to. Alaric did not push him away, even though he could have. If anything. Alaric leaned into it slightly.

He stayed like that for a good minute before stepping away. “I’ll protect you. That’s my job.”

Berian raced out toward the entrance, already planning his next visit.

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geraskierfanficprompts · 5 months

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Prompt 17

"Jaskier, no! Keep your eyes open!" "I'm- I'm getting so tired, Geralt..." "You can rest soon. Now, talk to me." "G'rlt..." "Talk, damn it!" "..." "Jaskier, please, PLEASE. Stay awake! Fuck- Sing for me. I need you to sing for me, Jask." "...You want to hear me sing?" "Yes, yes, I've never wanted to hear you perform more than now."

If Geralt wasn't currently stitching up Jaskier's profusely bleeding wound, he'd find the time to sob in relief at the sound of fucking Fishmonger's Daughter.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡ ~!PROMPT FILLS!~ @the-mightier-pen https://archiveofourown.org/works/56575861

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nanstar200 · 2 years

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some sketchy hurt/ comfort doodles for the road!

(ALSO, HAPPY BELATED VALENTINES DAY!!! I’LL MAKE SOMETHING TASTEFULL FOR U ALL!!)

#Spamton NEO #spamton #spamton g spamton #Nuttdoodles #hurt/comfort #he loves you #spamton x reader #so sweet its gonna give you a toothache #HELPP I LOVE DRAWING HIM

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tinyundercover · 3 months

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the half-pint

Nyx and Perrin are thieves in a fantasy universe. After a mishap, Nyx suffers the consequences of her actions. word count: 2.5k @gtgotcha4gaza prompt for @sizediscount !! the donation period is still open if anyone wants to contribute and receive g/t art or writing <3

Nyx’s jobs were always simple— get in, steal the thing, then get out.

She had been accepting these jobs for years, and by now she considered herself to be one of the best thieves in the area. Along with her partner, Perrin, there wasn’t a single enchanted object, gold coin, or rare pet that the two of them couldn’t steal with ease.

However, as she and Perrin peered into the camp of fairies, she immensely regretted accepting this job.

“How are we supposed to get to the flower without being seen?” Nyx muttered, dark eyes narrowed.

The two of them were hidden behind a bush, crouched on the dead leaves of the forest floor. Beside her, Perrin sent her an amused glance. Brown curly hair rested atop his head, slightly darker than his warm, tan skin. “Who cares if some fairies see us? What are they gonna do, bite our ankles?”

Nyx frowned, gaze focused ahead. Her black hair was pulled back into dozens of dark braids, snaking down her back. “Fairies can cast spells, genius.”

Perrin’s lips twitched into a smile at her stoic response, glancing back towards the camp. “I know, I’m just joking.”

Earlier in the day, a client had reached out to the Nyx and Perrin, requesting their skills. Their task was to retrieve an incredibly rare flower from the center of the fairies’ camp, buried deep in the woods.

Nyx prided herself on being stealthy, nothing more than a shadow— yet as she examined the rows of miniature houses ahead, she wondered how she could possibly sneak through this tiny town without her footsteps shaking the buildings.

She felt like a big, awkward giant. Even crouched on the forest floor, hidden behind the bush, she was bigger than any of the little buildings. She could maybe squeeze her hand through a doorway if she tried. The houses were scattered over the ground, assembled from twigs and leaves. Tiny lamplights, glowing with green fairy magic, illuminated the area.

Even though it was well into the night, Nyx could still see the glimmering, colorful wings of the fairies still awake, drifting between the shops and houses, floating mere inches above the ground. Each fairy appeared to be the size of her pinky.

Further into the center of the little camp, about twenty feet away from Nyx and Perrin, a thin plant reached towards the night sky. Several blue flowers sprouted off of it, glowing faintly. All they needed was one of those flowers, and their mission would be complete.

“This sucks,” Nyx grumbled, sitting back. “We’re too big. They’re gonna see us no matter what we do.”

“We’ll just have to be fast, then,” Perrin mused, fingers drumming over the thick material of his pant leg. They both wore dark, earthy colors to blend into the forest around them. “I could run in there and grab a flower in ten seconds.”

“Ten seconds is more than enough time to get cursed by a bunch of fairies, Perrin,” Nyx scolded. He shrugged his large shoulders.

“It was just an idea. What do you suggest?”

Nyx focused on the blue flowers ahead, eyes narrowing. “I have a plan.”

Minutes later, Perrin had disappeared into the tangles of the forest, leaving Nyx alone behind the bush. She waited patiently, barely blinking, the silence of the forest unbearable.

Eventually, she heard a crash from deep in the forest, as well as Perrin’s footsteps dramatically stomping away. To Nyx, it wasn’t incredibly loud, but the tiny fairies mingling around the camp reacted as if they had experienced an earthquake.

Immediately, voices rose up from the winged people, bright and angry. Perrin continued to make quite a ruckus somewhere in the forest, serving as a distraction, and Nyx leaned forward, focused.

The fairies began to swoop towards the noise, away from Nyx. Careful not to rustle the leaves around her, Nyx pulled herself to her feet, her lean body posed to move quickly.

The fairies seemed even smaller once she stood to her full height. She watched silently, hidden in the shadows of the trees, until the swarm of glowing wings faded into the distance. Once she was certain that the camp was empty, she darted forward into the tiny village.

The houses barely reached her knees. Nyx kept her gaze low as she weaved through the buildings, cautious of where she placed her feet. She didn’t want to knock anything over— her job was to steal a flower, not to leave destruction.

Her heart raced with exhilaration when she finally reached the plant. It twisted towards the sky, swaying slightly, and without any hesitation she whipped her knife out of her sleeve and sliced a flower off at the stem.

The glow of the flower flickered briefly. Dropping it into a small jar she had retrieved from her tunic, she spun on her heels, swiftly moving away.

The hum of fairy wings grew in her ear, and she cursed under her breath. Just as she reached the edge of the camp, a blur of green wings blocked her vision.

Nyx stumbled, pressing all of her weight into the balls of her feet so as to not tumble over and break any of the delicate buildings. She jerked back, focusing on the fairy hovering directly in front of her face, his little arms crossed over his chest.

“Where do you think you’re going?” He barked, his small voice alight with fury.

This fairy must have stayed behind in the camp. For a moment, Nyx was terrified— until she processed just how small this man was. It was very difficult to feel intimidated by someone the size of his finger.

She scowled, darting around him. “Get out of my way, half-pint.” His wings hummed angrily.

Fortunately, he didn’t seem keen to chase after her. He only called out to her, voice dwindling with the distance Nyx rapidly put between them. “How confident,” he remarked. “You’ll regret this.”

When Nyx glanced over his shoulder, he was still hovering at the edge of the camp, the glow of his wings illuminating the trees in a faint green light. She said nothing, lips thinning.

His words rocked around her mind until she met up with Perrin, half a mile from the camp. He clapped her on the shoulder, grinning as she presented the jar— but despite their victory, her stomach still tingled with unease.

—

After the worst sleep of her life, Nyx jolted awake.

Darkness surrounded her, suffocating. She blinked rapidly, reaching around for the edge of her blanket, but she couldn’t figure out where she was.

Last night, after their successful mission, Nyx and Perrin had retreated to the closest inn and passed out on cheap beds. Nyx had been prepared for a restless night on the lumpy bed and stringy blanket, but she hadn’t expected to feel this dizzy upon waking up.

“What the hell…” Nyx muttered, finally finding the edge of the blanket and yanking it down to her chest. The fabric was much thicker than she remembered. She hadn’t realized that the blanket was large enough to cover her entire body… strange.

Her confusion grew as soon as her vision cleared.

The ceiling, dark and wooden, stretched high above her. She blinked several times, brow furrowing. The room hadn’t seemed this big when she had gone to sleep last night.

Something was inexplicably wrong.

Anxiety wormed its way into her chest, she sat up, wrapping her arms around herself. Icy fear struck her like lightning when she registered what she was seeing.

The bed stretched around her, an impossibly huge expanse of beige cloth comparable to a wheat field. The edge of the mattress dropped away to a wide, empty space, a drop that would surely kill Nyx if she were to tumble off. Beside her, her pillow was a mountain.

“What…” Nyx swallowed, the color draining from her face.

If she didn’t know any better, she would think she was the size of a fairy.

Her stomach twisted into knots, fearful, confused, shocked. Fighting the dizziness clouding her mind, she shoved herself to her feet— and immediately her arms shot out to keep her balance. She let out a panicked shout, heart pounding. The plush mattress was much harder to stand on than she had been expecting.

Something creaked in response to her yell. Nyx snapped her head up to the other bed.

Her heart jumped into her throat. The sun was barely rising in the window, pale light streaming in to illuminate the hill of Perrin’s shoulder. His chest moved with steady breaths, curls buried into a pillow.

“Oh gods,” Nyx mumbled, stomach dropping.

Perrin was already a big guy, shoulders broad and thick— but this was incomprehensible. Even from across the room, his size absolutely overwhelmed her. Usually they were close to the same height, but Nyx was small enough now that he could easily scoop her up in one hand, and the thought made her nauseas. Nyx’s breath hitched in her throat, unable to pull her gaze away from his enormous, sleeping form.

“Oh gods,” Nyx repeated, panic rising.

Her heart jumped as Perrin shifted again, a large hand tightening on his pillow. When his eyes fluttered open, she fought the urge to turn and run.

It’s just Perrin.

You’ve worked with him for a year.

It’s Perrin. It’s fine.

Nyx swallowed thickly, stepping back, heart thudding nervously. Perrin didn’t notice her. He sat up and stretched, yawning into his hand.

His movement brought a small gasp from Nyx’s lips. She hadn’t expected him to sit up, especially not so quickly, revealing that he was much bigger than she could have imagined.

Gods. I’m small.

Her chest tightened when his gaze swooped towards her, drawn to her gasp. Panic settled into her stomach as soon as his eyes fixed on her small form, squinting, then widening.

The world seemed to freeze for a moment, as he took in the sight of her tiny, trembling form.

“…Nyx?” His voice broke, shocked.

Adrenaline gripped her by the wrists. All reasoning left her mind, leaving her only with primal terror— and with no explanation why, she spun around and bolted.

“Wha— Nyx!”

The startled shout only encouraged her to sprint faster, stumbling over the thick blanket. Panic raced in her chest, shrieking in her ears to run.

Perrin’s footsteps behind her were large and fast, shaking the bed below her. She let out a shriek of surprise when two enormous hands slammed onto the bed in front of her, and before she could halt her sprint she collided right into his palms.

“Nyx, Nyx, woah— it’s okay!”

Cold terror shook Nyx to her core. She staggered away from the enormous hands in front of her, each finger large enough to overpower her with ease— a terrifying, sickening thought. She whirled around, wobbling on the plush surface.

Perrin was kneeling on the floor, broad chest pressed into the side of the bed. His arms stretched forward, hands clasped firmly behind Nyx’s tiny form, trapping her. He was absolutely massive.

No. I’m tiny.

His eyebrows tugged together, a plethora of uneasy emotions crossing his face. Under his enormous, overwhelming gaze, Nyx felt like a mouse. She wanted to sob.

“It’s okay, it’s okay— I promise.” Perrin’s intense gaze focused on her, glancing over her trembling form. “It’s just me, Nyx, I’m not gonna hurt you.”

His comforting words tugged at her heart, and she took several deep breaths, hugging herself. Perrin’s presence surrounded her, enormous and overbearing, and she choked on her breath. “What’s— what’s happening—?”

“Breathe,” Perrin ordered gently, gaze softening. Something enormous and warm pressed into Nyx’s back, and after a nervous flinch she registered that it was his finger. “It’s okay.”

Nyx’s breath shuddered, and she brought her hand to her dark cheek, shakily scraping away the tear that had fallen.

Once Perrin seemed confident that Nyx had relaxed, he carefully unclasped his fingers and pulled his hands towards himself. Nyx let out a shaky breath, stomach twisting.

“Are you okay?” Perrin finally asked, brow knit together in concern.

Nyx swallowed, struggling to meet his enormous gaze. Her voice felt small and weak when she spoke, an uncomfortable feeling. “I… I think so.”

Perrin observed her glancing anxiously around the expansive room, taking in her wobbly, tearful, tiny form. “What happened?”

She blinked in confusion. Reaching back into her memory, she focused on the events of last night. Green wings floated around her mind.

Gods!

“I think… I think a fairy cursed me,” she murmured, heart sinking.

Fairy magic was incredibly difficult to fight. If Nyx wanted to break the curse and grow herself back to her usual height, it would take unfathomable amounts of research and work. The thought that she might be trapped this size for an indefinite amount of time made her feel ill.

“Oh.” Perrin blinked in surprise. “Huh. I guess you were right about how dangerous fairies are.”

“You think?” Nyx muttered, face hot.

Perrin glanced over her, and Nyx wondered if he was aware of how intimidating he appeared, just by existing. He chewed his lip, lost in thought. “It’s alright,” he finally said. “There’s a library downstairs. I’m sure they have hundreds of books on fairy magic.”

“Right.” Nyx nodded unhappily, her stomach jumping every time Perrin shifted, as if he might snatch her up without warning. “Right, we should… go do some research.”

He nodded. His shoulders straightened up, shooting icy surprise into Nyx’s ribs, but he didn’t seem to notice her startled flinch. With a focused expression, he reached towards her.

Nyx inwardly cursed, jerking back from the massive, approaching fingers. However, instead of trapping her in an overwhelming fist like she had expecting, Perrin only lowered his hand to the bed, palm facing up. His gaze softened.

“Let’s go,” he offered. “I can’t imagine you want to stay that size any longer than you have to.”

She blinked up at him, tense. Her mind raced.

“Yeah,” she slowly agreed, peering down at his palm. “Right.”

His hand was enormous. Thick scars and calluses awaited her, his skin worn and damaged with overuse. She froze, stomach cold.

Her trepidation did not go unnoticed. Perrin leaned closer, eyes gentle. “Do you want to stay here?”

His words suddenly felt insulting. Did she really appear so weak and vulnerable that a simple trip to the library downstairs was too much for her? Her terror slowly melded into embarrassment. She and Perrin had gotten into countless dangerous situations together, all of which she had remained calm and cool and rational. This shouldn’t be any different.

Fueled by spite, she surged forward, stepping firmly onto his hand.

She wobbled, not expecting the skin of his palm to sink slightly beneath her feet. Fighting the anxiety flickering in her chest, she sat down, settling into the center of his massive palm. Her arms crossed.

“Alright,” she huffed, furious at the situation. Perrin’s lips twitched in amusement. “Let’s go.”

If she was lucky, they’d be able to find a counterspell in the library, and she’d be back to normal in a few hours.

Everything would be fine.

I had a great time writing this!! be sure to check out the other writing/art contributions from other volunteers as well!! <3

#g/t #g/t writing #giant/tiny #gtgotcha4gaza #shrinking #g/t fearplay #g/t hurt/comfort #original characters

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kodared · 6 days

Text

✰ Stanford & Borrower/Anomaly Reader ✰

fears not enough they have to tear him apart.

Chapter 3/?

Wordcount: 2,557 / 7,296

!!! CONTENT WARNING FOR VIVID DESCRIPTION OF PANIC ATTACKS. !!!

...

More than anything you wanted to get away from this human. Your hands finally weaseled their way out of his vice grip as you pushed at his fingers that held down your body. His thumb still pressed across your shoulders painfully as you tried to pry him off.

“Let GO!-“

Ignoring his question you let out a strangled cry, if you weren’t so frantic and lightheaded you might have believed the expression on his face to be pure shock and awe.

“I'm afraid I can't do that, you'll just take off running and I would like to ask you a few questions,”

That was the point of being put down you quipped back in your head. Your voice lost among your emotions as you screamed internally, not wanting to give this scientist the satisfaction of a response. Your hands still pushing at his digits that curled uncomfortably around you. It was pathetic really. Being able to be pinned by the simple act of being held. His grip wasnt even all that tight anymore, adding insult to injury.

The sheer power the human held over you just by existing made you dizzy and nauseous.

He seemed to be lost in thought as he watched you push and practically claw at his pointer finger. He made no move to pin your hands down again so you assumed you weren't doing much damage to your dismay.

That damned jar once again was lifted and set on the desk, before you could stop it you felt his hand tilting so your legs faced the opening.

You tried to stop it by pushing a foot on the rim, but it was no use. All it took was Ford letting go and gravity pulled you down into the glass with a small thud.

Your injured ankle took the brunt of the force, making you stifle a scream as you landed painfully into the glass. All the while the human just pulled his journal closer and wrote.

Stumbling on your feet you leaned against the front of the glass, your hands balling into fists as you hit the thick and cold glass.

“There, now that I'm not holding you does that help?”

It almost made it worse. Atleast he wasnt picking up the jar and taking you down into his lab.

He wasnt speaking, keeping his eyes trained on you and your heaving form. You could feel the beads of sweat practically rolling down your face.

You were stressed. You could feel the buzz of a panic attack under your skin, your fists no longer hitting the glass as you tried to calm your frantic breathing.

Standing was too much to ask of your body too it seemed as your knees buckled and you fell into the cold floor again.

You only realized Ford was still speaking to you when you finally looked back up and saw almost a panicked expression on his face. Your ears rang painfully loud as you tried so hard to focus on what he was saying.

Ultimately it didn't matter because right as you started looking up at him he seemed to panic more. Helpless to stop him you watched as he stood from his desk and you physically recoiled. Half expecting him to pick up the glass and take you down to his lab the moment you stopped being useful.

He didn't do that though to your surprise. He just left the room. You thought that would calm you down but it didn't, the panic in your chest still raged on.

The once uncomfortable buzz under your skin had now circled its way to your lungs. Your breathing was labored and frantic, the only comfort coming from the freezing glass walls of your prison as you pressed against it.

Small droplets of tears glided down your face, leaving an uncomfortable dryness in their wake. You curled up as small as possible, your knees pressing to your chest.

You had been caught.

Your fate was sealed.

He would drop you off at some lab for more testing if he didn't do it himself. He was probably calling someone to get you now.

Unbeknownst to you at the moment he was making a call, but not a call to any scientist. He was making a call to the most brilliant mechanic he knew for help.

…

It felt like it took forever for the human to come back. You didn't exactly trust your time perception at this moment though, he could've only been gone for a few minutes for all you knew.

You stayed curled in your tight ball as you heard him sit back down at his desk. Your body is tense and awaiting him to do something. He was most definitely looking at you, no doubt writing whatever he could into his journal.

You didn't look at him. Straining your still ringing ears to try to pick up anything that could clue you into what he was doing.

You could most definitely hear his pen scratching away at a page in his journal. He wasnt speaking to you directly which wasnt as big of a relief as you thought it would be.

Why did he leave the room? That was your biggest question in all honesty.

A few more moments of silence passed between the two of you. The only sound was your strained breathing that you doubted the human could hear anyway.

Your shoulders tensed as his voice was once again reverberating around you. Still in a whisper despite how loud it was regardless.

“...It didn't seem to have any claws, how would It have survived in the wilderness.. Does it have some sort of venom? No, if it did-”

…Ah. Muttering to himself. Honestly, the mark of someone who was completely sane was when they mumbled to themselves.

You screwed your eyes shut as you blocked out what he was saying. Especially when he insisted on referring to you as an ‘it’.

You were about to yell at him, to tell him to shut up when your ears heard a loud knocking coming from the front door.

So he had called more scientists after all.

The creaky wooden chair he sat on squealed against the hardwood floor as he stood. Your hands clamping over your sensitive ears before the panic that had just begun to dissipate picked back up tenfold.

His hand reached for the jar.

Denial.

There was no way he was just going to turn you into the others so quickly. He had only just discovered you. Surely he hadn't taken enough notes yet to be satisfied.

You reeled backward, your ankle screaming its protests as well as your lungs. The oxygen your brain craves so much is being exhaled much too quickly to be fully processed.

His hand closed around the Jar. Making your body sway unsteadily as you saw the desk below you rising. The glass flooring heavily disorients you.

Anger.

What reasoning did he have to uproot you from your life? You weren't harming anyone. You were being turned into some scientist to experiment on you just for being born. You hadn't asked for this.

You had just as much control over being born a borrower as he had being born a man. You didn't choose this life.

Your hands hit against the glass as more tears began to go down your face. Hitting the floor of the jar with a faint clink.

The human seemed none the wiser to your protests. His other hand going to cover the top of the jar as he swiftly left his room.

Bargaining.

Your whole body was shaking. The desperation finally made you find your voice as it cracked.

“Let me out!- I'll talk!- I can-... I can tell you more! Don't you want answers? I can give answers!-”

You rambled to yourself through choked sobs. The reality of your situation hits you like a ton of bricks.

The human didn't stop walking to the main room. You both were now at the stairs when he finally acknowledged you.

“We can all talk in a moment,”

His voice was smooth as if he was zoned in on one task and one task alone.

Depression.

The realization that you couldn't stop him put a new weight on your chest as you fell into the glass wall. Not from your shaky legs surprisingly. The human just wasnt holding the jar with the most care it seemed.

You tried to put on a brave face as he set your glass prison on the kitchen table. You were back where it all started.

You should've been more careful that night. He should have never seen you. You should have never moved into this cottage. More than anything you regretted not being able to see your family again.

You could hear the front door open as a second pair of footsteps joined Ford in the kitchen.

You prepared yourself for the worst. So when you looked up and met the eyes of his colleague you stilled.

“...You put them in a JAR?-”

You hadn't expected that.

Ford seemed shocked at his assistants' outburst. Floundering for an excuse.

“It was the best option! It didn't want to be held and if I put it down it wouldve-”

You could only imagine how rough you looked based on how the other human's expression softened when you flinched at the humans raising their voices.

The other scientist Ford invited over had a very thick Southern accent. You never really heard an accent like his unless you counted the shows Ford occasionally played much too loud.

Thinking back on it this human might have made him watch said shows.

He took his thin-framed glasses off and pinched the bridge of his nose. Agitated with his companion.

“You called sayin’ they looked ill, it's not hard to see exactly why.”

It clicked in your head now. Ford must've seen your panic as some sort of illness rather than the emotional trauma he was inflincting.

“I wasnt causing it any harm! It even understands English, do you know how big of a find this is!”

Ford was trying his hardest to explain his reasoning to Fiddleford. He only wanted answers from the smaller being. Fiddleford put his glasses back on and directly addressed the creature in the jar.

You watched as he crouched down by the table, causing you to push yourself backward. Pressing against the glass as hard as you possibly could to put distance between the two of you.

“M’terribly sorry for all this. Do you have a name? Mines Fiddleford. Fiddleford Mcgucket,”

He didn't reach for the jar, he didn't even get closer to examine you. He just sat still, patiently waiting for you to respond.

Ford interjected.

“I already tried talking to it directly, but it gave me no response apart from when we were on the stairs and it was just babbling-”

“y/n.”

Both the humans in the room froze at your weak voice. Of course, it was rough and scratchy from your prior sobbing, but they heard it regardless.

“Thats.. That's my name.”

You could see the way Fiddlefords mouth pinched into a small smile. Almost one of pride at being able to get a response from you.

Ford didn't look upset, but he most definitely wasnt pleased at the thought of the creature preferring Fiddleford over him. After all, he had been the one to discover it, it should want to talk to him.

“Pleased to meet ya, I would offer you a handshake but… Well, I doubt you'd be able to shake more than my pinky”

His chuckle soothed you slightly. Your chest still felt tight, reminding you of just how terrible you looked probably as you wiped your tears away finally.

You even caught yourself trying to smile out of politeness before resting your shaking hands in your lap.

You could see the way Fiddlefords eyebrows pinched together in concern.

“Do ya need any water? How long have you been in there?”

“I uh-”

Neither of the humans heard you as Ford stepped forward again and let out a sigh.

“I’ve only had it in there for an hour or so, if we let it out it could run.”

It most definitely felt longer than an hour. Time must’ve been moving faster since you were in such a panic.

Your body instinctually tensed up as Ford stepped closer. Making Fiddleford finally snap as he stood from his crouch.

“I need a word with you alone,”

He didn't even wait for Ford to respond before yanking him by the sleeve out of the room. Leaving you alone once more as you heard the front door slam.

…

“Ford. Ya can't just trap someone in a jar and expect them to be okay. Mentally and physically speakin’.”

Ford was being actively chewed out and by his assistant no less.

He crossed his arms across his chest defensively. His hands tightened on his forearms.

“I never hurt it! I only asked it a few questions, even the Gnome was calmer than it!”

“The Gnome was an entirely different situation! You asked him if he wanted to come with you! You just found this… What did you call them?”

“Parva persona.”

Fiddleford ran a hand through his hair before reaching into his jacket and pulling out his tobacco. Ignoring the way Ford groaned to himself as the mechanic put a bit in his lip.

“Whatever. Not their name anyway. And while yer’ at it quit callin’ them an it. It's dehumanizing.”

Ford unfolded his hands and threw them in the air before gripping the railing of his porch.

“Exactly my point Fiddleford! They’re not human! It's abnormal! By all rules of science, it shouldn't even be possible for something as small as it to exist!”

Fiddleford spit a bit of his chewing tobacco off the porch before slowly getting more agitated with his partner. He could be so smart but so dumb most of the time.

“What makes something deserving of basic decency Ford? Because ill tell ya’, its normally when they look human but smaller and can speak English. I think you even treated the Gnome with more dignity! You didn't trap him in a jar!”

Ford didn't quip back saying he did put the gnome in a cage after questioning it for a few days to research it. He just sighed and looked off into the woods.

“...I just don't want my discovery to run off if we let it out. If it runs I don't think ill get another opportunity for answers.”

“Why not just talk to them? M’sure you could get them to hang around, you’d just have to accept getting answers slowly. An while yer at it stop puttin’ em in jars.”

…That might work. If Ford could make some sort of connection with it he could get more answers than just interrogating it in the jar. Ford could see the look in his eyes and before he could stop it the other man was already going back into the cottage.

With a heavy groan, Fiddleford spat out the last of his tobacco off the porch into the grass before following him.

He had a feeling this would be a long night with no sleep. For both him and the creature in the jar.

. . .

TAGLIST: @i-am-tiredd

Thank you so much for reading!! More updates soon :)

#gravity falls #stanford x anomaly reader #stanford pines x reader #fiddleford mcgucket #fiddleford mcgucket x reader #g/t #borrower reader #size difference #hurt/comfort #angst with a happy ending #giant/tiny #stanford pines x anomaly reader #young stanford pines #chapter 3 #fears not enough they have to tear them apart

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steddieunderdogfics · 28 days

Note

fics from 10k-20k words (challenge monday): “if you have a minute” by MacksDramaticShenanigans. if i remember correctly, the word i had in mind while reading this was ‘enchanting’. so so good.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/41346693

if you have a minute by MacksDramaticShenanigans

@stevethehairington

Rating: General Audiences

10,681 words, 1/1 chapters

Archive Warning: No Warnings

Tags: Not Canon Compliant - Stranger Things 4 Vol. 2, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Post-Vecna (Stranger Things), Post-Upside Down Destruction (Stranger Things), Anxiety, Panic Attacks, Steve Harrington Needs a Hug, Stressed Steve Harrington, Comforting Eddie Munson, Rain, Screaming as a form of catharsis, Diners, First Kiss, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, in the sense that steve is very stressed and worried, and eddie gives him an outlet and tells him it's going to be okay

Summary:

They pass the cigarette back and forth for a few quiet minutes. And there’s something about Eddie’s presence that’s helping just as much as the nicotine. Eddie holds the cigarette back out for Steve, blows the smoke out in a smooth, steady stream, and tilts his head. “You working tomorrow?” He asks. Steve shakes his head. “Not tomorrow. Why?” Eddie pushes himself off of the wall. “Great,” he declares and grins. “We’re doing something then. You and me. I’m gonna take you somewhere.” Steve’s face scrunches. “What? Where?” Eddie tuts and wags his finger. “Nope, not telling you,” he says. “You’ll find out tomorrow. Meet at my place at nine. Don’t be late.” He doesn’t give Steve a chance to argue or further question it. Just throws a little salute and turns on his heel, disappearing around the corner. Or, the one where Steve’s anxiety doesn’t get the hint that they defeated the Upside Down, and Eddie knows just how to help.

Thanks for the rec!

This rec is a part of Challenge Monday. The challenge this week was Between 10k - 20k words.

Know a fic that deserves extra love? Submit through our asks or the submission box!

#steddie #steddie fic recs #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #stranger things #challenge monday #steddieunderdogfics #rated g #post s4 #canon divergent #hurt/comfort #emotional hurt/comfort #first kiss

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belethlegwen · 5 months

Text

The Scars We Leave Behind

Written by: @adjacentperception and @belethlegwen

What's left of a hero when everything is taken from him? What's left of a villain with no identity?

What's left of a man who has no choice but to save the symbol of a system he's fighting against?

Within a city constantly besieged by a super-power fueled war between Good vs Evil, a hero is captured by powerful villain and their secret organization and forced to play part in a twisting and enigmatic plan; to tear down the systems in place that keep the League of Heroes in an ultimate seat of power to rival the government itself. But… is the system as good as it projects itself to be? Are the villains and their henchmen really as evil as the media says? Is it truly as simple as tearing it down, or does that simply open up space for a new, worse system to enter?

Is the harm we do when we believe we're helping mitigated merely by our wishes to be better? To create something more? To fix what we believe is broken?

Do we hold blame for creating the evil we think we're fighting against, regardless of our intentions?

This work features descriptions of violence, abuse, neglect, and uses adult language, as well as mentions of nudity and sexual topics.

#g/t #Superhero G/t #Superhero vs Supervillain #hero vs villain #giant/tiny #giant tiny #g/t writing #g/t author #gtauthor #gt #AO3 #Original Work #original story #oc writing #oc story #original fiction #original characters #hurt/comfort

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narrans · 2 months

Text

Stellar Allies | Part Two

GT July | Stellar Allies | Part Two

Words: Grit, Warmth, Foggy, Experiment, Honey, Lost, Doubt

It was mind boggling. Was this actually happening? There was something that looked like a weird spaceship in the form of a cylindrical tube the color of liquid mercury with a tiny figure inside – an alien.

Jax and Cliff both simultaneously reached up and pinched their forearms, mirroring the motion as if it were planned.

Swallowing the nerves that was making him tremble, Jax carefully secured the tongs onto the edge of the silver cylinder and began pulling it away from its original crash site. Cliff said nothing and instinctually maneuvered out of the way so that Jax could pull the ship in between the two of them safely away from the flames.

The looked down, gawking at what was inside. There, inside of the silver cylinder, was a six inch tall figure. Their limbs were limp, and they were wearing what looked like some kind of black mesh and leather flight suit. Cliff counted two arms, two legs, one head, and most interestingly another limb that made him think it might be some kind of tail. There was a dark helmet secured to their head, but it was obvious there was a crack along the surface.

Is that what was causing some of the hissing sound? Or was it just the ship? Cliff wondered as he crouched a little lower to examine the ship.

Tiny lights flashed and blinked all around the padded interior. Symbols on a screen flashed intermittently, but neither boy had any indication of what that could mean.

“Is it… dead?” asked Jax as he began reaching the tongs forward. Cliff was about to scold him for using the tongs on the figure, but was relieved when his friend merely grabbed the edge of the cylinder and gave it a little shake.

Both boys nearly leapt out of their skin when they saw the most minute movement from the figure’s chest and the head twitch subtly. They knew it wasn’t because of the movement of the cylinder that caused the movement, meaning this alien was alive. Cliff’s fascination was making him tingly all over, and the shaking in his friend’s shoulders told him Jax was feeling the same way.

“Dude!” hissed Jax. “There’s an alien. A freakin’ alien! Do you know how dope this is!? We might be the first to make contact with an alien species.”

“Allegedly,” grinned Cliff. Both boys exchanged an amused look, having read up on dozens of conspiracies and “abduction accounts” during their research, before turning their attention back to the figure.

“Do you think it’s hurt? Can it even breathe oxygen? All of these things are leaking and stuff, and we do not have the equipment to make an environmental chamber suited for it if it doesn’t breathe oxygen at our atmospheric levels,” fretted Cliff. Jax noticed the crack in the alien’s helmet and his brow furrowed. He was obviously trying to think of a good solution, as was Cliff.

“Okay, let’s assume for a second that it can breathe oxygen. I’m basing this off of the fact that it took us thirty minutes or so to get here and this ship-pod thing has probably been open this whole time. Unless this thing doesn’t abide by the rule of threes, it can probably breathe in our atmosphere,” stated Jax.

His friend was right. Cliff remembered the rule of threes being three weeks without food, three days without water or sleep, three hours in a harsh environment, and, the most important for this argument, three minutes unconscious without breathable air while unconscious.

“Okay, assuming these things are true,” added Cliff. “Then we can assume that this ship-pod thing wouldn’t open if the environment wasn’t ideal. I’m basing this off the fact that a species capable of interstellar travel would have the tech and wherewithal to make sure a survival pod wouldn’t open in harmful conditions.”

“So, at the moment, we’re assuming the alien is stable,” concluded Jax. Cliff nodded affirmatively. “Okay, then the next big question is what do we do next? Assuming the online conspiracy theories are right and everything, the government might want to experiment on the little guy. On the other hand, this might be part of a scouting mission or invasion force. This is just starting to get complicated, and I don’t want this thing face hugging me in the middle of the night and implanting little chest bursting aliens in my throat.”

This was ultimately the biggest question they had to contend with. Was there a “right” choice? They were far out of their depth when it came to preparedness and knowledge. It was a judgment call which had countless unforeseen repercussions.

What was the right thing to do?

Cliff chewed on the inside of his cheek as he thought, a nervous habit that often left him tasting iron by the time he came up with a solution. Both points Jax made were valid, but it was clear to him which one felt like the right thing to do; and he had the argument to back it up.

“I think… we take our chances and bring him with us back home.” Jax’s eyes widened as he listened to his friend’s words. It was obvious, even beneath the mask, that he was about to interject, so Cliff continued. “Hear me out. Just look at this tube for a second. Do you see any weapons? Do you see anything on here that might indicate anything other than life support? And what about our little alien companion? Any weapons? Side arms?

“I think this whole thing is supposed to be an escape pod and that our little alien was either in danger from his crew mates and had to evacuate using this escape pod or something happened to the original ship, which is probably the bigger chunk of burning mass that was falling from the sky that we thought was a meteor, like a technical malfunction. Either way, I think at least this little guy here is safe. This is just a theory though. I could be horribly wrong, but that’s what my gut is telling me.”

Jax listened patiently to his friend’s logic and, after a few minutes, nodded.

“Your argument is sound enough, but on the off chance this guy has acid blood or some kind of weapon, is there something we can… I don’t know… put him in for the time being?” asked Jax. Then, his eyes brightened. “Wait, our experiments from last year. We’ve got those plastic containers.”

“My thoughts exactly,” concurred Cliff. “We’ve got those ULINE poly tubs and, worst case scenario, mom has some catering equipment in the shed that is probably acid resistant. Until then, we’ll just have to take our chances.”

Their nerves set back in as they suddenly realized what it was they needed to do next – transport the alien. Both of them with their backpacks were prepared to move rocks, not miniscule alien beings. Still, they had few options available at the moment.

“Okay,” said Jax finally. “I’ll do the transportation and we’ll keep him at your place. Mom is inspecting my room tomorrow to see if I’ve cleaned so now is a bad time for me. If something bad happens, we tell parents and everyone who’ll listen. Yeah?”

“Yeah, sounds good,” breathed Cliff. Jax, obviously shaking, removed his backpack and shifted some of his things to Cliff’s bag to give the most space possible for the space pod. The boys worked together to tape part of the pod open so it wouldn’t close on the figure or accidentally seal shut during transportation.

They also tried to secure the figure by gently laying some of their emergency duct tape along the opening across the figure’s legs and chest and securing it to either side of the opened pod. The moment of truth came and Jax’s brave face was threatening to crack. It was Cliff’s reassuring bump on his shoulder that really pushed Jax over the edge and away from his uncertainty.

Using his heat resistant gloves, Jax lifted the pod off of the ground and slid it into his backpack, using what little padding he had as well as his jacket to make sure the pod didn’t jostle around too much.

The entire time, the figure only stirred twice, but made no additional movements even as Jax zippered his pack shut. Before leaving, Cliff made sure to tamp out all of the smoldering brush to prevent potential environmental hazards.

And with that, they were off. Neither of them knew what was going to happen or how they were going to navigate the countless decisions before them. One thing they did know was that this decision felt right, and they had their logic to back it up.

They could only hope they were right.

~~~^*^*^~~~

Warmth.

Foggy.

Groggy.

Pain.

Cold.

Confusion.

Ol’oih wasn’t sure which thing he felt more. The confusion of everything leading up to him blacking out felt like a bad dream, and the pain in his body made the experience real. It was a souvenir of recent events, and it wasn’t a pleasant one.

He could’ve sworn he heard voices at some point, but he couldn’t be sure. They were loud and booming, but also muffled. Was that because his hearing was damaged? Was it his life support helmet? Or was this actually how the voices were supposed to sound?

There was a fair amount of jostling all around him and, at some point, he was once again stationary. Every element of training told him he needed to be awake and aware, but his body was absolutely no help in this endeavor. He just needed to rest to heal and, ultimately, that was the logical choice too.

Ol’oih knew that he would be no use to himself or any one of his crew mates if he was incapacitated and hurting. So, he relented and let himself sleep.

When he returned to consciousness, however, he wasn’t sure if he had made the correct decision to rest. For a moment, he thought he was still beneath the night sky until he realized that the “stars” above him weren’t stars but merely beams of light. He was surrounded by darkness all around except for the little dots of light above him.

Another thing he noticed was that his helmet had a massive crack along the screen, breaking the airtight seal and exposing him to the atmosphere. He thanked Ove silently that this atmosphere was a friendly one and not something that was toxic. He’d be out of luck if that were the case. The rest of his limbs felt intact, albeit stiff, and he was laying on something that was soft that wasn’t the safety of his escape pod.

A thousand questions came to mind.

What happened when he blacked out? Where was his crew? Were they alright? Were they the ones who found him? Or did something – someone – else find him and bring him here? Had he been captured? Was he now someone’s experiment? Or had he been rescued from the crash? Where even was he? Had they even managed to crash near the rendezvous point?

His body thrummed nervously as he allowed his feelings of doubt to overwhelm him before taking two deep breaths, as he had learned in his training, before collecting his thoughts and worrying about one problem at a time. It was all he could do. Getting through this was going to take grit and determination, and laying there being afraid was not a luxury he could afford at the moment.

First problem was his ability to see. His vision was still a bit foggy, but that probably had something to do with his helmet and the lack of light around him. He had something for that, but he’d need to remove part of his suit. It was a risk he needed to take.

Ol’oih extended his arm forward, feeling it twinge slightly, to make sure he wasn’t going to sit up into a wall or ceiling. Confirming his surroundings, Ol’oih cautiously sat up and detached the clasps keeping his helmet affixed to his suit and pulled his helmet off of his head.

Now free, he realized he was feeing a bit woozy. He hadn’t had anything to eat in who knew how long and would need to consume something soon if he was going to survive. Everything cost precious energy, even what he was about to do to see his surroundings, and he needed to ration correctly if he was going to get out of this ordeal alive.

His body thrummed again, but he shut down his feelings of nervousness as he focused on the task at hand. Ol’oih reached up and removed one of his protective gloves and concentrated on the ciferi in his hand. Like he’d done so many times in his youth, the ridges leading from his core to the tips of his four fingers began to glow a soft green, illuminating the space around him.

What he saw made a pit form in his core.

All around him were portless, doorless walls with odd ridges along the top which undoubtedly latched the roof to the rest of the structure. Nothing else was in the containment unit other than what Ol’oih was sitting on, which resembled a type of white growth similar to this planet’s moss. The item didn’t seem alike like the white growths from his home, so he elected to stay sitting.

Being close enough to touch the walls, Ol’oih hesitantly gave the wall a push. Though it didn’t give easily, there was an element to it that was extremely synthetic as well as flexible. With the right nudge, Ol’oih thought he might be able to use it to his advantage.

I need to measure the space and estimate how tall this thing is. If whatever put me in here is hostile, I need to be able to jump out if I can. It’ll take energy, so I need to use my opportunities wisely.

So, with that in mind, Ol’oih stood and walked to the far wall. He pressed his back against it before walking at a steady pace from one side to the next, using his gate as a measurement. He repeated this for the width and then reached as high as he could to guestimate the height of the container he was in.

Okay, twelve ambas wide, thirty-seven long, and probably twenty or so wide? 8880 sambas. Great. I won’t run out of air, plus the holes in the top should allow air inside. No suffocation. My standing jump is twelve. Running might be fifteen? Using my addon, I could probably hook it along the top and swing to get out if I really needed to.

Last resort though. Lots of energy to do something like that. Plus, that’s if I need to escape. If I can, I will communicate my intentions. About time I’m able to practice my practical language skills. Years of study and simulations finally paying off.

Looks like being a communication ensign actually is coming in handy.

This thought made Ol’oih tremor nervously. Though everyone had basic language in the program, he was the only one of their crew who was fluent. If the others were in trouble, they’d have no true way to communicate.

In the middle of his swirling thoughts and feelings of being completely and utterly lost, Ol’oih was suddenly interrupted as the entire container around him shifted. The sudden jostle threw him to the side and then to all fours as there was a cacophonous cracking sound.

Juthez! Out of time to make a plan. Can’t pretend to go back to sleep. No sense in that. I need answers and assistance. Looks like communication is my only option. Juthez! Please be friendly.

The thrumming wracking Ol’oih’s body was making him feel completely sick and cold, but he knew this was necessary. The doubt in his mind would have to be pushed to the side for the time being. Skill alone was what he had to rely on, and he could only hope it would be enough.

~~~^*^*^~~~

Both boys had managed to make it to Cliff’s home without disturbing his parents. Jax was the one brave enough to lift the six inch tall figure of the alien out of the pod and into the plastic storage container while Cliff arranged a towel for a bed, arguing that it would be cruel for the alien to just be on the hard ground when he could be injured.

Jax went home and immediately cleaned his room while Cliff kept the storage container under his desk with the lid fastened securely. He tried going back to sleep, but knowing there was an alien mere feet from his bed was enough to keep the teen away from sleep for the next week.

It would be hours before Jax reached out saying his room had passed inspection and another twenty minutes before Cliff’s parents were awake and preparing to go to work. He’d asked if it was okay if Jax came over, to which his parents agreed as long as they didn’t perform any science experiments.

Cliff felt like he was lying by omission by saying he and Jax wouldn’t be doing any science experiments since they would be investigating the alien, but he deemed that as a scientific investigation and not an experiment and agreed. With his assurance, his parents left for work and Jax was over within minutes.

He had barely crossed the threshold before the questions started coming out.

“Has the alien woken up? Have you checked on him? Do we know if it’s a him? What if he doesn’t wake up? Are you as stoked as I am because I’m literally vibrating all over!” Jax’s inability to contain his excitement was hilarious and he quickly pulled his friend inside his house.

“Dude, just take a breath. Yeah, I’m stoked too, but we need to chill. If the alien reads emotions and stuff like that, he might get spooked. This is a friendly check-up and possible exchange of information, possibly with the first alien in history. Oh, who am I kidding, I’m shaking all over. I couldn’t even go back to sleep,” grinned Cliff.

“Me too!” Jax’s grin was stretching from ear to ear. Cliff knew his expression had to be the same to the point his cheeks were starting to hurt. “So, do we check on him now? Or what?”

“Only logical,” agreed Cliff. “If he’s still passed out, then we can investigate the ship, which is still safely under the bed. If he’s awake, we can commence Operation: First Contact.”

“Nerd,” teased Jax, getting the reference immediately, as both teens made their way to Cliff’s room. What started as a confident stride immediately shifted to cautiously optimistic steps as they shuffled into Cliff’s room and crouched by the hard plastic crate. As carefully as they could, they pulled the crate out from under the desk.

As they did, both boys felt the crate jostle subtly, as if something fell over, and let their excitement override caution as they cracked open the top of the crate. Light flooded into the crate, and, for the first time, they saw someone looking back at them.

~~~~~^*^*^*^*^~~~~~

Continue

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~~~~~^*^*^*^*^~~~~~

@gianttol #gtjuly #gtjuly2024

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