(I should really be sleeping right now) I saw you wanted writing prompts? How about tiny Wilbur getting stuck in a giants pocket without them knowing?
Ik about how many possible fluffy/not angsty ways i can take this but- i have to write angst- im going to make myself know for that sgrehtjryk :]
warnings: broken bones , broken limbs , fear , unintentional fear play , angst , miscommunication (it’s my favourite thing to write mwahahahaha-)
word count: 2476 words :))
Wilbur leans his ear against the inside of the wall. Listening, waiting for a noise, footsteps… anything really. Anything that could pose a threat. He waits there for a few more minutes, until he’s satisfied. He pushes open the broken powerpoint cover.
Wilbur steps out into the early light, as he pulls the plastic close to its original placing- enough to not be noticeable, but at the same time loose enough to offer a quick escape.
Wilbur looks across at the large towers of wood and stone that makes up the bean’s kitchen. He tightens the strap of his bag, time to get to work.
He darts across to the other side of the counter, the one closest to the cupboards. Closest to the food.
He funnels the string through his fingers and readies his arm to throw his small hook.
There’s a large crash as the hook falls back onto the countertop. Wilbur is quick to gather up all the rope along with the hook, and then he sprints over near the pepper.
He’s watched these humans for a while- they’ve never used these black rocks before. That means that neither of them should come over there. He hopes the beans don’t go over there-
And Wilbur stays frozen like that, for thirty seconds. A minute, a minute and a half. Two minutes.
No noise. No footsteps. No humans.
Wilbur uncurls himself and backs away from the wall. Legs still shaking.
‘I think I’ll just get the essentials,’ Wilbur thinks to himself. He untangles his bag from his back and starts sorting through its contents. He shuffles around the variety of woven baskets, most of which are either broken or falling apart. Except for one, Wilbur tentatively reaches for it, bringing it out into the soft light.
It’s in almost perfect condition, they were sure to keep it that way, the grass is woven into a more complex pattern than the others. Wilbur slowly turns it in his hands. There’s a small ‘K’ and heart engraved on the side-
“Mum,” Wilbur whispers.
He stares at it, just stares and thinks. Remembers. And he, and he-
He puts the basket back, replacing it with a different one. This one has pieces falling out, and it doesn’t look pretty, but it does the job.
Wilbur wipes his eyes and looks back around the kitchen. ‘Just the essentials,’ his mind repeats.
He walks over to the tap, filling up the reed basket with a few drops of the tripping water.
Wilbur makes sure to hold on close to the neck of the tap. The metal is very slippery, Wilbur shivers. So many horror stories of how borrowers have drowned in them, or have been trapped and found by humans.
He makes sure to get far away from the sink.
Wilbur’s gaze travels around the room, there seems to be nothing else that they need desperately. He wedges the fishhook on the end of the bench, pulls on it to check if it’s secure, and travels down.
Once reaching the bottom, he tugs on the string, causing the metal to fall, Wilbur continues onward to the living room.
It’s one of the best borrowing places in the house- the humans are constantly leaving things carelessly there, needles, buttons, string. All of which they forget about, and don't notice going missing. It really would be the best borrowing place in the house.
It would be if they weren’t there almost all the fucking time. It doesn’t matter now though- both the humans are fast asleep, and shouldn’t be up for a few more hours. They only got up once the sun was high in the sky, and Wilbur and Techno were already safely back in the walls.
Wilbur breathes out, trying to calm his nerves. He can do this trip.
He throws his hook to the top of the wooden cupboard. He starts climbing up the dresser.
“Okay, okay. Just get needles and go.” Wilbur whispers to himself. Just needles. Just needles.
“... But we also need buttons-”
Wilbur groans, running his hand down his face. He walks across the dresser, collecting any stray items he comes across and tossing it in his bag.
He goes to grab a nice blue button but it rolls out of his reach, next to a cup. He creeps closer to the edge not noticing the water-
Wait what water-
Before Wilbur can fully grasp what’s happening his body is being dragged to the very end of the dresser.
And he falls.
The air is trapped in his lungs for a few moments, and Wilbur almost thinks he’s dying. But it soon passes and he can finally breathe again.
And then he looks down. It must be adrenaline flowing through his veins that’s stopping Wilbur from curling up and the floor and sobbing- he can tell his leg’s broken. Legs don’t just crack after a long fall for no reason. And they certainly don’t fucking look like that. All twisted and at an angle that makes Wilbur’s insides squirm.
Wilbur looks away, with his hand covering his mouth. Okay, he can do this, it’s still pretty early. He can get back home, it will take longer but he can do it. Just. Just don’t look down.
Wilbur’s ears perk up when he hears a noise, a click. Then an earthquake, and another and another- oh god, those are footsteps. Oh no.
No, no no no!
He has to get the fuck out of here. He goes to stand up but winces at the slightest movement.
“Fuck, right. Broken leg.’ He thinks, and frantically scanned the room, for an escape, a place to hide, anything. Then, he sees it, a discarded jumper.
Wilbur almost cries out in relief, but he can hear the human shuffling around in the other room. Why the fuck are they awake- this bad. Shit, shit, shit, shit.
He’s too far away from any of the tunnels- all of them are back on that fucking kitchen counter. He only has the jumper. It’s a stupid idea. It’s risky- so many things could go wrong, but. It’s his only chance.
Wilbur struggles over to the red fabric, trying not to yelp every time his leg makes contact with the ground. He almost collapses as soon as his hand grazes the cloth but he can’t stop now, he can hear the bean’s footsteps getting louder and louder. Closer and closer.
He grabs the cloth- trying to wrap it around himself, to hide him. But it gives way to a larger space. A pocket. Even better.
He hears the door swinging open, so Wilbur throws himself into the pocket. Trying not to flinch as the tremors grow closer. And- and it… it all goes quiet.
Then the world starters to shake.
The human picked up their jacket, the fucking human picked up the jacket. No, no, no, no, no, no. not good. Not good at all.
Wilbur gets tossed around carelessly in the small space, colliding with a cool material. He chokes back a yelp as his face collides with the metal with a ‘clink’. He tries to control his breathing- aware that any little, almost insignificant movement, could alert the bean of his presence.
And Wilbur does not want that. He knows what happens if a bean catches you, his parents were sure to burn that into his mind. Especially after-
Wilbur tries to shake the thoughts out of his head, well figuratively shakes his head. He can’t even afford that, he can’t risk moving. Not one bit.
‘All you need to do is just stay in this pocket’ Wilbur thinks to himself. All you need to do is stay in the pocket… without the human noticing. Easy. He can do that-
Just as Wilbur started to get queasy, that shaking stopped. Replaced with timed and paced thumps, the beans footsteps.
Wilbur stays deathly still. Follow the plan he thinks to himself. Everything will be okay if you just stick to the plan. Just stay still until the human takes off the hoodie. It’s easy. It will all be okay.
Everything is not fucking okay. The bean decided that they wanted to leave their apartment for the first time in months, and still hasn’t gone back. It’s been hours and Wilburs mind has gotten darker and darker as time passed.
Will he ever be able to get back to Techno? Did he notice if he was gone? Fuck, he might have gone looking for him oh fu-
The world shifts and Wilbur is reminded of the danger he’s in. He gets thrown across the small space and hits cool metal with a yelp.
With a yelp.
Fuck. Fuck, fuck fuck fuck fuck-
Wilbur stops moving, hell, he stops breathing. He just fucked everything up, he’s gonna die.
The sequenced earthquakes stop
The human stopped.
He’s been caught, he’s been found and now, and now-
Warm skin surrounds his body.
And Wilbur screams, screams as loud as he can. But he should be quiet- no fuck that. He’s already caught now. The human has already found him. It doesn’t matter anymore. All he can do is hope that he can scream loud enough that the beans ears explode.
And... it seems to work. The hands release him and he’s.. Free. Wilbur’s free! And he’s, he’s-
Falling. He’s fucking falling-
Cold air surrounds him, fighting against his hair and his tatty clothes. Wilbur squeezes his eyes shut. Bracing for the end.
He collides with a... Surpisinlgy soft surface.
A- A hand.
“Holy fucking shit!”
Wilbur pries open his eyes to stare at the human in front of him. Large, wide blue eyes stare right back. Wilbur shivers and looks back down- but even that doesn’t help him since he’s sitting on the beans fucking palm.
The human continues to talk but Wilbur doesn’t hear, he squeezes his eyes shut and braces for... Anything. There are so many ways humans have killed and tortured borrowers-
He starts to tremble violently as the beans fingers move around him. Is that how it’s going to happen? Is he going to be crushed? Suffocated?
“Wait shit- fuck, are you crying?” The human says, before his fingers snake around Wilbur and pull him up to his face.
Wilbur struggles against the grip but it’s all for nothing, he can’t move. He can barely breathe with how tight the fist is. All he can do is stare up at the blonde human, waiting for the inevitable.
Wilbur winced when the human spoke again, it was just so loud. He covers his ears in a pathetic attempt to block out the booming voice.
He doesn’t know how long he stayed there, sobbing a humans hand, but Wilbur knows it was enough to be absolutely exhausted.
Everything hurts so much and he can’t bring himself to care. It won’t change anything, may as well not delay the inevitable.
So, he goes limp and waits. The harsh noises stop and, for a second, Wilbur enjoys the sweet bliss of silence,
It doesn’t last long as it starts again and somehow it’s even louder than before-
Wilbur squeaks as the beans other fucking hand digs into his side, he tries to flinch away but the fist is so fucking tight.
“Hey.” The human whispers sharply.
Wilbur’s gaze travels up, up and up to the human. Choking on a sob as his mind supplies him with the endless tortures and deaths he can- will endure by the hands of this bean.
“-I’m going to take you home-” Of fucking course the humans going to drag it out why can’t he just- just squish him and get it over with.
The bean starts saying more but Wilbur doesn’t pay attention, he’s trapped. He can’t do anything, cant- cant escape. It doesn’t matter, nothing matters anymore.
“-It’s not that far. It’s just up ahead-”
Wilbur almost breaks out sobbing at that. ‘What the fuck.’ He thinks to himself, ‘How fucking pathetic is that- Wilbur was so close and he ruined it- doomed himself. He just had to stay quiet for five more fucking minutes.’
He tries to shake his head to stop his tears from spilling out. He can’t even use his hands to hide his face since they’re fucking pinned to his side.
The world starts to get blurry and darker, Wilbur exhaustion is overwhelming at this point so he just gives in.
Dying in his sleep is infinitely better than whatever this human has planned for him anyway.
Tommy starts down at the fucking tiny person in his hands. The tiny person which is currently crying, in his hands.
“Uh,” Tommy says, noticing the man flinch at his voice. He winces. “Hey, it’s okay bigman,” Looking back down at the tiny man he realises how ironic that nickname really is. “I- um. Stop crying?” He stutters.
He mentally slaps himself. Way to fucking go Tommy, that really fucking helped.
He watches as the tiny actually does stop crying. But now he’s shaking, a lot. Tommy doesn’t think it’s that cold which means-
‘Oh. He’s fucking terrified isn’t he?’ Tommy thinks to himself.
“Hey, hey bi- little guy. I’m not gonna hurt you, okay? Bigman Tommy would never hurt anyone.” He forces a joke at the end. It doesn’t fucking help though.
The little person just keeps trembling in his hand, no matter how many assurances Tommy whispers to him. No matter how quiet he makes his voice. Then the little person just goes still.
“Fuck. Hey- hey stay with me okay?” Tommy sputtered. Fuck, shit. Fucking shit.
‘Is he dead?’ Tommy frantically thinks, and he feels sick almost instantly.
He raises his other hand and softly nudges the small person, trying to get a reaction or feel a tiny pulse or fucking something.
They sluggishly try and push his finger away, all while struggling in his loose fist. Even trying to kick Tommy’s hand. Not very well might Tommy add since one of his legs is royally fucked up. It’s twisted at an angle that is definitely not fucking natural.
He’s hurt and fucking terrified- but not dead. Tommy can work with that.
“Hey,” Tommy tries to say softly, he must have failed with the way the person’s eyes widen. Shit. Those tears. Okay, fuck-
“Hey. Little guy? I’m going to take you home okay, to get.” He swallowed, “to get that fixed up, okay?” Tommy gestures with his free hand to the leg.
“It’s not that far- it’s just up ahead, see?” Tommy points to the end of the street. Trying to assure the tiny man. “You can make that-” Tommy says, almost trying to reassure himself.
“You’re going to be alright.”
He cups the tiny person in both of his hands goes to walk down the rest of the path.
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