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nobodywritingao3 · 4 months

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unnamed monster & caretaker au

Tasked with feeding and caring for the king's resident monster, Tommy is constantly overworked and fully expects to die before he's twenty. He has an odd relationship with the beast and makes it a point to keep details about himself private, but it's difficult when the creature is the closest thing in the world he has to a friend.

wordcount: 2.3k 🕸 read it on AO3

CW: - hard vore mention - soft vore mention - mentioned abuse and dehumanization

‼️‼️‼️ Unfinished, unedited one shot. Proceed with caution

@gracideaviolet sent me a writing prompt and this is what i originally wrote for it. i like the concept but i wrote this at a not-good time and when i reread it, i didnt like the quality enough to fix it. if you like this story, let me know cuz that might give me motivation to properly finish this thing. feel free to take the idea but please credit and send it to me cuz i like this story and wanna see what someone else does with it

Tommy finished loading the cart and took a second to breathe.

He heard the beast shifting around in the dark. "Are you doing okay out there, Sunshine?"

Despite his tiredness, the sweet nickname made him smile.

"You know you eat a lot? It's a pain in the ass to load myself."

He meant it as a joke but silence hung in the air a second longer than it should have.

He cleared his throat. "I don't mind it. I'm compensated."

The beast snorted. "Not enough."

Tommy laughed awkwardly and didn't say anything.

He walked over to the control panel and started up the track.

The cart was big enough to fit a barn, and filled to the brim with various livestock, prisoners of war, and whoever else might have found themselves on the king's hit-list. Nothing sent to the monster was alive. It was a point the monster whined about a lot, but Tommy much preferred it that way. It was already disgusting having to spend hours upon hours piling the cart with bloody meat (sometimes human!) by himself, and the day he was handed a living person would be the day he faked his death and fled the kingdom.

He pressed a few buttons, tried not to cut himself on several rusty levers, and the rail obediently started itself up with a few revs and puffs.

The beast hummed contentedly at the noise.

The cart began to run along the track, disappearing from his view and descending into the inky black cave. He heard the gate creak open and he heard it creak close. And then he heard the beast begin to eat.

They weren't nice sounds by any stretch of the imagination - ugly rips and wet squelches of flesh - but Tommy had been at the job for a while and was long used to it. He settled in and waited for the creature to finish its meal.

"So how was your day, Keeper?"

Tommy hummed. "About the same as it always is. My master told me that the king will be coming in soon for a performance review, but I've no idea when that might be."

The beast paused its munching before hesitantly starting again a moment later. "I - why?"

He shrugged, assuming the monster could see him from the dark. "Something about me holding down this job the longest out of anyone before."

"Hm."

"I don't understand why that would intrigue the king. And no offense to you personally - "

"Uh huh," the monster sarcastically interjected -

" - but this isn't exactly the career path I'd have chosen. If I knew how to transfer I probably would have. Honestly - I have no idea how the others could have quit this job. I was under the impression that this is the sort of thing you do until you die."

It laughed at that.

Tommy sighed.

He was quiet for a few moments, a question sitting heavy on his tongue.

He shouldn't ask. It's impolite.

The monster shifted around. "Spit it out."

He gave the darkness an accusatory look. "I don't know what you're talking about."

There was a huff of laughter. "You know exactly what I'm talking about. You're doing that thing where you want to say something but are worried about what I'll think. It would be adorable if I wasn't desperate for decent conversation."

"Fuck you." He said it with a smile.

"Well? Are you going to say or not?"

He scrubbed at his face. Fuck it. "What were your other keepers like?"

The beast went silent for several long moments.

Shit. "You don't have to answer if you - "

"I didn't much care for them."

Tommy didn't say a word.

"The feeling was mutual." It sighed heavily. "You're a much better replacement, Sunshine."

"I'm sorry for asking."

The beast purred. "Don't be, dear. I pressed you. And I don't mind answering." It jostled the cart. "And I'm done eating."

Tommy nodded and powered up the control panel again. The cart began to recede.

It appeared from the darkness, picked completely clean and shiny as if it never been covered in blood at all.

It scared him a little, how quickly the monster could eat such a large amount, but he dismissed those thoughts as easily as they came. When would that ever affect him?

He checked the clock. He still had a few hours before he had to report back. "Do you mind if I stay with you longer?"

The monster laughed conspiratorially. "Oh, but that's against the rules," it said in a high mockery of his voice.

He flushed.

He had been terrified of the monster when they first met. He gave any excuse to leave the beast as soon as he could, including that the rules specified that spending unnecessary time with it was prohibited. That was true, but no one would have known if he chose to linger. In hindsight, it had been terribly obvious how afraid he was and he's only embarrassed that the monster pretended to believe him.

"You're the worst."

"And you still want to spend time with me?"

Tommy blew a raspberry at the darkness, earning a few laughs.

It was comfortably quiet for a few seconds before the monster spoke again. "Why are you curious about my old keepers?"

He tugged at his fingers. "Do you know how I ended up here?"

"You never talk about it."

He frowned. "And I never will," he responded coldly. It never gave up asking. "But do you know, generally, how someone ends up working this kind of job?"

The monster was quiet. "Yes."

Tommy didn't say anything for a minute. "The king is very angry with me. I don't want to see him again. However the other keepers escaped..." He shook his head. "I don't know. I don't know what I'm saying. If the king requests an audience with me, it isn't for any good reason."

When the king acquired his monster, he hired out help to feed the thing and keep it under control. He made sure the beast ate lavishly, but now matter what they fed it, it never seemed like to satiate the creature. But it hadn't died of starvation and that was good enough. When its caretakers started to disappear, it wasn't difficult to guess what happened.

But acknowledging the problem would mean addressing it too, and the king simply didn't care. In the end, he realized he had the perfect way to quietly do away with those he needed gone. He sourced this job, with its one hundred percent rate of 'job abandonment' to political adversaries or people growing affluent enough to take his throne.

Which takes him to the present day, and a rather interesting problem.

When some servant boy had spilled a bottle of red wine down his front during a gala several years prior, the king had been so angry that he threw the child in a dungeon and left him there. When the monster's then-keeper inevitably disappeared, the king came to the boy and grimly informed him of his punishment.

He hadn't expected the child to last more than a couple of days. He'd even picked out his replacements.

But lo and behold, the boy remained present at his job post for a week. And then that week became several, and those several became months, and those months became a year and a half.

The king couldn't understand why it hadn't eaten him yet. He was fifteen at this point, certainly the youngest to feed the monster. Was it waiting for him to grow up? Did it want to watch him sprout up before it made its attack? It was perfectly sentient, and the king knew this even though he denied it upfront. Shouldn't the monster trust that the sooner it finished its current keeper, the sooner he would be replaced by another?

Had there been someone who had managed to bring this creature to subservience? If so, then the king took special interest.

And if not, then it was long overdue that the servant boy be put to death.

Being a human's lapdog wasn't a dignified experience, but it was a fed one. Driders were megafauna, making it hard to get enough food. It certainly didn't help that the human kingdom believed everything was its rightful property and saw driders as a threat to them owning more than they could eat.

Wilbur certainly didn't enjoy his life, and he was almost always hungry anyway, but at least he was alive.

He lived in a dungeon below the castle, but he wasn't sure what a castle was and he barely understood the concept of a dungeon. He hadn't seen the sunshine in years, and his keeper was his only company.

He liked his keeper. The boy was kind. He didn't threaten to pee in Wilbur's food or throw rocks at him. He asked him how his day was, and even made it a point to handle the meat carefully as he transported it into the cart. He seemed lonely, and made up excuses to stay. He was a cute little thing, and Wilbur wanted to stick him into his brooding pouch and keep him there.

The cart rolled into Wilbur's enclosure, and he greedily snatched it up and began to eat.

His keeper sat at a table in the light.

Wilbur finished his food in a few seconds and toyed with the cart. He always made it seem as if it took him longer to eat than it did.

"Do you have a family?"

The boy froze at the question. "Why do you ask?"

Wilbur pouted even though he knew he couldn't be seen. "We've known each for so long. I don't even know what your name is. Can't I know just a little?"

His keeper awkwardly laughed, fidgeting with his fingers. "Oh... I guess you're right."

Wilbur's heart leapt.

"I don't have a family."

"Oh." Shit.

"Yeah."

What was he supposed to say?

"I don't have a family either."

His keeper peered into the darkness. "What are you?"

Wilbur smiled. He skittered to the bars of his cage and leaned against them, towering over the boy, though he had no idea. "Would you like to play twenty questions?"

"You're so lame, seriously, what are you? I don't even know what you look like."

I could show you, he wanted to say.

Coming out of his cage was easy. The king assumed it could hold him but no one actually checked. And aside from his keeper, no one had been in his dungeon for years. In reality, the bars had long been bent open and Wilbur could get out whenever he pleased.

It wouldn't be difficult to come through the bars and present himself to his keeper. Pick the little figure up in his hands and take him into his cage with him.

When he'd eaten his previous keepers, they'd always been replaced. If he captured his current keeper and stored him away in his brooding pouch, then he'd never be lonely again.

It was tempting.

"That's probably for the best," he said. He stepped away from the bars of his cage and curled up on the floor.

He liked his keeper. He wanted him to be happy. Just because Wilbur was stuck in a cage didn't mean he had to be as well.

"Do you think I'd be scared of you?"

Wilbur looked down at himself, at his large stature and eight legs. His fangs came down to his mid chin. "I think you'd be terrified, dear."

His keeper smiled. "I don't think so. I have a suspicion that you're just harmless."

His heart melted. Oh stars, he wanted to eat this kid.

He massaged his aching brood pouch. "You're sweet, Sunshine."

The cart was left in his cage while he was sleeping. He woke up confused, spying it in the corner of his enclosure and wondered why he'd been fed overnight. Where was his keeper? His mind jumped to the worst conclusions.

He found him inside the cart. Bound and gagged and looking terrified beyond all reason.

"Oh, Sunshine," he murmured.

His words had the opposite intended effect, his keeper starting to panic and writhe at the sound of his voice.

"Hey, hey... Calm down, okay? I'll get you out of there." He reached into the cart and picked him up in his hand.

Despite the circumstance, his heart soared. This was the closest they'd ever been.

The figure was tiny in his palm, and still struggling.

Wilbur quickly undid his bounds, being mindful of his sharp claws against the human's body. As soon as his hands were free, he was clawing at the gag around his mouth.

"Don't eat me! Please, do not eat me..."

Wilbur's stomach dropped.

"What? Sunshine, why would I eat you?"

The boy continued to sob.

Wilbur cupped him to his chest and headed towards the bars of his enclosure. He expertly clambered through and came out the other side, his skin exposed to the light for the first time in more than a year.

"Dear? Can you talk to me?" He stroked his head with his thumb and brought him eye level. "Why were you in my feeding cart?"

His keeper stared at him in shock, and it was then that he remembered his keeper had never truly seen him before.

A hot wave of embarassment and self consciousness overtook him.

He awkwardly set his little human on his table and receded back into his enclosure.

"Sunshine?" He prompted once back in his cage. "Are you..."

"Could - could you get out the whole time?"

Wilbur's mouth went dry. "I - well, yes, I could but - "

His keeper stumbled off the table and hit the ground with a nasty sounding crack.

Wilbur sprang to his claws and scrambled forward. He popped his head out between the bars and stared down at his little keeper. "Are you okay?"

The human stared up at him with terror on his face and scrambled backwards, running for the door.

"Shit, shit, wait, I'm sorry! Please stay, please, Sunshine - "

The door slammed behind him with a resounding crack and Wilbur flinched backwards.

~ ~ ~ 🕸

i used to love drider aus back in 2020 🕷️🕷️🕷️

just a freaky little guy whose half dude and half Fear. potential off the charts.

my tag list got lost when my computer was annihilated (</3) but let me know in replies if you want to get @'d and i'll make a new one

oh yeah link to the writing prompt and story i did fill out

#nobody answers #nobody writes #mcyt g/t #mcyt gt #giant!wilbur #tiny!tommy #drider!wilbur #human!tommy #vore mention #writing prompt #unfinished writing #gracideaviolet

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i-am-beckyu · 4 months

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One Small Gift

HELLO! I TOLD YOU I'D POST ONE MORE FIC THIS YEAR! And I am very proud of myself for making it a Christmas centered fic! I can't believe it's actually been a year since I last posted a Christmas fic. Like where did the time go and how did this thing spawn?

I'm gonna ramble a bit more at the bottom of this fic about me and the community but lets not hold you up any longer so I give you: The Christmas Fic- One Small Gift :3

cw: fear, death mention (but no actual death), lying, panic and anxiety, fluff- Like, ALOT of Fluff, hidden identity and of course happy endings. You know, the usual angst/fluffy Beckyu fic :3 word count: 8351

Disclaimer! This story is based on the characters of the Dream SMP and not the real life content creators. Anything that occurs in this story is purely fiction and should be treated as such. Thank you.

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Cold

Why did the walls always have to be so damn cold?

Tommy’s mind couldn’t help but linger on the thought, as the Borrower shivered making his way through the maze that was the inside the house walls.

Human Beans invented heaters AGES ago for the insides of their houses to keep warm, so how was it that the inside of the walls were still always so flippen freezing?

Would it kill them to think of the little guy freezing their butt off just once?

Well no, maybe not. But it certainly would Tommy.

As much as the young blonde would love to cuss at the home owner for not giving him a proper source of heat, the Borrowers code quite literally FORBID them from ever telling a Human of their existence. Not to forget the fact that it would mean doom for a borrower if they ever did. All the horror stories of Borrowers being squished or experimented on from the elders to go off being proof enough.

Death by Human Beans?

HA! Absolutely NOT!

That’s exactly the reason why he is trying to get supplies for the Winter to warm himself up, before it gets even colder!

Tommy grumbled to himself as he ducked and weaved past forgotten cobwebs about how it was such a pain to be in this position in the first place. He’d had a perfectly fine home in a tree nook in the forest that had always remained nice and cosy warm during the colder months.

Even if that meant he’d been living on his own, Tommy had been happy living as an Outie borrower for as long as he could remember. Well at least he had, before some tall, pretentious brunette freak decided his home would be the perfect tree to cut down and drag all the way back to his stupid freezing cold house.

But it gets better, because even though the main part of his home was actually still intact under the now stump, the Bean still took the top half of the tree-

With Tommy still inside it!

They flippen took HIS house and wrapped it in a net; effectively trapping the poor borrower and then strapped it to the top of their car and drove hours and hours to a Human Town with him hanging on for dear life.

And that’s not even the worst part because not only did the flippen Bean steal part of his house, but then they had the audacity to cover the tree's dying corpse in fancy decorations and shining lights.

Like seriously WTF?!

A Bean kidnaps him from the only place he’s ever really known and covers his once thriving residence all merrily in ornaments, while he’s forced to flee his only real known place of safety with nothing but the clothes on his back, and the few supplies he did have stored in the upper levels of his now dying home. He hadn’t wanted to leave, but it was the only choice he really had.

Stay in the tree and get caught, or try and survive in the Beans' walls until Winter passes.

He chose the latter of course- (It’s not like staying would have helped him anyways)

Getting down from the top of the tree had been, well- less than a fun time for the Borrower. The big purple bruises across his back were a throbbing reminder from his impact on the floor at times, but he managed.

Instead, Tommy had started to navigate his temporary ‘soon to be home’ in the walls getting an idea of the layout and where the best places were to borrow from. He just had to make it through the Winter and then he could go home. Trying to get back to his nook now would be impossible with all the snow cover on the ground, but he’d get back to the forest even if it killed him.

Which might be the case soon if he doesn’t get some new clothes and heat source quick.

That was the main issue with being kidnapped after all. You only have what’s on your back and well, Tommy hadn’t exactly been expecting to get yoinked away in his scrappy T-Shirt and shorts. He had proudly made them himself with the few scraps of fabric he’d managed to find from some Beans that had been passing through years ago on a camping trip, but the fabric was light, and not made to be worn in such cold conditions.

He’d only meant to go up and check what the heck the loud thumping outside his tree was like any normal person. He was expecting a deer or maybe a bear using it as a scratching post, not a Bean cutting their house down and taking him along with it. You don’t exactly have time to think about putting on proper clothing when your everything is at stake.

So that was step one: Find some material and make some clothes- a jacket the top priority.

Tommy is very thankful that he had his borrowing bag on him, that he still has his self made needle and some old thread so he at least didn’t have to start from nothing. Finding the material hadn’t been too difficult to locate either. When he first scouted the place, he discovered pretty quickly that the Bean had a habit of leaving stuff all over the place, so borrowing supplies hadn’t been difficult to do without being noticed. It’s how he found the most perfect fluffy woollen red sock to make a coat and blanket from. He would already have it now though if the Bean hadn’t come back before he could swipe it.

The Borrower had tried to come back for it later, but the Bean had decided it was time to clean their room up because he had some guests coming for this thing called ‘Chris-mass’- whatever that was- and the sock was gone.

So instead he grabbed what he could and made his way back to the walls with just enough fabric to make a new pair of pants and some crackers for dinner.

But it still didn’t fix the whole freezing situation.

What Tommy really needed was a candle.

To a Human Bean it may seem to be an insignificant source of light, but to a Borrower it could literally be the difference between a warm nights sleep and becoming a Borrower popsicle! But that was easier said then done because all the usual spots Beans would normally keep candles, were replaced with flippen electric ones!!!!

What’s wrong with fire on candles!? Why would you want a fake candle that just flickers and produces less light than a real one?

That or something for a bed. At least that way he’d have a comfortable place to sleep and trap his own body heat.

He really wishes he could have taken those socks…

As if this Bean wasn’t bad enough, not only did they lack the materials Tommy so desperately needed, but they wouldn’t shut up talking into the black box (a fone he thinks it’s called from memory) to other Beans with how excited they were about them coming to stay for the Hole-lid-days and spend time huddled together by the fire or something dumb.

“Come on Dad! Let me host. If you let me host, I’ve got the coolest surprise planned for you and Techno I swear!! Plus don’t you want to come and see me?”

Lucky prick. Got a Dad and a brother…

Now don’t get him wrong, Tommy is a big man, if not the biggest man to ever exist and he doesn’t need anyone. But he also couldn’t help but long for someone to share the cold season with like the Beans did. It had been so long since he’d seen another Borrower like himself and though he’d never admit it, living alone did get a little bit lonely sometimes. It would be nice if just once he could share a night cuddled up close to a loved one, and just bask in each other’s company.

But Tommy didn’t have time to be sentimental about things he’d likely never have.

He needed to find a way to stay warm and get warm now.

But the universe decidedly hated Tommy because, tonight was apparently December 24th-

Chrisymiss Eve.

Tommy had been here about a week or so and in his short stay still wasn’t 100% sure what this whole Khrislermas was, but it appeared to be a BIG deal to the Beans.

Apparently, all the Beans get together whether it’s family or friends to spend time together and exchange gifts. It’s about being thankful for what you have or whatever and something about showing how much you love someone by giving and receiving presents.

Tommy thought it was actually quite a nice thing the Beans did and wished that Borrowers had something similar themselves in their culture. However, there was one thing he still didn’t quite understand about this whole holiday thing.

Who the heck is Santa Claus?

He’d been taking some more crackers the Bean had left out from the kitchen while this ‘tv show’ played on the Bean's big Black box that was talking about this Santa guy. Apparently, he was some elusive, big fat man, dressed all in red with a big white bushy beard, who climbed down the Beans chimneys, and left gifts for all the little boys and girls of the world. He had this list too that knew if you’d been naughty or nice and would leave the good children gifts and the bad children coal in their stockings.

Children could write letters to Santa or he’d visit and children could sit on his knee and ask him for a gift they would like and he would deliver the toys to children all over the world on Christmas eve when everyone was sleeping, only to have disappeared by daybreak.

Tommy hadn’t thought much of this Santa at first- not when it was just another Bean to avoid. That was until he learned two very important details.

1- Santa delivered presents to ALL children of the world.

And 2- Santa wasn’t meant to be seen by Humans either.

So not only did this Santa guy literally just give out free gifts, but Tommy literally had a way to get exactly what he needed for the winter!

All he needed to do was talk to Santa and he’d be saved!

Now you might be thinking: But Tommy, you said it yourself. Santa isn’t meant to be seen by anyone so what makes you the exception?

Simple.

Borrowers aren’t meant to be seen by Beans and neither is Santa.

Which means just like Borrowers, Santa must not want to be caught (which if he thinks too hard about it makes sense since he literally breaks into houses but anyways) and unlike with Beans, there is no rule that says Borrowers can’t see Santa!

All he has to do is wait for Santa to visit Crystamas eve, and then he can ask for his gift! Santa probably even knows what he wants, being made of magic and all! He just never knew Santa existed so he’s never asked for his gift before!

If he were a more greedy Borrower, he could ask for so much more to make up for all the years he never got a gift, but that would probably put him on Santa’s naughty list. And while coal would be good, Tommy doesn’t exactly want to burn the house down with him inside it. So this was his best shot to get exactly what he needed.

The hard bit though, was waiting for Santa to arrive. That meant not only having to be out in the living room where the fireplace was, but also meant he had to wait for the Bean to fall asleep. Which really meant that it would be AGES before Santa would come because the Bean of the house was terrible at sleeping at night.

The man literally had no sleep schedule and would stay up till terrible times in the morning before drifting off. Normally that wasn’t much of an issue for the Borrower having observed this early on, but right now it was very much a hindrance because it could be hours before they went to bed.

It also seemed that they wouldn’t be sleeping anytime soon, because the amount of energy and excitement the Bean had displayed the whole day about his family coming home was overwhelming. He’d come home at one stage with this big bag of stuff talking on the black box about how his super cool surprise was coming along and how it would be awesome since they let him host Chrimpmas- whatever that meant.

Tommy had hoped with the excitement of the holiday they’d have been ready to pass out by now, but he couldn’t be more wrong with the amount of commotion he could hear from down the hall- and that’s through the walls.

At least he could observe everything going on from his place on the bookshelf. It was right next to a small crack in the wall he could just squeeze through, but it gave him a good view of the living room but also enough cover from prying eyes unless he made his presence known. However, being out of the walls had one difference the blonde hadn’t accounted for.

Heat.

The fire had been lit and was keeping the whole room nice and toasty warm compared to the harsh bite the walls somehow managed to keep. The whole atmosphere made him almost want to curl up and fall asleep. It had been so long since he’d been able to just enjoy the warmth in the air and not be shivering to keep alive.

Perhaps it wouldn’t hurt if he had a nap before Santa arrived.

Just a quick one….

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Tommy was awoken to a rather loud THUNK as the Borrower shot up from where he had fallen asleep atop the shelf.

It took the blonde a moment to realise where he was and not panic about being out in the open before his eyes settled upon a figure.

Sprawled out across the floor in a heap of red and white was the jolly big man himself.

Santa Claus.

The one and only.

“Santa!” Tommy yelled excitedly as he hurriedly manoeuvred to stand. “Santa you came!”

Santa’s head snapped up from the floor alarmed, as they pushed themselves to stand and take a defensive stance.

“Who said that?!” they shouted, looking around wildly panicked. “Show yourself!”

Tommy giggled to himself. Santa was so silly.

“Up here Santa! I’ve been waiting for you.” The blonde waved as the man's head turned and their eyes fell onto his small form.

Tommy grinned at the magical man taking him all in.

Just like the figure on the big black box, Santa wore a big red coat with white fluff lining the ends of his sleeves. A big black belt was strapped around their waist, fastened with a fancy golden buckle and sturdy black boots on their feet to keep out the snow. Their head was adorned with an oversized big red hat, with a giant white fluffy pom pom on the end, and they had a long white beard that travelled down their chest. And last but not least was a pair of gold rimmed glasses perched on the tip of their rosy red nose which accentuated their big brown eyes that were staring at him in wonder.

Huh.

He could have sworn that Santa's eyes were blue.

“I can’t believe you came! I wasn’t sure if you would since I never sent a letter but you must have known anyway cause here you are!” The little borrower stated excitedly as Santa removed his glasses, and rubbed his eyes in disbelief.

“I’m so glad you’re here! I really need my Crimpmess present.”

“I’m sorry you’re what?” the man’s eyes furrowed in confusion as they processed what the younger had said.

“My present!.” Tommy rolled his eyes. “You know, the whole reason why you’re here.”

Santa didn’t exactly seem like he knew what was going on. Right now all he was doing was staring and Tommy was getting a bit annoyed.

Was that not why Santa was here? To deliver his present like the show had said?

Tommy huffed annoyed he had to explain all this. Wasn’t this like his job? He should know!

“I’m sorry,” Santa began slowly as if trying to process. “I didn’t actually know you were here.”

“Why else would you have come then?” Tommy crossed his arms unimpressed. “I’m the only kid here, but don’t tell anyone else I said that. I’m a big man! The biggest ever!”

This finally seemed to warrant a different reaction from the older, as they looked the boy up and down unimpressed by this so-called ‘fact’.

“A big man huh? You look more like a child. What are you- 12?”

Tommy feigned a gasp, grasping his chest offendedly. “I’ll have you know I’m 14 and the biggest man alive! I’m only a child for the purpose of getting my gift tonight and tonight only!”

Santa couldn’t stifle a laugh as he watched as the small child stomped his foot in a mini tantrum at being called 12. It was endearing in a way but he still wasn’t sure how to proceed with a tiny child standing on their bookshelf.

“Well whatever you say I guess, but I still I didn’t know you were here.”

The blonde shrugged before moving closer to the shelfs edge. “Ah well it doesn’t matter. You’re here now so I’d like my gift please! You have it right?”

“If I didn’t know you were here, then how would I have your present with me?” Santa asked.

Well he did make a good point. It’s not like he sent Santa a letter and he hadn't met him to tell him like other human bean children had until now.

“Oh right. Guess I better come sit on your knee and tell you what I’d like than.” Tommy stated matter of factly, as the small Borrower moved to the edge of the shelf and stabbed his hook into the wood, quickly jumping off to descend on his rope to the ground.

“Wait, DON’T DO THAT!”

The blonde yelped in surprise, moving instinctually to protect his ears at the sheer volume the man shouted, in turn losing his grip on his rope, quickly plummeting down to the ground below. Santa lunged forward with an outstretched hand as the boy slipped down the rope at a rapid speed, catching him before any real harm could be done. He semi slammed into the wall, clutching his hand to his chest as they did so before quickly unfurling their hand.

“Oh my prime! Kid- kid are you alright?” Santa said frantically checking over the boy he now held in his palm.

Tommy shook his head, dizzy from the sudden force that had rammed into him only moments ago. He tried to steady himself grabbing, onto the nearest thing his hand could find as he begun to regain his bearings.

Oh he was going to ache tomorrow…

“As soon as the world stops spinning, yeah.”

Santa sighed in relief as Tommy allowed himself to regain focus. It was then that he really took note of where he was.

Normally, if a Borrower was sitting in the hand of someone almost 100x his size, he would be kicking and screeching to get away. But this was Santa Claus’s hand and Tommy felt only wonder.

It was like nothing he’d ever experienced before. The thing he had grabbed onto was apparently Santa’s thumb and it was almost as big as his head! Even if it was a bit weird sitting on the leathery texture of their skin, the warmth radiating beneath him was heavenly, and the way the man’s fingers curled slightly over him protectively felt nothing but comforting.

Santa hadn’t moved since he caught Tommy mid air, and was staring at Tommy as if they would disappear. They seemed stuck on what to do next, but also amazed he was sitting there at all.

“You alright there big man?” Tommy raised a brow confused at why the man would act this way. Santa was literally made of magic and had flying reindeer for goodness sake! A borrower existing surely was no cause for such amazement? There were surely way more interesting magical things to see than a lowly Borrower like him.

(But then again, he was a pretty poggers Borrower if he did so say that himself, so staring could be justified for that reason)

This finally snapped the old man out of their wondrous stupor, as they squinted their eyes open and shut with a quick shake of their head.

“Uh yep. All good um. Let's- go sit down. Yeah- yeah, let's do that.” Santa said, confirming more to themself than Tommy.

Santa brought the boy protectively to their chest to brace them before they moved away from the book shelf, smoothly walking over to the couch where the old man sat down ever so slowly to not jostle their small passenger. The second they were bending down to sit though, Tommy was launching himself off Santa’s palm for his knee as the bearded man frantically tried to stop them in their escapade.

“Kid, would you stop doing that? You’re going to hurt yourself!”

“Pfft please. This is nothing compared to how I got down from that tree over there.” The boy grinned as they pointed to the far corner of the living room.

The man's head followed to where the boy was pointing, the Christmas tree displayed proudly in a large pot tied with a red bow, small lights flickering on and off in changing patterns.

“Tree? You mean the Christmas tree?”

“Yep!” Tommy stood proudly popping the p. “I had to get down somehow and my hook would have gotten stuck in amongst the branches if I had tried to abseil down. So I did what any logical Borrower would do and jumped.”

“You jumped?!” Santa’s eyes widened, as he looked back and forth between the boy and the top of the brightly decorated tree. He grimaced, imagining the boy throwing themselves from the upper branches like they had done only moments before onto his knee.

What was with this kid and being so reckless?!

“You jumped from the top of the Christmas tree!? Why were you even there in the first place?”

Tommy rolled his eyes, crossing their arms in front of their chest.

“It’s all that stupid Beans fault.”He huffed annoyed. “He just came waltzing into MY forest, decided to be very rude and put their grubby hands all over MY house wrapping it up in some ugly net, only to cut it down with me still in it!”

Tommy didn’t notice the way Santa’s brows furrowed and their expression changed to one of horror as he continued to ramble on.

“They literally kidnapped me, Santa! They’re so lucky that the main part of my house is under the tree’s trunk and not the higher branches because I swear I would have murdered that Bean in their sleep by now if they had!”

Tommy was very pleased to have finally gotten to vent some of his frustrations to someone other than his internal self, but now he was finished he had a good chance to register the other’s reaction.

Santa looked horrified.

His eyes seemed glossed over as if he was holding back tears, and one hand slapped over their mouth, the other gripping their wrist tightly in an attempt to ground themselves.

Uh shit. He hadn’t meant for that to happen…

“Uh but don’t worry Santa!” Tommy was quick to add. “ I wouldn’t actually do that. That would be a bad thing to do and put me on the Naughty list! I promise I won’t actually murder anyone!”

Phew, that was a close one. He couldn’t jeopardise his only hope with a silly joke!

Santas’ face had yet to change and Tommy subconsciously started to fidget feeling nervous to how the older was reacting. Maybe he had blown it and now he was on the naughty list. Another glance at the old man's face seemed to confirm those fears.

He’d blown it.

His one shot at survival and he practically threw it all away with a vent. No wonder he ended up all alone.

“Please don’t put me on the Naughty list Santa. I need my gift.” Tommy spoke timidly. “I didn’t mean it.”

“I- no. No you’re not on the Naughty list.” Santa dragged his hands over his eyes a few times strained. “I'm just trying to process. It’s more of the whole kidnapping thing. ”

If Tommy had been paying better attention, he may have noticed the few stray brown curls poking out from under the man's hat, but he was more thrown by their following question as the magical man continued on.

“If you were in the tree, why didn’t you say anything?”

Tommy drew a deep breath, before sighing as the boy shoved his hands into his pockets.

“Because Santa, Beans aren’t supposed to know that Borrowers like me even exist.”

“Beans?”

“Human Beans Santa. You know, big people like you, but not magical and stuff.” The Borrower explained. “There’s no way I could tell the dumb Bean he was cutting my house down! Do you know what Beans do to Borrowers like me?”

“Um no?” Santa fiddled with his hands as he looked away, eyes downcast to avoid the youngers gaze as they continued.

“They get rid of us. To them we’re just pests or things to be used.”

Tommy hugged himself tightly, anxiety pooling in his chest for the first time that night. He wished it wasn’t true, but Beans just held far too much power for their own good. Their greed often outweighing their need to do good without reward.

“I’d rather risk jumping out of a tree than ever fall into the clutches of a Bean.”

“But how do you know that?” Santa suddenly said, muscles tensing as they clenched their hand into fists.

Tommy flinched at the sight of hands so close. Closed so tightly that he couldn’t help let slip the thought of himself in the mercy of their grasp, begging to be freed like all the stories had said of the Borrowers trapped in agonising pain. The man noticed his discomfort, and immediately loosened their fists, moving their hands away and under their thighs so as to not startle the boy any further than they already had.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.” Santa said with a sense of guilt. “But I just- How do you know that though? Who says that they would have hurt you if you had just made your presence known? You wouldn’t have had to jump or gotten hurt.”

Santa turned away sheepishly, whispering sadly. “They could have helped you.”

Tommy swallowed hard, his shoulders sagging as he observed the sad look Santa had as they stared at the Christmas tree. It was obvious they were blaming themself for what had happened. He was far too kind for that.

“Santa, it’s not your fault.” the boy sighed, “Every borrower is taught this from birth. It’s a known fact that Beans are all cruel, power hungry beings. They always want more and just take, take, take.”

“But what if this ‘Bean’ didn’t know.” Santa shot back, causing the Borrower to falter. “What if you had said something? They would have stopped and left you and your house alone? How do you know they wouldn’t have helped you?”

“Because Santa,” Tommy turned and faced the man head on. “That’s just how Beans are. To them, we're just another thing to take and control.”

Tommy wanted to believe Santa, he really did, but it was hard to just ignore years of being brought up to beware Human Beans and their cruelty. He’d seen it even from when Beans had once come into the forest with their fire sticks, and took down a friendly deer. It was unnecessarily cruel and was all the convincing Tommy needed to deem all Humans bad.

Santa nodded sadly in some kind of understanding, but Tommy couldn’t understand why Santa looked so hurt. It wasn’t his fault the Bean took him and his home, but he seemed so convinced that hiding and not asking for help had been the wrong thing to do.

He thought they were the same, that if Beans caught him on Christmas Eve, then something bad would happen to him like it would for Borrowers. That’s why they had to stay a secret. Why no one could know they were here.

But Santa wasn’t a Borrower who lived in hiding unknown. The Beans knew about the jolly, present giving man that only appeared in December.

He could live among the Beans and it would be fine if he asked for help. Everyone liked Santa. He didn’t take things just to survive. He gave toys and gifts so he would have no worries about the repercussions of taking a paperclip just to get around. He wouldn’t have to worry about Beans hurting him if something went wrong. He would just use his magic and be fine.

It was Santa’s choice to stay hidden as an extra precaution to protect that same magic.

“But you’re different from the Beans Santa.” The boy perked up instantly remembering why he was doing this in the first place. “You only come out of hiding at Christmas and everyone knows who you are! You only hide to keep your magic safe from Beans so they can’t have that too!”

The man gave a small smile as the boy continued to ramble, pacing back and forth on his thigh as he did so.

“But I don’t understand why you give children presents when they already have so much!” Tommy stopped, his lips pursed together as his voice dropped to a whisper.

“Unlike me.” He confessed quietly, lifting his head to meet Santa’s sympathetic gaze.

Santa was staring at the young boy again, leaned forward in concern listening as the blonde continued to share his story.

“It's why I need my gift Santa.” Tommy wringed his hands together with a nervous glance to see Santa’s reaction who nodded in approval, gesturing for him to continue.

Tommy steadied himself.

Now or never.

“I was brought here with basically nothing. Forced to move into the Beans walls or risk being seen. I’ve barely been able to get anything for basic survival and the walls are freezing!”

Tommy shivered remembering the way the air had nipped at his nose as he struggled to keep warm. Clutching himself tightly in a poor attempt to retain any kind of body heat. The one time he went up stairs without his coat and of course he gets kidnapped.

He needed this.

More than anything.

.｡❅*⋆⍋*∞*｡*∞*⍋⋆*❅｡.

Wilbur had just wanted to have the perfect Christmas.

It was his first time hosting and had decided he HAD to go all out.

More decorations than his little house needed both inside and out, homemade hot chocolate from scratch and had promised his Father and brother a very special Christmas surprise if they let him host.

Their first ever living Christmas tree and a surprise visit from the Big man himself- Santa Claus.

He’d done a bunch or research into the best spots to go where he could get a tree and quickly had been recommended from several sites about the fir trees in Logstedshire, and quickly made the trip out to find a tree.

What the websites failed to mention, was that said fir trees might be inhabited and the home of tiny people that are terrified of Human Beings.

So if you asked: No, Wilbur was not having a good night realising he had kidnapped a child that was deathly afraid of him and only okay right now because he thought he was the real Santa Claus.

In a way, it was a good thing the kid hadn’t realised yet, because if Wilbur had never dressed up in this silly costume, he probably would have never known about the child freezing to death in his walls.

The child was so cold despite their lively spirit when he’d caught them after they launched themself off the top of the shelf. The fact it wasn’t the first time they’d thrown themself from such a height made Wilbur sick knowing had they not been lucky, could very well not have made the long fall. But the fact the kid had been struggling, terrified and afraid in his walls when he could have helped had the guilt eating him away as the boy rambled on.

They were so sure of themselves with the cruelty of humanity too that they had him so on edge. If the blonde knew he was really the guy that had cut his tree down, he very much doubted they would be this enthusiastic. He was talking about how much he needed his gift- the gift he still had no clue what it was, but just hearing the little blondes tale, and seeing how thin his clothes were had Wilbur making a very long list of things he needed to get to help the kid out.

A kid which he still doesn’t know the name of.

The boy's eyes had brightened, as he bounded up and down on the balls of his feet eagerly, talking about what this gift would mean for him. He was actually quite endearing despite their seemingly dire situation.

“If I tell you my gift, then you can give it to me now and I’ll actually have a chance to survive the Winter!” He explained excitedly, grining.

Wilbur pushed down his anxiousness for the boys well-being. They had already suffered enough from his mistakes. He didn’t want them to suffer any longer than they had by them accidentally discovering the truth.

“What’s your name kid?” Wilbur mentally slapped himself that he hadn’t asked sooner.

The tiny boy chuckled to himself as they crossed their arms. “Oh come on Santa, you know my name don’t you? You have a list with every child's name on it.”

Ah- right. Santa did have that Naughty and Nice list didn’t he? Curse Santa for having to live up to magical standards.

“Uh- I came here in such a rush, I um- ah must have left my list back at the North Pole.”

“So?” The boy argued, raising a brow. “You’re magic. Don’t you just know?”

Did he say endearing earlier? How about difficult for making him use his brain at 9pm at night. (Shut up. Don’t judge him for it)

“Well you know there’s like 2 Billion kids in this world and I see them all in one night. You don’t expect me to remember every name without my list do you?”

The kid hadn’t seemed to account for this, and thought it over before shrugging in agreement.

Oh thank goodness for kids being young and naive.

“I guess that’s fair. But you’ve got a s*** memory in that case Big Man. Getting old.”

Actually, make that an annoying gremlin.

“I think if someone wants their present, they should be more careful about insulting their elders.” Wilbur teased with a chuckle. The boy rolled his eyes with a groan.

Okay, an endearing gremlin then.

“Fiiiiiiiiine.” they drawled letting their arms drop to their sides before extending their hand up in greeting. “The name’s Tommy.”

Wilbur carefully lifted his arm up and slowly extended his pinky finger out for the boy to take in an oversized handshake.

“Nice to meet you Tommy.” His finger dwarfed the boy entirely, his pinky finger only slightly shorter than the boy's total height, but nevertheless, Tommy took the tip and shook it lightly.

“Now, why don’t you sit down and tell me what it is you’d like for Christmas?”

Wilbur couldn’t help but smile at the little boy excitedly sharing in exact detail what he wanted. What the Borrower wanted wasn’t even that difficult to get, and he knew exactly where to find it. Tommy continued to ramble on for a bit longer about what he had been doing since coming here and Wilbur made mental notes of the few places where Tommy talked about entrances in out of the walls for future reference.

He was going to have to look out for Tommy from now on and if he wanted a shred of hope in getting him to trust him as Wilbur, he was going to need a plan.

“So could I have my gift now? I would really love it now and you still have a lot of other houses to visit tonight right?” Tommy asked innocently.

Wilbur really didn’t want to stop talking to Tommy. Tommy trusted the magical Santa Claus; not regular Human Being Wilbur Soot. He knew that if he let Tommy go now, it was unlikely he would see the kid again, but if he didn’t leave as Santa now, they would most likely get suspicious, realising he was a fake and panic.

Wilbur sighed as he brushed a stray hair of fake beard from under his cheek.

“I- yeah I guess so. Best get you to bed then too.”

“Awwww but I’m not sleepy yet!” The blonde pouted. “This is normally when I’m awake so it would be a crime to make me sleep now.”

“Well good little girls and boys go to bed when they’re told if they want to stay on the nice list.”

“You’re not the boss of me!” Tommy stuck his tongue out in defiance and Wilbur had to bite his to stop himself from bursting out loud laughing.

This kid was going to be the death of him he swears.

Wilbur extended his hand to the Borrower, keeping it steady as he waited for Tommy to climb on. He’s still a little huffy at first realising there was no room for argument, but climbs on anyway, sitting down in the middle of Wilbur’s palm bracing themself before he moves.

The brunette curls his fingers over the boy slightly, bringing his hand to his chest protectively. He tries not to linger too long at how it felt to hold an entire person in one hand for the second time tonight before moving to stand.

Steadily, Wilbur makes his way over to the book shelf and cautiously raises his hand up for Tommy to climb off of. He sets his hand down on the wooden surface and Tommy takes no time in hoping off to stand, waiting expectantly for his promised present.

“Okay I need you to close your eyes just for a second.” Wilbur asks the boy who quickly covers his eyes with his hands, only to peak out from behind his fingers seconds later.

“I mean it Tommy. Keep them closed.”

“Ugggghhhhh Fineee!” the boy said huffing, but relented nevertheless.

Wilbur quickly whirled around and crouched down beneath the Christmas tree, snagging a gift from the floor and hastily tearing the gift tag labelled- Technoblade; from the gift before setting it next to the small borrower child.

“Okay, you can open your eyes now.”

Tommy removed his hands and squealed in delight, quickly reaching down to hug the gift.

“Oh thank you Santa! You really are the most poggers man ever!!!” Tommy spoke rapidly, smiling so much his cheeks hurt. “Well after me of course, but only by a little bit!”

Wilbur chuckled as he gazed affectionately at the blonde hunched over the brightly wrapped gift. “You’re welcome Tommy. I’m glad you like it.”

The boy quickly stood, and started hauling the gift to the crack in the wall, as they tried to shove the gift through. Unfortunately while the crack had been enough for Tommy to squeeze through, it wasn’t quite wide enough to let the present go in without getting a tad scrunched up and paper torn.

“Um, Tommy? Is there perhaps a bigger entrance I could take this too?” Wilbur suggested, cringing slightly as the boy gave another hard shove on the gift, intent on getting it through no matter what.

“It’ll fit. Just gotta keep pushing it in.”

After a few more attempts, the boy did in fact give up and relented their efforts allowing Wilbur to pull the now crumpled present back out from the crack, instructing him to take it to the kitchen and place it behind the toaster, assuring him he would get it before the Bean woke up explaining how the electrical socket actually came off as a secret entrance.

He offered to take Tommy over to it too, but the stubborn boy refused, insisting that he had done enough and needed to hurry up and deliver presents to the other children before the night was over.

Taking one more long look at the boy, Wilbur watched as Tommy disappeared through the crack into the walls, the sound of tiny footsteps pitter pattering away before Wilbur himself quietly crept back to his room before he removed the Santa costume and flopped down onto his bed.

He’d just met a tiny child.

A tiny child trying to survive in his walls.

That was deathly afraid of him.

Quickly Wilbur shot up from his bed snatching his phone from the night stand; a plan forming in his mind. The screen read 9:31 pm before he hastily unlocked it and dove into his contacts, quickly stopping on a profile of a girl with light pink hair, dialling their number shortly after.

The phone rang twice before a woman answered on the other end.

“Hello?”

“Niki? Hey! How’s the holidays going?” Wilbur asked as he grabbed his coat and gloves from the wardrobe.

“So I need a favour…”

.｡❅*⋆⍋*∞*｡*∞*⍋⋆*❅｡.

Tommy awoke warm for the first time that week.

He opened his eyes blearily, almost willing himself to fall back into dream land before his eyes snapped fully open. Tommy rubbed his eyes a few times, eyes going wide trying to comprehend that this was real and not just a dream as the thoughts of the previous night played through his head.

He was in his Christmas present: A brand new pair of bright red, fluffy woollen socks- the most perfect bed ever and exactly what Tommy had asked for. He had basically run to get his gift as fast as possible, before hauling it back through the walls to a space close by the bookshelf; the space seemingly much more homely after last night's introductions.

He hugged the woollen fabric tightly, smiling as he remembered the soft smile Santa had as he watched him go and how kind and gentle he had been with him the entire time.

The Borrower was so pleased and grateful that he had been able to meet the Santa Claus, and would cherish the magical night forever.

He stayed snuggled in his new bed for a little while longer before his stomach grumbled in protest that he should go and have something to eat. Albeit a little grumbly, his hunger eventually won out and Tommy made his way through the walls back to the kitchen so he could gather some food before the Bean woke up.

Stealthily, he removed the electrical socket, expecting to make it a quick supply run; stepping out into the open before freezing in surprise.

Laid out in a neat pile behind the toaster was a small stack of brightly wrapped gifts all wrapped in different coloured and patterned paper, and right in the middle, an envelope with his name written in gold cursive. Tommy smiled brightly, as he eagerly ran forward to the awaiting stack of gifts, quickly grabbing a gift reading the label.

To: Tommy From: Santa

Tommy denies that he cried that day.

That he took each gift home and opened each one oh so delicately, afraid if he didn’t they might just disappear, happy tears trailing down his cheek as he opened a gift revealing a beautiful, blue knitted sweater- and in just his size.

His tears didn’t cease as he opened the other gifts revealing several new pairs of warm winter clothes, new rope and hooks for climbing, some tea candles with a tiny piece of flint and steel to light them, and the tiniest iced cookies he had ever seen. He could actually hold this in one hand like humans did and he had a whole bag of them!!! His prayers had been answered and he couldn’t be more thankful.

Soon, the only thing that remained was the envelope.

He dried his face as best he could, doing his best to not smear any tears or snot onto the pristine surface as he opened the envelope, revealing a card with a picture of glitter candy canes decorating the front.

Settled back into his new bed, Tommy opened the card and read the message inside.

Dear Tommy, It was lovely meeting you and getting to know your story. I figured you might like some extra gifts as well to help you be more comfortable in Wilbur’s walls. I think you should try talking to him. You might be surprised. Sincerely, Santa Claus

P.S- He’s not as scary as you think.

Tommy’s smile became puzzled as he reread the last few lines.

Who the heck was Wilbur?

Was that the name of the Bean that lived here?

Oh come on, that's not fair! How come Santa knew Wilbur’s name but not his!

He grumbled a little bit at the thought, but his mind kept drawing back to the last line of the card.

‘He’s not as scary as you think.’

“Hmpf, you keep saying that.” Tommy grumbled.

What was with Santa’s insistence on this?

As much as he wanted to be annoyed at Santa for putting forward such a ridiculous idea, Tommy decided to drag himself out of bed and to the book shelf crack. The Bean had gotten up not long after Tommy had made it back to his new home, but he’d been a tad too distracted to really care about how slow and heavy they had been trudging about this morning unlike their usually poised self.

Currently, said Bean was sitting on the couch, the exact same spot he and Santa had been last night, absentmindedly staring at his hand.

How could Santa think this guy was any good? They had kidnapped him unknowingly, almost let him die from hypothermia unknowingly, destroyed the top of his home unknowingly and Santa still thinks they won’t hurt him?

Okay so maybe it wasn’t their fault all those things happened just because they didn’t know he was there, but that doesn’t mean they’re not still very capable of hurting him for having to do all those things. But then again, Santa knew who was naughty or nice. And he wouldn’t ask him to do something that would endanger his safety if this ‘Wilbur’ guy wasn’t a good person right?

Tommy observed the Bean a little longer, as they ran their thumb over their palm. Their normally neat curly hair was all over the place and he could have sworn there were black bags under their eyes from lack of sleep. They suddenly turned their head and were staring straight at his crack by the book shelf. The Borrower was certain they couldn’t see him from the couch, but ducked back just slightly in case.

The Bean simply sighed as a small smile graced their features. Tommy was right about the black bags. Bean did not look like they had slept at all.

He thought back to what Santa had said.

I think you should try talking to him.

They certainly didn’t seem dangerous. Maybe they really weren’t bad like the Jolly man said?

But was it really worth taking the risk and talking to this guy?

Before he could dwell on it for much longer, the door bell sounded and Wilbur snapped his head to the sound before standing and stretching; their limbs popping and cracking slightly from their limited use. Before he left the living room, the man stopped and stared at his crack once more. Tommy didn’t dare breathe as they simply smiled and shook their head, before exiting and headed towards the front door.

Tommy allowed himself to exhale as the sound of footsteps got further away.

“Weirdo.” Tommy muttered to himself as he pushed himself back from the crack and began to head back to his bed for a well deserved rest.

He’d think about what Santa said, and just maybe he’d talk to this- Wilbur. If not, he hoped he'd meet Santa again so he could thank them in person.

Once he was back in his bed, Tommy quickly slipped in snuggling down, allowing himself to drift off to the chatter of beings much larger than himself from beyond the walls.

“Wil! So good to see you! It’s been ages!”

“Hi Dad, thanks for letting me host. I’m so glad you and Techno could make it!

“So are we, but you look like shit mate. Up late again? Wouldn't be related to that surprise you were telling us about?”

“You could say that…”

.｡❅*⋆⍋*∞*｡*∞*⍋⋆*❅｡.

Tommy never did meet Santa Claus again.

The card proudly on display in his new home, a secret hope he would one day and a constant reminder of what Santa had asked him to try.

And maybe one day, Tommy would finally take up the old man's advice and go and speak to Wilbur, and discover perhaps they may have been right.

Maybe then he’d finally have a friend to keep him warm during the holiday seasons and to rely on like he had wished.

One that seemed to always know just what he needed despite never telling them, and was very insistent about never wearing Santa costumes.

No matter how many times a little boy begged….

˗ ˏ ˋ ★ˎˊ ˗ ༺𝓜𝓮𝓻𝓻𝔂༻༺𝓒𝓱𝓻𝓲𝓼𝓽𝓶𝓪𝓼༻ ˗ ˏ ˋ ★ˎˊ ˗

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

That was a lot of words....

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING TO THE END! I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I did writing it and it means a lot you read all the way through <3

Tag List: @local-squishmallow @brick-a-doodle-do @justarandomsloth @veryfunkycheesecake @munchkin1156 @kayla-crazy-stuffs @da3dm @eiscreme135 @orchid-harmony @the-tiny-lurker @colossal-red @nobodywritingao3 @nata2343 @bad-author777 @crazyfoxgirl10

And cue rant: Honestly you guys have no idea just how much you all mean to me an in this community and the impact you've had on me in the last year alone. I could not be more thankful for being apart of this and getting to know you guys. Getting so back into writing has been really good for me and rekindled something I love so I can't thank you enough.

And even though I know I've been a little quieter online, I'm still here lurking about and working on projects. A lot has happened in the last few months alone and I'm quite happy that I'm limiting myself to be a bit more healthier with my online habits.

Anyways thanks so much if you read this far!

Thanks to my Beta readers @a-xyz-s squishy and munchkin for reading this for me, and I wish you all a very safe and wonderful Christmas and a Happy New Year!

-Beckyu ❤️

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brick-a-doodle-do · 8 months

Text

ITS DOOOOONE WOOHOOOOOOO FIC TIMEEE :3333

SPIDERMANSPIDERMANSPIDERMAN! i originally wrote this for beckyu and i kind of still did but i feel bad giving her straight angst so it was INSPIRED by beckyu and her liking of superhero au's at the time dhdjfnnsn

ty to @munchkin1156 and @a-xyz-s for the ending ideas, ANDDD thank you munchkin, @dingbatnix and 3d for proofreading ILY 🫶

(title from doomsday by derivakat)

you're stuck in the web and caught in the lie

wc: 6748

cw: sfw vore, unwilling prey, fatal vore mention, mentions of puking, (lots of) panic, little comfort

—-—

The bulb in the bathroom teases with his sanity, flickering in the corner of Wilbur’s vision as he stares at himself in the mirror. His eyes are heavy, exhaustion lingering on them, for moments before he had been passed out after a long night. Ultimately, he had been woken up by commotion in the streets, but loud feedback from the radio in his room is what drove him out of bed and stumbling into the connecting bathroom.

Tommy, a borrower he had discovered just before starting his vigilante work, hadn’t been anywhere to be seen as of this morning, which he considered a given since he was housed on the other side of the flat and slept through almost anything.

So, it was just him, splashing water on his face and dabbing it dry with a hand towel. His mask hangs over the edge of the sink bowl, looking warped without a wearer. Wilbur stares at it, frowns, and sighs while swiping it off the porcelain. The tight, sturdy yellow and black fabric stretches in his fingers as he fidgets with the edge of it. After a tiresome moment of consideration, he swipes his hair back and slides the mask on, fitting it under the bodysuit. Wilbur then takes his top layers of clothes off, throwing his shirt and shorts onto the hamper and stretching in the skin-tight suit that makes him cringe.

His radio chatters louder than normal, screams and police sirens amplified through fuzzy audio. He briefly hears someone discuss his name—his hero one, at least—and discuss his absence. Wilbur yawns. He’d rather slip back under the covers of his bed and drift off until the foreseeable future. The only thing standing in the way between Wilbur and his comfort is his moral obligation to perform no bad.

Offering his masked face a tired rub, he trudges from the bathroom with heavy feet and finds his way back into his bedroom, listening for any indication of where the disturbances are before shutting it off. It goes silent, and now audible are the distant sounds of police sirens echoing throughout the city. Wilbur unlocks his window and slides it open, stepping over the edge and out onto his fire escape. He shuts it, then places two fingers over his palm. Instantaneously, a pearl white web shoots from his wrist, latching onto a nearby building. Quickly, he pulls himself up onto the railing and jumps, hand wrapped tediously around the web as he swings, legs curled up with practiced ease. Through his fatigue, he finds his way through the city, web after web latching onto different buildings that he only lingers on for a few seconds before jumping to the next.

A few flashes catch his attention from down below as the early-morning crowd of people notice the hero's arrival. For the most part, he ignores them, instead keeping his eyes out for the sounds of sirens and the sight of distress.

Spotting a crowd, Wilbur zeroes in on it, instinctually latching to a nearby apartment building and landing on the roof half-gracefully. He creeps over the edge, crouched as he approaches. There’s a gathering of police cars, a count of three ambulances and two nearby fire trucks. A whole crowd of pedestrians and traffic has positioned themselves outside of a ring of orange barriers. The only thing Wilbur can’t locate is the problem.

He scans the street, looking beyond the crowd and studying the depths of the block. Wilbur gazes over the horizon, where the only thing to meet him was the beginning of a sunrise. Despite his yearn to watch the upbringing of the morning, he turns his gaze away to find his villain.

A scream grows exponentially, echoing through the busy street and filtering through his mask. Wilbur whips his head over his shoulder, eyes narrowing as he scans the skyline. He huffs as he’s left without eyes on the villain.

About half-way to the edge of the rooftop in hopes of contacting the police down below, there’s a piercing screech from directly behind him. Wilbur startles, the noise making him wince and cringe hard enough, leaving him now falling over the edge of the rooftop and into open air, where his eyes widen at the realization of the descent. Reacting quickly, he shoots a web to the railing and latches on, jerking to a stop before letting the web retract and raise him back to the rooftop. Wilbur connects his fingertips and feet with the concrete wall, sticking to it effortlessly while he creeps up the side of the building.

Through his awkward angle of the top of the ground, he spots a misplaced train car half-dug in the concrete, minute sparks still flying from the impact. Wilbur spots a round of people inside through the tinted windows. They’re jarred, no doubt, presumably both mildly and gravely injured. Only few still move about the confined spot, mostly with agitation and fear. He doesn't mind them for the time being, more focused on the culprit of the disturbance.

Despite the size of Essempi and their neighboring towns, he didn't meet a lot of supervillains. Occasionally some with creative costumes, though they don't pose much threat—he had himself half-convinced that the serenity of the town was just the beginning of some in-progress-anti-hero organization.

So, there weren't many villains who could make the technology to haul a train car onto a rooftop.

His imagination doesn't have to run much longer, for the mechanical noises of XD’s robotic extra arms draws his attention to the side, where the approaching villain stares around the skies for him. Satisfied with his obscurity, Wilbur raises a little bit to get a better view of the scene.

Suddenly, there’s an irritating whir that toys with his eardrums. He looks back, a helicopter catching his line of vision. Fuck. Just as he notices it, the spotlight ticks on and lands directly on him.

Wilbur gasps, squints at the bright light. The space now illuminated around him and XD’s attention turned to him instantly. He ducks down, spinning around so his back is against the wall and facing out to the city. Wilbur finds the attention of the aircraft and makes a motion akin to slicing his neck, silently portraying that they’re doing more harm than good.

Abruptly, part of the light is obscured from above him, thankfully shadowing the blinding light, although posing even more of a problem than potential blindness. Wilbur sighs, looking up to see XD’s carved mask—his old one—the cracked thing boring daggers into his own mask.

“Spiderman! Y’know, I thought I hated the cops, they just weren't ever on my side, but look at this! They helped me find you,” XD says, chuckling and then offering a salute to the aircraft. Wilbur’s shoulders slump a little as he flips back over and climbs up to the rooftop, hopping over the railing to find footing on the concrete ground. From this view, he notices that XD’s figure isn't laced with thick armor and his grand mask, and he’s instead stood, black slacks and a neon hoodie with his old smiling mask slapped on his face. His hands are in his pocket, looking casual, almost lazy.

“You look like you've seen better days,” Wilbur says. Why hasn’t XD made a move yet?

Dream shrugs. “Didn't want to be too…noticeable.”

Wilbur looks at the bright green hoodie he’s sporting and then at the train car of people. XD’s arms twitch.

“You should reconsider,” Wilbur suggests. Within a moment, he flicks a web at XD’s mask to distract him enough before darting to the left of him and running after the train car to help the civilians. XD isn't showing much interest in fighting him,

Immediately as he approaches the car, he gets halfway to wedging his fingers between the seal in the doors before there’s five metallic fingers wrapping his torso and pulling him through the air. It throws him, wind screaming in his ears around him and hissing in his ears as he begins his descent—over the open air, no building to catch him. The crowd beneath him gasps, loud enough to bring him back to reality.

His hands find a familiar position and he has the quick reaction to latch two webs onto the railing again. He retracts in a second, back onto the railing, crouched with his hands on the cold bars.

XD still isn't moving. He’s everything but hostile, apart from launching him off the side of the building. The spotlight from the helicopters above whirs loudly, circling the two on the building.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Wilbur asks finally, snapping XD’s attention to him.

“Okay—look, I should've really planned this out, and I don’t want to totally humiliate you…” XD trails off. Wilbur slips off the railing and onto the roof, standing up to await the villain’s plan.

“It's kind of late for reconsidering the humiliation, didn't you just launch me off a building?” Wilbur points out.

“Shut up! I'm thinking,” XD insists.

Wilbur sighs. He runs again, flicking yet another web at the train car. He jumps, the web retracting and he glides overhead the villain, who through the corner of his vision is still caught up picking web off his face.

He lands on the roof of the train car with grace, considering his next move. Wilbur carefully climbs down to the back of the car, where he’s barely visible. Soothed at the fact, he offers a wave to the city-goers in the car. “I'll get you out,” Wilbur whispers, more of a reassurance to himself than anything.

Winding a quick punch and releasing it just as quick, the glass in the window cracks from his enhanced strength. The surrounding people inside the car step to the side on instinct as he punches again, the crack deepening. Through the reflection in the windows, (Any lighting in the car had been replaced by phone lights, making it incredibly difficult to see inside), he spots one of XD’s arms launching at him. Wilbur jumps, landing on the roof of the train car and wincing as he listens to glass break.

“That car isn't for you to save, Spiderman,” XD says, coldly, his voice less casual and reminding him of their typical encounters. The arm launches for him again and Wilbur dashed out of the way, flicking a web across the building and dashing out of the way.

He darts out of the way for the third time, huffing out in impatience. “Oh, so you brought it up here for fun?” Wilbur asks, shooting a web at XD’s arm, effectively folding it against the villain’s back.

He hisses out in victory, although the action is short lived because as he jumps from the railing, overtop of XD and going for another calculated web, the wind is knocked from his chest as he’s grabbed from the air and jerked to the side. Wilbur groans out in pain as he’s shoved to the concrete, which startles a shriek out of him. It’s then that he’s brought back to open air, dangling from the ground with an irritated scowl hidden underneath his mask. His shoulder stings from where it had slammed into the ground, but when he tries to soothe it with a rub, he finds his hands are pinned to his side.

Wilbur glares at XD.

“I’m going to put you down, and we’re going to talk.”

Wilbur knows obliging would be the best decision, leading him to tentatively nodding at the offer. As suggested, he’s lowered down, cautiously, the arm then retracting with a whir and laying on the ground beside XD’s form.

“Have you ever heard of the trolley problem?” the villain asks, his real hands still in his pocket. Wilbur shrugs.

“In passing,” he says, “Why? I don't see anyone else hostage, do you know how the Trolley Problem works?” he muses, brows furrowing at XD’s response: something of a laugh.

“You have two choices here, alright?” Suddenly, a screeching sound is scraping at his ears, two of XD’s arms wrapping the car and holding it up, right near the edge of the rooftop. “Save a train car full of people,” the villain continues, then reaches into his pocket. Wilbur squints as the villain pulls something small from the depths of his hoodie and holds it up, a string with something on the end of it dangling in the air.

His heart sinks. Tommy.

“Or a pest. Your pest.”

Wilbur’s mouth falls agape, his shoulders slump, and his hands tense. Play it off, Play it off. He still has the time to embarrass XD and make him believe he has the wrong guy. Surely XD doesn’t—actually know his identity.

“I don’t see anything,” Wilbur says, his voice rushed and quivering.

“It's—It’s on the end of the string, look—there's some pest at the end of it.” XD clarifies, a smudge of humor in his tone.

Wilbur lets the clarification run dry and finds himself bitterly glaring at XD. The villain hums, shakes the string a little. As he does, Wilbur watches Tommy flail at the end of it. His heart pounds in his chest, twisting at the thought of the poor borrower caught up in his work. He tried hard to keep Tommy out of it—he never even hinted at it. The idea that Tommy dangles in the grasp of Wilbur’s enemy without any hope that someone could save him makes Wilbur want to puke.

A scream from the people in the train car snaps him out of his thoughts, adjusting him to his very real situation that he needs to find a solution to. He can save Tommy from a lethal fall, or save a cluster of people from an equally deadly height.

“Which one, Spiderman?” XD persists.

Suddenly his lax clothing and old mask doesn't seem so lazy anymore, and Wilbur finds himself staring at the carved out smile with disbelief.

“Did you wake up and decide to do this?” Wilbur asks. He’s wasting time. The hero watches as Tommy is drawn a little higher, and the likelihood of death increases massively. Meanwhile, Wilbur just stands there.

“I was bored. Wanted to test my theories about you, turns out…I was right,” XD hums. Wilbur knows that XD is clawing at the inside for a chance to blurt his name out and rip the bandaid off. Something in Wilbur has to hand it to the villain, though, because even with an audience of news reporters and cops and civilians, he still has held off.

Okay. This cannot be hard. (Albeit reluctantly), He’s Spiderman. Wilbur can always do both.

“I’ll take the train,” Wilbur decides, “leave the 'pest’,” he lies, easily. The words are like poison to his tongue, but he’s found an obvious route to take.

“Okay. Okay! Well, what's your heroic plan without a little entertainment?” XD comments, then releases the car immediately, his silver arms retracting and glistening under the rising sun. Wilbur yells out, running near the edge of the building to go after the train, although before he can get the momentum to jump off, he notices that XD has dropped the rope holding Tommy.

His eyes widen at the realization, he screams out a rushed “Tommy!” and quickly, he flings a web in the vicinity of the borrower, hopefully latching onto him before taking to the railing, finding his footing before jumping off of the building.

Calm and calculated, trying to ignore the blood rushing in his ears and the way his head screams about his inevitable failure, he instantly retracts the web holding (what he hopes to be) Tommy, then lifts his mask up in a panic, getting a good grip on the clump of web before shoving the flash of white into his mouth and pulls the mask back down over his mouth. His mouth shuts with a click that blurs his thoughts of a plan.

Briefly, he recognizes movement within his maw, and with the reassurance, Wilbur finds the time to finally focus on the train car, which plummets, although nothing too worrying yet, especially as he now has the opportunity to advance downwards, the wind lapping all around him. He’s done this a thousand times.

Something clicks against his teeth, hitting from the inside. The wind in his ears and the adrenaline completely flooding him makes it hard to focus on the fact that he had hit bullseye on Tommy, and even more is he distracted at the fact that the poor thing is scared out of his life, in the clasp of someone he doesn't know he trusts. Trapped in their mouth no less. He runs a worried tongue over the figure in his mouth to try and resolve the boy’s fear. It was half-assed but all he could muster as a thousand ideas for saving the car floods through his mind and thoroughly bury the memory of Tommy.

A web shoots from his wrist and flies through the wind, whistling against it before coming to a halt when the edge of the web reaches something solid, the edge of a building, just a temporary brace until he can build another. He flicks another web, and another, and another, and he feels the energy leaving his body as Wilbur constructs a base for the car to land in. It’s already caught on the first one he did, but the weight of the metal and the people inside has the web splitting.

By the time he finishes the landing pad, it’s mere feet from the streets, housing the fallen train car. Meanwhile, now no longer distracted, his blurry mind has the ability to shoot one last web onto a balcony near the scene. Wilbur jerks as the web pulls taught, something in his head shifting to panic, but he ignores it while letting the web retract and guide him up onto the balcony, which he clambers onto and falls over in an instant, something of this morning’s fatigue, his mix of emotions, and the overuse of his silk making him a useless pile of black-and-yellow fabric.

(*)

Tommy is screaming. He knows he’s screaming, even though the noise is barely audible over the lapping sound of the helicopters that circle the area, which had irritated him enough into covering his ears, he still is screaming. The disturbance of the helicopter had been enough to distract him, and as he zones back in as Spiderman had yelled out something incoherent, and then weirdly, his own name.

It was then that he finally felt the rush of cold air against his body, and it was then that he registered that he was falling, concrete growing closer and closer and closer, and—his abrupt fate was cut off by an equally abrupt something clashing into him and expanding, surrounding his entire body and jerking him through the air. His stomach sinks at all the movement. He struggles against the sticky web that he’s caught in, memories of getting caught up in spider web as a borrower flashing through his memory. If not for the fact that this situation was nothing similar, and that this was quite literally life or death, he might’ve found comfort in finding some resemblance of his home life.

Wilbur.

Oh, Wilbur's going to get home and think Tommy abandoned him! Oh, oh fuck—

Suddenly, there's another pull in his gut and he’s screaming even louder as he falls, plummets, zips through the air. It whistles around him, his ears throb, and his hands are shaking so much he can barely even wipe the tears off of his face without it being consistent with hitting himself. There’s a thick groan that murmurs from his mouth as, despite the layer of web between him, he’s tossed against someone’s hand, whiplash settling in nicely with his jittering soul.

He barely recognizes the black and yellow fabric all around him before he’s catching his gaze on a distantly familiar bottom profile of a face, one that, terrifyingly, opens up and draws Tommy close.

“No, no, nonononononoNO—” Tommy yells, a mouth suddenly his only surroundings. The morning light illuminates the space around him, rows of human teeth entirely surrounding him, fleshy pink walls and the faint outline of the opening of a throat just mere inches from him.

“Shit! Let me out, fuck—HELP ME!” Tommy pleads, screaming, he can't even help but try to be hopeful in a time like this. He can’t even wrap his head around the fact that he thinks he'll be curled up in Wilbur's hands tonight if he asks. What is he, four?

Tommy sobs. Tears break through, finally the adrenaline of the situation coming to a screeching halt as soon as the mouth he’s in shuts tight, the the jarring view of the city overhead coming to a close with an echoing click that replays in his mind a thousandfold. Tommy sobs again, shaking, his struggling within the cage-like web intensifying. He has a higher chance of avoiding becoming food if he can stand up and fight.

Finally, finally, his legs can move more than a few inches. His legs are free, and he tears his arms free, picking the excess pieces off of him, baring his teeth as he strains his arm just to get free. He can barely fend off an inanimate spiderweb, he can only imagine the idea of fighting off a prodding tongue that’ll inch him slowly to the back of the throat that’ll send him to his real death.

He pulls at the silky material, which has been soaked slightly as the person's saliva fills the room. It's at the moist sensation under his fingertips that he realizes how suffocatingly damp it is. Tommy pats at the surface underneath him, cringing, almost gagging at the fact that he’s sitting atop a tongue. He’s…he’s going to die, he’s sitting on his deathbed.

He can barely maneuver himself to stand up without fucking falling. Tommy jerks a little bit, almost falling into the person's teeth at the movement.

Finally stumbling to a stand with a scowl on his face, he tries to feel around for something solid. He seems to reach teeth, because his pounding fists collide with something hard. He punches at them, sobbing, a sudden weakness in his form overtaking him.

“Let me out! Please! I—I can't die, not right now! I—I just—” Tommy finds himself stuttering over his words. He doesn't know why he doesn't want to die. There shouldn't be a problem if he simply ceased to exist, though the idea still tormented him.

If he were to die, it at least shouldn't be at the hand of something Tommy had spent most of his life avoiding, and certainly not by something he had foolishly begun growing to trust.

The feeling of something wet seeps into his clothing, prodding at him—and so caught up in his cries he takes an embarrassingly long time to recognize that there’s a tongue placed by his shoulder. Tommy shrieks as he does realize, scrambling away from the muscle the best he could, (which wasn’t easy, considering the thing took up most of the mouth).

He swallows down a gulp of vomit, cringing at the fact that he’s even existing right now. Tommy draws a hand to his face, fisting his tears away. It doesn't matter in the end, as by the time he gets his face dry it's ruined by another orbit of tears. He still shakes, his hands propped in his lap while he leans against the closed rows of teeth, awaiting his inevitable fate.

Just as expected, the world jerks, heavy, heavier than before, and suddenly he’s almost downed in a pool of saliva as he’s drawn back, back, and, NO—he claws aimlessly at the tongue, his efforts run useless while he’s shot down the throat in an instant. His hands fail to cling onto purchase and he slides, easily, too easily. He can't flex his limbs enough to flail, and even if he did the struggle would go unmatched against the pool of acids he’s about to meet.

He falls, he screams as he falls. His gut churns at the fact that he’s landed in someplace new, equally as dark as a mouth but painfully obviously not.

It’s hollow, nothing like the tunnel he just traveled down. It’s warm and suffocating, however, and he feels as if he couldn't breathe. Probably because his nose is stuffy and breathing in through his mouth triggered another fit of sobs.

Tommy stretches his arms to feel his surroundings, coughing, then immediately sobbing again upon the feeling of fleshy walls that contort around him, flexing slightly. He’s going to die. He’s going to puke—he is dead. He falls against the surface he’s surrounded by, attempting to draw his knees up, though they slip into the thin pool at the bottom of the chamber, his chamber.

The warm liquid soaks his shoes, and in half a second, he’s convinced himself that it stings, and that he’s going to die within the next five minutes.

If only Wilbur were here. He would know how to calm him down, even if he was dying. If he was on his last breath and Wilbur was there to reassure him, he’d believe him. Full-heartedly.

Tommy punches at the fleshy walls, yelling, despite how much strain it puts on his already-sore throat. “Fuck,” he whines, sliding against the walls and sighing.

He has a plan for everything. Wilbur, as a joke, locked him in a jar once, then proceeded to accidentally forget about him, and he inched off the counter until he fell and broke the jar. He was all cut up but he was out. So, why isn't his brain catching up to date with recent events and getting him a plan?

Tommy knows why, but he doesn't exactly want to admit it just yet.

His surroundings jerk, throwing him to the other end of the area before the walls squish in on him, embracing him from all angles and making him wail at the fact. His face is pressed against the slick flesh, the pool of saliva and, (what he tells himself is) acid, he sobs again. Again again, his body aches as he shakes with somber origins, again he cries again, Prime, why won't he stop crying?

(*)

By the time Wilbur regained feeling in his head and it was no longer a sludge of mixed emotions about what just happened and reassurance that he had Tommy, and by the time Wilbur had picked himself up from where he lay on the cold concrete of a balcony and webbed away, he realized there was nothing in his mouth.

But, he completely remembers the web with Tommy in it being secure in the makeshift pocket while he did his work, so why wasn't it there anymore?

Wilbur lands in the crowd, wincing as he catches the attention of news broadcasters. He’s about to web away to avoid public attention when something in his gut hits him so gently that he pauses, and his eyes widen. Wilbur pauses, freezes, then shudders.

Tommy.

He runs off, immediately, into an alleyway where he leans against the wall and places a disbelieving hand to his gut. “Wh—Tommy?” Wilbur whispers, careful as to not catch the attention of the nearby reporters.

There’s a response. It’s faint, he can’t hear it—shit. At the very least, he’s alive—hopefully for the time it takes to get him out.

Okay, just…focus. He’s focused before—he has to be focused to unstick. But he’s never swallowed anyone before! Wilbur closes his eyes and pulls his attention to the moving figure in his gut, squeezing in his stomach and pretending like he’s trying to puke, (which probably wasn’t the best idea considering he does feel like he’s two webs away from vomiting his guts out).

The attempt is disturbed by flashing cameras, which startle him to a defensive position and make him forget about his focus. He groans, staring at the news reporters that have taken to crowding around him, cornering him in the alley.

“I’m gonna be real with you guys, I think there’s a lot more interesting things to film than me,” Wilbur says, huffing out a dry laugh.

“Why did you wait until the last second to save them?” A reporter asks. I was saving someone else, Wilbur muses in his mind, once again reminded of Tommy.

“Seriously, leave, I’m done with this scene, you should be too,” Wilbur tries.

The reporters only grow closer, photo after photo after photo—it overwhelms him, to say the least, especially with the fact that his gut is being absolutely attacked by Tommy. It takes a lot for him to not curl up against the brick wall behind him and murmur reassurances to him. Flashes and questions blur in his mind, and thankfully his energy has seemed to return and he has half the mind to toss two fingers over his palm. A web sprouts, spiraling up onto the building above so he can get away from the crowd of people.

Landing on the concrete, he sprints behind a doorway and kneels there, just in time for a particularly revolting punch from the inside of his gut that leaves him clutching his gut and gagging as something travels upwards in his gullet—finally. He gags again and feels something thrash in his mouth. Tommy, no doubt.

Without adrenaline rushing through him and numbing his thoughts, he notices there’s a distinct taste in his mouth. It’s tangy and unpleasant, mixed with the taste of salt—undoubtedly tears. He winces at it, making a move for the edge of his mask. Before he could pull it up and beg the trust he just thoroughly undid, the laps of a fucking helicopter catch his attention. Immediately, his hands drop from his face and he scrambles up, flipping them off tediously before running to the edge of the roof and jumping off, landing on the neighboring one.

Wilbur takes a sharp left, his webs wrapping around a street light. Gracefully, he lands on it, looking around the sky for the aircraft. It seems to have lost sight of him.

Gently, with his tongue, he pushes Tommy to the side of his mouth and rushes out reassurances while he glides through the city and back to his apartment building.

“You’re okay—I’m so sorry, Tommy. You’re okay, I promise you’re okay,” he says, it’s half-mumbled but it, hopefully, has gotten the point across.

The little “fuck you!” from within his mouth says otherwise.

Finally, for what has felt like hours when in reality barely half an hour has passed, he finds footing on his fire escape. The security of being home feeling like a boulder off his shoulders. He opens his window, climbing in and shutting it with ease.

Immediately, Wilbur lifts his mask up and spits Tommy out. The boy quivers against his skin, shaking and murmuring curses with his strained voice. Wilbur’s heart twists, guilt coursing through him even more than the adrenaline had earlier. He did this to Tommy.

“Tommy,” Wilbur calls, his voice soft. His hands find themselves frozen, unable to comprehend how much of a trance Tommy has been put under. “Tommy, hey, king, come on, you’re safe,” Wilbur says, taking a distracted seat on the floor. “Are you

okay? Are you hurt?” Wilbur adds, pulling the tiny a little closer to inspect his shivering form.

He’s not sure if Tommy actually recognizes that he’s not in Wilbur’s mouth, or even gut.

“Get the fuck away from me—” Tommy breathes out, his voice shallow and dry. He coughs, shuddering with another sob. Wilbur frowns, deep, watching intently as the borrower collects himself in his cupped hands, shuffling to sit up and glare at Wilbur.

(*)

“I didn’t mean to swallow you, I promise—I just—” Spiderman says, his own lies running dry on his tongue. Why is his voice so familiar? “Just tell me

you’re not hurt, man—”

Tommy doesn't respond to Spiderman and instead takes a look around the space, realizing very quickly that the space is identical to Wilbur’s apartment.

He hiccups, coughing as phlegm gets caught in his throat. “Why are we at Wilbur’s house?”

Something in Spiderman’s face, from what he can see of it, shifts, something of confusion tugging at his lips. Then, in a blink, he’s shifted onto one hand and Spiderman pulls the mask off fully, revealing—

Oh.

“Wilbur,” Tommy breathes out, coughing again. His heartbeat picks up at the fact that Wilbur, out of the whole city, sat behind the mask. “You fucking swallowed me,” Wilbur almost flinches at the words, “and you lied to me.”

“You know I wouldn’t hurt you, not intentionally.” Wilbur returns his hands to the cupped position, but Tommy doesn’t move. His eyes are glued on Wilbur. His hair, his worried eyes with tears swelling in them and fatigue lining them as dark bags, his frowning lips, and the black-and-yellow suit that clings onto his body.

“Fuck, Wilbur, you—I don’t even know—” Tommy says, groaning and leaning into Wilbur’s hold. It feels warm, similar to—-

“Are you mad at me?”

Tommy’s eyes widen as he scoffs. “What the fuck?! Of course—-of course I am, Wilbur! I thought I was going to die! I probably would’ve!”

Wilbur winces. Bastard.

“I’m sorry,” the man whispers.

Tommy looks at Wilbur strongly, and for some reason, the action alone is enough to make him sob again. He shudders, goosebumps trailing his spine.

“No, no—Tommy, you’re okay, man!” Wilbur reassures—or he tries to, it doesn’t really work, because Tommy just ignores it.

“I’m not!” he retaliates, sobbing into the human’s gloved hand.

“Toms, darling,” Wilbur tries gently, taking his thumb and oh-so-gently drawing it along Tommy’s tiny, red-and-puffy face, ridding of his tears in an instant. His heart hurts at the nickname and the show of affection. “You’re still alive, aren’t you?”

“I almost wasn’t,” Tommy seethes out. “I would’ve died from that fucking villain you were fighting, you could’ve chewed me to death, and I probably was going to disintegrate when you swallowed me! Fuck you, Wil.”

Wilbur’s expression shifts. “You didn’t die, though, you’re very alive. And, I told you, Tommy, I never wanted to swallow you. It just happened. I must’ve startled too hard and did it.” Tommy scowls. He shifts, his damp feet sliding on the slick fabric of Wilbur’s suit. He almost forgot he was covered in saliva and acid.

“That doesn’t make up for the fact that you did it, instinctually, or whatever. Your brain wanted to eat me, just admit it!”

Wilbur stays quiet.

“Put me down,” Tommy then asks, now growing impatient after the warmth that Wilbur’s hand had provided has since run cold and proved nothing comforting. Wilbur, the bastard, looks so hesitant to his request it makes him shudder. “Wilbur, put me the fuck down,” he repeats, stronger, masking his (dwindling) panic.

Begrudgingly, looking as if he regrets every moment, the human obliges and lowers the boy onto the floor, close to the bed where Tommy’s nearest nook is. “Thank you,” Tommy offers smally. He doesn’t know if he expected Wilbur to let his hesitance overtake him, but he finds that he’s grateful for the fact that he’s no longer engulfed by Wilbur’s hands and has found a place on the floor, already making a rushing move to the shadows of the bed.

Though, as he walks, he feels his limbs are tired and ache. He doesn’t understand why they do, however—he had only cried, a mental problem, and he had kept his struggle to a minimum (in terms of how he usually flails), so why did he feel such a strong desire to collapse?

Tommy feels tears swell up in his eyes again, soul tugging at him to break down again. He winces at such fragile sensitivity and strays from his path, pulling off to lean against the leg of the bed. He sighs against it, holding back the floodgates of his tears while trying to ignore that Wilbur is still sat on the floor. He blinks away his tears. Tommy’s throat burns from earlier, also now housing the sobs he’s shoving back down his vocal box. He’s not crying again, no fucking way.

“Are you sure you want to be alone, Toms?” Wilbur asks, still soft as ever. It’s hard to be mad at the bastard when he’s been nothing but reassuring. But he almost died because of Wilbur, three separate times in barely an hour. How could he not be pissed? Then again, he had bargained with himself that Wilbur could be the only one to ever talk him out of the fear of death. Ironic, his mind muses.

“Not really,” he says, coughing a bit. He blinks away another circle of tears. It doesn’t work, and the irritating sting in Tommy’s eyes just pushes him far over the edge and he cries again, drawing his knees up and crossing his arms over them while he stares off into the shadows. He can’t hear much, but not in a concerning way, he’s just spaced out long enough for the only constant in his mind being his shallow cries.

Perhaps as he’d expected, he’s drawn back to reality with a nudge on his side. He grumbles, looking over to find Wilbur’s hand next to him, fingers folded into each other except for his forefinger, which pokes at his side again. From under the bed, most of the man’s face is obscured, but he can see Wilbur’s lips, which sport a fine smile, nothing amused, only genuine.

“Do you want to rest? I think you could benefit from a break from this shitty morning,” Wilbur offers, “we can finish talking later,” he then adds, which the thought of reliving today, even in memories, makes him shiver, but falling asleep on Wilbur had been his one wish when in—there.

Hesitant, he shuffles up from where he sat. At his movement, Wilbur’s hand opens up and lays flat against the hardwood floor, moments from Tommy.

A part of him does wonder if it’s a ruse, but a lot of him doesn't have the energy to give a fuck. At least, not for right now.

He climbs onto the hand, his own hands bracing Wilbur's fingertips so he doesn't lose his balance, and he finds a seat on the crease in Wilbur’s fingers that connect them to his palm.

“I'm still actually mad at you,” Tommy says as Wilbur draws him out of the shadows and back into the air.

“That's okay, sunshine,” the man reassures. Once again, he takes his thumb, the gloves digit rubbing over Tommy’s face, tugging up to dry the last of his tears. The boy grumbles at the touch, but his disapproval only makes Wilbur stifle a laugh.

“I thought we were resting, dick.”

Wilbur hums, shuffling up from the floor while keeping Tommy steady in his hand. He walks to the bed, sitting on the edge. “And you're sure you’re not hurt?”

Tommy sighs at Wilbur. “I'm not, if I was I would’ve told you, I still trust you. Kind of. Bitch.”

He has such a way with words.

Wilbur just hums, carefully drawing the boy up to his mouth. Tommy scrambles back, pressing further into the hands under him. The panic is short lived, especially as Wilbur only pecks a kiss on the top of his head.

“Stop that,” Tommy demands. Wilbur draws him back, slightly. At the distance between them, Tommy stumbles to a stand and walks the length of Wilbur's palm and stands on the edge of it, arms outstretched to pull Wilbur’s nose closer to him. He hugs it, or, the best he could.

“Awe, Tommy,” Wilbur says, his tone high in adoration. Tommy pinches Wilbur’s skin, causing the human to retaliate his hand and drag the borrower with it before situating himself in bed. Tommy snickers, slipping off Wilbur's hand and onto his chest. He frowns at the placement and walks, along the Spiderman suit and latching onto Wilbur’s chin, using all the (lacking) strength in his arms to pull himself up Wilbur's face, stumbling only slightly while readjusting. Wilbur stays still, he can spot the man’s eyes on him, but otherwise he remains absolutely frozen until the borrower plops down by the older’s nose and gets extra comfortable.

Only because he knows Wilbur wouldn't be able to move him without waking him up, and the human wouldn't dare.

—-—

taglist: @da3dm, @i-am-beckyu, @local-squishmallow, @skullsnbruises, @krazycat49, @munchkin1156, @nobodywritingao3, @a-xyz-s // taglist request

#mw #brickfic #mcyt g/t #mcyt gt #dsmp g/t #dsmp gt #dream smp g/t #dream smp gt #g/t #dsmp vore #t!tommy #tiny!tommy #g!wilbur #giant!wilbur #moral obligation au

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astraymetronome · 5 months

Text

In order to thank @dingbatnix for helping me stumble upon the story I'd been looking for, I offered to write them a Mcyt story! This is the outcome of my endeavor and I think it's cute. I wrote all of this from just being asked for Primeboy noms.

This isn't the best but I enjoyed writing this regardless!

Apex Insight

Word Count: 3,972

Warnings: Vore, mentions past life-threatening events, and cursing.

Dream wasn’t a bad person. Tommy knew this now after the months they’d been around each other. His human seemed rather sweet and kind despite everything going on around them and he was well aware of how protective he could be. Being warned about his friends before they even were allowed to come over was enough to help him understand where they both stood with one another.

Clay saw him as a close friend and Tommy saw him like an older brother.

Regardless of the familiar feelings between them both, he had felt horrified about meeting other people. The human wouldn’t let anything happen, that was clear, but he couldn’t guarantee his safety since some things couldn’t be anticipated. George and Nick seemed really lovely with the latter even asking to be called Sapnap instead. He found riding on their shoulders and even sleeping in their hoodies amazing since it helped his nesting needs.

Tommy got to basically join in on their hangouts whenever they were congregating at the apartment. He was scared of the world outside. He knew this over everything. There was one time he tried to sneak out of the place via Clay’s college bag and within moments he’d started to freak out. He was lucky the blonde human had heard his panicked whimpers before he’d left the driveway or else he probably would have passed out due to his fear.

Of course, that was what led them to what everyone was trying right now. Each and every single one of them was trying to convince him to leave. Not permanently, of course, just to try to handle a block or so with Dream. He wasn’t sure about this.

The last time they had convinced him to try something new he had to experience Brussels sprouts, or as he liked to call them, dog shit. All three of them had busted into laughter the moment he gagged. It was so gross and bitter. Trying vegetables wasn’t the greatest experience but he learned he liked carrots and broccoli… if they were drowned in a strange dip? Sapnap called it, vegetable ranch dip. Despite the name, he enjoyed it. They gave him coke afterward, at least that was more sweet than the veggies.

He was adamantly denying their desires. Yeah, it was nice out, and no one would be around for a few hours but he couldn’t do it. Right before he’d moved into the apartment complex and ended up in Dream’s flat, he’d almost died. The cold had been miserable and 2 years ago he’d not even been 14 yet. Animals were frightening and some raccoon almost made a snack out of him. It was the main reason he felt… unsure.

“Come on Tommy! It isn’t that bad, there is even a kid's playground a few blocks away.” Sapnap started to try and convince him. He refused to go to a playground. Whatever that was.

“I’m not a fucking kid!” He yelled out, quickly stepping from his shoulder to Dream’s as he started to scramble into his hoodie. Sitting against his neck and between the fabric of his shirt and the jacket was nice. He liked the feeling of Clay’s signature green hoodie on his body, it reminded him of his nest and the fact he had more access to softer and thicker fabrics. The warmth of his body was the icing on the cake for the perfect comfortable napping spot.

The small chuckle that left the tall blonde shook his small body but he wasn’t mad. He liked to be close to his big brother as his tail carefully wrapped around his neck and under his Adam's apple. He felt his body vibrate as he spoke up. “Come on Toms, you’ll have to get over it eventually.” He stated simply.

“Yeah! Eventually you assholes!” He concurred as his small form hid under the fabric slightly. He couldn’t bring himself to do this yet. Tommy took a moment to steel his feelings before George gave a small comment.

“How about we all go out to the balcony? It’s outside but it’s an environment we can control.” He found himself contemplating it. Tommy didn’t think this would be that bad. He would be outside and it wasn’t like he had to move away from where he was currently perched.

His moment of silence was interrupted as Dream got up from where he was, causing the borrower to wobble into the nook of his collarbone. “I can try.” The blonde found himself mumbling as he pulled himself back to his shoulder, getting back into his comfortable purchase.

His moment of resolve had to be immediately ruined as the three humans were quick to holler about how many things they could finally show him once he was comfortable being around other people, but Tommy found himself shaking at the idea. Outside and people were two different things. He felt Dream’s hand gently brush against his side, causing him to move and bring himself back down into his palm.

Tommy was larger compared to some kinds of borrowers, the smallest he’d ever seen was a few inches but here he was as big as a human hand. He sat in his hold without much fear, kicking his legs over the side as he leaned back into his thumb. He liked being caressed in Dream’s grip.

____

The balcony actually hadn’t been that bad in his opinion. The sun and wind had felt nice while giving him a chance to bathe in the light. It meant he was teased for acting like a cat, but he couldn’t help it! Tommy has spent around 16 years in the walls, getting to sit out in raw sunlight was an experience he enjoyed. He understood why they’d been pushing him to get past his fears but it wasn’t like he would actually let them know this. Once George and Sapnap had left he found himself sitting right next to the open screen door, taking in the scents and sunshine. Dream walking around the apartment, he knew this, probably making dinner or working on something around their home.

He found his eyes drifting as he watched clouds go by and the sun slowly start to set. “Tommy!” Only to realize he’d zoned out as he glanced over his shoulder, his human crouching near him with his hand out. The borrower scrambled to his feet, running over to his hand and clambering into his palm without any struggle. He smiled brightly as he held onto his thumb to ensure that he did not fall. His eyes were brightly shining and now that he thought about it, they looked a lot like the sky.

Tommy let his tail wrap around Dream’s ring finger as he heard him continue with the started conversation. “I made dinner it’s not something you’ve had yet.” He said simply. He felt his small body grow a little dizzy at the speed before it was slowed down. He took note of the giant sheepish smile before he resumed. “It’s called Egg-drop soup. My mom used to make this all the time.” He told him without much thought.

He’s never met Clay’s family. The borrower was doubtful this was on purpose but he wasn’t upset regardless. Family wasn’t something he had so it wasn’t like it really mattered. “That sounds good! I like eggs but why is it called Egg-drop soup?” He asked swiftly as he was set down on the table, slipping off without much effort as he smiled.

“Well, you drop egg whites into the broth as it cooks in order to cause these little strings,” Dream told him as he sat down a small take-out container. He knew this was once used for some kind of condiment but it was better than Tommy having to eat from a medicine cup. “The broth is made of chicken broth and egg yolks so it’s called Egg-drop soup.”

He found himself nodding as he looked down at the pale yellow soup, the small strings were big in his opinion but he knew full well they were small for Clay. “If you buy it instead of making it, it’ll be this bright yellow color because people add yellow food dye to make it more appealing. I don’t really see why but it doesn’t change the taste.”

Tommy moved to reach his hands into the soup. The bits of egg were too big for his whittled spoon but he wasn’t one to shy away from messy eating. He couldn’t help an eager purr at the seasoned taste that spread across his tongue. This was one of the best things Dream had made over the few months they’d known each other.

The low chuckle that left his human wasn’t a surprise considering he was very prone to this kind of reaction as he felt his tail sway. “Good?” He heard the blonde question before digging into his own meal without any question.

He could feel his body warm up from the inside with each and every mouthful. He knew he wouldn’t be able to stomach the entire cup, he never could, but he was happy enough to not care. Dream, as always, finished his own bowl of soup before he did. It wasn’t very surprising considering he was aware that his handfuls still lost plenty of it due to how much would drip out between his fingers and such.

Tommy was licking his fingers to clean up the residue of broth as he finished up, motioning to his friend to take the container. With practiced ease he watched Clay scoop up the bowl, throw his head back, and gulp down the content. He wasn’t very surprised, well aware he didn’t need much to be fed but he still found himself fascinated every time he did this.

He’d heard rumors about how humans had these things called storage. It was described as a pouch in the abdominal area practically right next to the stomach. He didn’t really think it was true, and he was always tempted to ask but he remembered something that an elder had once told him. She’d claimed the easiest way to tell if a giant had one of these sacs was if they had sharp fangs. He’d been curious for a while but Dream had always been careful about that kind of stuff.

He knew he had them, Tommy had snuck up to him one night after he’d dozed off. It had been hard to wiggle his hands under his lips in order to make enough of a gap to see. The one advantage he had was his natural night vision. It let him take notice of the sharper canines in the front of his mouth that slightly faded towards his molars with each passing tooth. It had frightened him just as much as it had piqued his curiosity.

Of course, this was a risk but Clay had known about his kind before they’d even properly met. It was the main reason he’d revealed himself to a human in the first place. He’d been desperate to eat and had no choice but to beg for something from him.

Last winter had been harsh, actual mice kept getting to what had been left out for him and it led to a lot of problems for the two of them but he grew attached and it seemed his human had to.

“Dream?” Tommy felt himself shake as he mustered up his courage. If he could manage to step outside without being dragged or forced he could do this. It may have not been far, just a balcony by human standards, but for him, it was a wonder of his life.

The borrower wrung his hands together as he looked up, green eyes settling on his trembling form as he heard a worried voice shake the air. “Are you alright, Tommy?” His human was concerned and as bad as it made him feel he needed to feed his desires. Mice were curious by nature and he was considered part mouse so it made complete sense.

“I’m fine dickhead! I just have a question…” He mumbled before he placed his hands in his lap. “Do… Do you know about storages?” He asked softly. It wasn’t in his normal confident way, he knew this would set alarm bells off but he didn’t want to confuse the everloving fuck out of Dream if he had no idea.

He watched as his human paused, seemingly fine before he watched color flush up his face. Tommy felt confused, he expected more anger or confusion but not…

Embarrassment?

His tail swayed with his curiosity as he went ahead and stepped closer. Dream had to know what he was talking about, why else would he react in such a way? He went ahead and smiled as he crept closer knowing full well the bright green eyes that settled on his small form were aware of his teasing.

“Clay? How does it work?” He asked as he put his hands up and reached for his friend, giving grabby hands as he asked to be held. “Please!” He begged. The borrower giggled as he was removed from the table and felt warm hands under him. A part of him was nervous, after all, he’d been told that storage was inside a person. If it was near his stomach then…

Well, he’d have to be eaten. Right, that's how it would have to work… But being eaten was a huge fear for his kind. He couldn’t do that… but he had to curb his curiosity like many of his kind before him. “W-well..” The human started before he stuttered and looked down towards him.

Tommy did his best to give him his biggest and brightest puppy dog eyes. He was hiding his fear with his smile as he pleaded with his gaze. The finished sigh that escaped Dream told him all he needed to know as he spoke. “Well, in the past, people saw borrowers as food. I don’t know all of the details.”

“We developed the sacs in order to... Well originally held food for later but plenty of people ended up using it to keep your kind safe. So it no longer held the purpose of digesting things. It stopped having a purpose so plenty of people lost it as generations passed. Some people still have it.” The man added before Tommy reached up. He wasn’t sure about this but he needed to know.

“Could… Would you store me?” The blonde borrower asked before he pushed his hands against his lips. “I know you have one… because of your teeth.” He added to help Dream understand where he was coming from. He knew full well they wouldn’t hurt to try it out.

“Think about it this way, if I can hide inside of you then I can confront my fears somewhere safe. I won’t overreact or panic because I can’t see anything.” He started to ramble on before he took notice of how a smile spread up to his cheek. He could feel his own face flushing and becoming a bright shade of red.

“Toms, are you telling me you’ve been curious about this since we met?” His human asked smugly making the comment as the borrower was slightly pulled from his face. Tommy didn’t hesitate to kick his leg and speak up.

“Maybe I have! It’s none of your business dickhead! Don’t get your panties in a twist!” He called out as he crossed his arms before turning his head away. The all-too-familiar chuckle almost broke his gise of confidence before he heard him speak up.

“Well, I can at least give you this..” Dream muttered, his face just as bright.

This got him thinking… This was just as embarrassing for him as it was for the human. He had to be just as flustered and unsure as he was but they were both going to experience this together. It made him feel like a little kid again, happy to be allowed to go out borrowing on his own instead of being overwatched by an adult.

“I know how to.” He started making the smaller blonde look up in surprise. “I got into a lot of trouble as a kid, so having this little pocket I could put things in was a nice way to get out of trouble for a moment or two.” There was so much Tommy didn’t know about Clay and this was what he really needed to help ingrain this fact into his memory. He found himself quiet as he was brought up close.

His instincts wanted him to run away. He knew what was about to happen as he sat down, placing his hands in his lap he gave an anxious shiver as he was held close. Having both of Dream’s hands under him was nerve-racking but he was well aware he was doing it to give him more room to shift or move if he felt uncomfortable. The heat under him as his tail swayed, displaying his overwhelming curiosity, was quick to feel ice cold as he watched his lips part.

His abdomen twisted and squeezed at the sight. He could make out his teeth and how blinding white they seemed to be despite how his lips seemed to block them. Clearly to try and keep his anxiety deep down. The way the light behind them allowed him to take notice of the glistening saliva that spread across every part of his mouth and sunk into each crevice.

He tried to ignore the scent his mouth seemed to waft off. It wasn’t the best thing but it was better than he expected to smell. Regardless of this, he found himself leaning forward and placing his hands on his lower lip. He couldn’t help letting his own mouth drop open in awe as the human’s tongue curiously pushed towards his little fingers.

The warm slime that began to coat his palms made him slightly cringe but it wasn’t as bad as he expected. Dream’s nervous breath washed over him allowing him to understand just how similar they were. As he’d pointed out earlier, both of them were just as embarrassed and unsure but they both wanted this. Tommy knew this.

As he slid his hand inside, settling his upper body’s weight onto the pink muscle in front of him. He felt the tongue twitch and squish as he pushed his hands deeper into the moving flesh. The sudden gasp that left the large blonde made him burst into laughter.

“Oh My Prime! Y-you’re more scared than I am!” He called out as he gasped for his breath only to feel his weight unbalanced and his body slip forward. He spit out any spit that got into his mouth after his face planted into the muscle, his legs kicking slightly in an attempt to help himself righten his form in order to sit up. The warmth was surprisingly intoxicating. He found it more inviting than frightening despite being in the mouth of something his kind has always seen as a hunter.

Tommy let his gaze drift to look around the space he sat inside. His eyes turned to the cheeks, allowing him to focus on the white discolored tissue that decorated some spots of the internal side pouches. He was well aware of how Dream was prone to biting his tongue when he focused so, by his guess, it had to be from that. Right? Still, he found himself tilting his head out of curiosity only to feel a glob of clear, hot slime drip onto his head. “Shit!” He yelled out as he moved, slipping and falling onto his back in his desperate attempts to right his balance.

The small fit Clay burst into at his action almost went completely unnoted as he felt himself bring his hands onto his chest. As he watched the roof of his mouth, he took in the small harsh ridges and the sharp, animalistic-like teeth before his eyes drifted back to see the uvula danging over a darkening abyss. He felt his anxiety spike once more but he took a deep breath before he lifted one hand over his head. He gave the softer pallet a very gentle pat as he spoke up. “Alright, you big dumbass! Send me into your black hole of a storage!” He yelled out as he kicked his legs letting his tail wrap around his left thigh as he closed his eyes.

Tommy could feel the hesitance they both held but he wasn’t worried. Dream wasn’t going to hurt him nor would he allow him to stay in his stomach if he somehow ended up in that unforgiving space. He gently shifted but as he felt the tongue under him shift, forcing his head to slip back and bump against the entrance of his throat and slightly past his tonsils.

It didn’t even take a second before he heard the moving of muscles as they squelched and opened before a gulp filled his senses. His torso was pushed against the walls before his body was grabbed and tugged downwards. He yelped at the sudden motion, kicking his legs slightly as one arm was trapped above his head and the other pinned to his chest.

Tommy kicked his legs as he was forced down and into the tight tube that seemed to be endless as he felt himself being forced into an upside-down fall. He didn’t like the sensation very much since it was forcing saliva down his nose and into his respiratory system. The soft sound of pounding only seemed to grow even louder as a soft wooshing filled everything around him before his head hit something rather rough. Without a moment's warning, he felt his body push through after it softened up only leading to him tumbling into an open space. The lack of a sour or a sulfur smell and a very shallow puddle was enough to tell him he wasn’t in his stomach.

Within a second he felt weight against his back, causing him to scramble to an upright position. There wasn’t as much room as he expected. He couldn’t lay flat or really sit straight up without hitting a wall and stressing out his surroundings. He smiled a little as he moved, pushing his own hands against the weight against the wall. He felt it shift around him as soon as he made contact as Clay’s voice boomed all around his space.

“Toms. Is it okay in there?” He asked, voice shaking slightly. The nerves explained the heavy pounding that seemed ever so concerned.

“Yeah! I’m a big man! Nothing can scare me!” He found himself yelling. He figured this was the best choice since he was buried in the human’s body at the moment. Of course, his snark had to be followed with some in return as his friend spoke up.

“Yeah, like how you weren’t scared of taking a walk around the block.” Dream told him with obvious humor riding his tone. He didn’t hesitate to kick out, his foot coming in contact with the shifting flesh and it simply flexed in response to his small weight. He growled at the comment and turned to lie on his side. It didn’t take much before he felt the warmth and shifting walls all-encompassing his body. It really reminded him of the nests he had made in the walls before and the plush one in Dream’s end table. It was overwhelmingly comfortable.

Not that he would admit this.

“Fuck off.” Tommy grumbled in response as he crossed his arms over his chest, a soft smile creeping across his face as he nuzzled into the walls. He had a feeling this wouldn’t be the only time they’d do this.

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2-sleepy-for-this · 7 months

Text

Our little brother pt.4

here it is folks! Finally I’m back and writing for my surprisingly popular au :)

Sorry I took so long to post, but the hiatus is done. I’m pretty stressed at the moment though so fics may take longer than usual..

Now without further ado…

tw~ panic, dehumanization (??), unintentional fearplay, having a crisis

word count~ 1.5k

Wilbur was panicking. Sunshine was gone, and he had no clue how it had happened. He could’ve sworn they were in his pocket the whole time, but somehow the little escape artist had gotten lost…

Techno will be suspicious if he isn’t at the apartment in a few minutes… but how can he go without the small creature? Techno will know he screwed up immediately.

Wilbur continued to search the halls, but with the few people still lingering, it was difficult to not draw attention. He didn’t care much, but he had the feeling that he didn’t want anyone else to see Sunshine… he didn’t know why, but it just felt wrong to reveal them to anyone else.

“C’mon, little guy… where are you?”

He whispered, more to himself than anyone else. They couldn’t have gotten so far… with how tiny Sunshine was, it was hard to believe they could have gotten far or… hopefully not out of the building. The outside was frosty with a chill in the air. Wilbur shuddered at the thought of Sunshine being out there, lost again.

… then Dream walked up to him.

Now, Wilbur didn’t dislike Dream but… well, he kinda did. Not for any reason in particular, but Wilbur just didn’t like the more extroverted guy. Wilbur was surprised that Dream had come up to him with such purpose until… the color yellow in the corner of his eye.

It was Sunshine! Right there… in Dream’s hand.

Wilbur gasped slightly as he looked at Sunshine.

“Sunshine! You’re.. you’re alright.”

He said happily and reached out to grab them from Dream. He snatched up his sunshine from the other hold and held them against his chest in a makeshift hug. He didn’t notice the minuscule trembling of the tiny body in his palms.

Wilbur looked at Dream. He wasn’t even thinking in the moment as he glared.

“Dream..”

He greeted the shorter coldly.

Dream had the decency to look slightly sheepish.

“Uh.. hey, Wilbur… sorry about the surprise, but, uh, I found Tommy on his own and heard he was looking for you so…”

Dream tried to explain, but Wilbur stopped listening after that. Tommy? His Sunshine had a name? Had Dream given it to him?

Wilbur looked down at ‘Tommy’ with a confused look. The small thing looked up at him with a wide eyed one.

Wilbur had never noticed the little shine in his tiny blue eyes before… he looked so human.

Dream was still speaking and Wilbur thought he should tune back in to that. He might be saying something important about.. Tommy.

“-and then he said he was looking for a ‘Wilby’ but I knew he was talking about you. I mean, who else would have that yellow of a hoodie on, right?”

“Says the guy in bright green..”

Wilbur shot back, not appreciating the fashion slander before processing what was just said.

“Wait- said? He.. can speak?”

Dream looked surprised for a moment before raising an eyebrow.

“Uh, yeah? You… knew that, right?”

Wilbur looked at Dream before lying.

“Of course I did! I’m not saying- he just-… yeah..”

Dream looked unconvinced at that stuttered answer, but Wilbur didn’t care. Right now, he just needed to get Tommy home and figure out whatever he just heard. He sighed.

“Look, Dream, you can’t tell anyone about this, okay?”

“…I get that.”

“Good… now I’m gonna take.. Tommy.. home, see you later.”

Wilbur walked away without hearing Dream’s reply… he couldn’t help but feel like the little weight in his hands felt a lot more.. real to him than before.

———————————

Tommy was anxious… more than anxious, terrified even.

He was back with his previous human captor, back in the hands that took him from his secretive borrower life…

But now… now he knew. The one thing he had control over, his voice. The human, Wilbur, as Dream has said, knew he could talk now… what would he do? Would Wilbur force him to tell him everything about borrowers? Tell the pink haired human about it?

Wilbur knew his name now…

And what could Tommy do about it? Nothing…

He was out… he had escaped; he was gone away from everyone…

He was caught.. twice now. He was a terrible borrower.

Tommy was deep in his self depreciating thoughts when he felt the prodding of a giant finger he started to get familiar with. He was nervous. He looked up at Wilbur and met his gaze. Wilbur was looking down at him, conflicted, before opening his mouth to speak.

“I… I’m gonna put you in my pocket now… alright, Tommy?”

Wilbur spoke his name… gave him a warning before doing something to him…

He kinda liked it…

Tommy nodded slowly and watched as Wilbur still looked shocked at Tommy actually acknowledging his words.

Then Wilbur gently placed his hand into the joined pockets of his hoodie and shielded Tommy with the yellow fabric of the pocket and the human’s hand. It kept everyone else from seeing even a glimpse of Tommy.

———————————

Wilbur walked back to the apartment in a hurry, trying to get there quickly to not seem suspicious about the amount of time he’d been gone.

He walked through the door and closed it quietly before carefully crossing the living room space, hoping to make it to his room without being seen and lectured. Then there was the deep clearing of a throat and Wilbur winced, turning to face his twin sitting on the couch with his arms crossed, an unimpressed look on his face.

Wilbur immediately put on a smile of mock innocence.

“Hey, tech, didn’t know you’d be home so quickly today…”

Techno sighed. That wasn’t a good sign.

“Wil, where’s the thing?”

Wilbur felt the minuscule boy tense against his pocketed hand. Yet he pulled him out into the open anyway.

Tommy looked up at him and then to techno with a wide-eyed gaze, an expression that was a cry for help, surrounded by the two humans.

“Relax, tech, Tommy’s right here… see, I’m responsible.”

He acted like he hadn’t lost Tommy after only a few hours…

Techno sat up straighter and leaned closer to see Tommy, a raised eyebrow and a slightly confused expression on his face.

“You named it already?”

Wilbur looked down at Tommy at the same time the little guy looked up at him. They shared the same anxious look of ‘shoot’. Wilbur had a feeling he wouldn’t be able to convince techno of his findings about Tommy without taking a bit to process it himself. So he lied. Again.

“Uh.. yeah! Yeah, I named him Tommy.. he looks like a Tommy, right?”

Techno looked at Tommy for a moment with an unreadable look before nodding in agreement.

“I guess so. Looks like one to me.”

Wilbur let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“Great.. now, uh.. I’m gonna go to my room.”

Wilbur started tensely walking away before techno stopped him, standing and walking in front of him.

“Aren’t ya gonna put ‘Tommy’ back?”

“Well.. uh.. actually I was gonna let the little guy keep me company for a while…”

Wilbur subconsciously ran his finger down Tommy’s back, not noticing the way Tommy leaned into the touch hesitantly, too focused on acting not suspicious to his very hard-to-lie-to twin.

Techno shrugged and sat back down.

“Alright, but don’t hog the thing. I wanna see it sometime too.”

Wilbur nodded and continued to his bedroom, closing the door a bit too fast for his calm act and walking to his desk.

He sat in his desk chair, using his one unoccupied hand to shove the sheets of half written music off of his desk. He could clean those up later.

Then he gently set his other hand on the desk, watching intently as Tommy climbed off and took a few scrambling steps away from him nervously.

Tommy looked up at him from the desk in anxiety and confusion.

“Alright… okay, okay, okay… wow..”

Wilbur covered his face with his hands in exasperation with a long sigh before taking a second and looking at Tommy, finally processing everything.

“You… you can.. talk?”

He asked with apprehension.

“Dream said you can talk.. Tommy? You… are you…”

Wilbur didn’t know how to word this the right way…

“You’re sentient?”

——————————

hope you liked this one!

also please tell me if you want to be added to a tag list! (*´∀｀*)

#giant/tiny #g/t community #mcyt g/t #g/t #tiny!tommy #giant!techno #giant!wilbur #our little brother au #<3 #i think this fic is getting good #It’s gettin somewhere

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dingbatnix · 7 months

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Day 6: Competition

I legit thought that today was the seventh t^t

Taglist: @brick-a-doodle-do @i-am-beckyu @da3dm @kayla-crazy-stuffs @local-squishmallow @skullsnbruises @munchkin1156

#anyway this one sucked #voretober #mcyt g/t #mcyt gt #mcyt vore #g/t #bat's art #giant!ranboo #tiny!tommy #tiny!tubbo

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luna-lokisdottir · 7 months

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Meeting Wilbur - Music Giant AU

(This is so bad for my first writing. You might think it's good, but I don't)

-------

"Tallulah!" The young giant heard her papa called out

She gasped and then looked at the human before exclaiming, "Papa!" getting up to greet her father at the cave entrance, Tommy raised an eyebrow.

"Papa?" he parroted.

There were more of them? Oh gods.. if there were that, just made Tommy more nervous. A baby giant was bad enough, but a full-grown one? that was a whole other story.. what were they gonna do to him?

"Papa!" he heard her exclaim in an excited tone, He watched as the other giant gasped excitedly, "Tallulah! mi niña!" he replied with the same excitement his daughter gave him, embracing his daughter in a big hug as he ruffled her hair up, Tallulah giggled as she returned the hug, and then she seemed to have remembered that Tommy was there because she quickly followed up with:

"Papa! I have something to show you!"

The Giant raised his eyebrows curiously, "Oh?" he said Tommy felt the vibrations in the ground as he exited the hug.

"What is it, love?" Tommy watched as a little grin grew on the younger ones face, and then, without any real warning, he was picked up from off of the ground and cupped into her hands he jolted as she walked over to her father to show him.

Wilbur crouched down as his daughter brought the human to him, just to gain a better look. "Ta da!" she raised her hands up to the giant who looked in surprise when he saw the little human in his daughters hands.

Tommy, on the other hand, was naturally terrified, this giant was BIG at least several feet taller than his child and given the look on his face he didn't seem too happy about him being there, Tommy gave a nervous little wave to the giant who looked down at him and then back at his child questioning:

"You brought a human into our home?" in a light yet slightly suspicious tone, Tallulah's face fell as she lowered her hands and brought Tommy closer to herself.

"Well.. no- technically, he brought himself into our home."

"That's even worse!" The Giant exclaimed as he looked back down at the human before adding:

"Tallulah, I've told you how dangerous humans are. They're smarter than they look. They'd kill us if they had the chance." The young giant looked down as her father explained this to her, "I know.. but can I just keep him Papa? please! I'd keep an eye on him if he tries anything, and he really doesn't seem like he has anywhere else to go!" she said.

Wilbur raised an eyebrow at the question, "Keep him?" he laughed lightly, "Lulah he probably has a family to go back to, we shouldn't hold him back he probably has a life too, you know."

"Please, Papa?" Tommy had to stop himself from laughing as the young giant gave her father puppy dog eyes, Wilbur sighed.. how could he say no to that face?

Tommy just kind of vibes as the two giants talked it out while being kept by a giant didn't seem like a good idea, he kind of had no where else to go since Cellbit's guards were still after him.

So, maybe this could work? For the time being, at least stay with the two giants until they finally stopped looking for him; "I-" he cleared his throat, which got the other male's attention he looked down nervously those big brown eyes were intimidating to look at even if they meant no harm.

"I actually wouldn't mind staying here with her, if that's alright." He said. Honestly, he couldn't believe that those words came out of his mouth. Wilbur raised an eyebrow while Tallulah gasped in excitement.

"Are you sure?" the giant replied, "I don't want to take you from your family or friends or whoevers waiting for you back there."

Tommy shook his head.

Although a little suspicious, Wilbur sighed and eventually gave in; "Then I guess.. he can stay." Tallulah smiled widely as she exclaimed in excitement.

"Thank you, Papa!" she smiled as she hugged her father. He laughed as he patted her on the head, "I'll take good care of him, I promise." The girl smiled, Tommy looked up at her as she took him into her side of the cave and thought to himself, 'Oh gods.. what did I get myself into-'

#giant!wilbur #giant!tallulah #tiny!tommy #mcyt g/t #dsmp g/t #qsmp g/t #g!wilbur #g!tallulah #t!tommy #this is so bad #aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa #Music Giant AU #idk what to put in the tags

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munchkin1156 · 7 months

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New au infodump?

Dystopian au go brr

This is going to be a dystopian (:0 shocking) sci-fi world with a borrower Tommy who has a special wristband that lets him sizeshift, a gift from a long lost friend.

The au is mainly sbi centric (because I have a very very hard time writing anything else, though believe me I will try one day), other than Tommy there will be avian hybrid Philza, piglin hybrid Technoblade, and shrunken phantom Wilbur who got shrunken due to technical issues with a device he was tinkering with (and now needs to figure out how to get back to normal size).

The sbi are all first class, first district people, which, though it does make them seem stuck up and posh, they don’t actually know about the crumbling world of the lower districts.

Tommy’s been forced to steal to survive, and while shifted into human form, accidentally loses his way and finds himself in the higher districts, where he runs into Phil.

…you can probably guess that Phil’s hybrid brain goes to ‘child-its-child-why-sad-keep-safe’

Phil offers to take Tommy to his house, wanting to help him as well as pry information out of him to try and find out why he’s so scrawny

Tommy (reluctantly) takes up the offer because free food and a chance to steal something of actual value so he can get a lot of money, two birds with one stone in a way…

Oh and I forgot to mention that the sbi is kinda famous/important…

So they go to the sbi’s house and Tommy meets Techno and Wilbur, who are also enchanted by the blond. When Tommy sees Wilbur, he loses it for a moment, thinking that he’d finally found another one of his kind, until Techno explains the situation and Tommy feels ashamed he let his instincts control him like that and almost force him to shift.

They have dinner and game night, over which they bond with Tommy a lot, and even offer him to stay for the night ‘cause it’s dark out.

Tommy says yes, knowing how dangerous it is to walk the lower districts streets at any given point, especially at night, and they set him up in his new bedroom the guest room.

In the middle of the night Tommy wakes up from a nightmare and accidentally reopens a stab wound that he got a couple night ago (I did say the lower was dangerous after all), therefore his body shifts down to borrower size in order to heal it faster.

He can’t shift back until it’s healed, and now he’s at a upper class house with people that have been nothing but kind to him, though he knows that once they see him for the pest he is they’ll kick him out.

Fuck.

. . .

That’s about what chapter one should be, though I won’t start it for a while, homework is murdering me and I used to be at a really chill school with basically none of it so….

Please please please ask me about this, I would love to answer shit about it :D

Taglist under cut: (it’s not long, tell me if you want to be added :])

@i-am-beckyu, @brick-a-doodle-do

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quotemenevervore · 6 months

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Like a seesaw that only goes down

Hey @i-am-beckyu guess what I finished?

Part one at least, I have another part already a good chunk in the works and hopefully won’t take as long as this part did to come out ; - ;

(Tw for fear and panic, thoughts of dangerous scenarios)

Tommy hated camping. It was a simple fact. He didn’t like being outside, with all the bugs and he didn’t like all the physical labor that went into camping to begin with. He did, however, like Tubbo. So when his friend asked him to come with him on a camping trip, he couldn’t find it in him to say no.

He doesn’t see Tubbo too often anymore, thanks to the constant transferring of foster homes. Thankfully, the current home he was in didn’t really care about his whereabouts, which left him able to pack a bag and meet his friend at the park.

“Hey!” Tubbo happily greeted, a large backpack resting heavily on the brunette’s shoulders. “Geez, you bring enough stuff?” Tommy eyed the bag for a moment. “Yea! Got the tents, the sleeping bags, the cooking equipment,” rolling his eyes at the list, he looked around the park, trying to locate the other’s parents.

“Hey, Tubbo?” “Yeah?” He abruptly cut off his rambling. “Where’re your parents?” “Oh! They said I’m old enough to go without supervision. So it’s just us this time!” Nodding, he quickly turned off the train of thoughts that followed that both envied and worried for his friend. Old memories flickered through his mind of being on his own without being old enough to care for himself. Plus, as much as he hated to admit it, he really liked being with Tubbo’s family. It was endearing to watch them interact together, and a reminder to himself that maybe one day he’d fit into a family as close knit and kind as Tubbo’s. “Right, so same spot as usual?” “You know it! Let’s get going.”

~ ~ ~

Tommy groaned, flopping down on the hard floor of the tent. Tubbo simply laughed at him, sitting beside the blonde. “That was too much running.” “It was just uphill, Toms.” “Uphill! That’s the most difficult thing to run!” “You’ve got to get out more, boss man. I swear, one day you’re gonna need to run from a threat and it’s not gonna work out for you.” “Like it’ll ever come to that.” Tommy scoffed, turning his head away. Tubbo hummed softly, thinking of a new conversation topic.

“Y’know, I’m amazed that logs held up so long. I think that log’s been the bridge since dad started taking me here.” “You trying to jinx us or something? Don’t talk about how old the log is! What if it crumbles while we’re walking on it?” “Well, if you had good endurance it wouldn’t be an issue.” “Oh for the love of-“ he swung a hand over, attempting to hit the brunette, only for his hand to get caught and pushed back towards him. “Let’s make some food, then get some sleep. Since you’re just so exhausted.” Tubbo teased once more before slipping out of the tent, leaving Tommy scrambling to sit up and follow him, scowling at the jab.

~ ~ ~

After a short meal of canned soup and s’mores, the boys responsibly put the fire out and crawled back into the tent as the sun went down, intending on getting some sleep before having fun the next day. Or.. that was the original plan. Tubbo was sound asleep. Tommy wished he was, but his mind was as wide as his eyes, staring at the top of the tent. He was aching for something to shut his mind off, and eventually, his body found itself outside. Just a quick walk on the trail across, surely that’ll turn his brain off, right?

Of course, nothing ever went how it should have for him. Just as he made it halfway across the log, there was a loud crack that made him flinch harshly. What made him flinch harder was the sudden lurch the log gave after, and with his limited vision he was just barely able to see on the other side what had happened. The log came loose, and had begun to sink into the soft mud of the shores.

Fuck, fuck fuck!

He twisted around, finding that the log on that side had also begun to sink, leaving him slightly off balance and barely able to keep his footing on the sinking wood. There was shifting to the direction he had tried to go, and at first he didn’t pay any mind to it. But it grew deafeningly loud, and rattled the log, making it sink ever so faster. So he twisted his body to see the interruption.

And boy did he regret it.

Large- no, giant brown eyes peered at him from above the tree line. Equally brown curls covered the giant’s head, but that was all he could gather before his lungs stuttered and he was forcibly reminded to breathe. What. The. Fuck!?

Since when were giants real!?

He knew his eyes were wide and likely full of fear and disbelief, but it wasn’t just the giant that kept his veins running ice. The log sank into the soft sand once again, and he glared at the large eyes looming before him, struggling to keep his feeting on the wet log. Were he in a better state of mind, he may have noticed the concern in the eyes, but for the moment he focused on trying to lower down so he wasn’t off balance.

The log shifted again, and he fell hard with a yelp, scratching his arms up on the bark as he tried to sit back up. By the time he looked up, the log was moving again, sinking faster through the mud. His face paled when he realized the danger he was in. The river was running rampant, there would be no surviving if he got caught in the current. He was stuck in the middle of the log, and if he tried to run to either side, he’d probably fall anyway.

Then there was the giant. “Let me help you,” a voice boomed, though extremely softly. He’d come further out the tree line, and Tommy could barely see the yellow sweater the giant had. More importantly, he saw his hands twitching near the shoreline. Ice gripped his heart at the idea. It could eat him, crush him, rip him limb by limb-

The log sunk further, hitting a rock and jolting the entire fallen tree. Tommy yelped, almost slipping off the log and trying desperately to keep his tremors from messing up his grip. His mind raced with his two options. He could let the giant grab him, and do whatever may happen to him, or sink in the river.

He.. didn’t want to drown. It seemed longer than whatever the giant would do to him.. he couldn’t let himself think on it. He just had to do it.

“Help me!” He yelled back, and within the next second he was yanked away from the log with a force that disoriented him. It was suffocatingly warm, and he struggled briefly to be reexposed to the cool night air. After being raised up a few more seconds, something that made Tommy’s stomach drop, he was granted that wish. Unfortunately, his new sight made his stomach drop worse and his heart to hammer painfully against his ribs. He was closer to the giant’s face than before, cradled gently in his open palm. One hand was hovering slightly behind him, ready to grab him at a moment’s notice.

‘Probably doesn’t wanna lose his snack,’ he thought bitterly. “Are you alright?” The voice was soft again despite rattling through his bones, and Tommy was reminded once more of the immense danger he was in. “I’m fine. Thanks for the save, can I be let down now though?” His tongue felt slightly numb, and internally he cursed how stuttered and wrong his words came out. “Oh! Yea, I forgot humans don’t really like being held. Here,” the giant slowly lowered his hand to the ground, giving Tommy the ability to jump off.

Finally, he felt the ability to breathe return to him, and he took a moment to recollect the air he’d lost from the scare. “Are you alright? You’re not hurt, are you?” Again, the giant asked. “Uh, no. I’m good, big man.” “That’s a relief. I thought the log would last a lot longer than it did.” The giant frowned, and Tommy was quick to take a step back.

“Yea..” his attention was back on Tommy in no time, though. “I’m Wilbur, by the way.” Should he really tell the giant his name? He didn’t give it much thought, sure either scenario that would play out would result in him not caring much about the giant knowing. “Tommy.” “It’s nice to meet you, though I’d much rather it be in better circumstances. Speaking of..” There was concern in his eyes again. “Why are you out so late at night? Even the campers stay in their tents.” “Yea, I uh.. couldn’t sleep. Wanted to take a walk to clear my head. You saw how well that went.” He grimaced, looking towards the river.

“Is your tent on the other side? I can carry you over there.” “You’re gonna get in the river?” “I’m going to have to anyway, I have to fix the log. It’s no trouble, really.” The giant was quick to reassure, and honestly it should have made the blonde more wary, but it didn’t. A hand was offered for him to climb on- hah, climb on. Maybe he was just dreaming this all up- and with the sudden crash from adrenaline at that thought, he took it.

“You’re not camping by yourself, are you? You’re awfully young, where are your parents?” He frowned at the question, averting his eyes away from the giant. “I ain’t that young, I’m a big man. we’re old enough that they said we could come camping by ourselves. My friend’s over there.” Should he have really told this giant he had a friend nearby!? “Oh.” The man didn’t falter, but there was a strange emotion behind his actions. “That’s fine..” he nodded, seemingly to himself. “Getting ready to move, steady yourself.”

Tommy took a breath, pressing his hand against the palm under him in an attempt to keep himself in place as the hand slowly began to rise under him. It stayed as steady as the giant could manage, even as they began to rise and step through the foliage.

He looked up, catching the wrinkle of distaste on the giant's face. His stomach flipped, but before he could question it, they moved again, this time a huge step which he realized was them crossing the river.

“Not a fan of getting my clothes wet. It’s all I have to sleep in.” Wilbur sheepishly explained, carefully lowering himself down to the ground. “The campground should be close by.” His voice softened greatly as he was slowly lowered from the giant’s chest towards the forest floor. Sure enough, as his feet hit the ground, he could see their tent, the smoke from the fire having finally snuffed out.

He nodded to himself, lowering himself the rest of the way out of the giant’s hand, and tried not to flinch as the hand retreated. “Well, hopefully your night goes a little better.” “Yea, uh, back at you.” Tommy nodded to the brunette, who smiled and began retreating across the river again. But he was still unable to shake the feeling of being watched, and quickly made his way to the tent, hoping the next crash of adrenaline would knock him out.

As his brain finally let him drift off, he could hear the world moving around him, but.. it seemed unnatural. As if things were bigger than they should have been. He chose to leave it alone.

~ ~ ~

The last thing Wilbur wanted to hear was the loud cracking sound of the log pulling away from its anchor in the shore, and a small yelp. Curled up in the cave he normally hid in, he snapped to attention quickly, pulling himself out and quickly rising to his full height. It didn’t take him long to race to the pathway, worried about the safety of whoever had made that yelp.

He was a giant. Well, a giant shifter. He was already mentally preparing how to help this human as he finally came into view of them, but his mind completely halted when he took in the boys features. Not fully obvious from his standpoint, but enough; dirty, tangled hair and super baggy clothes. Most of the humans that came through here wore.. better clothes, at least better shoes than the raggedy sneakers the kid seemed to have on. Catching his eyes, he couldn’t see anything but fear, riling his instincts up secretly. But.. no. He couldn’t. He couldn’t destroy this kid’s trust, he needed to help him. It took longer than he hoped as the log continued sinking, and he was afraid he would have to grab the teen against his will, but he was given the okay and Wilbur was fast to pull him out of the risky situation.

Holding him in his hand, close to his face, he couldn’t deny it. This boy wasn’t being cared for. Multiple scars littered what he could see of his arms and legs, most looking like running into trouble be it nature or people. His clothes were a lot baggier than Wilbur would have liked, especially from first glance. The boy’s eyes, while still bright, had an achingly familiar dullness to them.

Phil needs to know about this.

He kept his introduction short, and helped ‘Tommy’ back to the side of the river he was meant to be on, with a ‘friend’. After that was done, and he no longer saw or heard the boy walking away, he tried to focus on his next task. The log was gone, so they would definitely need a new way to traverse the river. Thankfully, he knew just the tree to use.

An already dead one, the roots long and curled around anything it could. Wilbur took care this time to wrap the roots around the roots of the closest tree to shore, packing it down with clay and mud to hopefully make it stick this time. He’d have to leave the other side to the humans, if he went over there now he’d wake the poor boy he just sent to bed. Nodding to himself after finishing what he could, he made his way back to the cave he was residing in.

Curling back up in the cave, he found that those dulled sapphire eyes did not leave his mind. He sighed, knowing he was in for a long night.

Not only that, but Phil would be in for a long morning, when he could finally shrink back down to human size.

#mcyt g/t #mcyt gt #fake fic title #seesaw au #my goodness life is kicking my ASS #I’m trying to bounce back guys lol #tiny!tommy #shapeshifter!wilbur

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cyncerity · 29 days

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for prompts what about some clingy duo being extra clingy? I don’t got many ideas either tbh T^T

clingy duo 🗣️🗣️

i love them fr and had such a vivid image of them just chillin in someone’s gut as soon as i got this ask. I don’t have many aus where they’re both tiny but then i remembered that Tommy in the Store Shifter au is a shifter, so now they can get nommed together <3

been a while since i posted vore art (i’ve drawn like one other vore thing in the past half a year but that’s for a story i haven’t posted yet but is like 80% done 👀)

anyway i didn’t decide who exactly swallowed them but i’d say probably either Ranboo cause they got tired at work and made him or Dream needed instinct help, but you can imagine whoever <3

#cyncerity #store shifter au #mcyt g/t #mcyt gt #tw vore #soft vore #safe vore #tiny!tommy #shifter!tommy #tiny!tubbo #vore art #cyn art #g/t vore #dsmp vore #mcyt vore #i actually fucking suck at drawing spit lmao

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sheena-yuet · 1 year

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Bunch of random sketches ✨✨

Idk somehow I’m really into giant show their affection by licking their tiny. It just cute so me :3

Or using their finger to lift the tiny’s head uwu

#giant/tiny #mcyt gt #g/t #mcyt g/t #giant!dream #giant and tiny #giant tiny #tiny!george #dsmp g/t #g/t art #gt #g/t community #g/t drawing #g!dream #g!wilbur #giant!wilbur #tiny!tommy #t!tommy

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i-am-beckyu · 3 months

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And the phone keeps ringing and ringing and ringing....

FIRST FIC OF THE NEW YEAR LETS GO!!!!!! Okay so firstly, this fic has gone full circle. It started as a fake fic title from me to @guppybubbles which she made a prompt for which I liked and the spawned a story so crazy how that works. Link to that post here. But yeah anyways this is that prompt in story form lol. Was a lot of fun to write so enjoy!

cw: Fear, fear of death, minor graphic gore descriptions but nothing fatal, panic, rats, ghosts, Uhhhh I think that's it. Just fluffy stuff lets be real <3 wc: 2923

---------------------------------- ▶• ılıılıılıılıılıılı. +1 ----------------------------------

It started a few months ago.

Wilbur had moved into his new apartment, finally free of the constant pestering and confinement of living under his parents roof. Things had been great at first, well they had until his stuff had started going missing.

At first, he assumed it was rats or mice that had gotten into the apartment and had been causing a raucous, but he’d been assured by his Landlord that they made sure to do thorough checks and the last pest control visit had been not even a month ago before he moved in.

Fast forward to now after what had been a month long period of the man thinking his new home was haunted as things fell off shelves or strange noises made themselves apparent in the middle of the night, Wilbur was talking to said Ghost that had made his initial move a living terror.

Well looking back, maybe not a living terror but more of a mild inconvenience.

Tommy- or so the ghost called himself, had been calling him from his friend Jack’s phone at least once or twice a day since the phone was misplaced, and got a call from said ghost proudly stating: “I can see youuu.”

At first, Wilbur was convinced it was just some kid that had stolen Jack’s phone (which technically it was), but after he tried to locate the phone and found the signal was in fact coming from his apartment and yet nowhere to be found, Wilbur relented and gave into the boy’s story. They certainly were adamant about not giving it back or ever showing themselves to get it.

But even if they did steal a phone just to play pranks, Wilbur couldn’t find it in himself to be mad at the boy (We pretend Jack’s feelings about a child stealing his phone are irrelevant). They seemed lonely and after a while, his fear of the ghost haunting his house evaporated and he found himself enjoying talking to Tommy. Tommy seemed to think the same as any chance he could, he seemed to be ringing and wanting to chat.

Like right now as his own phone started vibrating with the classic Xylophone trill, the display showing incoming call from ‘Ghost Gremlin’ on the illuminated screen.

He wondered how the phone hadn’t run out of credit yet. Ghost powers he assumed.

“Hey Gremlin. What’s new in the world from beyond today?”

“Oi! I’m not a Gremlin! I’m a Big Man Ghost! Get it right Wilbitch.”

“Oh my apologies. How’s the world from beyond Ghost gremlin?” The man chuckled as he tapped on speaker modes to continue with copying his music work down hands free.

Wilbur heard a soft groan through the speakers and could imagine the boy probably rolling his eyes.

“It’s fine I guess. Same boring dead plane. Dark and dreary but oh so boring. That’s why I’ve rung my favourite Human Bean.” Tommy responded gleefully.

That was something strange about Tommy. He always called Wilbur a Human Bean no matter how many times he tried to correct his pronunciation of Human Being. Wilbur persummed his ghost was probably something like age 10-12 since he didn’t really seem to know about a lot of things with the number of times he’d explain something despite knowing what a TV was.

“Yeah I guess being dead would get boring if you lived in a place like that.”

“Yep.” Tommy said, popping the p. “So what are you writing down? I see you’ve got your guitar out.”

Wilbur smiled as he wrote down a few more lines in cursive. “I’m just writing out the final version of that new song I’ve been working on. I can play it for you when I’m done later.” “But Wiiiil! I want to hear it now!!!!” The boy drawled in a whiny tone.

Wilbur practically could hear the pouting face Tommy was making through the phone line.

“You know I don’t get to hear music often. Can’t you just play that funny song about Jared now? You’ve already finished that one AND it’s one of my favourites.”

“Tommy, I literally played Your New Boyfriend for you when you called yesterday. I think you can wait a little bit.”

Tommy huffed in response, the ghost relenting a little mumbling an annoyed fine before the two settled into a comfortable silence. For a being that was quite literally intangible, Tommy sure had a way of making his voice sound very real.

This was how a majority of their calls would go. Simple small talk about whatever the two were doing in the moment or had to do until Tommy ended up going on a rant about something random and Wilbur was happy to listen. It’s how he ended up learning about Tommy’s strange love for mud and he himself sharing his love for eating sand. He’s never heard anyone sound more offended about eating sand for a snack.

What? It’s good he swears!

But some of Tommy’s rant topics were strange. Like what need does a ghost have with needing fishing hooks or dental floss? He assumed that the boy must have had some unusual fascination with tiny things before he died because he seemed to be very particular about how things needed to be if he were suddenly shrunk.

Like today how the Ghosts rant topic was about Rats and what right royal pricks they were.

“Like you don’t understand Wilbur, Rats are the absolute worst! They just come marching into your space and then decide to go through all your food stores and eat it- which they’re never satisfied with by the way, before trying to take a bite of you!” Tommy explained.

“Yes they are quite wretched little creatures. I wouldn’t like it if one bit my hand either.” Wilbur agreed as he finished writing another verse.

“If I could, I’d stab them before they ever even got close. I’d take my sword and plunge it into their hearts, all heroic and stuff.”

“Couldn’t you just use your ghost powers and I don’t know, fling them away?”

How would a rat even bite a ghost? Ghost’s don’t exactly have tangible bodies, Wilbur thought.

“Stabbing them sounds like a lot more work when you can’t actually touch them.”

“Well if you want to be a boring ghost you can. But what other ghosts do you know can stab their enemies?” “Well you-”

“NONE! EXACTLY!” Tommy shouted triumphantly. “I’m one of a kind Wilbur and the Poggest Ghost to ever live!”

“Sure Tommy. Sure.”

The ghost feigned offense with a long gasp. “You dare doubt me, the great and powerful TommyInnit? I could destroy you if I wanted to, you know.”

“Yeah but you won’t.” Wilbur shot back. “You’re just a sad child that has no one better to talk to and would miss me if you destroyed your only friend.”

“I would not because A. I have lots of friends and B. I’m not a child.” The boy snapped.

“How does that even make sense?” Wilbur queried as he finished off the last few lines in cursive.

“It doesn’t have to make sense purely because I’m better than you.”

“Sure little man.”

The boy huffed through the phone line. “I’m not little.”

“Little Baby Man.” the brunette teased.

“Stop it.”

“Little Baby Man Child.”

“AM NOT A LITTLE BABY MAN! I’M A BIG MAN! BIGGER THAN YOU, THE WORLD OR EVEN THE UNI-”

“But you accept that you’re a child.” Wilbur smirked as he moved the papers to pick up his guitar. Tommy groaned.

Yeah, Wilbur didn’t mind this at all.

__________________________ ▶• ılıılıılıılıılıılı. +1

__________________________

Wilbur played his guitar for a few more hours before Tommy eventually said his goodbyes to do ‘ghostly things’ as per usual for the night, leaving Wilbur the rest of the evening to settle down for bed. He’d been asleep probably an hour or so before being woken to the sound of his ringtone.

Groggily, Wilbur reached for his phone on the nightstand, half asleep as it rang. Instead of grabbing it though, he accidentally knocked it to the ground earning a groan from the man as he lazily searched the ground for it. Just as he grabbed the phone, the call rang out leaving one new voice mail message in his notifications.

Blearily ignoring who the message was from, he opened his phone and tapped on the voicemail raising it up to listen.

‘You have one-new-voicemail BEEP!’

“Wil, WILBUR!”

Hang on. That sort of sounds like Tommy.

“PICK UP YOUR PHONE! PLEASE WIL! I NEED HELP!”

Wilbur bolted upright now fully wide awake. Tommy was in trouble. He needed help. Where was he? How could he help a ghost?

Before his mind could divulge into further panic, his phone rang again and Wilbur didn’t hesitate to answer.

“Tommy? Tommy, where are you? Are you okay? I-”

“WILBUR HELP ME PLEASE! IT’S HERE! IT’S GOING TO GET ME AND I’M CORNERED! I’M GONNA DIE I PLE-” The cries of the boy sending the brunette into panic mode.

“WOAH WOAH woah Tommy I need you to calm down for me.” Wilbur tried, listening to the labored breaths of the ghost on the other line. “I need you to tell me where you are so I can come help, can you do that.”

“I- I’m.. Uh. I CAN’T TELL YOU! YOU’LL HATE ME!” The boy yelled between hiccupped breaths as they began to cry, loud thumping and hisses filling the background noise.

“Tommy, all I care about is finding you to help, I’m not going to hate you.”

“But you will! Everyone hates me when they find out!”

Tommy had never sounded so terrified before. Wilbur never truly believed anything could hurt the ghost before, but whatever had them so panicked must be serious and the increase in thrashing noises was not easing his nerves.

“Toms, I could never hate you. I want to help you, but I can’t do that unless you tell me where you are.”

“I- Promise?” Desperation clear in the boy's voice.

“I promise.”

There was a brief pause from the boy before they shakily instructed him into the Hallway.

“Okay, open the closest and I’m in there.”

A loud screech came through the phone's speakers followed by a cry in pain before Tommy was screaming for help through the speakers.

“WILBUR HURRY! I CAN’T HOLD THEM OFF FOR MUCH LONG—.”

“Tommy? TOMMY?!”

The line was dead.

Wilbur had never run faster in his life. His mind spiraled with horrid thoughts at what that sound was and why Tommy would be in his closet, but despite the ridiculousness of it, his focus was on helping his friend.

As he approached the closet, the sound of muffled hissing and shrieking filled his senses and Wilbur was quick to fling open the closet.

Nothing.

Wilbur stood confused but the noises didn’t cease, only growing louder now the door was open. He followed the sound down to the floor, realising that whatever it was, was beneath the floorboards.

Wilbur was quick to act and ran to grab something from the kitchen to pry the boards up, the sounds growing worse with every passing second. As soon as he had what he needed, Wilbur started heaving each nail out from the floor, prying the board up to reveal what was beneath. With one final pull, the board came loose, and the man yanked the board back revealing an unseemly sight.

A huge rat was scratching and gnawing at what appeared to be a tiny wardrobe. It hadn’t seemed to notice Wilbur yet, hell bent at getting whatever was inside the little cupboard. It was when the rat tried head butting the cupboard did a terrified scream hit his ears.

The brunette grabbed the rat in an instant, gripping the thing tightly as it writhed and screeched in his grasp. Quickly he stood and moved to take it outside where he threw it; standing there, panting heavily watching as it landed with a thump before whimpering away.

What just happened?

He barely had any time to dwell on it further before tiny little thumps could be heard coming from back down the hall.

Tommy

“Tommy!” Wilbur rushed back inside and crouched down on his knees as he observed what laid before him. “Tommy are you alright?”

Despite it being wrecked, it appeared to be a miniature room. Small fairy lights lined the walls and small trinkets made up what could be a wrecked table and chair, sprawled all over the place from the intrusion of the rat. But what really shocked Wilbur, was seeing Jack’s old phone slightly banged up beneath part of a broken floor board in the corner.

Gingerly, Wilbur reached out and lifted it from the debris, to inspect if it was actually real or his imagination. It indeed was the very same phone Jack lost and somehow was even plugged into a charging port.

What is all this?

“Tommy are you?” Wilbur asked, confusion lacing his voice. Why was Jack’s phone in a tiny room? Where was his friend?

Suddenly, the wardrobe the rat had been so interested in moved. Wilbur set the phone down as the small piece of furniture jerked again, making it wobble ever so slightly in place.

With bated breath, Wilbur carefully reached forward, gently picking up the tiny wardrobe between his thumb and pointer finger bringing it into his palm.

It was banged up badly from how the rat had been trying to tear into it, but intact. What was it about this that had the rat so enthralled?

Trying the best he could, Wilbur grabbed the tiny little door knob and pried the door open.

Wilbur froze, dumb founded at what was hidden inside.

Staring at him with blue eyes blown wide in terror, was a tiny little blonde boy, pushed far back into the wardrobe as humanly possible, gripping the sides with all their might. Their breathing was labored and they looked worse for wear, tears through their little jacket and angry red scratches littering their arms, some even appearing to be smeared with blood.

“What on earth?” Wilbur’s brow crinkled in confusion.

He was holding a tiny person in a wardrobe.

A tiny person that had almost been killed by a rat.

The tiny boy’s eyes darted all over the place, seemingly trying to figure out how to escape the mess they were in, as Wilbur tried to process that he was holding an entire person within his palms. How was this even possible?

“I- ” The tiny person begged, Wilbur’s full attention locked onto them as tears continued to stream down their face. “Please don’t hurt me Wilby!”

Tommy?!

No. No Tommy was- Tommy is a Ghost that made random phone calls. Tommy that loved his music and mud that was very much a ghost and not a tiny little person.

“Tommy?” Wilbur brought his free hand to cover his mouth. “What. How?”

“Please don’t hate me! I’ll leave! You’ll never see me again, just don’t hurt me!” The little boy pleaded, curling into themselves in an attempt to hide themself. “I never meant for this to happen. You weren’t supposed to know and now you’ll-”

“Tommy, Toms calm down. I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Yeah right! That’s when you thought I was a ghost! Now you know the truth and I can’t do anything about it.” the boy sobbed.

Wilbur hated how small Tommy looked. He was always so bright and full of life when they spoke on the phone, but now it was like holding a fragile flower. So small, so delicate, so precious and in need of protection. He just wanted to reach out and hold them close.

“Tommy, look at me please.” Wilbur pleaded, waiting patiently for the boy to look at him before he continued.

“Tommy, I would never hurt you. Yes you pretended to be a ghost and took Jack’s phone, but that doesn’t change how I feel about you.” Tommy lifted his head and swiped his arm across his nose of snot and tears as Wilbur continued.

“You’re one of my best friends Tommy. I don’t talk to anyone nearly as much as I do with you and I care about you, whether you’re a ghost or not.” Wilbur brought Tommy a bit closer to himself, lifting the tiny boy up to be eye level.

“Besides, I made a promise to not hate you, remember? I intend to keep it.”

Tommy's lip began to wobble, before the boy burst into tears, unable to hold himself back any longer.

“I’m sorry Wilby!” The boy cried as they crawled out of the wardrobe onto the man's hand. “ I wanted to tell you but I was scared.”

“Shh it’s alright.” Wilbur assured, setting the wardrobe down before bringing Tommy close to his chest protectively. “I’ve got you and it’s all going to be okay.”

While this whole ordeal was crazy and strange, in this moment it didn’t matter.

They’d have to talk about why the boy was living in the man’s floors and why he pretended to be a ghost in the first place (not to mention how and why Tommy was like 3 inches tall) but that could all wait for later.

Wilbur loved Tommy more than the boy ever understood, and it brought great joy to Wilbur that finally, he was able to meet his pseudo little brother face to face. They’d figure everything out eventually, but for now-

This was enough.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

AND THANK YOU IF YOU READ TO THE END!!

For real this was fun to write and I did it all in one sitting lol. Was good to just smash out a short project that was something new and different. It took me far too long to get around to editing it though lol. Thank you Squishy and Munchkin for Beta reading. You're the best! ❤️❤️❤️

Tag List Link here: @local-squishmallow @brick-a-doodle-do @justarandomsloth @veryfunkycheesecake @munchkin1156 @kayla-crazy-stuffs @da3dm @eiscreme135 @orchid-harmony @the-tiny-lurker @colossal-red @nobodywritingao3 @nata2343 @bad-author777 @crazyfoxgirl10 @guppybubbles

OH AND I ALMOST FORGOT, LOOK AT THE ART SQUISHY MADE FOR THIS AFTER THEY FINISHED READING!!!

I MEAN LOOK AT THIS! IT'S THE WARDROBE SCENE! When I tell you I squealed in delight when I saw this I mean it. I walked into work grinning because it's all I could think about lol. Thanks again beautiful! Truly gifted you are <3

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guppybubbles · 2 months

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Sweet Dreams are Made of This. [1/3]

(A/N: Kind of a sequel to my other fic, ROLL ME A 6 ! :> You don't need to read that though to understand this!)

Borrower Tommy accidentally shifts into a universe where his homebrew DND world is real. He still sucks at being a giant.

WORD COUNT: 1,341 words

WARNINGS: None.

"Tommy opened his eyes and what he saw was unlike anything he's seen before…"

Tommy listened in anticipation. What could it be? A new friend, a new foe? He looked at his dad, a smug little smile barely hidden by his serious storytelling.

"And we'll find that out in the next session."

Halfway through his sentence, he and his brothers already knew it was the end of their game for the day. All groaning and complaining about Phil leaving it in such a dumb cliffhanger, Phil only laughed.

It couldn't have been hours already, had it? They barely started! He still had to redeem himself and his character into great glory! "No, come on, let's do one more hour— please, please?" He begged, holding onto one of Phil's fingers like he had all the power to hold him down and force him into another round.

With his other hand, Phil picked up the die and tossed it into the container— folding up the map before putting it back in the box. Tommy knew it was over, they'd start another session again sooner or later.

But he wanted to do another hour, or maybe two more, now. "Pleasee, I rolled so low every turn, I need to redeem myself!"

"I wish we could continue, mate." Phil smiled, "But I got work tomorrow and it's already…" He stared at the clock, making a surprised sound at the 11:48 PM on the wall. Phil cursed under his breath, gently, slowly pulling his hand away from Tommy’s hold. "Alright, get to bed you three."

The blond borrower knew there was no convincing Dad anymore. He crossed his arms with a humph, upset with his bad luck during the game. "Cheer up, Toms! I'm sure luck will make you do justice next time." Wilbur consoled, pushing his chair into the table and picking up the box with their fantasy map and die.

“You are horrible at throwing the die for me,” Tommy grumbled, narrowing his eyes at his older brother who had offered to throw the dice for him earlier. Wilbur’s luck when it came to the game was pretty good, yet whenever he tossed the die for Tommy, the luck seemed to plummet- doing worse than when the borrower himself threw the die.

In the corner of his eyes, he could see Wilbur’s lips press into a thin line. He was stopping himself from being amused at Tommy’s anger. “It really wasn’t on purpose.”

“Yeah, I know,” Tommy replied. Not upset at Wilbur, nor was he upset at the game. He swears he would be able to throw the dice better if he was just… more human-sized.

“You’ll do better next game, I’ll make sure of it,” Wilbur promises.

Tommy looks at him incredulously, slightly laughing. “What, are we gonna cheat or something?”

In response, Wilbur shrugged, a playful smile tugging at his lips. “Dunno, maybe.”

Holding the game board, he placed his other hand on the desk. A trust exercise that slowly grew into a habit none of them thought was strange anymore, Tommy hopped on the hand and held onto the fingers for support. He used to have to walk from place to place, no matter how far it was because the big man was too stubborn to accept and ask for help. In response, they all worked together to install little stairs everywhere so Tommy would at least be able to reach things without having to heave himself up with a rope and a hook. He almost cried in front of them because of how much he appreciated the gesture.

That night, Tommy lay in his bed, uncharacteristically quiet as he stared at the ceiling. His room looked so much like a human's room- constructed by his family after nearly a year of accidentally revealing himself to them. It wasn’t exactly like him to be upset for the dice throws during the game, it really wasn’t Wilbur’s fault. On a good day, he throws exceptionally well for Tommy’s character too.

But Tommy isn’t upset about the dice, is he?

It was never the dice, never Wilbur, never his family, but him.

If he was truly meant to be their family, then couldn’t the universe make him human? Did he seriously have to be something that was never allowed to mingle with larger beings? It was a written code since the beginning of time that borrowers were never allowed to be with humans. Never share anything, what you are, what your name was. Most importantly, never be seen.

Were they never supposed to be a family then? Did he have to break the borrower’s code just to be a part of something he’s not supposed to? He’s not a borrower anymore, he knows that. He barely even follows the code anymore, but he’s not human either. Too exposed to be a borrower, too small to be a human.

Then what was he?

Tommy released a loud, exasperated sigh. His calloused hands rubbed over his face. He knows he shouldn’t think about such things, but lately, he’s been more aware than ever. He notices how Techno looms over him when they do woodwork together, Wilbur’s singing voice goes from soothing to too loud, and Phil barely gives him any chores (Maybe he shouldn’t complain about that one, actually).

They don’t mean it, of course, they didn’t. They probably don’t even notice it as well. Something so small and insignificant to them could be so overwhelming for him. He just wants to be bigger, to fit in…

He should go to sleep. He'll forget about it tomorrow and everything will continue on like it usually does (until the nagging feeling returns and he feels like he's rotting in bed).

Goodnight, me. Tommy closed his eyes, unable to rid of the heavy weight in his chest.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

If Tommy could recall this correctly— and while he may not have the best memory, he can certainly tell when something is just plain wrong… He fell asleep on his bed, right?

His eyes blurred as he gained consciousness and though he wasn't aware of where he was— he could sense danger even from a mile away. His shoulders ached, raised high above him. Something was holding his arms upwards. Cold, tight metal gripping his wrists, uncomfortably pressing into his skin. He tried tugging it downwards, but it barely moved.

Instead of lying on a soft, warm bed, it felt like he'd been kneeling for Prime knows how long. His legs felt numb, ringing uncomfortably no matter how much he tried to move. It didn't matter because he was stuck in place.

It was hot. Sweat was dripping from his forehead to his nose and down to either his clothes or the floor (he made a mental note that he wasn’t wearing his pajamas).

He sucked in a deep breath, humid air filling his lungs in a way that didn't calm him down, but just made him panic more.

Tommy's vision began clearing up and despite the little ache in his neck, he decided to look around. The room was dimly lit, weak artificial lighting barely reflecting the big, metal room he resided in.

There were mini stairs and platforms built around him. The platforms in front of him connected through the middle and had a door on each side of the wall. Above the platform in the wall in front of him was glass, he couldn't make out anything inside, it was darker than the room he was in.

The metal room he sat in was quite spacey. The ceiling was quite high but he couldn't stand up even if he attempted to— his ankles were chained as well, shorter in length compared to the ones around his wrist. Tommy struggled against the chains, everything looked so.. small yet so oddly detailed.

Where was he? Who were these stairs for? Were there more beings smaller than a borrower? Prime, how would they even look next to a human?

Does his family know where he is right now..?

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

yayaya thank you sm for reading! & holy shit guppy writing fics comeback??? no way!!!

#mcyt g/t #mcyt gt #g/t #giant/tiny #dsmp g/t #mcyt g/t community #dsmp gt #giant!tommy #giant!wilbur #giant!techno #giant!philza #tiny!wilbur #tiny!tommy #tiny!techno #guppy writes!#mcyt gt community #g/t au #g/t writing

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brick-a-doodle-do · 10 months

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i'm so sleepy but i decided to finish this <3 i've had insomnia the past couple of months, and while finally i'm slowly starting to feel a little better i got the idea for this in like may on probably the worst night of it. not very good, just some comfort noms 'cause who doesn't love those? :D

and though it's no improvement

wc: 1988

cw: vore (sfw, nsx), half-willing prey, swearing, mention of depression, mention/description of gore (very brief)

—–—

Nobody could sleep.

Tommy wasn’t talking for Tubbo, or Ranboo, or Dream (Although with the imprisonment of the guy he couldn’t be positive on that one), or anyone else.

He, Tommy, couldn’t sleep, and he wanted to make sure he felt like everyone was sharing his problem.

A consistent two nights of tossing and turning, throwing his blanket off of him when his skin pulsed uncomfortably with the warmth, and pulling it back on when the night grew too windy, and crying into his pillow with a dry-wet throat over the fact that his eyes felt so heavy but he couldn’t drift off. He counted the animals that passed by his window, stared at his ceiling, like maybe he’d wake up in a tent with a tedious headspace and a hyper ghost there to talk to him about his latest story with a particular blue sheep. But everything in his fantasy is gone.

Logstedshire has been blown up, his tent has been abandoned, and Ghostbur has been sent back to Limbo. Everything good in his life always leaves him. It was only a matter of time before the days he called useless and the time he called torturesome were brought to and end, and it hurt him to think the last ounce of happiness from his was when he was with Technoblade, the traitor he thought to be a friend, or when he was running around with a Mexican and female edition of his mentor-slash-torturer that he was half convinced were hallucinations. Those were gone, Technoblade was thousands of blocks away, Ran-bitch is taking over his Tubbo, and even with Dream in prison, Tommy’s life was awful, and flavourless.

It’s been lately that he realised it’s because of him; had he not kept his secret stash, had he not pulled out his axe so eagerly, or had he kept a better eye on his only remaining remnant of Ghostbur, he’d still be clinging onto his happiness.

Not like exile was a particularly reminiscent-worthy time.

Or, rather, was it? It had been the only time that he’d ever gotten the chance to feel productive, like he was doing something. He’d claimed he’d been lonely but he was surrounded by people—although in the moment he’d been shadowed by anger of being pitied that perhaps it felt lonely. He had been free, and had gotten a taste of letting himself choose, and had let himself bask in the piss-poor feeling of not being the crowd favourite any longer. For some reason, that felt pure now, a feeling that he had never experienced before that made him delusional, yet delusionally thrilled.. Dream wasn’t there to dictate him, he was just there to reset him, which got the cogs moving in Tommy’s brain if he was thinking about it, because how else was he to convince himself a secret stash was a good idea if not because someone kept resetting his progress?

Tommy tosses again, half of his blanket crumpled at his bed. He tosses onto his back and the blanket slides off. He sighs, then grumbles. The night is unusually cold, but it’s also unusually warm. It’s not right though. His head feels like it’s splitting. A million thoughts race through his train of thought, never condoning his slumber—no matter his pathetic desire for it.

Before he lets the lights behind his eyes grow any longer as his body goes numb but his thoughts keep busy, he opens his eyes and sits up. His hands grab anxiously over the side of his bed, grabbing the clay cup floating in an iron bucket of water. He drags it in the water and takes an eager sip of it, the room-temperature water sliding down his throat. As he swallows, it stings, but it feels better.

Carelessly, Tommy tosses the cup back into the bucket and shifts out of bed, shoving his blanket back onto his bed before walking around to the front door. He can barely call it that anymore, but he needs one for it to be home. Otherwise he wouldn’t be beating the raccoon allegations.

He pulls the crooked and whiny thing open and steps out. The night air is like a slap to his face, but it felt nice.

Tommy steps out and shuts the door behind him, then faces the quiet world. To his right, the bench is left untouched with the newest version of the jukebox set slightly off. He considered listening to one of them, but it didn’t feel right. There was no occasion for it, no conclusion to celebrate. Because Tommy liked happy endings, and Wilbur didn’t feel like one.

“Still can’t sleep, huh?” Tommy jumps, his skin crawling at the sound of the loud and gravelly voice. Speak of the devil. Abruptly, the nice air turned into a cloud of disappointment that reeked of cigarette smoke.

“What?” Tommy asks, turning around to source the giant—who he realised very quickly was sitting on the hill behind his home, legs crossed and looking down at him. His glasses give off an eerie red glare that makes him shiver. Tommy’s eyes widened. “What the fuck are you doing?!”

“Enjoying the fresh air! Do you know how long it’s been since I saw the night, Tommy?”

Tommy scoffs. “Do you have to do it on top of my house, though? Rather disruptive, don’t you think?” he bargains, eyes narrowed. He slips his arms over his chest, trying to ignore the voice in the back of his mind telling him to run.

“I don’t recall having a house, I think that blew up. Or—rather, have you seen much of Pogtopia?”

He tenses at the name. “It’s been abandoned since the last time we were there, I don’t fucking give a shit about that place, it messed you up.”

“Aw, Tommy, you think so?”

“I know so, man. You were n—” Tommy pauses. “Stop fucking talking to me! I’m not here to talk about your mental health. I just want to sleep. But I can’t because you’re fucking alive!”

“Ouch,” Wilbur murmurs. “I thought you wanted me back?”

Tommy flinches at the words. “I didn’t want shit, don’t put words in my fucking mouth,” he spits out, looking off into the distance for a moment, before settling back on the revivee.

Wilbur throws his hands up gently in defeat, a god-awful smile peeking through the torch-lit property.

Somewhere in the distance, through the silence grown taut, is the growl of a nearby zombie. Not as near as the one sitting on his fucking roof.

“That’s my house you’re sitting on,” he points out.

Wilbur huffs, like it was a joke. “I thought so.”

Tommy wrinkles his face. What a fucking asshole to be here, unannounced, basically stalking him. Tommy sighs, ‘Prime’ coming out in a gravelly whine from his throat. He wants to say something, he really does, but Wilbur beats him to it before he can shuffle his thoughts into something appropriate for their situation.

“You’re having trouble sleeping, aren’t you?” Wilbur accuses. Tommy doesn’t have it in him to pick a fight, so tentatively, he nods.

“That’s kind of why I’m out here,” he mumbles.

Tommy can practically feel Wilbur’s urge to ask him The Question seeping off of his roof and pooling around his feet—so much that he shudders at it. Wilbur wouldn’t, he knows Tommy’s hesitance with him now. Things weren’t like L’manburg anymore, they haven’t been for a long while.

“Can I help with that?”

There it was.

“No.” Simple. Tommy’s hands are shaking. Wilbur stares at Tommy so intensely, so attentive to his little brother, if they could be considered that anymore. The giant’s hands twitch, Tommy notices through his peripheral vision.

“Not even as a brotherly welcome-back gift, Tommy?” Wilbur asks, almost pouting. Infuriating.

Tommy, though, does consider it. The feeling of being embraced by Wilbur all around. If he was lucky, such a cold soul would follow down to a cold gut. He smirks at the thought. Still, he persists with a decline: “No, Wilbur.”

The next moment goes by in a blur; he’s standing on the grass near his house, then a second later his vision is obscured and gravity shifts as something grabs him, gently but secure, and Tommy’s left squirming in what he recognized as Wilbur’s grasp. He kicks aimlessly at Wilbur’s domed fingers, grumbling at the entrapment.

When torch-light comes back to view, he’s met with Wilbur’s face. He rolls his eyes at it, looking away. Or, the best he can when there’s a giant mouth and a willing predator who’s captured his prey.

“It’s been thirteen years, I’ve felt empty. So fucking empty, Tommy. Haven’t you just felt useless without my embrace?”

Tommy snickers. “No, Wil. I haven’t felt useless, I’ve been productive out from under your wing. I felt free for the first time in years.”

A low grumble comes from Wilbur’s throat, something of a purr, less graceful than it had in L’manburg, but still almost lulling. If not for the suffocating stench of smoke, he might’ve folded.

Tommy’s pulled a little further from Wilbur’s face, who stares at him, long and hard, long and sad. Tommy still feels free at this moment, like he can do what he wants to do.

And…he doesn’t want to sit in a stomach with the same humidity as out here, in arguably worse conditions considering the absence of a nightly breeze. But, Wilbur was back, and there was always some part of him that has vouched to never say no to Wilbur. So, he shrinks a little in defeat. “Fine, dickhead. I don’t say no to you, blah blah, fucking eat me if you have to.”

Wilbur seemed satisfied enough to whisper a small thank you before pulling Tommy back to his face, parting his lips and letting Tommy do his own thing. Pleased with the effort, Tommy stood up and placed a tentative lip to Wilbur’s blood-stained and scarred lips, climbing over them and his bottom row of teeth, almost tumbling over when he loses his balance. He stumbles, catching himself on Wilbur’s instinctual tongue, which flicks up slightly to offer its support. He stands on the edge of Wilbur’s gums before clambering onto his tongue, padding along the uneven surface before sitting in the middle with practised ease.

Wilbur’s turn.

At Tommy’s still form, Wilbur tilts Tommy slowly to the side of his mouth. Tommy shifts carefully to sit on his molars as Wilbur licks at him, coating him in a generous layer of saliva for an easy trip. The feeling used to be so alien to him, then it was once normal, and now, he hates to say it was nostalgic. Part of him was waiting for Wilbur’s lips to part and for light to flood in from the morning, trees fluttering in the wind and the Camarvan somewhere in the distance as the two of them treated each other to a picnic for the early days of their Nation’s upbringing.

When Wilbur’s lips part, it’s dark. He can see the bench, vaguely, and the stupid fucking duck that sat in the middle of the server with trident pools decorating the rest. He pats at Wilbur’s frozen tongue, letting him know he’s okay. Satisfied, Wilbur’s maw becomes pitch black again and he goes off of muscle memory for the next chain of events.

He’s brought over to the edge of Wilbur’s mouth, half-dangling over throat, and suddenly, Wilbur swallows and he’s sent down a squeezing tight tunnel along with a pool of saliva. He travels down, the disruptive beating of Wilbr’s heart distracting him enough for him to barely register his final destination.

Tommy lands with a squish, the surface under him having shifted from teeth to gut in a few half-predicted seconds. The blond sighs at the intense heat that follows in Wilbur’s gut. It was fine, he could suck it up for a few hours.

—–—

#mw #brickfic #tw vore #mcyt g/t #mcyt gt #dsmp g/t #dsmp gt #dream smp g/t #dream smp gt #t!tommy #tiny!tommy #g!wilbur #giant!wilbur #mmgmmfmdfhdf i love them sm <333 #this feels like my old fics ahg the rushed ending with the witty last sentence !! dfjvjdsf those will haunt me but i love 'em<3

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