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ittybluebell · 10 months ago

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Roommate | Daredevil G/T | Chapter 1

AO3

Matt Murdock didn't have anything against mice. He'd never been personally harrassed by one, but he understood the need to get rid of them. One easily turned into a dozen and with all the mess and digging into food, eviction was necessary. Despite how many rodents he heard daily, it wasn't something he thought about. The only reason mice were on his mind now was because one had moved into the floor, and he could hear it moving around as he laid in bed.

Now, like he said, Matt didn't have anything against mice.

Scrtch-scrtch-tick.

This one, however, was pushing its luck.

It showed up one night, moving in when he was out vigilante-ing and he only noticed the next day. At first, he didn't care. It was alone and hadn't yet realized there was food in his apartment. He had other, more pressing issues than a single mouse. It was a benign little thing - hardly a problem. Most nights, he could ignore the pitter-pattering and scraping or put in his noise-canceling earbuds.

Tonight, the mouse was too loud for earbuds. As he tossed and turned, Matt fumed, wondering what that rodent could possibly be up to. Rearranging furniture? Fuck, it sounded like it. Little mouse furniture.

Enough was enough. Matt threw a pillow at the floor and told the thing to shut up. To his surprise, it did. Matt sighed and finally went to sleep.

From that night on, he noticed a drastic decline in his downstairs neighbor's noise pollution.

How silly it was, Matt thought during a good mood, holding a grudge toward an animal. Especially one that was polite enough to let him sleep in peace.

Oh, how naïve he was.

The mouse quickly reinstated its grudge status when Matt noticed things going missing. It started with the bagels - a hole in the bag he noticed because the scent of bagel was particularly strong. Upon investigation, he discovered there was a complete lack of crumbs. And a chunk discreetly chewed from the middle. From there, things escalated. He smelled the shift in the air, smelled the remnants of another living being in his apartment. Little objects went missing - things even a seeing person might miss. But not Matt Murdock.

The sock was the last straw.

"What's the best bait for mouse traps?" Matt asked as soon as he entered the office.

"Cheese?" Foggy answered, confused. "Why? Do you have mice?"

"One. One mouse."

"How d- nevermind. Let me guess - you can't sleep."

"It's taking my stuff."

Foggy laughed. Karen huffed.

"At least tell me you're using non-lethal," said Karen. Upon his silence, she aww'd sadly. "Matt, no. It's just a mouse. You can't kill it."

"They're pests," said Foggy.

"But they're so cute. It just wants a place to live."

"Karen-" started Matt.

"No, no, she's got a point." Foggy spun his chair around. "Matt, you can't kill it! So cute and fuzzy!"

The lawyer-by-day, vigilante-by-night groaned. "Fine, I won't. Just stop looking at me like that."

"Like what?"

"Foggy, I can feel your eyes fake-tearing up."

Matt bought some glue traps and baited them with peanut butter. When Karen told him glue traps were worse - "They're so inhumane, Matt!" - he assured her that he'd know when the mouse got stuck; it wouldn't suffer. As much as the thing annoyed him, Karen was right: he wasn't going to abandon his no-killing rule for one mouse. (One mouse that must have a vendetta against him. He would not stoop to its level.) What kind of hypocrite would he be, huh?

The traps were set. Now to wait.

And wait.

A week passed. No mouse was caught. When he listened to its movement, he realized it was avoiding the spots he'd trapped. Avoiding the usual routes.

Smart. For a rodent. But Matt was smarter.

More traps, different bait. Traps disguised as the food and objects he'd noticed go missing, even the mate to his missing sock. It couldn't resist now.

Days passed.

Evidently, it could resist.

Foggy teased him about being outsmarted by an animal. Karen was on the mouse's side. Somebody must've told Jessica because he got a condescending text offering her services. Traitors, every one of them.

It all came to a head one terrible Friday night. Matt was already in a bad mood when he got home from work but going out, hearing and feeling New York City, pushed him over the edge. He was annoyed, his brain was overstimulated, and he just wanted to rest. The rooftop access door shut behind him and he threw his helmet into its trunk, about to shed the rest when the distinct sound of scratching and plastic crinkling in the kitchen cupboard caught his ear.

Matt stilled. It was here.

He marched with purpose toward the sounds.

That little bastard wasn't getting away this time. Catching it would be a satisfying end to a crappy day.

The mouse started fleeing before he was even close. It was headed for the other end of the cupboards - a hole in the floor Matt wasn't aware of but now could sense the air flowing from within. He'd have to seal that in the mor-

Mice didn't run on two legs.

Matt cocked his head, listening to the pattern of footfalls. He'd never cared to pay attention, but now it was impossible to miss. He knew what scurrying rodents sounded like. Whatever was in his kitchen, it was no rodent. It was bipedal. A bird? No, not with that speed. Not with that gait. He needed a closer examination.

Matt threw open the cupboard door. The first thing to hit his senses was the scent of corn chips.

The second was the heartbeat.

The creature's heart pounded swiftly in its chest. Air rushed from a mouth that was too upright for any kind of animal, a nose too humanlike. Small shoes hit the baseboard as it ran. Fabric rustled the same way he heard every single day in the street - like clothing.

Matt got lower, needing to be closer, needing to examine this little anomaly. How it moved, how it sounded, how uncannily familiar it was.

The living shape that his senses created was so alike to people that he was too shocked to outwardly react.

The little thing escaped into the floor, and Matt Murdock was left crouching there. Slowly, he shut the door. He took off the suit, dressed his wounds, and went to bed, his mind racing.

His body was exhausted, but he couldn't sleep. Not when he was tracking the creature's movements. Every scrape, every soft thud of a step, the whisper-

Whispering?

"You're fine. He didn't see you. There's no way…"

Whispering. Okay.

Matt pretended he didn't hear anything and put in his earbuds. That was a tomorrow-Matt problem.

Unfortunately for tomorrow-Matt, another problem knocked on his door first. That problem rhymed with Stank Hassle and didn't like to be ignored. Frank did offer coffee when they left so at least it wasn't a total bust. It was a good opportunity to get Matt out of his head; to get a clear perspective of the night before. Matt decided he was exhausted and hallucinating. The alternative was a tiny person living in the walls of his apartment. Delusion was easier.

Delusion was also what kept the borrower from abandoning the apartment altogether.

Call them stubborn, or stupid, but Finch didn't want to leave. Borrowers could only get so lucky. Landing a decent apartment with an oblivious bean was a rare opportunity, and Finch had no intention of giving it up. They would use this good fortune. Even if they didn't deserve it.

Finch shook off the guilt following that thought.

They spent the first week setting up: finding a place to sleep and tidying it up, living off the rations they packed. They got a lay of the land, surveying the apartment and its infrastructure. The excessively bright billboard directly in front of the living room window, the kitchen, and - most importantly - the bean. Light - or lack thereof - was never an issue for him. Not once did he flip a switch or so much as use his phone, which read texts aloud to him. He hardly looked at whatever claimed his attention. Everything added up to limited vision, but they couldn't be sure. It was safest not to risk any assumptions.

Evidence pointed to some damn good hearing when Finch was carving planks of wood out of the floor's innards. They were minding their own business, content with their repetitive, calming task, when something large and loud impacted the ceiling a dozen paces away.

The borrower nearly jumped out of their overalls, giving a startled squeak.

"Shut up," yelled the muffled voice above.

Pretending their soul wasn't just violently expelled from their body, Finch smoothed down their curly brown hair and exhaled shakily, making a mental note to postpone noisy work till the bean was away.

And they did good on that: when the bean was home, Finch completed the quieter, slower tasks. They thought they'd discovered the formula for living under the radar, satisfied to have found a routine that worked.

Then the traps appeared. Finch cursed their luck. The jig was up. The bean set up gross glue traps in outer access points, a couple even getting to the paths Finch took. Finch avoided them and laid low for a bit, hoping the lack of activity would convince the bean they'd skipped town. But more traps appeared. Smart ones, too - they almost fell for a couple. Now, Finch knew a thing or two about a thing or two. They made new routes and took extra care when borrowing. They even started mapping paths to the apartments below. Despite their small stature, Finch had a lot of room for determination. After a life of sticking their hand in the fire, they learned to take the heat. If the bean wanted them gone, he'd have to try a lot harder.

Night fell. The bean was gone. He followed routines - ones he scarcely strayed from. It would be hours before his return.

Finch made their way to the kitchen. They pushed up the trapdoor and strolled through the cupboard. They still had to be careful: just because the human wasn't home didn't mean they could throw all caution to the wind. Leaving evidence was a massive negatory. Finch didn't care for stupid rules, but the rules of borrowing were locked in their brain. They were already careless with the bagels, something they couldn't afford again. Desperation wasn't an excuse for sloppy borrowing - not when it exposed them.

Finch observed the boxes and containers around them, reading labels and calculating risk and reward. There was no chance of getting into that cereal box, but the nutrition bars would be a good grab. The box was short and already open. Finch pushed a can of tuna against it and hopped on. They began extracting a bar only to realize they had no way of getting something so large home without a sled.

"No, that'd be too easy." With a huff, Finch dropped it and shoved the can back into place. "'cause food can never be-" plastic crinkled under their foot "-easy?" Finch inspected the blue packaging. It was an open bag of tortilla chips. They grinned.

The scent of corn chips filled the space as Finch unfurled the bag. They dropped their backpack and started breaking the triangular chips into smaller pieces. Salt-free, too? Hell, yes. They tested the backpack's weight, put a bit more inside, then pulled the strings tight. They slung the strap across their chest. Oh, yeah, this would last them a good while. Finch fought with the chip bag, trying to roll the top underneath like it was before.

"Come on. Stupid fuckin'-" They tried to simultaneously lift the heavy bag and pull the other end.

Over the sounds of plastic popping and crackling in their ears, Finch didn't hear a door open and shut.

DOOM.

They did, however…

DOOM.

…feel the approaching footsteps of the human bean.

Finch froze. Blue eyes snapped wide open, their head flinching away from the plastic. It couldn't be...

Finch bolted.

He's supposed to be out why is he back-

DOOM.

They didn't need to know why he was back - just that he was and he was approaching at an alarming rate.

DOOM.

Oh, fuck, that's actually really close-

The doors ripped open. The hinges didn't even get a chance to squeak.

Finch stumbled. Air caught in their throat. For a moment, Finch was rooted to the floor. Just a moment. Long enough to see the human's form towering beyond the counter, covered in some kind of dark red leather. Long enough to see boots more than capable of squishing the life out of them.

Legs like fenceposts bent as the human came unbelievably closer. Closer than Finch had ever been to a bean. A giant face suspended above them, features blank and expressionless. Not once did the bean look at them.

Finch ran. They didn't look back. When they reached the hole in the floor, they plugged it up and kept going. Keep running.

Only when they reached the safety of their shelter did they falter.

"Oh, shit," they gasped, resting their weight on a nearby post. If their heart didn't outright stop, they were sure it might burst from their ribcage. Finch felt that exploding was a reasonable response. "He didn't see me." The scene replayed in their mind, over and over like a glitched tape. "I'm fine. You're fine. He didn't see you. There's no way he saw you. Just breathe."

Delusion, like they said. It was a powerful thing. It pulled many tricks on the mind. Like convincing oneself that they weren't discovered.

The apartment was quiet. Too quiet, one might even say, if they weren't one Matt Murdock. He never got that phrase. Nothing was 'too quiet'. In his - correct - opinion, nothing was quiet enough. There was always something creaking, breathing, or thumping, even in the smallest hours of the night. But on some front he had to agree: there was a suspicious lack of activity from the critter in the floor lately. Reluctant as he was to admit it, he couldn't deny that it wasn't an animal. Animals didn't mutter to themselves, in full sentences, in English. He wasn't mentally, emotionally, or spiritually prepared to assess beyond whatever that meant. In the moments his mind wandered, however - such as now, sitting and listening to a recording for his current case - he found himself pondering the tiny being regardless.

The peace wasn't an accident. Finch had been avoiding that place, giving themself and the air time to settle. They continued work on their residence, slotting together panels of wood and cardboard to form walls. One room would do for now - they just needed protection from the elements and potential scavengers slinking around. Skies above, if a cockroach tried anything, it was next on the menu. Grind up the little fucker into a smoothie. Finch wished a bug would: it'd be miles better than those godforsaken tortilla chips. Finch gave the wood posts they'd just secured a good push, nodding in satisfaction and moving on to the wall. It would be the last one to seal up their box of a house.

Four days. It'd been four days since Finch was nearly discovered; four days since they stared a bean in the face and got away unscathed. Four days since they got an answer to what they'd only suspected: the human couldn't see. That explained the brilliantly bright billboard, the sensitive hearing, the lack of lights - it explained a lot. Finch had to re-evaluate their approach to borrowing. This human would be extra careful about his possessions - the sock was proof enough - and notice what was out of place. In some ways, this both simplified and complicated things.

But borrowers were nothing if not adaptable.

Finch ventured up to a peephole in the wall and looked out. Nothing had changed except the bean now sitting at the dining table, papers and an electronic box neatly laid out on the tabletop. Casually dressed, he was listening to… a podcast? No, too personal. Finch liked podcasts. There was a crime involved, but this sounded like a conversation Finch would overhear more than something designed to entertain. So this bean worked in solving crimes. A detective?

They listened to the dry as hell audio a scant longer before growing bored and moving on. Hey, at least the bean was preoccupied.

Naturally, they found themself puttering toward the kitchen. Wielding two bent nails tied to their belt, Finch climbed up the cupboard door, using hinges and decorative bevels alike to hoist themself up. Those bagels were good. Were there any left? Nothing but corn chips really wore down a person's capacity to give a damn. They perused the counter, confident that the bean was sufficiently distracted by his work. Finch was disappointed to find the bagels sealed in an airtight container. It was their own fault, slicing up the bag so messily. They pulled a face and resumed their search.

A plate of mostly-eaten pasta sat before them. Fuck yes! Finch scuttled to it, pulling out rolls of tinfoil from their bag. Careful to avoid crinkling, they gathered up all the leftover noodles and sauce that would fit.

Finch squirreled away their haul, licking their fingers clean of evidence and ignorant of the man listening to their heist just a few metres away.

Matt stopped paying attention to the tape some time ago.

The sounds of Hell's Kitchen couldn't drown out the little inhabitant in his walls. A scent had blown into the room, vaguely familiar with hints of tortilla chip. He sat straighter and listened, idly shuffling papers and tip-tapping his fingers on the table. He found himself unable to be anything other than impressed as they scaled his counter like a mountain climber. Whatever was left from dinner became his visitor's latest plunder. That was fine; less waste, right?

He was disappointed when they returned to the walls. He wound back the recording to get some work done, but found himself consistently distracted by his small neighbour's goings-on. This discovery was just so unique, so strange - how could he not be curious? He heard them venture out again, across the apartment now. Into his bedroom. What could they be doing?

Oho, if Matt found any more socks missing-

He turned in his seat, about to rise, when he heard:

"You hafta to be shittin' me."

The voice, quiet in size only and bold beyond that, was the mildly annoyed tone of someone who'd been inconvenienced. Matt had heard it before, in the late hush of the night, when no one else would. Muttered curses and remarks that blended into the creaking and groaning of buildings and chatter and sirens of the city. One voice that Matt Murdock had tried very hard not to think too much about.

"When is enough too much, huh?" the voice griped. "Does he think I'm just gonna lay on one? 'Oh, felt silly today, stepped on the massive rug of glue.' How 'bout I drag this onto your floor, see how you feel walkin' in a minefield?" They growled. "UGH. Beans."

Well.

There was no denying it anymore, was there? A tiny person was living in the walls of Matt's apartment.

Matt leaned back, processing. He'd tried ignoring it - for the sake of his mental health and faith - because it was insane. It was impossible. It shouldn't be.

And yet…

Matt wanted - needed - to investigate further.

He got up, quietly, light on his feet. He didn't make it two steps before he heard a swear and the tiny person retreated once more. Into an electrical outlet, by the sounds of it.

Hm. He couldn't sneak up on them - not this time. They heard him- no. Matt quirked his head, considering. They felt him approaching. Like Matt, they could feel vibrations. Vibrations that alerted them of a threat. It only made sense.

Heh, 'threat'. Regular ol' Matt Murdock was the threat this time, not his alter ego. Wasn't that something?

The next time Matt encountered his new neighbour, he was trying - and failing - to fall asleep. There was too much on his mind for sleep. Frustrated, he huffed and flopped over, restless, his thoughts racing. Sounds of the city were extra distracting tonight. He considered getting up and making a cup of tea - maybe that would calm his mind.

Noises from the kitchen drew his scattered focus. He sat up, listening to the scuffing and tapping that he'd come to recognize as his uninvited houseguest. Three visits in one day. Were they always this proactive? Well, he did interrupt their attempted heist of his bedroom. Matt scooted to the edge of the bed. He would make that tea, actually. As he stood, he remembered sneaking didn't work last time. Right. Heavy-footed. However, he had a hunch that this attempt would yield a sneakier result.

Aided by socks, Matt softly padded through his apartment. Tiny - the name he assigned his little visitor - was fiddling with some kind of packaging on the top shelf. And as he got closer, lo and behold, they did not startle. His theory was correct: the further Tiny was from the floor, the weaker their pallesthesia became. Their ability to detect vibrations just wasn’t as sensitive as his own. Once he stepped foot into the kitchen, Matt dropped the Daredevil act and let himself be known. He grabbed a mug and turned on the kettle. Tiny's pulse quickened; their breath hitched. He gave them time to hide before he opened the cupboard for a tea bag. He quickly realized the box wasn't in its usual spot - his own doing, unfortunately.

"Stupid tea bags," he muttered for Tiny's sake; an 'I'm not looking for you, I swear!' assurance as he searched the cabinets. For extra sauce, he added, "Always misplacing them."

Would he forgo tea? He did start the kettle… as much as he got a kick out of playing the part of oblivious blind guy, causing Tiny undue terror wasn't his end goal. He wanted to test them, their cockiness, not scare them. Tiny may be a thief, but they were just trying to survive. Why else was food their number one haul? Matt dedicated his life to helping people in need. Wasn't Tiny part of that demographic? Weren't they someone in need? Unless small people were running drug cartels and trafficking rings, Tiny was innocent.

Doubt and guilt crept in. Maybe he was pushing the bit too far.

Matt was just about to get up and leave when something square and coarse pressed into his fingers.

He faltered, then pinched it, rubbing his thumb over the material. Its strong, earthy scent gave it away.

A tea bag.

Small shoes lightly retreated. Matt withdrew his hand. He held the sachet of dried herbs, cogs turning in his mind. He tilted his head.

Tiny handed him a tea bag. That…

Matt found himself puzzled and oddly touched. It was for their own good, to avoid getting found, but he couldn't not appreciate the nice gesture. He easily smelt where the tea was, of course. But Tiny didn't know that. Huh.

Maybe he was being too harsh about the sock.

The kettle's bubbling pitch rose to a squeal. Wincing, Matt shut it off. He dropped the tea bag into the mug and poured steaming water over it.

What a strange experience. He wondered what Tiny was thinking. Their heartbeat eased into the fluttering pace that he learned was its resting rate. It was the trait that had him most convinced his roommate was a rodent of some sort, though the way they squeaked when startled was a close second.

Matt threw out the tea bag and took the mug to his room, leaving Tiny to their task.

The next day, he casually slipped questions about tiny people into a conversation with Foggy. (It was not casual and quite random, actually.)

"You mean, like… fairies?" Foggy cautiously asked.

Sort of? Matt didn't know whether Tiny could be considered a fairy. They certainly didn't seem like the fairy type, not with the kind of language he heard them utter. Did fairies say 'fuck'? Would that break some kind of fairy law?

Karen told him about a book series that she'd been obsessed with as a kid: it contained many smaller magical beings. Brownies, for instance. Matt settled on definitely not that one. What favours was he receiving? Aside from the tea bag - an isolated incident - absolutely none.

Matt wasn't convinced they were a magical creature. Really, they just… seemed like a normal person, albeit smaller. They hummed to themself, snickered at their own dumb jokes, and swore a hot streak that would impress even Castle and Jones. Matt was pretty damn sure they'd been building a house under his floor, though he noticed all the loud busywork was put on pause when he was home, most notably when he was sleeping. Another nice gesture that was also for their own self-preservation.

Maybe they were a mutant. Or maybe they were mutated, like him.

When Matt got home, he discarded the glue traps. It felt wrong to leave them now that he knew it was a person he'd been trying to catch. Guilty, he started leaving crumbs in easy-to-reach locations. It wouldn’t hurt him any - his grocery budget wasn’t gonna tank because of some scraps. If chips and leftovers were what they were after, then they had free reign over the countertop. That didn’t stop him from being cheeky about it, though - if Tiny was getting confident, he might as well play along.

He found Tiny’s courage something to marvel at. Roaming a giant’s home? Without fear? His vigilante persona was literally named Daredevil and he was impressed.

However, bravery and foolishness were not mutually exclusive. That’s when the cockiness came in.

Matt was minding his business, washing the dishes, when Tiny wandered out. Brows hitching up, he continued sponging the plate. Surely, they wouldn't-

Oh, but they did.

Unwavering, Tiny climbed up the counter they same way as before. They walked up to the pan on the stove and hooked a leg over. Matt fought hard not to chuffle. This was getting out of hand. Matt remembered an adage about not feeding animals or else they'd grow dependent. Had Matt inadvertently done exactly that? Animals that were accustomed to people often didn't see the danger. Tiny was certainly no animal, but the absence of caution they displayed in the moment was, frankly, ridiculous. It was a massive leap from the times they would flee his presence. He was starting to think he'd played too ignorant.

A smirk tugged at his lips upon hearing the leftover eggs being pilfered. When he turned to fetch the pan, Tiny was already hopping to the floor and disappearing behind the fridge.

Stealing right behind his back. When was enough too much, indeed.

AO3

#g/t #giant/tiny #goldfinch (oc)#matt murdock #daredevil g/t #giant tiny #the borrowers #borrowers #g/t community #gt #g/t writing #daredevil #marvel g/t #marvel #marvel fanfiction #mcu fanfiction #daredevil fanfiction

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apocketfullofstories · 5 months ago

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I have no idea if anyone else relates or if it makes sense, but i love when a movie includes low angle shots because I can daydream that a tiny would have the same perspective! Also if they add booming footsteps to make a character's enterance more "intimidating" it kinda falls into the same geek-out category for me:)

#g/t #g/t writing #giant/tiny #looking specifically at those shots in deadpool and wolverine #marvel g/t #marvel #wolverine #tiny #deadpool #deadpool wolverine

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fishiiwasdrawing · 4 months ago

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Goofy thing my friend request

Marriage or whatever Its a small doodle

Anyways guys hear me out

Giant wolverine and sizeshifter deadpoo- *SHOT TWICE*

#poolverine #wolverine #deadpool #wolverpool #marvel #yeah well count it thar #g/t community

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rainydaygt · 2 years ago

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yeah okay here yall go click for better quality and whatnot done w/out any refs at all so PLEASE forgive any design mistakes on miguel's part

#g/t #giant/tiny #giant #tiny #giant tiny #art from the river #spi/t verse #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara g/t #spiderverse g/t #marvel g/t #sfw g/t

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evieismol · 1 year ago

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Theres not nearly enough loki-g/t content imo so have a lil sketch of that one scene where he and mobius are having pie except mobius is a borrower now ig

#g/t #giant/tiny #gt #sfw g/t #gt sfw #g/t art #g/t loki #marvel g/t

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obwjam · 1 year ago

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for the prompt, 26 and peter quill with a teenage borrower?

this has been sitting in my inbox for over a month LOL so sorry anon who was probably expecting something better, much sooner

from this post

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“Aw, c’mon, bud. I’m not that scary, am I?”

You gulped. He kind of was, but you weren’t going to say that.

See, you knew exactly who this guy was – Star Lord, leader of the famous Guardians of the Galaxy. He was so famous that even borrowers knew who they were, and your kind tended to stay so secluded that they barely knew anything about the giants of your world.

It was the thing you hated the most. Giants were fascinating! They did things with such ease, and they never had to worry about basic survival like you did. You knew if you could study them up close, you could learn something and help make life better for all of you.

Unfortunately, you really failed to take into account how utterly terrifying it was going to be.

“Aw, man…” Peter frowned. He had noticed this little thing following him around this shop – they couldn’t have been more than 16 years old. He pretended that he didn’t notice them, since he knew they definitely thought they were being sneaky, but they were so caught up in following him that they didn’t notice the ledge of the shelf they were running across was rapidly approaching, and before they knew it, they were tumbling toward the ground. Peter caught them, and now they were sitting in his cupped hands, wide-eyed and trembling.

Guess he was that scary.

“Hey, don’t – c’mon, it’s alright, don’t cry!”

Crap, you were crying. That’s so embarrassing! you yelled in your head, furiously trying to blink away the tears without moving too much, but it was no use. You thought you were being sneaky. You thought you were being brave. But when it came down to it, you were just as terrified as everyone else in your village.

“Shit, um–” Quill looked around, making sure nobody else was nearby. The rest of the Guardians were waiting back on the ship, since this was supposed to be a quick stop to get these little cookies that reminded Peter of Oreos. “Hold on, ‘lil dude, I’m takin’ us somewhere else.”

You whimpered at the sudden movement, too stubborn to stabilize yourself in fear of looking even weaker than you felt now. A few minutes felt like a few hours, but soon, you stopped moving. Quill had found a quiet corner outside the shop.

“Okay, I think we’re safe here,” he huffed, leaning against a dirty brick wall. He took a moment to look you over – wide eyes, heavy breathing, arms pinned tensely at your side. He wasn’t exactly sure how to proceed, but he knew he had to calm you down.

“What’s your name? Can you tell me that?”

You squeezed your eyes and shook your head. Even if you wanted to tell him, the words would have gotten caught in your throat.

Peter sighed. “Okay. Names later, that’s cool, that’s cool. Well, I’m Peter Quill, people call me Star-Lord.”

You nodded. “I know.”

Quill perked up at the impossibly small sound of your voice. “You know me, huh? I’m that famous?”

You couldn’t help but giggle. How could he not know how famous he was?

You didn’t notice Peter’s soft smile. Maybe he would get through to you after all.

“How old are you, little buddy?”

You hesitated. “...Fifteen.”

“Fifteen?! My god, little dude. You shouldn’t be out alone! Where are your parents?” Quill nearly laughed when he said those words. He never thought he would be the scolding parent type.

You shrunk back. “I…” You didn’t expect him to get mad! And you couldn’t just tell him, either. Why did he have to ask that?!

Peter could immediately tell he had just asked a sensitive question. “Woah, hey, I’m sorry,” he said suddenly, feeling the tears splashing down on his palm. “I, uh, I get it.”

You tilted your head.

“Well, I lost my mom when I was real young, back when I lived on earth.” He said that like you should know what earth was. “And my dad… well, I kind of killed my dad, but I didn't even meet him until a few months ago.” He smirked at the look of sheer confusion on your face. “Oh, don’t worry. He totally deserved it.” A pause. “Anyway! What I’m saying is… I know what it’s like not to have…” He trailed off. “But I’ve got my friends, and that’s more important, anyway. Do you have any friends around?”

You gulped. One of the most sacred borrower rules was to never reveal the existence of others if you were to get caught. Of course, you had already broken the most sacred law, which was to never be seen, no matter what.

You couldn’t help but really reflect on the question he just asked. Sure, you lived with the village, but after what happened to your parents, you were rarely allowed to leave. They didn’t even know you had left to observe Star-Lord. They were gonna be real mad about that.

“...I’ll assume by your long pause and contemplative looks that the answer is, it’s complicated.”

You shook your head sadly. You don’t know what compelled you to admit this; maybe you respected his attempt to sympathize with you. Or maybe you just really wanted his help.

“I… I thought – if I could watch you, I could learn from you,” you squeaked. “Make things better for me. For everyone.”

Quill felt his heart swell. That was an adorable admission.

“But – but nobody listens to me,” you continued. “They don’t care what I have to say. They probably don’t even – I doubt they even noticed that I’m gone.”

A moment passed before Peter spoke again. “Well, what did you learn?”

“Well, I… I learned that giants can be really nice.” You instantly blushed. Did you just say that out loud?

Quill knitted his eyebrows. “Are we not supposed to be?”

“Well… yeah,” you said. “That’s why I’m not supposed to be seen.”

“Gotta say, little bud, you’re doing a terrible job at not being seen.”

Quill was relieved to see you laugh at that. He didn’t know why, but he felt this tug toward you. Maybe it was because you seemed to be receptive to his jokes, or maybe it was the way you looked at him with those pleading eyes. Yondu was there for him when he needed it most – maybe you needed someone like that, too.

“So,” Quill started, “you really want to learn from me?”

You nodded tentatively. What was he getting at?

“Well, if it’s alright with you… why don’t you come hang out with me and the Guardians for a bit?”

You nearly fell over. “What?”

Quill smiled. “You could learn how to fight, how to build stuff, how to pilot a ship… well, maybe not that last part, because nobody flies the Milano but me. But you could definitely watch.”

“Are… are you serious?”

Peter nodded. “Of course I am. Plus, this place sucks, right? Like, it’s totally boring.”

“It – it is pretty uneventful around here.”

“Exactly. See? I think you already know the answer.”

You thought about it for a moment. You would be leaving, totally unannounced. The village would go frantic searching for you… if they even noticed you were gone. You could actually see what was out there! You could learn skills you only dreamed of having. You could protect yourself… just like the giants could.

“I’ll go with you!”

Now, Quill was beaming. “I knew it. Your life is about to become insanely awesome, little bud. Just wait until you meet the others.”

You couldn’t help but beam along with him as he walked away, the landscape you once called home melting further and further in the difference before disappearing completely.

Peter Quill wasn’t so scary after all.

#wow why does it feel so long since ive written marvel #(because it has)#i hope you enjoyed!#obwrites #marvel g/t #g/t #giant/tiny

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the-star-and-the-smols · 3 months ago

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Me, rereading my own silly g/t selfship comfort stuff: *bangs fists on table* I'm so normal! I'm SO normal! I'm so NORMALLLLL!! *Gnaws on hand* *throws chair*

#HE.#BIG.#NEED.#oh to be held and comforted and cherished-#to be looked at like ur the most precious little thing in existence?!?!?! by someone u love who loves you more than you could ever know?#who is dozens of times bigger and stronger #theyre so big that the smallest things they do are more than noticeable and everything is so intense but in a good way #g/t #you trust them with your life and they gently hold and they marvel at how tiny and cute you are #*runs through the house squealing*#im normal guys i swear!#i want to write a part 2 :)))

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brick-a-doodle-do · 4 months ago

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guys look at my x-men / marvel oc !!! :3

#mw #my work #brick-a-doodles #x-men #oc #marvel oc #x men oc #mutant oc #oc: eden #x-men g/t

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thefreak09 · 1 month ago

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Vore In comics????Marvel????? Hello????

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fatandnerdy30 · 2 months ago

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Aunt May, one helluva Borrower

Now he was rushing to the place where the building had been and now was a pile of rubble. His heart was in his throat as he felt the suit crawl over his body and raced through the skies to his where the other part of his heart was.

Tony rushed from the cabin as soon as he heard the news, shock and horror on his face. Why hadn't he brought the kid to live with him? He should have forced Peter to come with him, both him and his aunt, but no. He had to have a bleeding heart moment and allow them to live in the walls of the apartment in Queens.

"Peter!" Ned called, his tiny legs trying to climb over the rubble to find his best friend. The crowd was gathering from the catastrophe but he couldn't care less. He had to find the family that lived down the hall from him and his Lola. "Peter where are you!?"

A voice made him stop and he turned to see MJ coming out from a tunnel under the rubble, her face blackened by the soot. "MJ!" He ran to her, embracing the girl, feeling her strong arms wrap around him. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm okay. Are you okay?" MJ pulled back to look at Ned's face, seeing a few cuts and bruises but nothing big.

"Yeah, yeah. I can't find Peter and the fire department will be here soon and we have to go!"

"I know! Peter! Answer me!" She called out, her voice giving away how scared she was. It had started out as a normal day but that soon changed as the walls of MJ's tiny home shook and trembled. Before she could leave the house, the walls started coming down around her.

Doing what she was taught, MJ had run to her room and grabbed her mattress, throwing it into their tiny plastic bathtub and getting under it. It had saved her life, but she didn't know about her father.

"Peter!? Where are you, man!" Ned's voice started to break with his worry for his best friend. "Peter come on, answer me!"

The boy grunted as he shoved a piece of wall out of their path and stopped. Before them was Peter kneeling on the ground, holding something that he couldn't quite make out. "Peter!" Ned rushed forward when MJ grabbed his shoulder, her tan face now pale as she stared at Peter with wide eyes. "What is it?"

She couldn't say anything, only point. Ned turned and saw a pair of feet lying next to Peter and it hit him. "No..."

Tony landed in the middle of the rubble after scanning for lifeforms. Friday couldn't find anything, which scared him to death. "Peter!?" he called, his helmet melting away to reveal his face. He turned in a circle, looking down at his feet. "Friday, scan again. Look for anything the size of a mouse."

He couldn't get his heart to stop skipping beats and Tony breathed through his mouth. "Peter!?" He was afraid that the smart, adorable boy was gone from his life forever when he heard voices and looked around. "Mr. Stark!"

Finally he looked down to see two kids running up to him. Kneeling down he still towered over them and tried not to look too threatening to them.

"Mr. Stark Peter-he's...."

Ted? No, Ned! Ned was his name. He was Peter's best friend and he was pointing to a spot. Tony heard the sirens coming and shook the fear from his face. "It's okay, kids. Come here." He put his hand down and watched them climb up. "Sit tight, I'll go get him."

Without another word he slipped the two teens into a pocket that formed and stood up, walking in the direction Ned was pointing. "Pete?" He called, stopping when he saw the kid kneeling. "Pete, we have to go. Come on." He knelt down again about to nudge the boy when he saw what the boy was holding and his heart stopped.

May lay motionless in Peter's arms and the kid's shoulders shook with his sobs as he cradled her head in his arms.

"May...May please....get up, please get up."

Tony slowly put his hand out and his finger touched Peter's frail back. The boy didn't even look up, he kept calling out May's name. "Kiddo...." tony started pulling him away but Peter shook his finger off.

"No! I'm not leaving without her!" He turned grief-filled eyes up to Tony, tears making trails down his dirty cheeks. "She's gonna wake up! I know she'll wake up! May always wakes up!" He turned and shook the woman's lifeless body. "May! Please...stop whatever you're doing and get up...I need you."

Tony couldn't handle it and slipped his cupped hands under the two and lifted them. Peter didn't make a fuss, his eyes on May. "It's okay, Underoos. It'll be okay." Bringing his hands to cover the two, he flew into the air slowly.

"Cap, I'm gonna need you to get to Ingram Street and collect a few families."

"What are their names?" Came Steve's voice over the comms.

"Leeds and Jones. Friday, stall the firefighters. Hurry, Cap. They're tiny so it's dangerous for them." Without another word he flew off towards the tower.

Ten minutes later he was striding into the penthouse, his suit still on to protect his passengers. Sitting down he tried to be as gentle as possible. "Okay tiny toons, you can come out now. Steve is going to get your families, along with anyone else that's there."

The pocket moved from his chest to his free hand which hovered over the table. "Go and explore if you'd like. Peter." He sighed and looked both sad and tired. "Peter needs time."

Both the kids nodded but they didn't leave that spot, their eyes on Peter and his aunt, tears tracking down both their faces. "It...it'll be okay," Tony said, feeling braver than he felt. With that he stood and walked away from the tiny teens to his room, shutting the door. "Peter.."

The kid didn't move at his name, just stared at the pale woman in his arms. She wasn't waking up. What kind of game was she playing? Whatever it was, he didn't like it.

"Peter, you have to let her go."

"I don't have to do anything," Peter snapped, holding May to him tighter. "She will wake up....just like always..." When she woke up she would smile at him like she always did. He would hug her and she would wrap her arms around him, wrapping him in safety as always.

"Pete....she's not waking up, buddy....I'm so sorry." Tony wanted to see what had killed the woman who had protected Peter so feircely when they had first met. He couldn't believe that she was....that she was gone. "Come on Pete....it's okay." He didn't know how to handle this.

When he'd lost his parents he was alone. Well, he had Obadiah but look what happened to him. Tony had turned to drinking and self depriciation. He didn't want to see Peter go down that road. "Come one, Pete. Look at me." He hooked a single finger under Peter's chin, forcing the boy's head up. The look in his eyes broke Tony's heart into a million pieces. "Oh Pete...."

That look made tears come to his own eyes but he blinked them away. Slowly he lifted a hand and put two finger between the kid and his aunt, prying his arms off the woman and lifting him. Carefully he placed May on the nightstand and grabbed a tissue, covering her body so that Peter wouldn't need to keep seeing her.

"No...no May! Uncover her! Mr. Stark please, she can't breathe!" Peter flailed and tried to get to the woman, almost falling off the man's hand, but Mr. Stark stopped him just before he fell, his fingers wrapping around him.

Usually he'd be scared, but tonight he needed to be held. Feeling those rough, calloused hands engulfing him was the straw that broke him. He felt the tears hot and steady falling down his cheeks as he stared at the tissue that covered his aunt's unmoving body and he broke. With a wailing sob he collapsed into Mr. Stark's palm.

"May.....May.....MAY!!!"

The teenager cried into the man's fingers as he clutched them to him. "Bring her back...please...someone bring her back!!" He couldn't take life without her. Suddenly the fingers moved and he was staring into two brown eyes that were wet with tears of their own.

"Pete....I know it's hard. And you have every right to cry. So you cry. You cry for as long as you need it." Tony blinked and a tear slipped from his eye down his cheek. "Come here."

Peter was suddenly surrounded by the scent of coffee and motor oil, a scent he was getting to know as Mr. Stark's and it made him feel..safe. He felt the man's shirt beneath him and he grabbed onto it

________

Numb. That's what Peter felt as he stared at the small mound of disturbed dirt. He couldn't believe it. He was alone in the world now. Aunt May was gone, and now he had no one. "Why did you leave me alone, May?" He whispered to the ground.

"Who said you're alone?" Peter jumped at the booming voice and turned to see Mr. Stark kneeling over him, his sad eyes staring down at him. "It's time to come in, Pete. It's getting cold out here." The man put his hand down, but the boy couldn't step onto it.

"What if...what if she gets cold?" He turned back to the grave, his eyes watering. "I'll stay out here with her just in case she gets lonely." He was old enough to have stopped believing in that kind of talk, but he couldn't help it. He loved his aunt and now she was....He couldn't even think of it.

"That's fine, bud." Mr. Stark groaned as he got down, the ground rumbling beneath the boy's feet as he sat. "It's gonna get cold out here for you tonight." Whipping a piece of cloth out he threw it over Peter's head, making the boy cry out as he was covered.

"Mr. Stark, you shouldn't be out here. You're not fully healed yet." Peter's head popped out of the cloth that was blissfully warm. "Besides, you have Morgan. You shouldn't be worrying about me. I'll be fine." In time it would all be okay, right? He thought to himself.

"Morgan is fine, kid." Mr. Stark sighed and pulled a blade of grass from beside Peter, studying it. "Besides, she has Pepper right now, while you...." He didn't want to say it but Peter knew it. He was alone.

"I'm fine, Mr. Stark." The boy tried to smile up at the man, but Mr. Stark simply shook his head.

"No you're not, Pete. You're not allowing yourself to grieve. I know it's a shock but...you have to let yourself feel something other than numbness."

He put a hand down and wrapped his fingers around Peter's shoulders, his fingers hanging down his chest. "I...how did you...?"

"I lost my parents too, kid. I know she was like your mom and...I liked her." He remembered the first day he met her. She was stuck in a trap in the then abandoned building holding onto an even smaller Peter as she tried to free herself of the glue.

When she saw Tony walking up she tried not to draw attention to them but of course the man knew they were there thanks to Friday telling him. She had threatened to haunt him if he even so much as looked at Peter wrong, but all Tony did was free her of the glue and bid her goodbye.

That was when he bought the building and made it his duty to go and talk to May every month to see if they were okay, which they always were. "Your aunt...she was amazing, kid. She had such spirit in her that I admired. Reminded me of my own mother, especially with that look she would give when you said something she didn't like." Tony gave a shudder and heard Peter chuckle.

"She is...was....amazing, Mr. Stark." Peter's dash-sized fingers wrapped around Mr. Stark's pinky as he stared at the grave. "I can't believe she's gone.." A single tear fell and that was the start of Peter's downfall. Sniffles could be heard from the boy as the feelings poured out of him. His shoulders jerked as he tried to hide his tears, but finally the dam broke.

The boy cried out his anger, all of his hurt, all of his sadness. And Mr. Stark just sat by his side, letting him cry. The hand went from Peter's shoulders to under him, lifting him as he felt a cold wind wash over his skin. Soon the wind became a warm embrace.

The scent of coffee and motor oil filled his nose and he felt a sense of safety. "Mr. Stark...what am I gonna do? I'm all alone.... I have no home to go to...not without May...I can't be alone..." He didn't know how to be on his own.

"What are you talking about, kid?" Mr. Stark looked at him quizically. "You have a home. Right here." He pointed to the cabin behind them. "You'll always have a place with us, Peter."

Peter stared at the man for a moment before collapsing into his shirt and grabbing the material. "Thank you, Mr. Stark.." He whispered, sniffling into the material. "I..I miss her so much..." He looked down at the grave, his bottom lip trembling as he tried to hold back more tears.

"I know, kid. And that pain will never leave. It'll get easier to deal with, but there will always be an empty space where she used to be, and nothing will be able to fill that. But, there will be other things that will make the pain lessen. Like family, and your friend, what's his name? Ked? Ped?"

Peter burst out with a wet laugh. "It's Ned."

"Yeah, Ted." Mr. Stark smirked down at the boy who smiled up at him. "We'll help you through this, Pete. One day at a time. Let your family help you." The man put a finger under Peter's chin. "I love you, Underoos. I hope you know that."

"I....I love you too....dad...." Peter felt the fingers close around him and already he could feel the sadness being lifted away by this man who was once his mentor now turned parental figure. He looked back at the grave and shook off the fabric.

"I think May should have this....just in case, you know?"

"I think that's a good idea, Pete." Mr. Stark took the handkerchief and laid it over the disturbed dirt, making sure it wouldn't blow away with a few small rocks on the edges. "Come on. It's getting cold and you can always come out and visit her." The man groaned as he stood, looking at Peter who was staring at the grave.

"Goodbye Aunt May..." Peter called out. "I'm safe....I'm with my other family now...so you don't have to worry about me." He blew the grave a kiss and turned away, leaning into Mr. Stark's chest as he felt a sob tear out of him. A finger rubbed his back.

"She knows, Underoos. I'm sure she wouldn't like it, but she knows that I'll always be there for you. And I always will be, no matter what." He didn't even let death itself tear him away from the boy, and he would make sure Peter grew up knowing he was loved. Together the two went inside, leaving the grave topped with a simple stone that read:

'May Parker, Beloved Wife, Aunt and one hell of a borrower.

#g/t #iron man tony stark #irondad #marvel g t #peter is a borrower #main character death #parental g/t #micro macro

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