Dont read this, this is just for stories i want read

crush

HELLO

George screams. His hands shove at the fingers pinning him down, the skin is harsh and hard, impenetrable and untouchable. The monster can talk, the monster can fucking talk, great, this is great — George stops fighting, stills, hope twisting through him.

HELLO the monster says again. Its voice is deep, low, rumbling, like stones grinding together, its tone hard to place. It seems pleased that he’s stopped struggling but that’s probably a bad sign.

“Please don’t kill me,” George squeaks out. “Please please please don’t kill me.”

The beast lifts him up. He screams, clings to it and claws at it, feels his heart trying to beat its way out of his chest.

It emits a faint blue light, seeping though the darkness so he can see the details of its face. Blankness, mostly, scaly skin stretched tight over where its eyes would be, a gaping mouth of sharp spiking teeth guarding a hungering hollow, two jagged twisting horns.

You’re so small, it says. Softer than its greeting but still distinctly not soft, grating and abrasive and George didn’t see its mouth move at all, it’s like it’s talking in his head, breathing right into his ear and peering inside his brain.

So tiny.

“Maybe you’re just massive,” George retorts without really thinking about it at all and he’s such an idiot why couldn’t he just —

The monster makes a noise like crunching rocks. Like… laughter, maybe.

Maybe. I can smell you, you know.

“I can smell you,” George retorts, with a slight scowl. Maybe he’s testing his luck, but the thing hasn’t killed him yet. Hasn’t hurt him at all, in fact, just scared him half to death and then lifted him up in its gargantuan hand with a surprising… gentleness.

He can smell it, as well, but it’s not bad, just something clean and sharp and harsh like mint toothpaste, if mint toothpaste was ever solidified into needles and flung into one’s face.

Another maybe laugh. I can hear you. I can hear your pretty little heart. It’s going so fast. Rushing and rushing and rushing like it’s trying to crash.

“Because I’m — because I’m scared,” George says. Maybe it’s just toying with him but every second spent living is a second spent living, and maybe he’ll think up some daring escape plan or someone will happen to come along to rescue him.

You’re scared. It seems almost questioning, almost amused, almost… human. Maybe only because he’s never come across anyone who could talk that wasn’t human, but still. Its hand is warm around his torso. He can hear it breathing like the crash and tug of the ocean. He can see the wisps of pale blue flickering in his chest, rhythmical, like a heart beat.

“I’m allowed to be scared, I’m being attacked by a — by you,” George fumbles out. He’s given up on trying to wriggle loose. The creature’s hand is looped tightly around him, gripping his chest with a fierce grip, fingers digging into his spine, thumb pressing into his sternum.

I’m not attacking you. It’s definitely amused. It squeezes him tighter, rumbles out a laugh when he shrieks.

“You’re — you’re belittling me, then. Let me go if you’re not gonna kill me.”

I’m belittling you.

“Yes,” George scowls, trying to seem as stern and serious as possible. His fear has faded somewhat, his heart slowing to match the careful flash of the glowing haze in the creature’s chest.

You are very little. I could… I could crush you into nothing. I could eat you right up. I could split you apart.

George shudders. In fear, it’s definitely a scared shiver. He’s scared. Afraid. The monster has him in its clutches — helpless, utterly helpless, it could do whatever it wanted, like — like kill him, or eat him or split him apart and all the other things it’s threatening to do to him.