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The neon lights of the subterranean gay bar cast long, colorful shadows, but even in the dim lighting, Kaldor Bældrake was impossible to miss. Standing a towering seven-foot-five, the heavily muscular man with gilded-blonde Norse braids and a braided goatee naturally drew the eye. Jake Dropdreme, nursing a beer at the corner of the bar, certainly noticed. Jake, comfortably built with a dark soul patch and a dusting of dark hair across his chest, caught the giant's metallic sapphire gaze. The connection was instantaneous—a primal, unspoken understanding passed between them over the thumping bass of the club.
A few drinks later, they left the noise behind, arriving at Kaldor’s secluded, high-end cabin. The space was massive, built of dark stone and heavy timber, with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking a moonlit, pine-lined lake.
Hours later, the heavy oak bedframe finally settled. The heat of their shared passion had cooled into a comfortable, deeply relaxed intimacy. They lay amidst the tangled, dark plaid sheets, the cool mountain air drafting in through a cracked window. Kaldor reached over to the heavy wooden nightstand, retrieving a thick, perfectly rolled joint. He sparked it, taking a deep drag before passing it to Jake.
As they passed the joint back and forth, the sweet, hazy smoke filled the room. Kaldor, lounging back against the pillows, felt a deep, rumbling contentment. He looked down at Jake, who was resting against his side, and decided there was no need to hide.
"I have something to show you," Kaldor rumbled, his voice dropping an octave.
Jake watched through half-lidded eyes as the air around Kaldor seemed to shimmer. The giant’s Caucasian skin began to harden and shift, bursting into iridescent golden-bronze scales. Pearlescent, silver-tipped horns swept back from his head, and massive leathery wings unfolded, stretching across the width of the bed. In moments, a massive, eight-and-a-half-foot reptilian beast sat where the man had been. Smoke curled lazily from the dragon's nostrils.
Instead of screaming, Jake’s eyes widened with pure, blissful awe. A soft smile spread across his face. He sat up, completely unafraid.
Kaldor leaned down, an exaggerated, hungry gleam in his sapphire eyes, a low purr vibrating in his chest. Jake reached out, his hands running over the dragon's scaled chest, helping Kaldor shrug off the remnants of his leather coat.
Kaldor let out a massive, rumbling yawn, his jaws unhinging to reveal a cavernous maw, his throat glowing with a deep, inner warmth. He expected Jake to perhaps offer an arm or a leg to taste, but to the dragon's profound surprise and utter joy, Jake simply stepped up on the mattress and climbed into the glowing maw, arms first.
Kaldor didn't hesitate. Drool pooling over his sharp teeth, he leaned in closer, his heavy claws gently pushing Jake further in to help him along. The dragon swallowed happily. With a heavy *gulp*, Jake’s torso disappeared down the muscular throat.
Kaldor threw his massive head back, only Jake's denim-clad legs and bare feet left protruding from his jaws. Lounging back against the headboard, Kaldor rested one scaled arm behind his head. He tilted his snout straight up toward the timbered ceiling and gave one final, powerful swallow. Jake's legs and feet slid smoothly down his throat, disappearing into the dark.
A heavy, satisfied sigh escaped Kaldor's lips, sending a fresh cloud of smoke into the air. His belly, now heavily distended and visibly shifting with Jake's movements inside, rested heavily on his lap.
Slowly, the golden scales began to recede. The horns melted away, and the wings folded into nothingness. Kaldor resumed his human form—shirtless, heavily tattooed, and heavily muscled. His skin was back to its usual tone, and his sharp canines glinted in the dim light. But his belly remained massively swollen, stretched tight and squirming as Jake struggled happily deep within his stomach.
A stoned, contented smile spread across Kaldor's face. He picked up the joint from the ashtray, taking a slow drag, letting wisps of smoke and a tiny curl of residual flame escape his lips. He reached over to the nightstand, plucked Jake’s black baseball cap from the wood, and placed it somewhat comically atop his own braided hair.
With his free hand, Kaldor began to gently pat and rub his full, churning stomach. He hummed a low, soothing tune, feeling the movements inside gradually begin to slow. As the joint burned down to the filter, the struggles within his belly finally went completely still. Kaldor set the roach down, his heavy eyelids drooping. Surrounded by the scent of pine and smoke, the warden closed his eyes, drifting off to sleep to finish digesting his midnight snack...
...The crisp morning sun breached the treeline, streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the cabin and casting warm, golden rays across the tangled plaid sheets. Kaldor stirred, a deep, rumbling groan vibrating in his broad chest as he slowly woke from one of the deepest, most restful sleeps he’d had in centuries.
He felt wonderfully heavy, his limbs thick and sluggish with the lingering lethargy of a massive, hard-earned meal. Stretching his massive, tattooed frame across the mattress, he ran a large hand over his midsection. The massive, taut mound from the night before had completely vanished, replaced once again by his usual heavily muscled torso. Jake had been fully, thoroughly digested, leaving behind only a profound sense of warmth that radiated outward from Kaldor's core.
Sitting up against the headboard, Kaldor chuckled, the sound deep and gravelly in the quiet room. He reached up and felt the worn fabric of Jake's black baseball cap still sitting slightly askew on his braided blonde head. Adjusting the brim with a smirk, he patted his flat stomach affectionately.
Opening his jaws, Kaldor let out a long, resonant, smoky burp that carried the faint, lingering scent of pine, weed, and a hint of his midnight snack. He licked his sharp canines, his sapphire eyes sparkling with deep satisfaction in the morning light. It was going to be a very good day!
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Set in Doom: The Dark Ages. The Doom Slayer grew to be a 300ft tall giant over the centuries.
Giants don't have friends.
6k words, giant/tiny interactions. There will be a part 2!
“You’re going to get in trouble.” He told her, her back turned turned to him.
Freya didn’t respond. She worked quietly, eyes shrouded under her hood as delicate hands teased wires and tightened bolts.
“You’re that determined to get this thing working?” He pressed, glancing over his shoulder at the engineer behind him.
“Yes, Dale. We’re entitled to know what’s going on in our own world.” Freya said as she held up her creation; a metal gauntlet fitted with radio controls, with an earpiece to match.
“I suppose you’re going to go test it now.” Dale scoffed as Freya pushed past him, stowing her device under her cloak as she exited the building. Guards patrolled the streets in gleaming silver armor, though their focus was not on her. Not yet.
“Yes. I need to test the range. Keep the channel open, I’m heading out to the plains.” Freya said as she dipped out of sight. Dale watched her go and sighed deeply, eyeing the armored guards warily.
Freya slipped out of town with ease. As a civilian, she was free to come and go, after all. As she passed by guards, she listened for their communications- garbled chatter over radio. Tensions were high. Freya had every intention of learning why, and her makeshift device would help her tap into those communications.
Not long after Freya had disappeared, Dale was cornered by one of the guards. He yelped suspiciously, thinking he was caught for sure. With confused looks from the armored guards, he was merely being ordered to stay within city limits for an Atlan drill.
Dale’s mouth went dry. Of course this would happen now, when his friend was already well on her way to gods know where. He turned on his own radio piece and called for her, with no response.
“Come on, Freya… you’re really going to keep that thing off until you get far enough?” Dale whispered worriedly, tapping all sorts of buttons on the earpiece.
Freya, meanwhile, was doing exactly that. She had to save on the device’s battery, after all. Blissfully unaware of the incoming Atlan drill, the engineer trotted out to the valley of red sand and rock and began tinkering with her invention.
That was when the Atlan drill in question began. Everyone in the city knew what an Atlan was. 80 meters of mechanical armor piloted by a single Sentinel seated in the helmet was impossible to miss. And that is exactly what stomped around the corner of the valley, directly towards Freya’s location.
“Oh, shit.” Freya stood stupidly in the middle of the barren valley. The Atlan’s green chassis whirred and clattered as the giant mechanical humanoid marched towards her. From a distance, the enormous mech was easily seen by Freya. But to the Atlan, who’s pilot sat in the cockpit behind a blue tinted visor, Freya was small enough to be mistaken for a pebble.
Freya had to quickly calculate her options. If she stood still, there was a chance the pilot would see her and change course, sparing her from being crushed. But if she was in fact seen, out in a restricted area, she’d be taken in for questioning… and say goodbye to her hard work.
She decided to book it to the nearest, biggest boulder she could hide behind. Her hood flew off her head as she ran, silver hair streaking back in a short bob cut as the Atlan’s footsteps came closer, louder, shaking her nearly off her feet. For such a huge bipedal thing, it covered ground with blinding speed.
Freya did not make it to the boulder. She was knocked off her feet by tremors like explosions in her ears. This was it, she was going to be flattened.
Except, she wasn’t. Red dust covered her and clouded around her as the massive footsteps momentarily ceased. She expected to look up and see the Atlan glaring down at her for interrupting their drill. But what she saw was not an Atlan at all.
“Slayer, what is the meaning of this?” The Atlan pilot’s voice boomed through the external speakers.
Freya’s mouth gaped open. Towering directly above her were two colossal, armored legs. Really, it was two pairs of legs; one being the mechanical Atlan’s not too far off, and the other pair was positioned in such a way that Freya’s tiny form was positioned between the boots.
Boots, yes. Armored, much like the rest of the towering figure, and much like the Atlan. But what stood above her was not an Atlan, or a mech.
The Atlan pilot’s question was answered with a rush of air, a sigh. Indeed, Freya was stunned into silence, watching the chestplate 80 meters above her swell with breaths. Massive lungs, lungs, filled that chest.
“It’s really him…” Freya said, coughing on dust. Then she froze up in a panic when the towering figure leaned over her, his helmet coming into view. Like the Atlan, a dark visor spread across the giant’s helmet.
He looked right at her. And that was when she knew she was caught. Freya clutched her device, pushing it under her cloak.
The next thing she saw was a hand. Massive. Outstretched, blotting out the sky.
Sand sifted around her as the enormous fingers clenched around her, lifting her off the ground.
The Atlan pilot watched in dismay as the Slayer bent down and picked something off the ground just in front of his mech. He tapped his fingers impatiently in the control rig. Whatever it was, it was tiny. Through the Atlan’s visor, the pilot watched as the Slayer slowly unfurled his fingers up to his face to look at his hand.
“What is it?” The pilot asked through the speakers, and the massive Slayer, as always, kept silent. He just stood still with his hand held nearly flat.
There was Freya, nestled neatly in the middle of his palm. Though his hands were covered in armor and chainmail, she estimated that she was only about the size of his fingertip. In that moment, the Atlan pilot was nonexistent to her. Looming above her was her captor; the giant man known as the Slayer.
He looked at her silently. She stared at his dark visor, his hand’s reflection visible on the glass. Her own figure was swallowed up in his armored palm, as she could clearly see in the reflection. But she also saw, very faintly, his brown eyes watching her.
Funny, she never imagined his eyes would be brown. He looked at her in that moment with unmistakable… gentleness.
“A civilian? They should not be here. Leave them, a team will collect them.” The Atlan pilot ordered as he stepped to the side and gestured to the edge of the valley.
Freya flinched in the giant’s hand. She really was caught this time, trapped dozens of meters above the ground. Despite being the size of an insect to him, the engineer pleaded with her eyes up at the Slayer’s helmet.
He blinked slowly at her. Then his fingers slowly curled over her, encasing her in a loose fist. Freya braced herself within his vast palm, helpless only to trust in the giant.
“Slayer, you were given an order.” The pilot’s voice boomed over the speakers as the enormous armored man walked away, his closed hand held out in front of him.
The Slayer was a powerful ally to the Sentinels. When he first arrived on the planet Argent D’Nur, he was human, relatively. He was crazed, shouting about blood and guts and killing. He quite literally had been to Hell and back, with nothing but his battered Marine armor and his wits. His tenacity made him a subject of interest to the godlike Maykrs, who went on to enhance him with incredible strength.
This was centuries ago. The Slayer became immensely strong, yes, but his body also grew larger with time, until he was at his current staggering height of more than 90 meters. Some say he may grow larger still, maybe requiring yet another recycle of his armor into the next size up.
Freya, like all of her people, was well-acquainted with the Slayer’s story. He was a constant presence in their lives, at least from a far off distance; always standing guard like a living statue. Yet no one knew much else about him. He was the Slayer, but who was he, really?
The pilot’s voice quickly fell off into the distance. Freya heard only the thundering steps of the Slayer, his steady, massive breaths as he kept her safely covered by his fingers while he carried her. He was disobeying orders, what for? He didn’t know her, and she didn’t know him. The longer she was held in his fist, the more she questioned his motives.
When his fingers slowly unfurled, Freya was met yet again with his enormous face. Well, as much of his face as she could see through the tinted visor of his helmet. He was closer, now. Holding his open hand right under his chin.
She had never felt so exposed, before. And yet, she did not feel like she was in danger, despite her position.
Freya stood up slowly in the middle of his palm, shifting her radio under her cloak. The Slayer’s head tilted ever so slightly to the side.
“You saved me… so, um, thank you!” Freya shouted up at him, then realized there was no way the giant could hear her.
Yet, to her surprise, the Slayer nodded in response.
“You can hear me! That’s incredible. And you noticed me in time, I almost became a pancake.” She said while dramatically motioning for him to see.
The Slayer let out an amused puff of air through the vents of his mouthpiece. He was enjoying the little one’s banter so much that he nearly didn’t hear the stern complaints pouring into his helmet’s earpiece.
It was time for him to go. But first, he needed to see to it that the little human he snatched was safely back on the ground. The Slayer flattened his palm out and brought his other hand up, then slid his thumb and forefinger on either side of Freya.
She realized then that her time on the Slayer’s hand was over. “Wait!” She exclaimed, taking her radio out from her cloak to show him. “I’ll contact you later, okay?”
The Slayer stared at the tiny object in her hands and nodded again. Then he ever-so-gently brought his fingers together, securing her by the waist between them.
Freya was stunned into silence. Her feet were lifted off of his palm, and wind rushed past her ears as the Slayer sank into a squat and lowered her all the way to the ground.
His thumb gave way first, allowing her to lean against his index finger while she regained her footing on solid ground. She clutched her radio to her chest as she craned her head all the way back to gaze into the giant’s glossy visor.
“Thank you,” She said, and the Slayer lifted his hand away from her. He gripped both of his thighs for support as he stood back up, standing at his full height above her. His helmet angled down to look at her before nodding one last time.
Freya watched as the Slayer took a calculated step back, then turned away from her. His dark blue cloth cape flitted behind him like a flag as each of his gigantic steps took him further and further away, which she found herself staring as he went.
Eventually, the giant was out of view, disappearing behind a tall ridge. The stronghold of Teroth loomed in the far distance, where he and the Atlans were often seen patrolling the plains. Freya exhaled deeply and glanced around at her surroundings. He had carried her to the outskirts of the city of Khalim, where she lived. Did he know?
That evening, Freya got an earful from her friend Dale. How worried he was, how much he thought he was going to get his own ass cooked by the guards for being an accomplice to her little experiment. He reeled it in real fast when she told him about the Slayer, however.
“So, what, now you’re going to wire that thing to hack into his comms? I thought you wanted to intercept the outgoing radio signals.” Dale said as he yet again watched Freya work.
“The Slayer is like a thousand years old. Or more. I doubt there’s much he doesn’t know.” She said, concentrating on soldering.
“Yeah, but Freya… this is the Slayer you’re talking about. He’s not someone you talk to… he just kills things and that’s it.” The fair-haired man sighed.
“He saved me, Dale.” Freya said, shooting him a look from under her blue hood. “Saved me from one of us. He’s more than just a killer.”
“Maybe he has an ulterior motive.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know. Lure you to some remote location and murder you?”
“That’s silly.” Freya scoffed.
“I just don’t want you to get hurt!” Dale pleaded as he grasped Freya’s shoulders, forcing her to look into his worried eyes. “Please don’t go near him. Please.”
Freya opened her mouth to retort, then softened her gaze. Dale looked genuinely scared for her in that moment, something she felt guilty for.
“Okay. I won’t go near him… but I am going to tap into his radio.” Freya said as she patted Dale’s hands on her shoulders, and he finally let go.
“I still think you should quit that. You’re going to get us both in trouble.” Dale sighed in exasperation as he got up and walked to the door. “Get some sleep, will you?” He said, pointing to his friend hunched at her desk.
“Night, Dale.” Freya grinned, and he shut the door.
She did not sleep that night. Not when the day before was so exciting. By dawn, she had a finished radio with extended range. Well, she had hoped. She wasn’t about to ask Dale to help her test it again.
Freya walked outside and scanned the horizon. No giant in sight. She sighed and shouldered her bag with her radio inside and started hiking uphill. The engineer wasn’t about to start testing her device without a visual approximation of range, so she had to find him.
Reaching the tallest point in Khalim, Freya looked around for any sign of the Slayer, or even an Atlan, which often accompanied him. Instead, the surrounding area was eerily still. Perhaps today wasn’t a drill day.
Or, she thought, what if the Slayer was in trouble for disobeying orders? The thought of the ancient giant being reprimanded was a strange one, but perhaps not unfounded. He was in service to the Sentinels, after all, and they served the powerful Maykrs.
Freya came to the realization that she was going to have to travel in search of the Slayer. But before she set off on a wild goose chase, she decided to give the radio a try.
Slipping the earpiece on, Freya booted up the gauntlet. It was fitted with all manners of knobs and switches, and a screen panel with subsequent keyboard for precise channel filtering. All manners of frequencies came through, many just plain static. Some were clear enough for her to hear unimportant military jargon.
“Oh, hell. This isn’t going to work.” She blurted suddenly to no one in particular. The Slayer was not known to speak, and even if he did, she wouldn’t know his voice. If she did find his channel, it would be silent, or just plain static like all of the other hundreds of channels out there.
Slumping in defeat, Freya started heading back to her home. But not before glancing at the display screen on her comms device.
A single word had come through to her. Evidently, she had forgotten about the text feature. On the small LED screen affixed to her wrist was the word “FRIEND?”
Freya stared at it. The sender was just a string of random numbers. Curiously, she copied the frequency and tapped into it, then hesitantly brought the microphone to her lips.
“Who is this?” She said, feeling incredibly foolish as she waited for a response.
After a little while, another single word message appeared. It read “SLAYER.”
Freya was silent. She glanced around as if she was being watched, then stood up and started pacing on the grass.
“Dale, if this is you, I’m going to wring your neck.” She growled into the mic.
A longer message showed up this time. “WHO IS DALE? FRIEND OF YOURS?”
Freya read it and scoffed, a smirk playing across her lips.
“Yeah, he’s my friend. And there’s no way you’re the Slayer.” She uttered.
“AN OLD BASTARD CAN TYPE.” The text read. Freya stared at the screen in disbelief. Then another message came through.
“YOU NEED TO LEARN ENCRYPTION. CHANNEL IS WIDE OPEN.”
Well, that certainly didn’t sound like something Dale would know.
Freya glanced around yet again, then continued pacing and holding the mic close to her face.
“I haven’t had time to do that. I had to make sure this would even work in the first place.” She said, watching the screen for more messages. “You must be close by if I’m coming through this clearly?”
“DO NOT DISCLOSE LOCATION ON THIS CHANNEL.”
“Oh, right. Should I use a code name, too?”
“ANYTHING TO KEEP LOW PROFILE.”
Freya had to pause to laugh to herself at how ridiculous the situation was. She still had her doubts that she was talking to THE Slayer, but she was enjoying the back and forth with whoever was on the other side of her custom device.
Then another message came through. It read simply; “I WANT TO MEET YOU.”
Freya’s pulse quickened. Dale’s words played back to her, suddenly, and a wave of fear and doubt came over her.
She moistened her lips nervously before responding.
“I’m not sure if I should meet you.”
Her screen was blank for a while. She stared at it, feeling her pulse spiking.
“WE HAVE MET. I WANT TO MEET YOU UNDER BETTER CONDITIONS.”
Freya bit her lip almost to the point of drawing blood. She could not be falling for a predator’s trap at her age.
“Such as?” She almost whispered.
“WHEN I AM OFF DUTY. SOON.”
Freya groaned hesitantly, watching the screen in silence.
“TAKE TIME TO THINK ON IT. OVER AND OUT.”
The channel was silent after that. Freya sat quietly, listening to the faint crackle of static. She was almost hoping for a voice to blare over the speakers informing her that she got pranked. Instead, she had to face the fact that she just may have spoken with The Slayer. The Great Slayer. The Doom Slayer.
Maybe Dale was right, and she should give up on the whole radio thing after all.
As she walked back to her home, she found herself scanning the horizon for that all-too familiar giant. She half-expected him to appear, looming above her, his massive hand catching her and taking her away for good. Bye bye, Freya.
That night she barely slept, again. This time there was no tinkering, no soldering. Just her and her thoughts, staring at the ceiling as if some powerful force might rip the roof off. Every now and then, she’d glance at the display screen for messages. She received none.
Several days had passed since the exchange, and it was all radio silence. Perhaps the Slayer, or whoever was communicating with her, lost interest. She would have been fine with it.
Then, she received a single message.
“ABOVE YOU.”
Freya dropped the radio and fumbled along the floor to her window. There he was. The Slayer’s unmistakable hulking form towered over her entire village, his helmet pointed down to… she could swear he was looking right at her.
She had to tear her gaze away from the window to retrieve her radio. His visor was fixated in her direction, glinting in the morning light.
When she put the earpiece on, she was shaking. Her voice carried a tremor as she spoke to the same channel that had messaged her.
“H-Hello, uh, I see you.” She croaked.
Then she watched as the Slayer calmly raised his left arm and lifted a panel on his gauntlet, similar to her own design. He then used fingers thicker than tree trunks to poke one letter at a time on an analog keypad.
“I KNOW. I AM IMPOSSIBLE TO MISS.”
That actually got Freya to laugh.
“You are quite, quite large.” She said, her fear slowly being replaced with excitement. Now that she knew exactly who she was talking to, her initial desire to meet the Slayer was returning. “Can you see me, though?”
She watched as the Slayer seemed to scan the surrounding buildings before typing.
“BARELY.” He looked up from his keypad and leaned forward slightly, as if squinting. Still looking directly at her, even through her window, somehow. He was quite far away, standing on the outskirts of the town.
“That’s… kind of scary, you know. Are you stalking me?” Freya asked with a hint of playfulness in her voice.
The Slayer straightened up and tapped his helmet. Then typed.
“THAT DEPENDS ON HOW YOU LOOK AT IT. I HAVE A SCANNER.” He continued typing.
“COME TO ME?” He beckoned with his finger.
Freya’s pulse quickened at that. Doubts began clouding her thoughts again. Should she hide? He would find her just as easily as before.
“Hmm… if I don’t?” She asked tentatively, watching as the distant giant shook his head in confusion.
“SORRY. PLEASE?” He typed and crossed his arms over his chest, waiting.
Somehow, she did not expect him to ask nicely.
Freya leaned against the window frame, watching him. The image of the giant armored man standing firmly against the horizon of her town was not new to her, or the other residents. Except now she was being asked directly by the living statue of a man to approach him.
“Okay, I’ll… start heading your way.” She said slowly into the microphone. As she left her house and walked down the cobbled streets, she could see him in the distance at all times. It was a little unnerving.
“TAKE YOUR TIME.” He typed to her, then gave a big thumbs up.
Maybe it wasn’t so unnerving, actually.
It took a little over ten minutes for her to walk to the outskirts. All the while, the Slayer watched her progress with interest. Neither said anything over the radio during the time. Perhaps it was nerves.
With no buildings or other obstacles in the way, the Slayer held up his hand. Freya noticed and paused in her tracks, only for her legs to lock up entirely when he took two massive steps towards her.
Thump.
Thump.
And just like that, he was standing directly over her again. Her heart raced as she leaned back, craning all the way up at his staggering height.
He stood there for a while, just looking down at her. His face was completely hidden past the tinted visor in the growing light of dawn, but Freya could swear he was grinning.
Then, he raised his arms and gripped the sides of his helmet. And pulled it off.
She watched with bated breath as his face came into view. Rugged, squared jaw lined with stubble. Short, glossy, black hair and thick brows framed his dark golden eyes. And yes, he was grinning.
Oh, and he didn’t stop there. He stepped back again, slowly, his dark eyes fixed on her tiny frame. Then he lowered himself to one knee, then the other, each one a loud thud as his metal plating hit the ground.
It took everything in her to not buckle when he leaned forward and planted his massive hands on the ground, on either side of her. His face, his shoulders, his arms… he swallowed up the sky above her.
The Slayer gave her a look, tilting his head and raising a brow as he held that pose. Hands and knees on the ground, his hulking frame was unmoving at that moment. Freya could only stand, completely stunned in his shadow.
He seemed satisfied with her reaction. So he moved one last time, settling his unfathomably heavy body down on the ground. He laid on his belly, then stretched his arms outward and crossed his forearms in front of his face.
And there was Freya, encased in the space between his forearms and his head.
The Slayer exhaled, a long deep breath that rustled the grass and her platinum hair. The two exchanged glances for a moment. Then the Slayer inhaled, and spoke.
“I take my time, too.” He smirked. His voice was deep, deeper than most men. Freya could feel his voice in her bones.
“I can see that…” She inhaled sharply. His presence was stifling. Though they weren’t touching, she could feel his arms behind her, his massive head looming so close in front.
The Slayer’s eyes narrowed, and he turned his face to the side ever so slightly. He was studying her, discerning every little detail that he ordinarily would not see. Not unless he got this close.
“So. Got a name?” He asked with a rumble in his throat.
Freya raised her shoulders and dropped them. Her feet were stuck firmly on the ground, but she had to be brave.
“I’m… Freya.” She said, hiding the tremble in her voice.
“Freya. I like it.” The Slayer smiled maybe a little too wide. His tongue moved restlessly in his mouth as he bit the insides of his cheeks. He then cleared his throat and pulled his head back a little.
“You’re the first person I’ve spoken to in a while. I’m uh, rusty.” The giant muttered, stealing glances to the side.
Freya found herself relaxing slightly at that. For such a massive, ancient demigod, he had an awkwardness to him that was rather endearing.
“S’alright. You’re the first giant I’ve spoken to, ever, so…” She gestured with her arms in an exaggerated fashion for him to see. “I’m sure we’ll figure it out.”
The Slayer’s massive head leaned closer to her, his face angled to the right. She could see her reflection in his brown eye, looking extra small against the backdrop of his arm.
“Yeah. Progress.” He shifted his arms in front of him. “So… am I scarier without the helmet?”
“You’re… no. Not scarier. Just, really big.” Freya glanced behind her as his arm shifted. She studied his face again, noting how old scars stretched across his cheeks, nose, and lip.
“Big. Yeah.” He breathed a chuckle. Then his eyes lit up as he looked at Freya, still standing boldly before him.
“Hey. I want to hold you again.” He said, as blunt as ever.
Freya’s eyes widened. In the overwhelming presence of the Slayer, she had nearly forgotten how they first met just several days ago.
“Oh, you do?” She asked stupidly. The Slayer just nodded.
“Stay there.” He rumbled. Freya stood still as the giant’s arms unfolded behind her and straightened out, each one a column that braced the Slayer’s upper body.
The Slayer leaned back, rocking onto his hands and knees before sitting back on his haunches.
Freya was stunned. Even sitting up, the Slayer was enormous. The ground under him was left with an imprint of his bulky chest and stomach. She then watched as he lifted his arms and gripped his gauntlets, sliding each one off and setting them off to the side, along with his helmet that was bigger than her house.
He looked pleased, running his fingers along his muscular, bare forearms and flexing his hands. That was when Freya finally realized what he was going for.
He wanted to hold her in his hands. His real hands. Flesh on flesh.
The Slayer looked at her, his lips forming a lopsided grin. Then he leaned forward, both arms outstretched. His hands cupped around either side of her. Palms rising up on either side like walls. She was completely encircled.
But her feet were still on the ground. Both she and the Slayer looked at each other in realization. His hands were so large that Freya stood only as tall as the width of his palm. She was knuckle-height.
As much as the Slayer wanted to just slide his palm under her, he couldn’t. Not without bulldozing the turf along with her. So he did the next best thing, and plucked her off the ground with his thumb and index finger.
Freya yelped, squished between the pads of his fingers. It didn’t hurt, especially now that they weren’t covered in steel, but the sensation was surprising. Like a firm hug on her whole body.
It didn’t last, for she was placed in the center of his palm. Her knees gave out immediately when the pressure of his fingers lifted, and she collapsed into the safety of his hand.
It was warm. Very warm. Her own palms spread against the surface of his skin, dipping into the creases as wide as her hands.
She was so engrossed in looking down that she didn’t realize he had lifted her up to his face.
“Comfy?” His deep voice rumbled. Freya jumped into a sitting position, then looked up. She was again met with the Slayer’s massive head directly above her.
“Y-yes! You’re warm, uh, Slayer. Mister Slayer?” She laughed nervously.
The Slayer wet his lips, then smiled. He shook with a breathy laugh.
“Stick with Slayer. Though I appreciate the formality.” The giant shifted on his haunches, holding his hand under his chin. Freya was so small in his hand. But he, too, could feel her warmth.
“Well, you are something of a legend. Even the enemy is scared shitless of you.” Freya uttered, her head craned all the way up just to look at him.
Being so close to the massive man, it was easy to see his quirks. The subtle twitch of his eyelids and nostrils. How he rolled his tongue in thought. She found it amusing, if not a little unnerving to be so aware of the smallest movement of his muscles.
“I’m just an angry bastard that won’t die.” The Slayer growled.
Freya hummed in thought. He was being coy.
“You don’t seem angry to me.” She suggested.
“I’m always angry.” He said.
“Dare I ask why?”
“No.” The Slayer said curtly. He then raised his other hand and cupped it underneath, his thumb raised above her tiny body.
“No.” He repeated in a whisper as he slowly touched her with the tip of his thumb.
Freya stilled at that. She leaned back under his touch, her breath held as his massive digit caressed her sides.
The two were silent for a while. Freya made no complaint as his thumb, wider than she was tall, touched her with a tenderness she could only expect from a lover. He rubbed against her slowly, and she swore she could feel the tension leaving his body as he did so.
“Hmm.” He rumbled, a content sound in the back of his throat. His gaze on her was intense, silently pleading with her to keep still and let him touch her.
She complied.
He touched her a little while longer, then withdrew his thumb and tucked it under the back of his hand.
“You’re an agreeable little thing.” The Slayer rumbled, tilting his head to examine the tiny human.
Freya was laying in his palm at this point. Flat on her back, staring up at the gigantic man. He was right about her in this particular instance. She was a rebel, after all.
“Oh? I wonder who needed that more, me or you?” She raised an eyebrow. Not that he could see it.
“You liked it.” He raised his own eyebrow. “And, not gonna answer that.”
“Hey, it’s fine. I’m sure even the Slayer gets touch-starved.” Freya shrugged.
“Touch-starved.” He laughed, a very unnerving laugh. Then he brought his thumb back and jabbed her with it once. “A reminder. For what I fight for.”
Freya jolted as his digit poked her- really, it was more of a shove. She shuddered.
“Me?” She said, hushed.
“Humanity.” The Slayer’s gaze softened as he rubbed his thumb against her again. “So, yes. You.”
Freya’s body relaxed into his touch. The way he addressed her with such fondness, despite only just meeting her, made her feel conflicted. But he seemed genuine.
“Everyone I know is terrified of you.” Freya said, averting her gaze from his eyes. “Especially Dale. He told with me to stay away from you.”
The Slayer was unfazed by her statement. In fact, he seemed more amused than anything.
“And? Do you regret not taking his advice?” The giant rumbled as he rubbed his thumb almost absent-mindedly against her side.
“I never take his advice.” Freya replied curtly.
“Who’s do you take?”
“Mine, I guess.”
“You sound an awful lot like me.” The Slayer laughed. He was growing more fond of the little human. “Though, you should get a second opinion when it comes to wandering into the path of an Atlan.”
Freya sighed, crossing her arms over her chest. The Slayer’s thumb continued to stroke her side.
“I didn’t expect it… nor did I hear the order to stay in city limits.”
“Would you have obeyed the order?”
“...probably not.”
The Slayer sighed in exasperation. “Then it’s a good thing I was there to save you from being flattened.”
“I know… I really appreciate you saving me.” Freya looked up at him earnestly.
“You need to be more careful from now on.” He grumbled.
“Or what?”
“I could always stuff you in my pocket.” The Slayer shrugged. “Keep you out of trouble.”
Freya grinned at that. The idea of being carried along with the Slayer sounded more appealing than he probably intended.
“Don’t threaten me with a good time.” She grinned, and the Slayer’s lips stretched into his own crooked smile.
“You’d like that, huh? Solitary confinement, no windows?” The giant man chuckled darkly.
“Tch… it’s not ideal, but I bet you’d take me to some interesting sights. I’m sick of this place.” Freya said, gesturing her hand at nothing.
The Slayer hummed in thought. It’s true that he did travel to all sorts of places, even those off-planet. His enormous size practically classified him as a structure, and his armor and equipment were engineered as such. But a human riding along with him? That was new.
“It’s dangerous.” He said gruffly, his thumb still touching her tiny body almost impulsively now.
Freya looked into his big brown eyes. “What is? Your pocket?”
“Taking you with me. It’s dangerous no matter where I put you.” The Slayer’s eyes narrowed.
“Can’t be that bad.”
“I’m not about to list off all the ways you could get hurt, let alone die.” He nudged her repeatedly with his thumb. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m gigantic.”
“And no fun!” Freya added. The Slayer merely rolled his eyes in response.
“If it means keeping you alive, yes, I’m no fun.” He muttered. Then his gaze softened as he brought her and his hand closer to his eyes.“Tell you what, though. You be real good and keep out of trouble, and maybe I’ll let you climb the scaffolding inside my helmet.” He grinned.
“Scaffolding? You have ladders and such in there?” Freya asked, perking up immediately with his suggestion.
“Oh, I don’t know. That’s only something well-behaved citizens get to see.” The Slayer hummed.
“Didn’t know the Slayer was one of the fuzz.”
“I would have arrested you by now if I was.”
“For what?”
“You know what. And don’t even think about trying to sneak in there. I’ll find you.” The giant sneered.
“Ugh, you’re really no fun at all.” Freya sighed, bumping her head back against his palm.
“Don’t know what you expected from me.”
“I don’t know. Ancient Slayer wisdom. Sentinel secrets.” She said.
The Slayer moved his thumb away from her, finally. His gaze intensified as he studied the fair-haired woman.
“Can’t say I trust you with critical information. You and your little wiretap.” He tapped his thumb against his palm next to her.
“Yeah? I’ll find out anyways.” Freya’s gaze on the giant intensified. If he wasn’t going to give her what she wanted, she always had her own methods.
The Slayer’s face twisted into a look that made her stomach flip, just then. She felt his hand tremble beneath her, a solid twitch that made her jolt into a sitting position.
“No.” He rumbled deeply. “Or I’ll eat you for breakfast.”
Freya’s body became like ice when the Slayer’s threat was accompanied by a curl to his lips, revealing pearly white teeth. Each massive tooth was larger than her whole body, the unmistakable sound of his molars grinding against each other in the back of his mouth as he clenched his jaw.
Suddenly, unsurprisingly, she no longer felt safe. She cowered in his palm, a tiny thing, one insignificant little human that would disappear behind those teeth of his if he so chose.
The Slayer felt her shake. He inhaled deeply and relaxed his jaw, but the twitch of his nose indicated that he was still irritated.
“Put me down, now.” Freya uttered, unable to meet his gaze.
The Slayer blinked, giving her one last look before lowering his hand to the ground. He flattened his palm and watched as Freya shuffled off his hand and slid off the side.
The two said nothing, afterwards. Freya tucked her gauntlet under her arm and walked back the way she came without looking back.
The Slayer watched her leave, still sitting up on his haunches. He glanced at his massive hand, now empty. He clenched it into a tight fist. Then he slipped his gauntlets and helmet back on before standing up.
His visor display lit up with diagnostics. A tiny indicator showed Freya, lit up by the overlay, a small yellow blip that continued to move away from him.
He watched her for a moment longer. Then sighed and turned away from the only human to ever trust him.
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