#some of you are sick in the head i think sorry.

[cressidagrey]

Such A Mystery - Part 9

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Colette Leclerc (Original Character)

Summary:

Max Verstappen fell in love at the ripe old age of 12 and never looked back.

Colette Leclerc really regrets posting that particular Taylor Swift Lyric to her private Instagram account, because it made George Russell go insane.  

The rest of the world has absolutely no idea that the Dutch Lion and Charles Leclerc’s twin sister have been a couple for 15 years and are expecting a baby. 

Warnings: 

Pregnancy, Mention of multiple miscarriages, Pregnancy complications, George Russell Bashing (he's probably really nice in real life but in this, he's the bad guy, sorry), Jos Verstappen, We have apparently now reached the time where I also bash Ferrari. I am sure they are super nice in real life too. They are not in this.

Author Notes: Huge thanks to @llirawolf for holding my hand through this. Chapter 8 of...who knows.

It felt like forever. He knew it wasn't. It must have been minutes until the car door was ripped open and Charles slipped in right next to him.

It wasn’t until the doors were slammed shut behind Charles that Max dared to look at the Monégasque.

His heart skipped a beat at the sight. Charles was still in his racing suit just as him, the suit itself streaked with sweat.

The moment the car door closed, the car started riving.

"Merde," Charles cursed. Max could only agree. "I am sorry, that it took this long."

Max gave a sharp, jerky shake of his head. "You don’t have to apologize," he somehow managed to get the words out. "I’m just..." he trailed off, a shaky exhale escaping him. "How could you make it here so fast?" he asked, casting a quick glance in his friend’s direction.

Charles snorted. "Your press officer had a shouting match with Ferrari's,“ he said simply.

If Max wasn’t so focused on not completely losing it, he might’ve been amused with the mental image. But at the moment, he could only shake his head.

Next to him, Charles let out a sigh. "Are you alright?" he asked quietly.

"No. You?" he gave back.

"I don't have a bad feeling," Charles said quietly. “Not worse than it has been for days at least.”

Twin Telepathy was apparently a thing as far as Charles and Colette were concerned. 

Quite frankly, till this day, it still weirded Max out. They just seemed to know when the other one wasn't feeling well. 95% of the time, they got sick at the same time. They communicated more easily with each other than with anyone else, and regardless of what game they played...they needed to be put on opposite teams, because otherwise nobody had a chance against them.

Max was well aware of Colette and Charles' strange connection. Even if he didn’t fully understand it. They both had some sort of sixth sense when it came to the other one, and it sometimes felt like they were talking in secret code.

"What’s it telling you right now?" he asked, his voice barely above a rough whisper.

Charles turned to him fully at that, and Max saw the way his eyes swept over him, taking in every aspect of his appearance.

Max could only imagine what Charles was seeing. He felt like a walking wreck, and there was no doubt his appearance was mirroring that.

"Colette is in pain," Charles finally said, his voice strangely quiet. "She’s scared."

That answer felt like somebody shoved a knife into Max’s stomach. He inhaled sharply, the breath catching in his throat. “Of course, she is,” he hissed through clenched teeth.

Charles seemed to sense what he was thinking, even without being telepathically connected through whatever the hell Colette and him had going on. The Monégasque reached out and took a firmer hold of his hand, the grip almost crushing.

"Don’t," Charles said firmly, his voice leaving no room for arguments. "Don’t go there. We’re gonna get to her as fast as we can."

There was a brief moment of silence, as Max tried to collect himself. He focused all his attention on the pressure of Charles' hand on his, and somehow, it actually helped.

"I feel so goddamn useless," he finally admitted, his voice rough with emotion. "I want to be with her."

"You want to try calling her before we are in the air?" Charles suggested.

That was not a bad idea, not at all. Max let out a low and slightly shaky exhale, swallowing hard. “Yeah,” he nodded. “Yeah, I…” he had to stop and clear his throat. “Yeah, I’ll try to call her.”

His hands were shaking when he pulled out his phone out of the backpack that somebody had handed off to him, already packed. Regardless of all the drama that had gone on in the RedBull garage during the year… if it really mattered, the people in there pulled off minor miracles.

Within minutes, his entire day - hell, his entire week - had been packed for him, with all the essentials of clothes and everything else he would need.

He had almost forgotten about the phone in his shaking hands, but now he just stared at the screen for a moment. His fingers were trembling so badly that just unlocking the phone was a challenge in itself.

Jimmy and Sassy were on his lockscreen...a picture that Colette had once sent him when he had been away for one of his races...the two of them laying on top of her on their couch...

Every other time Max saw the photo, it made his heart do a little funny jump. Now though, it made his chest ache. It felt like a sharp stabbing pain, and for a moment, he just sat there and stared at the picture.

Then he called her.

It rang. And it rang, and it rang again. With each passing second, that horrible knot in his stomach tightened a little more. With every ring of the bell, it got harder to breathe.

Finally, to Max’s immense and enormous relief, the line connected.

"Hey, Maxie. I put you on speaker," Victoria's voice came over the phone, sounding surprisingly calm.

A shiver of something resembling dread ran through Max, at the sound of Victoria’s voice. But he pushed past the feeling.

His thoughts were once again running wild - was it a bad sign that Colette wasn’t the one speaking to him? Or was he just overreacting..?

“Hey,” he forced the word out past the lump in his throat. "How are you feeling?" he asked, pleading for Colette's voice. Was it selfish that he just wanted to hear her tell him that everything was going to be okay?

"Better now," Colette's voice came, sounding slightly hoarse.

The words were like a shot of adrenaline, and for a moment, Max actually felt a little lightheaded. “Liefje.” He closed his eyes, just hearing her voice sending another wave of relief through him. “Are you okay? How is Bébé?”

"Bébé has decided that they would rather be born today, so I would suggest you hurry up," Victoria said drily.

"Seems like the kid already inherited Max's need for speed," Charles quipped. "How are you doing, Coco?"

"I'm good," Colette's voice replied, and Max could only imagine the eye-roll that was currently happening. He knew his girlfriend, and he had no doubt that she had been glaring at Victoria ever since the phone was put on speaker.

"Where are you?" she asked, her voice suddenly turning much softer. "You're coming, right?"

"Coming," he assured her, his heart aching. "We're coming, I promise."

"I know. I’m not worried." She sounded like she meant it, but Max could easily imagine the anxiety in her eyes.

"You'd better not worry," Charles said, and then added, "I’m keeping him from doing anything dumb."

Max shot Charles a dirty look at that, bt he swallowed down the annoyed protest and focused back on Colette instead. “Just…hold on a little longer, okay?”

"It's not like I can go anywhere else," Colette replied, her voice slightly amused. "I’ll keep our little speed demon in there a little lo...." She broke off and let out a quiet hiss of pain, her voice once again cut off by what Max suspected to be a particularly painful contraction.

“Colette,” he said sharply, all kinds of emotions washing over him, one by one. “Liefje, just…just breathe through it, okay?”

There was a second of panting, then, he heard her take a deep breath. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay,” she finally said. “Just…hurts like hell.”

He swallowed and clenched his free hand tightly into a fist, fighting against the urge to just jump out of the car and start running towards the airport.

Colette being in pain was not something he could deal with.

He heard her take a few more deep breaths, and he just sat there, waiting and listening and feeling absolutely useless.

"How long until you get here?" she asked after a moment, her voice breathless. He could see her in his mind, his sweet girl, sitting on the bed and clutching her belly as another contraction hit her.

"We're not even at the airport yet," he told her, and damn it, why were his eyes suddenly burning. "We’ll get there as soon as we can, okay? Just...hold on a little longer."

"What your dad said..." Colette said with a shaky voice.

"I know," he said simply, the grief raw in his voice. Neither of them were ever really going to get over the two babies they had lost. They had learnt to live with the pain, they had dealt with the heartbreak an grief...but it was always going to be scar for them.

"Max, if something…" she began, her voice a little wobbly. He could tell that she was crying, by the way her breathing got a little more hitched and ragged.

But she suddenly cut off and gasped, letting out an even breath. Another contraction..."Hey, nothing is gonna happen," he quickly said, trying to soothe her. "Nothing. I'll be there soon. I'll be there before you know, and our child will meet their parents. We will be fine, we will get through this. You, and me. Together."

"If something happens," Colette continues. "If..."

"No," he cut her off, the word coming out as a growl. "Nothing is gonna happen. You will not talk that way. You’re going to deliver a gorgeous and healthy baby, and I won’t hear anything else."

"Max..." she protested, but Max wasn’t having it.

"You’re not going anywhere," he said firmly, putting as much steel in his voice as he could. "You will be fine. Our baby will be fine, and I will be there soon and I will hold your hand and you can threaten to geld me and all of it will be okay. Just breathe.” 

He could hear the sound of her breathing, deep and even. She was trying to steady it, and Max gripped his phone tighter. He didn’t know if he was trying to hold himself together, or if he was trying to hold on to the sound of her voice.

The seconds ticked by, and then another contraction hit, and he heard her gasp out another ragged breath. Max felt like he was going to crawl out of his own skin. The idea of her in pain was like an invisible knife twisting a little deeper in his gut, each time.

"We need to go," Charles said suddenly. "We need to get into the plane." The car slowed down at that moment. "Coco, listen to me. I am going to be absolutely fucking furious with you if something happens to you," Charles told her fiercely. 

"Trust me," Colette’s voice said, sounding slightly tired. "I am very, very motivated to stay alive."

That was good. That was a good sign. If she was still being sarcastic and even a little bit cheeky…it was good.

"Just hold on," he told her again, the familiar feeling of helplessness seeping into his bones. "Just keep hanging on, for me. I love you."

“I love you too,” the words were as immediate and as fast as the sunrise each morning. "Hurry up, dammit."

"I’m trying," he replied, his voice hoarse. "I’m trying. We’re at the airport now. We’ll get there as fast as we can-" he had to stop, when he heard her let out another pained gasping sound, as another contraction clearly hit her hard.

“Goddamn,” he exclaimed, all of his muscles tense with the urge to do something. He wanted to help her, he wanted to be there to comfort her…but more than anything,  he was terrified of losing her. "Liefje, just keep breathing, okay? Breathe and stay calm."

"I’m trying to," her voice was breathless, and he knew that she was probably trying hard to fight the urge to cry out. Oh God, he hated that. He hated seeing her in pain, he loathed feeling this utterly useless.

"Go. Love you," she told him.

"I love you," he told her emphatically, wanting to say something more, but then Charles impatiently gestured at him to hurry up and get out of the car. "I...I’ll see you soon, okay? Just hang on, okay?"

"Yeah," he could tell that she was trying even harder to control her voice, trying to put on a calm and steady front for his benefit. "Just..." she cut off and let out a gasp, another contraction evidently hitting her hard. "...just hurry up before this baby decides to make their way out before you arrive, okay?"

"I will," he promised through gritted teeth. "I will, goddammit, I will, just…hang on."

He heard Colette’s pained panting, and each of her breaths was like a stab in the gut.He hated having to hang up on her

Everything in him rebelled at that. How could he, how could he possibly abandon her like that, how could he let her take on this pain and fear all by herself, without him there to hold her hand...but goddamnit, he had no choice.

He took a shuddering breath and pushed past the urge to scream, to slam his fist into something, anything. His mind was a whirlwind of emotions, ranging from the desperate need to get to her, to overwhelming panic, to anger at the universe for forcing them apart and for putting her through this pain.

Into the plane they went…it was probably the shortest amount of time between entering a plane and taking off Max had ever experienced. 

Before too long they were up in the air, flying towards Nice.

The minutes ticked by, each one passing by like a century. Max would sit in restless agitation at his seat, his mind racing back and forth. Every thought and memory came back to Colette. He just wanted to be at her side, he just wanted everything to be okay…

And instead he would be stuck on this plane for 6 hours.

He would be stuck on this goddamn plane for six hours. Six hours, each one of them filled with the knowledge that the love of his life was giving birth to their child, and he was not there to support her, to hold her hand and reassure her that everything was okay.

It was driving him absolutely insane. He couldn’t take it, he just wanted to be there, with her. He could vividly picture her, sitting in the hospital bed and gripping the rails, her face screwed up in pain as she fought through another contraction. And he was not there to comfort her.

"Maman is with her. Your sister is with her. Lorenzo and Arthur too." Charles said at that moment. “We aren't there but everybody else is."

"How can you be this calm?" Max asked him, dragging a hand through sweat damp hair.

"Don't mistake calm for not being worried," Charles said evenly, his eyes tracking Max's restless pacing of the plane. "I am worried. For her, for you and for the little one. But freaking out isn't gonna do anyone any favours right now."

"I know,” Max said, his voice still strangled tight with stress. He just couldn't get any of the images out of his mind - her struggling and fighting her way through the pain, looking more vulnerable and pale than he had ever seen her...and he was not there.

“Besides, I shouted at Ferrari’s PR and got it out of my system, so currently, I am feeling quite calm.” Charles said darkly. “I imagine that’s going to change again when I am sure that Colette and the baby are alright.”

Max just stared at him. Charles had done what?

If there was a religion that Charles Leclerc believed in then it was Ferrari.

Charles Leclerc was their golden boy. Their Il Predestinato. There was no good-natured fobbing to be had about Ferrari regardless of what issues there had been had through the years, and there had been a lot.

Charles worshipped Ferrari like a malevolent goddess. He didn’t want to hear any criticism of his team and Max had given up on that a very long time ago. 

Charles and Colette both could be the most stubborn people Max had ever match. The only one who could match their stubbornness were each other. 

"You did what?" Max stared at him, utterly flabbergasted. Charles was an absolute Ferrari fan and loyal to the very core…why the hell would he yell at the PR people?

"Why...? What did they do?"

"They weren't even going to tell me that something was wrong with Colette," Charles said darkly. "I knew it. I knew that something was off. But they didn't say anything. It was one of Red Bull's PR Staff that got me out of the cooldown room. Ferrari wouldn't have said anything to me. Ferrari didn't want me to leave either. They wanted to debrief, they wanted me to give interviews,"

Max had to resist the urge to swear. He had been so focused on the fact that he was not with Colette that he hadn't even processed the fact that Ferrari had actually kept her labour a secret from Charles, simply to make him stay and do his goddamn job for them.

"You know that that is not normal, right?" he asked him drily. "I am not telling you that everything is perfect at Red Bull but Christian would never fucking stand for that."

"You know I never expected it," Charles told him, his mouth a thin hard line. "We are the drivers. We are the stars. But we come second. First and foremost, we are assets to the team. What Ferrari wants, Ferrari gets. We drive, we get podiums, we hold the trophies, and we smile for the cameras. Everything else comes second. It doesn’t matter to them. To them, only the trophies matter. "

"That's what they want," Max told him, anger seeping into his voice. "But that's not how it should be. Ferrari is wrong. If something is wrong with your loved ones, they have no right to keep it from you like that. Especially not for the sake of a goddamn interview."

"I know," Charles said, his lips thin with bitterness. "But there's not much I can do about it, is there? We may be the top drivers on the grid, but we drive the car that the teams give us. There's only so much that we can do when the team has power over pretty much every aspect of our career. And believe me, I am going to pay a fucking price for doing what I did. I just don't care at all. It's Colette," he said sharply. "I love all my siblings. I do. I love Lorenzo and Arthur. I would do everything for them. But they aren't my twin. They aren't the second half of me," Charles said simply. "Ferrari be damned."

Max hadn't thought that he was ever going to hear these words out of Charles' mouth but here they were.

"What the fuck did Jos say by the way? What did Coco mean?" Charles demanded.

"He gave an interview to Sky Sports," Max said, fury still embering deep in his gut.

"Of course he did." Charles said, not sounding surprised at all. "What did he say?"

"Confirmed the relationship...and the pregnancy," Max said clenching his teeth. "And if that wasn't enough...he made a...comment about how it had taken us long enough to have a baby."

There was a sharp indrawn breath as Charles absorbed that. "...What?" Charles said after a moment, his voice strangled. "...he made that comment in public? Are - are you serious?"

"I never told him about the two...miscarriages," Max said quietly. "I couldn't deal with whatever well meant advice he was going to have...but I...We lost two babies," Max said weakly. "My father went out there and confirmed our relationship and the pregnancy without talking to either of us. He just made that decision because it's "ridiculous" that we kept it a secret for so long. An it’s making me furious. This wasn't his decision to make. This was ours."

"Yes," Charles said, his jaw clenching. "It was. Your decision. Nobody else’s. He had absolutely no right to do that. Goddamn it, I have never liked that man, but I've never had the urge to punch him as much as I do this very moment."

"You and me both," Max said. The anger he was feeling would have been burning through him like a damn inferno if he hadn't been so worried about Colette.

"This should have come from us," Max repeated quietly. "Not from anybody else."

"It still can come from you," Charles said.

Max paused, looking up at him. "Are you saying we should..." he began uncertainly.

"You want to tell the entire world that you love my sister and that she is having your baby? You have an Instagram account and a phone with an internet connection," Charles said drily. "Tell them the truth. Your truth."

Max opened his mouth and then closed it again. Charles had a point. It was obvious what the news was going to be now if people had seen Jos's interview.

But he wanted to be the one to tell the world. He wanted it to be on his terms. He wanted it to be public but on his public terms. Not his father's.

"Are you ever going to ask my sister to marry you?" Charles asked him suddenly.

The question caught him completely off guard. "...What?" He said blankly, stunned by the change of the conversation.

"You gave her a ring when you were both 18 that you both insisted was only a promise ring," Charles said drily. "Are you ever going to replace it with the real thing?"

He thought back to that ring that still sat on Colette's finger to this day. A simply gold band with a tiny heart-shaped diamond.

He had given it to her in 2016, after his very first Grand Prix win in Spain. He had gone out and bought it that very same day to be exact.

He had bought Victoira a handbag the first time he had scored his championship points...but the first time he had won...he had bought Colette that ring.

"Apparently the baby is only going to have your surname too, because you have an agreement," Charles continued. "Do I actually want to know what that agreement was?"

"We were 18. Both our father's would have probably killed us, if we came to them and told them that we were engaged," Max said with a sigh. The Leclerc's had always been supportive of their relationship but Hervè Leclerc had very much thought that both Colette and him were far too young to get married. 

Jos on the other hand...Max didn't even want to imagine that screaming fit.  "So I gave her that ring and we agreed that..."

"You agreed that..." Charles repeated slowly, silently urging him to continue.

Max let out a deep sigh and dragged a hand through his already messy hair, mussing it up even more. "We agreed that we didn't really need a piece of paper to tell us what we already knew," he said simply. "Colette and I had been together for 6 years at that point, we already knew and accepted that we were going to be together for the rest of our lives. It was just a matter of when. So we decided that we didn't need a damn piece of paper to know that we were committed to each other. We already knew that, without a doubt," Max said simply. "It was a promise ring. To love and to cherish, till death us do part. One day we would do it properly, but till then...that ring was a promise."

Charles stared at him. "Let me get this straight. You have been married to my sister for 10 years?" he asked him sharply.

Max winced. Okay. Put like that, it sounded kinda bad. "We never had the actual wedding," he said sheepishly. "We both know it wasn't necessary for us, so...we kinda just...never got around to it."

"I mean, I did ask your father for her hand in marriage when it was clear that he wasn't going to be there...when we eventually did it properly...but...for us that ring was… It was more than enough," Max said quietly. "I knew damn well that I would be with her for the rest of my life. She knew it. We both knew it. And that ring was a symbol between us that sealed the deal. We both knew that it was going to be for forever and always. It was a promise. A promise to always stay by each other’s side. No matter how badly things fell apart around us. No matter how much the world wanted to tear us to apart. We were going to stay together, come hell or high water. We didn't need a paper to prove that to us or the rest of the world," Max said firmly.

Charles stared at him for a couple of long moments, processing this. Max was well aware that, from an outside perspective, it might sound weird. That they had been so young, but so utterly certain that they were going to spend their lives together.

But he and Colette had been together for years. And he had seen how strongly they had bonded over the years, seen what they had been able to deal with as a team, as one, and how they had come through every single thing that the life had thrown at them together.

"You two are utterly ridiculous," Charles finally said drily. "You didn't get engaged because as far as you two were concerned you already got married years ago."

Max winced a little bit and couldn't really refute it. If he were to be honest, he'd have admit it did sound utterly ridiculous, when Charles spelled it out like that.

But that just...that was how badly they had known right from the very beginning that this was it for them. They didn't need a piece of paper to tell them what they already knew.

"I'll ask her properly," he promised Charles. "I already got the ring. But Colette doesn't want to overshadow Lorenzo and Charlotte and I knew that she wasn't going to want to have a big party while pregnant so I figured I would just wait."

Charles was slightly taken aback by his words, before he gave a small smile. "She'll definitely say yes, you know," he said, the corner of his eyes crinkling with affection.

Max smiled in return. His heart ached with the thought of her. "I hope so," he said quietly, feeling like there was a hole in his chest where his heart was supposed to be. "I really, really hope so."

[danyasblogsblog]

JUST THE USUAL JOHN PRICE

warnings : threats, age gap, jealousy

requested by @sethell !!

hey guyss posts are not going to be as daily anymore, as im currently really sick and with uni break over tomorrow, im not gonna be posting as consistently. feel free to message requests 💗💗

the sight of you laughing with another man made price sick. the way his hand reached for your shoulder to pat you on the back- and the way his eyes lingered on your body made price nauseous. he knew he had to interfere- to get his cunt away from his girl. who was he to so obviously and shamelessly flirt with his love? tossing the cigarette out of his mouth, he confidently walked over to you and the too-excited man.

‘hello, darling. who’s this?’

price’s silky smooth voice welcomed you, and you could practically feel yourself melting at the feeling of hearing his melodic voice. his strong wrapped slinked around your shoulders, and you leaned into his chest. the familiar scent of his spicy cologne that made your brain fuzzy and which made butterflies in your tummy flap wildly entered your nose. ‘this is.. what’s your name, again, sorry?’

the fact you couldnt even remember his name made price smirk. the man introduced himself, extending a hand for price to shake. he accepted it, eyeing him suspiciously. ‘nice to meet you.. sweetheart, could you go get me a drink?’

you had been through this procedure many times. men flirting with you, obsessed with your youth and body- how your hips swayed to music and your taste in drinks. these men didnt know about price through- and they would usually think he was a friend, or an uncle- hell, some had even thought he was your dad. but the correction of him being your boyfriend embarrassed the men, turning their faces red in humilation.

as you separated yourself from price, his soft gaze on you became a threatening glare on the man. ‘you leave that girl alone, mate, yea?’ ‘who are you, her boyfriend? youre an old man, dickhead.’

‘maybe i am, but i can still rip your head off in a minute. shut your fucking mouth and get your paws off her, you arent a dog.’

the mans anger practically seared off him, smoke almost coming out of his ears. you could feel his eyes on you as you rested your elbows on the bar’s table, waiting for you and price’s drinks.

when you came back, the man was gone, and price seemed awfully pleased with himself.

‘whats got you so happy, darling?’ you quipped, giving him the drink the bouncer made you. your loving gaze settled on him, and your voice was filled with amusement and sarcastic suspicion.

‘oh, you know, just the usual, love.’ price’s blue orbs bored into yours as you squinted your eyes at him, before giggling and getting on your tippy-toes and kissing his cheek, his beard tickling your chin slightly.

[revelboo]

laying my coveted collection of three (3) muppet dvds down at your feet/general offering table. my soul for some bluestreak, if you wanna. if not then enjoy the muppets- but! i never knew they did cover songs for stuff like "got my mind set on you" by george harrison and kokomo until recently!! or that bluestreak brought "the muppets take manhattan" with him onto the lost light!! idk i really like the mental image of this giant sci-fi robot next to kermit the frog, not doing anything in specific or whatever, just... vibing. if some cybertronians think humans are like weird protoforms, i cant help but wonder what they think of muppets, ykwim??? either way, have a happy new year!!

Blue needs some love and he’s such a goober sometimes. I can see him absently humming Rainbow Connection

Where I Belong Pt 10

Bluestreak x Reader

• Carrying you back to his quarters, he absently rubs a servo against you and warms when you hook an arm around it to hug him. “Sorry about worrying you. I didn’t want to bother Ratchet and it wasn’t really that bad. I’ve seen worse and-” Trailing off when you look up at him. Because he knows he’s rambling, but you don’t huff at him. Don’t tell him to shut up. You never do and every time you don’t his spark aches with it. With all the things he wants to say, but doesn’t dare. “Sorry.”

• When he smiles that self-depreciating smile, that sense of a lost boy lifts through you again. He’s older than you, much older, but still it’s there in the fear you see in his optics sometimes. An unsettled feeling you don’t know how to deal with, but that makes you think the smiles and chatter on the surface are all for show. That he’s still reaching for you like he had that first time, desperate and afraid. “Don’t apologize. Just take care of yourself. I like having you around.”

• Do you? No one else does and his servos flex around you as he lets himself into his quarters and sits on the side of his berth with you. Reluctant to give up your warmth. Feels bad about clinging to you like he does, but can’t make himself stop. Optics shuttering as he braces for the rejection, he mass shifts. Hears you yelp as you end up in his lap and he wraps his arms around you, chin on top of your head. “I like having you around, too.”

• Heart racing, you shudder and try to shake off that awful feeling of falling. Not even sure why you’re surprised by anything at this point when you live with a giant alien robot. Shrinking? Sure. Why not? “Warn me before you do that next time.” Or you might get sick on him. Distracted when he so gently curls his fingers around your wrist and pulls it to him. Watching him line up his palm with yours and even smaller, his hand dwarfs yours.

• “Sorry.” You’ve always been so small and fragile to him, but putting himself closer to your size really drives it home. Your hand so tiny in his. “I just wanted to hold you. And I can’t normally because you’re so small and you’re still small. I feel like you’re going to break,” he murmurs, embarrassed. You’re always touching his servos, hugging them, trying to comfort him. He wanted to return it, but still can’t. Like he can’t begin to explain how much he loves you for being with him. For not abandoning him when he’d needed you. For keeping him from being so alone.

• “I’m not made of glass.” Shifting more to sit across his lap, you reach back and find his other arm and pull it around you. Encouraging him to hold you like he’d wanted and you lay your head against him, seeing his door wings lift from the corner of your eye. “See?” You can hear his internal systems and the thrum of his spark as he cautiously rests his hand on your hip. “This is okay.” Breath catching as his head dips and his cheek brushes yours. That hand still curled around yours tugging so he can brush his mouth against the inside of your wrist, his optics still shuttered. That gentle touch spreading warm through you.

Previous

[not-neverland06]

𝙲𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚝𝚘𝚞𝚜 𝙷𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚜

Pairing ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ Arthur Morgan x fem!reader

Next Part - Hell Hath No Fury Series

A/N: my stupid poor-people photo editing app stopped working so now my cropping is all off and I'm sad. My aesthetic 😭

Summary: Something brews between you and Arthur, but as always, the camp comes first. Despite the growing tension, Arthur must leave to rescue one of the gang who'd been separated in Blackwater. Jealously brews as a loud-mouth Irishman returns to camp and sets his sights on you.

Micah’s cough echoes through the camp and you wince at the sound. “He needs to see a doctor before he gets the rest of us sick.”

Arthur shakes his head and sighs, “Caught somethin’ from the Downes fella in town.” He passes you some coffee which you take eagerly. It’s part of a strange morning ritual you’d begun with him a few weeks ago. Just after the hunting trip, you’d taken to having breakfast with him if he happened to be in camp that morning. It’s become your favorite way to start the day.

You smirk slightly and nudge his side. “You’re welcome.”

He laughs and shakes his head at you, “I’m sorry?”

“Well,” you start with a teasing tone. “If I hadn’t needed a gentlemanly escort into town for some shopping, it would have been you calling in on those loans.”

He opens his mouth to argue but it stays hanging as you see the cogs turning in his head. He snaps his jaw shut with a reluctant sigh, “Suppose you’re right.”

“I always am,” you tell him like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Arthur just laughs, passing you some bread. You hear a familiar set of footprints pacing outside the tent and roll your eyes, turning towards the entrance. 

Sure enough, Mrs. Grimshaw paces around the perimeter of Arthur’s tent like a cougar. She sniffs when she catches your eye and turns her nose to the air, wholly pretending she hasn’t been stalking you. 

“Shoo!” Arthur shouts, waving her off. 

You let out a bewildered laugh, smacking his arm. “Arthur, stop,” you hiss, but you don’t sound very stern as you giggle at Mrs. Grimshaw’s affronted look. 

“Go on,” he keeps going, pushing her further. “Get,” he snaps like he’s talking to a wild animal. Mrs. Grimshaw says something you can’t quite catch and stomps her foot once before running off. 

You press a hand over your mouth, fingers pinching your lips to try and stop yourself from laughing. Arthur looks at you for approval and you only shake your head. “Come on,” he tries, “she’s been botherin’ us all mornin’. What was I supposed to do?”

“She’s not a dog, Arthur.”

“You sure ‘bout that?” He teases and you swat at his arm again. 

You shake your head, letting out a heavy sigh. “I truly think she hates me,” you whisper, pouring yourself a little more coffee. 

“She don’t hate you,” he reassures. You tilt your head with a deadpan look and he chuckles. “Well, maybe just a little.”

You sigh and shake your head, “Just because I married rich doesn’t mean I had an easy life.”

“I know that,” he objects. 

You look up from your mug and furrow your brows. “Do you? You think I don’t see the way you look at me? You see the same softness they do. I just can’t figure out whether you like it or resent me for it.”

The playfulness of the morning is long gone. You seem to have a knack for ruining the moment. This question, though, has been haunting you for a while. Dutch is passive in his disdain for your upbringing—snide comments here and there but nothing quite so obvious. 

A few of the girls question you about the privileges of being a lady a little too long for comfort. Then, the conversation will end with one of them sniffing and saying, “Must have been a nice life. Too bad you’re stuck with us now.” 

There are always small moments like that to break the ridiculous idea you’ve got in your head, that you belong. No matter how hard you try to tell them, they don’t seem to understand that this freedom is better than anything money could have bought you. Your life hasn't been your own since the moment you were born. Sure, being on the run from the law and fighting for every penny wasn’t fun. But moments like these with Arthur would never happen if you were back at your estate. 

With the others, it’s easy enough to see their resentment. But Arthur’s better at keeping his cards close to his chest. It took a while for you both to settle into something easy like this. Most of the time you don’t spend more than half an hour together a day. You don’t have a good enough read on him to determine whether or not he holds your past against you. 

Sometimes, you think you might see just a hint of bitterness when he catches a glimpse of the smooth skin of your palms. But you never know if that’s real or something your paranoid mind has conjured up. 

Arthur swirls his mug in his hand, a bit of the coffee splashing over the edge as it does. You squirm uncomfortably in your spot beside him. The sun has begun to heat up the canvas tent, but you know that’s not why you’re sweating. 

He gives you a gentle smile that eases some of the dread building up in your chest. “I don’t care either way. And you shouldn't give a damn what the rest of these fools think. It’s what you’ve done with your life, with your money, that matters.”

You chuckle and shake your head, “You mean my father's money, and then my husband’s money. It was never mine. That’s why I care what they think. I’m dealing with their judgments every damn day and they know nothing about the truth of it all. I was a commodity, practically cattle to those men.”

Arthur’s brows furrow in that familiar way they do whenever you talk about the men of your old life. It doesn’t bother you to talk about them because you’re used to it and they’re gone. But you know it makes Arthur angry to think about it. 

You’ve grown comfortable with each other, but it’s still a cold shock when he casually touches you. You glance down, eyes wide, as you see his palm covering your own. You look back up with a soft smile. “You’re smart, Arthur. Smarter than half the people here give you credit for. And far kinder than anyone I’ve ever met. " Your heart kicks up a beat when you see the way he refuses to meet your eye. 

You’ll compliment him a million times a day if only to get him to start believing you. And maybe so you can keep watching that pink flush on his cheeks. 

“That’s enough of that,” his voice is gruff with something you can’t quite name. Having enough sense to know when to stop you hold your hands up in surrender. 

“Only saying the truth,” but you never can seem to stop yourself from pushing just a little bit further. Arthur shoots you a sharp look and you bite your lip to keep from laughing at him. You can see him start to wind up and prepare yourself for the brief scolding you’re about to receive. Once he’s done with that, maybe you’ll do what you’ve wanted for so long and ask him to accompany you to Strawberry. 

You’ve been trying to work up the nerve as your last two outings haven’t gone wonderfully. You’re hoping a redo might help the both of you grow just a little closer. Besides, being away from camp seems to be beneficial to you both. 

Approaching footsteps bring your conversation to an awkward halt. They’re not the heavy foot of Mrs. Grimshaw. This is someone else, someone much more welcome. You turn and smile at Charles as he hovers at the entrance of Arthur’s tent. Arthur scoffs and mutters something under his breath that you don’t quite make out, but it makes Charles grin. 

Charles gives you a brief nod but his intentions are meant for Arthur. “Whaddya want?” Arthur snaps impatiently. 

“Trelawney came back,” Charles answers shortly and your face pinches in confusion. Trelawney? You roll the name around in your mind but you don’t think you’ve ever heard anyone in camp mention him. 

Arthur’s head perks up, the frown on his face softening just ever so slightly, but it's replaced by something more bitter. Curiosity or nosiness, you’re not sure, but rather than give in to the rules of common decency you don’t leave them to finish their conversation alone.  

You try to lean back, pretending you’re not there so they’ll keep talking. “The hell did he want?” Arthur barks, tone still rudely short. You wonder what happened between him and Charles, they seemed to get along well enough a few weeks ago. 

Charles's gaze darts briefly to you but he continues, “He’s got news about Sean. Says he knows where to find him.” Now, that name you know, if only through vague mentions. You know Karen does her damndest to keep a mention of Sean out of everyone’s mouths. And that he made it out of Blackwater alive but got separated from the rest of the gang. Other than that, you don’t know much about him. 

Arthur gets to his feet and Charles backs away a few paces, leaving the two of you relatively alone again. Arthur looks down at you, something like disappointment on his face. “You need to go,” you assume before he can say anything. 

He nods and you give him an expectant smile, “Then you better get moving, cowboy. I’ll be here when you get back.” He lingers for a moment like there’s more he wants to say. But your mornings together have always been short, you can’t imagine why that would have changed today.

He sucks in a sharp breath before nodding and heading towards Charles. You watch him go, your plans for the day being tucked away. You’ll ask him to town another time. As long as it’s anywhere but Valentine. 

A prissy throat clears behind you and your head sinks between your shoulders with a heavy sigh. “Time to get movin’,” Mrs. Grimshaw commands, with far too much glee in her voice. 

You’re sitting on an overturned bucket, running someone’s pants across the washboard. You hate doing this, especially in the brisk of the early morning. Your fingers have already pruned up from the frigid water and you can barely feel them anymore. 

Your gaze drifts to your right, where the heaping pile of laundry lies, and you consider running off with Lady. You know whatever other chores Mrs. Grimshaw would come up with in retaliation would be a million times worse, but it almost seems worth it at this point. 

You dismiss the idea, deciding to honor the unspoken rule of ladies staying in camp, and continue scrubbing. You think this might be Arthur’s blue shirt. You notice a few fraying edges and holes and make a note to fix them up for him once it’s dry. You only hope you don’t stumble across Uncle’s clothes while you’re doing this. That man has got stains in places that make you want to throw them in the fire, rather than wash them. 

“Never gonna get used to a sight like this,” Sadie calls out as she walks up behind you. She kicks a crate over and throws herself down beside you. 

“You will soon enough,” you let out a bitter chuckle and shake your head, “Mrs. Grimshaw’s got some vendetta against me.”

Sadie shrugs and picks at some dirt under her nails. The sun seems to crest just perfectly over her head, almost making her blonde hair glow. She seems to be getting better. She’s put some space between her and the O’Driscolls and has found a place in camp just a little easier than you. 

Still, you know she’s struggling. She wants the freedom that your friendship with Arthur and Charles has granted you. You know she’s feeling cooped up here at camp. You’ll have to invite her for a ride sometime and see if that will help ease some of her anxiety. 

“Nah, it’s not just you. That old hag hates me too. She thinks I’ve got ideas above my station.” You and Sadie turn, glaring at the back of Mrs. Grimshaw who is fussing at Lenny. You shake your head with a huff of laughter and turn back to the laundry in hand. 

“I miss Jake,” Sadie suddenly blurts out. You freeze, hand still partially submerged in water as you debate how to approach this. Sadie’s always preferred the blunt way of going about life. You don’t think she wants simpering sympathy right now. 

“Which parts of him do you miss?” You ask, trying to keep your tone light as you toss the shirt into the basket beside you. 

“The non-controlling parts.” Sadie nudges your side with a laugh, “Relax, I’m not gonna start cryin’ on ya. I just miss runnin’ my own house, not being bossed around by a son of a bitch like that,” she says, motioning vaguely towards Mrs. Grimshaw. 

“She’s not much better than my husband was,” you grouse, trying to drown out the woman’s voice. 

“Ooh,” Sadie groans, tone laced with long-held resentment. “Forgive me for sayin’ it, but he was a real pain in my ass.”

You can’t help the grin that curls at your lips as you straighten up, momentarily abandoning the laundry. “You’re not my employee anymore, Sadie. Say whatever you want.”

“Right,” she shrugs, “He was a real bastard and I hope he became wolf meat.” Your lips pull back into something resembling a smile, but it's not fully there. You imagine the blood of your husband on your hands and it doesn’t fill you with the usually stifling nausea. Instead, it’s like a distant ache. You’re either growing numb to it or finally accepting that you’ve done the world a favor. 

You suck in a deep breath and nod, “I hope the same.” Sadie lingers for a little while longer, not helping with the clothes, but keeping you company. You don’t talk about anything of much substance. Mainly her irritations with everyone in camp and you echoing the sentiment. She doesn’t like Pearson always trying to force her to cook with him and you hate being his taste tester. It doesn’t matter how much seasoning he adds, he doesn’t know how to make even half-decent stew. 

When Sadie eventually leaves to finish her chores and you’re left all alone with your thoughts, you realize just how painfully slow the day passes by. You almost find yourself dragging the laundry out just to provide you some distraction from waiting for Arthur to come back. 

You’ve both been lingering on the edge of something. You need to see if it’s all in your head or if there might actually be hope for the both of you yet. 

You glare down at the basket of laundry at your feet and let out a heavy sigh. You reach for another shirt and begin scrubbing, keeping a careful eye on the camp’s entrance. 

It’s not until the sky is illuminated with glowing swirls of orange and pink that Arthur and the others come riding back into camp. You’d run out of chores a long while ago and had just been restlessly pacing since then. Every time you so much as approached Lady someone would come by and distract you with some meaningless task. 

You’d been sitting in the tent for the past hour, barely reading a book as you pray time moved faster. You stand now, hearing the cheers and whistles of the others. You move around the canvas, smiling when you see Arthur leading the men back into camp. 

There’s a man on the back of Diablo, a loud-mouthed redhead that you’ve never seen before. You can only assume this is the infamous Sean they’d been after. Judging by the look on Arthur’s face, you imagine he’s been running his mouth the entire time since they rescued him. 

He looks about ready to put a bullet in the young man as he drives him into camp. You see the others all taking notice of their return, Dutch being the loudest of them all. “Sean MacGuire!” He approaches Arthur’s horse, giving the boy a hand down and grinning widely. “Welcome back, son!”

His thick Irish accent catches you off guard, “Oh, ‘appy to be back, Dutch! ‘appy to be back,” he responds eagerly, a large smile on his face.  

You hesitate by the fire, waiting for Dutch to finish before you go darting off towards Arthur. “I do think a return like this requires a celebration!” Dutch calls out to the rest of the gang. They whistle and cheer for him, Bill already rushing off to break out the alcohol. The gleefulness of the moment catches up to you, it eases away some of the anxiety balling up in your gut and you find yourself cheering along with the others. 

Dutch keeps Sean tucked under his arm and begins to parade him through camp. You know this is a win for all of them. Even if someone here hadn’t liked Sean, getting one over on some bounty hunters is always a morale booster. Whatever your opinions on Dutch may be, you have to admit that he knows how to lead his people. 

Even if you happen to think manipulate is a better word for what he does. 

You watch Sean interact with everyone in camp, drawn into the boisterous energy he wraps himself in. It’s clear some of them are already beginning to find him a little annoying. But even his smart comments can’t seem to put a damper on the spirits of the night. 

Your mouth ticks up slightly when you see Lenny slug him in the shoulder, yelling at him for letting himself get caught. You divert your attention away from the interaction, looking for Arthur. You feel a little bit of the giddiness give way to disappointment when you realize you’ve lost sight of him. 

He’s no longer by the horses, Diablo having been hitched long enough to already start grazing the grass. You peer around the women’s tent and then take a few steps towards Arthur’s but he’s nowhere to be found. 

Just as soon as you let yourself be disappointed by this, you also chastise yourself for becoming so infatuated. You’ve always had a bad habit of getting in your head and boosting your hopes up over something mundane. You’ve only just begun forming a friendship with the man and already you’re starting to fret over him. You’re not a schoolgirl anymore, you’ll have to grow out of this at some point. 

You rub a tired hand over your face and suck in a deep breath. The aromas of camp rush over you in a wave. You can still smell the remnants of burnt morning coffee amidst the ever-present scent of the campfire and the fragrance of laundry that lingers on your hands. You can no longer tell if the mingling of odors comforts or irritates you. 

You look up to the shining stars above and pray for a semblance of sense. Wrapping your shawl tighter around your shoulders you resolve to get over this infatuation with Arthur and just enjoy the night. If anything is meant to happen, it will do so naturally. 

Dutch walks towards you as you begin to head towards the domino table. You force yourself to stop when you see the expectant look on his face. Sean trails along behind him now, already seeming to have found his way into some of the liquor. 

 “Mrs. Rowe!” Dutch calls out loudly, you give him a polite smile and he motions towards Sean. “I don’t believe you’ve met my good friend, Sean MacGuire. Mouthiest gunman in the west,” he adds with a smarmy grin.

You shake your head and hold your hand out to the boy. “Can’t say I’ve had the pleasure. And please, no need to be so formal.” You give him your name, and he perks up. Stumbling forward and attempting to shake the drunkenness off, he turns your palm and kisses the back of your hand instead of shaking it. 

You can’t help but laugh a little at his performance. Molly suddenly calls for Dutch across camp and the three of you turn to face her. “Dutch, over here for a moment!” She waves him forward and Dutch lets out a long-suffering sigh with an easy smile. 

“Duty calls, I believe the two of you can entertain each other for a little while.” He turns towards Molly, arms wide as he calls out, “Now, Miss O’Shea, what ever can I do for you?”

Sean quickly snags your attention again and you realize that he’s yet to let go of your hand. “Not a missus, eh?” He asks, his eyebrows waggling with what his drunken mind must think is seductiveness. 

You stifle a giggle and shake your head no. “‘Fraid not. He’s not been gone long, but I’m happier for it.”

“Oh, and so am I, fair lady.” You shake your head with amusement. He’s nearly charming with all of his limitless swagger. “Now, I’ve just been cooped up in a camp with about fifty men with mugs nearly as ugly as these,” he motions towards the gang and you let out another unbidden laugh. “Would you care to dance with me?”

Your brows furrow, a disbelieving smile on your face. Leaning in, as though you’re sharing a secret, you tell him, “There’s no music.”

He pulls a little bit back from you, meeting your eyes as your breaths mingle with proximity. “Are you sure?” He asks, a mischievous look on his face. 

You find yourself frowning in confusion, and then, almost as though they had planned it, Dutch puts a record on. It’s scratchy on his worn player, but the music fills the camp as he leads Molly into a sway. 

Your lips part in astonishment and you forget for a moment just how close the two of you are. If anyone else saw, they’d think you were going to kiss. “How did you know he was going to do that?”

He waves you off and leans back. “Magician can’t reveal and all that,” he dismisses. “Now, a dance?”

You’re charmed by him, as much as you hate to admit it. Perhaps he doesn’t have quite the same effect on you as Arthur. But he’s handsome in his own way. Besides, who are you to deny a magic man a dance?

You let him lead you towards the fire and he draws you close. You’re surprised when his hand stays firmly on your waist and he keeps a nearly respectable distance between you both. You’re still what modern society would call a scandal, but this is nothing for a gang of outlaws. 

“I’m sure I’ve never met you before. Where did they find you?” Sean spins you out and then twirls you back into his arms with a flourish that makes you breathless. You almost ask him where he learned to dance before you remember to answer his question. 

“Up in the mountains. Some O’Driscolls came through, killed my friend’s husband, and kept us in a cellar.” You’re no longer surprised how easy it is for you to admit something like that. You’ve become desensitized to situations like your own the longer you’ve been in camp. 

“O’Driscolls,” Sean’s face twists up with distaste and he shakes his head. “Nasty business.”

You scoff, “You’re telling me.” Sean’s gaze drifts behind you and the little color on his pale skin drains. It makes the freckles speckling his cheeks stand out remarkably. “Are you feeling alright?”

“Cutting in, MacGuire,” a rough voice calls out from behind you. Your feet still from where they’d been following Sean’s lead and you risk a glance over your shoulder. Arthur paints a fearsome portrait against the night sky. Impassioned by the sight of him, with the brim of his hat tipped low and the fire casting shadows across him, you hastily drop Sean’s hands and step back from him.  “I’d go find your lady if I were you,” Arthur instructs Sean.

Confusion swirls through you before you spot a very angry, very drunk Karen walking past. “Rotten Irish bastard,” she mutters under her breath, shooting both you and Sean a nasty look. Sean chases, taking quick steps towards Karen without another word to you. 

“Karen, it meant nothing, sweetheart. I only wanted a dance!” You let out a loud laugh as you watch him scramble after her. 

“He’s a damn fool,” Arthur says through a chuckle, walking closer towards you. You smile, turning around and flicking the brim of his hat up so he doesn’t seem so imposing. 

“You stole my dance partner, Mr. Morgan.” You accuse lightly, pretending to be cross with him. 

He rolls his eyes with an attitude you rarely see from him. “I did you a favor. You don’t want to get involved with Sean.”

“No,” you tell him, “of course I don’t. I was only dancing. Can’t do that anymore now, can I?”

Arthur’s mouth opens and closes before he lets out a huff. “Well, you two seemed awful close. I thought that-” he cuts himself off and you frown. 

You were only teasing him. Had he actually thought you were interested in pursuing Sean? You’d barely known the boy an hour. You pause, taking a step back and really getting a good look at Arthur. His shoulders are tense, though, not as tense as they had been a moment ago. The anger on his face, when he approached, had been real and not just the fire playing tricks. 

The pieces connect one by one and you find yourself astonished. Arthur Morgan had been jealous over you. 

That had to mean something. You couldn’t be reading into something like this. You might be a little desperate, but you weren’t a fool. You feel a flutter in your stomach and swallow down nerves. “Dance with me?” You ask, in a breathy whisper, sounding much more confident than you are. 

His eyes widen and he grimaces, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t know, sweetheart. I’m no good at stuff like that.”

You bite down your smile and lean forward, taking his hand in your own. They’re rough against the smooth surface of your palms but you relish in the feeling. “Neither am I. It was the one class I never managed to get the hang of in finishing school.”

You coax him forward slowly, drawing him into you and guiding his hand a little lower on your waist than you should. He takes your other hand in his own and leads you into a slow dance. It’s barely anything more than a sway, but you still feel exhilarated. 

Even with the warning, it’s still a little surprising how awful you both are at dancing. “Even if you're stepping on my toes Arthur, I’m still much happier to be dancing with you,” you tell him, sincerity coating your throat like honey. 

He looks away from you and sighs. “Don’t have to say that.”

Your brows furrow and you tilt your head, catching his eye. “Why would I lie?” He doesn’t respond, caught off guard by the question. 

“Well,” he starts slowly, finally facing you again. He laughs a little at himself and shakes his head, “I don’t know why you would.”

“Because I wouldn’t,” you retort. “I don’t want to dance with anyone else, Arthur.” You know that sometimes he doesn’t always catch the hidden meaning, but you’re hoping he understands this time. You don't know if you could be any more brazen than you currently are.

His brows furrow and you can practically see the dots connecting when you begin to hear it. Low grunting noises, something almost like a whimper, slip out of the closed flap of John’s tent. You both pick up on it at the same time, movements slowing until you come to a complete stop. You stand, tucked into Arthur’s chest, and listen to what seems to be two people having a lot of fun. 

“Is that-”

You’re cut off by a very loud, “Sean!” You gasp, hand covering your mouth as your eyes widen. 

“Oh, Karen,” he sounds on the verge of tears and you practically have to bite your tongue to not laugh. You bury your face in Arthur’s chest, feeling it shake as he lets out a loud chuckle. “I’ve missed you so much!” You hear him begin to cry and force yourself to turn away before they hear you both laughing at them. 

“Oh,” Arthur’s face screws up with disgust but he’s still laughing. “That’s just awful. Come on,” he keeps your hand in his, tucking you under his arm as he leads you away from the tent. He snags a bottle of something off a nearby crate as he guides you toward the trees bordering the camp. 

“Where are we going?”

“Somewhere we don’t have to listen to that,” he mutters, nodding back toward the sinful tent. You clench your eyes shut, trying not to picture what the two of them are doing. 

You feel your feet sink a little, mud lifting around the edges of your boot. You reach to lift your skirts, out of instinct, before you remember you’ve got your new pants on. It makes you smile a little, living without the weight of your old clothes. 

“Arthur,” you stumble into his back as you trip over a branch and he quickly rights you. “Were you jealous?” You don't give much lead-up, hoping to shock the truth out of him. 

He pauses and turns back to look at you. You smile a little impishly at him and he lets out a long-suffering sigh. “This way, woman,” he grumbles, tugging you towards a thinner patch of trees. You find yourself squeezing his hand absentmindedly, liking the comfort of holding it.

The moon illuminates your path forward and you feel your heart jump up to your throat. He’s led you to a small cliff face, a spot just large enough for the both of you, that feels incredibly intimate. The moon almost creates a halo around the area, lighting it up more than anywhere else in the forest. 

Arthur lets go of you to tug off his coat. He places it on the ground and motions for you to sit. So used to fending for yourself and always being the last priority, something as simple as that has your heart skipping. “You didn’t answer my question,” you tell him as you take a seat. 

He sits beside you, knee brushing against your thigh as he pops open the bottle of whiskey he’d swiped. He twirls it around in his hand for a moment before he places it down beside himself. Your stomach dips when he turns towards you, eyes intensely meeting your eyes. 

You almost want to look away, the blue of them too intense to face. There’s honesty in his gaze and an intention you can’t recognize that forms a lump in your throat. “Yes. I was.”

Your lips twitch and you shake your head, slightly bewildered by how easily he admitted that. “I’m jealous every day I don’t get to call you mine,” he adds.

You used to be someone else’s. First, you were your father’s toy and then your husband's. When they called you theirs it was always with the intention of owning and using you. But it feels different with Arthur. It feels like handing him your bruised heart and knowing he’ll keep it safe. He says those words, and finally, you know that someone other than yourself is looking out for you. 

His hand comes up, gently brushing some hair off your cheek and drifting down to the nape of your neck. You lean forward, following his guidance, as his head dips down. Your lips meet, and the warmth emanating from him makes you realize this is truly happening. 

Cold from the stone below you seeps through his jacket and chills your legs. The feeling only further intensifies the startling realization that this is real. This isn’t one of your silly little fantasies. He’s kissing you and you aren’t doing anything.  

You sit before him, stiff as a stone, not kissing him back or showing him any sign you’re enjoying this. He picks up on that and you can already taste the apology on his lips as he begins to pull back from you. So you dart forward, clumsily pushing your lips up against his before you completely ruin your chance. 

He laughs against your eager lips, but you feel his relief in the way his shoulders slump and he relaxes back into you. One of his hands drifts down towards your waist, tugging you slightly closer, and you could melt into the feeling of him holding you. 

He tightens his hold around you, drawing you back ever so slightly, his forehead resting against yours. “You sure you want to get involved with me? It ain’t gonna be easy.”

Unwilling to part for so long, you close the distance between the both of you and finally, let yourself give in to the sensations of this moment. His palm drifts into your hair and he tilts his head to deepen the kiss. 

Perhaps due to his gruff outlaw exterior, you’d had the misguided notion that he wouldn’t be a good kisser. Men like himself seem like the type not to enjoy something as simple as a kiss. They’re used to just getting right to the point. You’re happy to discover just how wrong you were. 

Those romance books Mary-Beth devours always describe something fleeting. There’s always fireworks going off as the two people you’ve been reading about finally kiss. This isn’t like that, there isn’t a spark that reignites a cold heart. You feel safe and comforted, like you’re finally coming home. This feels real, not like some passionate moment shared between two people that will never last.

Arthur pulls back, reluctantly, and you both catch your breath. “We should probably head back soon,” he whispers, eyes trained on your lips.

You nod your head, “Probably.” Neither of you goes to move, instead you tighten your hold on one another, basking in the moment of finally having what you’ve been coveting for so long.

end. — I do not own the characters or the game Red Dead Redemption 1/2, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2025. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

Hell Hath No Fury Taglist: @buckysblondie @littlebirdgot @heloixe @summerdazed @committingcrimes-2047

@m1stea @pokiona

[acynicalsweetheart]

LOVE IS A LOSING GAME

pairing: pre-tulpar!curly x fem!reader

word count: 3.0k

content warning: age gap (curly's in his 30s), established relationship, daddy kink, praise kink, breeding kink, sex, tummy bulge, mentions of pregnancy, mild obsession/dependency, sort of sappy and soft here and there… canon events of mouthwashing do take place after this

author's note: hi… still nervous to death about posting even if i already shared this on my ao3. i think i yapped enough there so yah. first fic + smut ever btw LOL that's why it's so.. lack lustre. supposed to be the last day before his tulpar departure. any interaction appreciated! inspired by softer softest from rimqueen on here .

It’s the last day.

The last day, if your star-crossed streak strikes again, you’ll ever see your Curly. You don’t want him to leave, why would you? Most importantly, why would he? His job is proclaimed to be your full-time daddy, not up in the galaxy, not in the middle of spacefuck nowhere. 

It’s five minutes past seven pm. Five minutes past the time he was supposed to be home. Of course you’re worried sick, what if he left early? To the ship, that is. You’re just pacing, anxiously turning your engagement ring left and right, the one Curly got you. The one that sits painfully cold and tight around your finger, not pleasant the way it does when he’s home—a reminder of his promise. Right now, it’s your only comfort, worrying with you as you overthink, flipping through all the reasons of why he isn’t home yet. 

You don’t trust that strange guy he always hangs out with, that shady type. His name leaves a bad taste in your mouth every time you say it. Every time you hear someone else say it. What if Jimmy’s the one who took your Curly away? He looks like he would. You can’t stand the way he looks like a wet and grumpy street cat living amongst dumpster trash. Your daddy is nowhere near dumpster trash, you truly don’t understand what he sees in him. He’s fond of Jimmy in a way that makes this dark-black cloud of jealousy settle snugly in your heart. 

The fact that he’s going to be up there with him and not you, for twelve and a half months—more than a year, that isn’t right. If you got pregnant today, you’d have to raise your baby all alone. Curly says he’s going to marry you when he gets back. All you hope is just that he does get back. 

You’ve got a Curly-shaped itch between your legs that only his dick can reach. 

Seven minutes past seven pm is when you hear keys jingling outside the front door. Seven is certainly not your lucky number. You’re on him the second he steps in, jumping up into his lap, lips smashing onto his before he can even inhale. Curly grabs onto you like it’s his instinct to do so. Has it been seven minutes or seven years? 

“Daddy!” You cup his face in your hands, stubble grazing your palms, almost wanting to shake some sense into his head, eyes searching for his. “What took you so long?”

“Sorry, honey, I—“ Curly’s voice is quickly muffled by your lips again, you just couldn’t resist shutting him up with another kiss. 

In your defence, he shouldn’t have come home looking that kissable and that fuckable. 

“Thought I’d lost you...” it’s a breathy admission, thumbs stroking over his cheekbones like he’s the most precious porcelain doll. You hug him tightly, gripping onto the fabric of his clothes and hope that maybe, just maybe, you’ll both be frozen like this forever. 

“Don’t worry, baby,” he chuckles reassuringly, bouncing you up and down the way he should be doing on his cock. “Daddy was getting fitted for his new suit, took a few more minutes than expected.”

You hadn’t even noticed that he was wearing it. Frankly, you don’t care what he’s wearing—you need it off, and you need it off now. 

“Yeah?” You ask as you pull back, taking another moment to look at him. 

“Yeah, fits like a glove,” Curly replies, seemingly way too proud. 

Like he is completely oblivious to the fact that he’s a walking, talking, living and comically oversized sex doll. Makes your stomach pool with the most uncomfortable cocktail of worry and arousal. How many people are gonna see him in that? Either way, you need to fit him like a glove. Right now, as a matter of fact. 

“Well, I missed you.” You pout, absentmindedly smoothing down the collar of his uniform. 

“Missed you more,” Curly noses at your cheek, saying that like he’s sure of it. 

“Then take me to bed,” it’s but a simple phrase, yet it makes Curly blush all the same, even at his age. 

“Alright, baby. As you wish.”

You drench Curly’s face and neck in kisses while he carries you to bed, hopefully getting him just as turned on as you are. Although you think you take the cake, you’ve been pining for twelve hours straight, since he left for work this morning. It’s hard, not being able to last one day without fucking the shit out of him. 

Curly sits on the edge of the bed, but you want him in the middle of it. You want it to be special, to honour the nagging feeling in the back of your mind that keeps telling you it might be the last time. You want it to be your very own, personal romance movie—starring nobody else aside from you and Curly. 

You straddle him, legs struggling a little to fit on each side of his, hovering over the spacious and sparsely golden-haired expanse of his thighs. You’d like to ride them sometime, feel what it’s like to get them sticky with your juices. There’s so many things you want to do with Curly, do to Curly. So many things you might never get the chance to do.

His hands settle on your hips for the moment.

You unbutton his uniform, actively working against your lack of self-control to not just rip it off. You unbutton it like there’s time, like Curly isn’t leaving tomorrow, like it isn’t fully probable that this is the last time you’ll ever see each other. 

Button after button, the blond tufts of ocean waves on his chest reveal, getting sparser and darker to the trail down to the marbles of his stomach. You can’t get enough of him, his majestic fucking stallion face, flushed cheeks, huge tits, ridiculously big dick; everything that makes Curly, Curly. 

You need him so badly you can almost taste it. Taste him. Somewhere in your reddening, quickening heart, you hope that he needs you just as badly. 

“Daddy,” you start, but he’s already undressing, tugging the uniform down his legs. 

“I know, baby.” Curly leans in to peck your cheek, makes quick work of taking off your nightie. 

He unclasps your bra the same way he’s done a million times before, leaving it on top of the pile of shed clothes. He pulls your panties off, helping you lift one of your legs after the other. Curly even takes off your fuzzy socks. 

Your pussy’s crying out for your daddy, leaking onto his boxers and darkening the fabric. You’re soaked to the bone, stripped to the bone, all for him. 

You’re the one who leans in to kiss him again, shivering when he moves a hand to the nape of your neck, keeping your hair from spilling onto your naked frame. Curly’s other hand smooths down your side before his roughened fingertips find your swollen clit.

If your pussy could talk, it’d be screaming how badly it needs daddy. 

Curly touches you gingerly, his kisses swallowing every noise you make. He never outruns the achingly slow and gentle way he touches you in, doing it all so softly as if you’d break if he did it in any other manner. 

He buries his face in your neck, peppering kisses up and down, lips lingering on the spots he knows feel good for you. But Curly doesn’t bite, doesn’t suck, doesn’t leave a mark like you want him to. He doesn’t leave anything to show that you’re his—that he’s yours. 

The circles against your bud are doing numbers even if his touch is nothing but ghosting, tickling the nerves. Your hips buck to meet his touch, craving the feel of his fingertips on every millimeter of your clit the same way anybody craves anything.

“Cum for me, baby,” he whispers knowingly, lips brushing against your ear. “Cum for daddy.”

It twitches under the pads of his fingers, eyes fluttering shut at the tingles starting in your toes and making their way up to your loins. Your blunt nails dig into his shoulders, leaving crescent moons. Something little to show that he belongs to you. 

You tense up, head hanging low as you cum with a needy whine, translucent stickiness dripping down your daddy’s fingers and your thighs. Your legs are trembling, but it’s not nearly enough. 

“Need you inside, daddy,” you state the obvious before Curly even has time to tell you how much of a good girl you are, movements a little clumsy as you start pawing at the giant bulge underneath you. 

You can’t really tell if the wet spot on the midnight fabric is caused by him or you. 

“Shh... I’ll give it to my baby.” Curly places a tender kiss to your temple, his bigger hand covering yours, pulling down his boxers and finally letting his cock spring free. 

He tugs them all the way off while you gawk at him as if it’s the first time you’ve seen him naked. It’s thick all the way around, sticky in a way only pussies are—pink like his lips, his nipples, his cheeks when you embarrass him or kiss him in all the right places. Curly’s tip is reddish in moments like this, the colour creating the most erotic opalescent transition to his base and patch of golden curls. 

You take Curly in your hand, smiling at the heaviness weighing it down. His breath hitches once you give it a few idle strokes, sliding his leaky head against your leaky slit before lining the perfect pair up. 

The stretch never gets old, it’s painful yet familiar—something you’re used to after all this time. Curly helps you slowly sink down onto his fat cock, guiding you inch by inch, grunt by grunt, with his hands on your waist until he’s all the way inside you. He’s so big that his tip nearly breaches your cervix.

You feel him all too well, every vein, every ridge, every shape no matter the size. Every pulse and heartbeat—consuming your love through the tightness enveloping him, milking him for all he’s worth. 

But you fit around him like you were made for him. 

You waste no time starting to move your hips, the slick, slick, slick already echoing throughout the room from your wetness, watching daddy’s dick bulging through your tummy. 

Curly’s hands shift around your body, keeping you close to him by your shoulders one moment, guiding your hips back and forth the other. It’s not long before he starts humping you back. 

“You’re taking me so well, princess,” he pants, voice whiny as he places open-mouthed kisses all over your chest. “Taking daddy’s cock so deep.”

You brush his hair back, the shorter curls falling onto his damp forehead, take in his kiss-bruised and red lips as he keeps panting—and you think Curly’s never looked prettier. Never looked more like your daddy, yours and only yours. 

Tilting his head up to meet your eyes, you can’t help yourself, “I need you, Curly.”

The only time you ever call him Curly is in public. The only eyes watching are his, taking in your expression—your brows that are pinched together and tears that are threatening to spill over your waterlines. 

“Baby, don’t cry, ‘m right here.” He pulls you impossibly closer, sweaty bodies sticking together in a naked and tangled lotus flower. 

“Don’t go,” it comes out shaky - unsure if it’s ‘cause of the way your clit keeps brushing against him for every hump, or if it’s the sadness that sits just as snugly in your throat the way his dick does in your pussy. 

“I’m sorry,” Curly’s moans leak into his voice, “I have to. You know I’d never leave you.”

“What if it’s the last time, Curly? What if you don’t come back?” 

“Fuck, baby,” his cock stirs inside you, rubbing against your sweet, spongy spot. “Don’t talk like that, won’t be the last time. I’ll come back, you know I will.”

It’s a momentary comfort, words he can’t even be sure he’ll keep, your pussy squeezing him tighter than ever at the thought. You feel your second orgasm slowly building up in the confines of your tummy, the white-hot rush you can’t be sure is adrenaline or neediness running through your body. 

“Promise me, Curly.” Your legs tense shut around him. 

“I promise,” from him is all it takes to send you over the edge, waves of pleasure washing over you like a tsunami, sucking him in deeper as the coil in you snaps. 

You whine in tandem, noises blending together in a pornographic orchestra. Only difference is that Curly’s desperate to cum. You’re desperate for him to stay. He moves his hips up, you move yours back and forth.

“Oh, baby...” he says under his breath, struggling to maintain a steady rhythm. “I love you.”

“I love you, Curly.” You press your clammy forehead against his, breaths mingling as you pant into each other’s mouths. 

It makes his thrusts stiffen momentarily, his dark blond lashes fluttering like butterfly wings as he tries his best to keep his eyes on yours. Curly’s moans are breathless, his cock twitching against your walls, followed by the sticky, long-awaited warmth of his cum spilling into you. 

You keep up your pace, not wanting to let a single drop go to waste, hips grinding against his like you’ve got something to prove—which you do. “Want your babies, Curly.”

He winces, holds back another whine, you kind of feel bad for wearing his dick out like this, wringing his balls of every single last drop of seed. But he doesn’t tell you no, not ever, he’d beat around the bush if it meant not seeing the look of a kicked puppy on your face after not getting what you want. Regarding everything apart from his work, from tomorrow. 

“You will, honey. We’ll have as many as you want, okay?” 

Curly holds you until your movements go slack, bonelessly slumping against him. He lays you down, pulls out with a quiet, sticky pop, his cum trickling out of you - much to your dismay. Your pussy feels empty without him inside you, like it’s missing a crucial part of its anatomy. 

You’re both staring at the wall, his head resting against your chest, fingers tangled in his post-sex messy curls, massaging his scalp. You wonder what Curly’s thinking of, if he’s thinking of you. You wonder if there’s a certain spot that’d act like a key if you massaged it good enough, make him unlock and tell you all his secrets. All the things running through his mind. 

“Don’t leave me, Curly. Just another day, okay? Tell them you’re sick or something... don’t wanna lose you.” 

You stick out your pinky finger for him to grab, dwarfing it when he does. Curly doesn’t say anything, doesn’t make a promise, doesn’t look you in the eyes. Just holds onto it, silently—like he knows he’ll let you down just as well as you do. 

And so you get dressed together, cook dinner together, sit bunched up on the couch together watching a shitty vintage drama about the Civil War just to make him happy. The question is if it’s all enough. 

He’s so okay with everything. 

It’s probably light on Curly—not having to see your worried face, quivering lips, stressed-out state. You wonder if he’ll even call, if they’re even allowed to call, if he even wants to call. 

You have a bad feeling about all of it. Not just that he could get lost in space, floating amongst the junk up there like that’s all he’ll ever be. It’s not only jealousy that sears in you, it’s this inexplicable feeling that you’ll never see him again. Like he might die. Or like you might die. From Curly withdrawal.

Who could go more than a year without seeing the love of their life? 

You wait for Curly in bed, wait for him like he is a million miles away already, somewhere in the galaxy even if he’s just in the other room. 

Your gaze drifts to the pile of clothes on the floor, memories of you and him tangled right here, on this very bed, flooding your mind in a way that is all too welcome—mildly bothersome. Your panties, his suit. 

That stupid fucking pony and its Pony Express logo ironed to the chest of his uniform. 

You want to hide it, tear it, incinerate it. If you did, Curly wouldn’t have anything to wear to work tomorrow. Knowing him, he’d probably show up regardless, but you wish there was a sliver of hope that he wouldn’t. Wouldn’t put it on, leave you, show up. 

You just let it lie there, on the floor—where it belongs. 

But he holds you all the same, lets his big arms lull you to sleep when the room’s pitch black and the smell of sex lingers faintly in the air. 

“Sweet dreams, my darling girl,” is lazily murmured into your hair, the scent of Curly comfortably overbearing as his frame eclipses yours. Is that going to be the last you ever hear of him?

“Night, daddy.” 

You dream of him, not unlike every other night. You’re married, you have babies, Jimmy’s out of the picture. Curly’s a baker, brings you home stupid and puffy pastries, and he’s too good at it. Too good at being your husband, at making you feel loved, at being homely in the way that suits him so perfectly. You fall asleep with this empty feeling imprisoning your heart—keeping it locked up behind bars until he’s unconditionally yours. 

The entire thing is too good to be true. 

Curly’s gone in the morning, he left you with nothing besides a dull ache between your legs and a pink post-it stuck to the bedside table. The cold metal of your ring sits mockingly mean and tight around your finger, strangling it so tight it cuts off your blood circulation. It’s a brazen reminder of your Curly, his promises. The fact that he may never come back. You wonder if he’ll ever be your daddy again—if he’ll ever be anybody else’s daddy. 

Your pregnancy test lies face down, two stripes for positive in the trash. 

[usomads]

Sanctuary // Tama Tonga x Reader

Author’s Note -> I’m not sure if I like this or not but I’ve had so many Tama requests that I have to feed y’all rq 😂 it’s short but hopefully y’all enjoy! maybe this gets a part two? 

Plot -> The Wyatt Sicks have made you their newest target, and you need some protection. Desperate, you approach the Right Hand Man of the New Bloodline. But protection comes with a price…

Pairings -> Tama Tonga x Fem!Reader

Warnings -> Cursing, Hickies, Unprotected P in V, Creampie, Suggested Threesome, Not Proofread, MDNI

Word Count -> 1.7k

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck…”  You’re so screwed. Beyond screwed, actually. You were starting to regret turning on your tag partner mid-match as the lights went out and fireflies illuminated the arena, the eerie notes of the piano playing as you were now surrounded by these freaks they call the Wyatt Sicks. Abby the Witch, otherwise known as Nikki Cross, crawled toward you at a painstakingly slow pace while the others stood on the ring apron– staring a hole through you. You thought being on Smackdown you were safe from their vigilantism, but boy, were you wrong. You were now prey, being hunted by a group with no real compass– nothing to lose. And the thought of becoming a victim just like Chad Gable, like The Miz, like The Final Testament, like so many others who had to atone for their sins before the Wyatt’s had you motionless; a deer in the headlights. The sounds of the arena roaring for your demise filled your eardrums and had your heartbeat pounding to the rhythm of the piano keys that played over the speakers. You had to get out of there, and fast. The entire group was going through the ropes attempting to circle you in the ring but before they could, you found a hole in their formation and snuck through it, allowing you to escape without a scratch. There was no time to gloat over your elusiveness, nor did you want to stall out there where they could still reach you, so you ran as fast as your legs could carry you to the backstage area. You continued looking behind you, hoping to God that they weren’t following you as you were now sprinting, looking for somewhere– anywhere, to hide.

You came across the door to the Bloodline’s locker room, halting as you approached it. You remembered they had a match prior to yours, realistically they should be out of the arena and on their way to their plane by now. Perfect. You quickly pushed the door open and slammed it shut, leaning your head against it and letting out deep breaths to slow your heart rate.

“Well, look who it is… nice of you to join us, Y/N.” Your eyes snap open as Solo speaks, fear washed over your face. Shit.

“I– I’m so sorry, I d–didn’t know you were still here… I was just–”

“Oh we saw, sweetheart. Pretty stupid of you to go around betraying your partner, knowing those freaks are lurking around.” Solo approaches you, grabbing your chin and turning your head to look at all sides of your face. You swallow hard, your throat feeling dry as nerves overtook you. “It’s funny you stumbled in here, Tama over there was just telling me about you. You were right,” he looks behind him to his Right Hand Man, “she’s bad as hell.” You make eye contact with Tama, who has been looking you up and down since you burst into the room, his eyes dark and a smirk painted on his lips– nodding at his Tribal Chief. 

“I– I can find somewhere else to go, I just–”

“Leaving so soon? But you just got here. And besides,” he pauses, “I think you need us. You leave here and who knows, you might get yourself snatched up. Sounds to me like you need some protection… am I right about that?” You nod slowly as he removes his grip on your chin, walking backwards towards the couch in the middle of the room. “Now, usually I’m not one to deal in negotiations, but I have some things that need taken care of… and I think you could be of service to us. Have a seat, Y/N. Let’s chat.” 

Anxiously, you walk yourself over to the couch where Solo sits, glancing cautiously at Tama before sitting down across from him. You swallow the lump in your throat, fidgeting with your hands as you wait for him to speak.

“So, you have a Wyatt Sicks problem, huh? And what would you like us to do about that?” You look at him through your lashes, listening intently as he continues. “Clearly you ain’t got nobody in your corner, and if you try to go after ‘em yourself… I imagine you won’t get very far alone. So what do you want us to do, take ‘em out? Send them packing back to Raw? Because if that’s the case we can definitely do that…”

“Right… yeah. I would apprecia–”

“Let me finish,” you closed your mouth quickly, not wanting to test the Tribal Chief’s patience. “If we help you, you’re gonna have to give us something in return… now I don’t necessarily need anything from you, but Tama here,” he gestures to his Right Hand Man, who is still eyeing you like a hawk scoping its prey, “might have something in mind.”

“Oh, I have plenty of ideas…” A shiver traveled down your spine as he sits next to you, his hand traveling to your knee– his thumb rubbing the skin slowly. Your eyes travel from his hand and up his arm, moving up his body until you’re looking into his eyes. You chew on the inside of your lip, weighing your decision as his hand rides up your thigh, inching higher.

“I think you understand what he’s getting at, don’t you?” Your head snaps back to Solo as you nod slowly. You know what Tama wants, you’d be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t. You noticed the way he stared at you the moment you entered their locker room– noticed the adjustment of his pants he tried to conceal when your body was pressed against the wooden door, and especially noticed his hand threatening to reach your core.

“So,” you finally found the words to speak, your throat feeling tight as you forced them out, “if I do this… you’ll help me?” 

“You have my word, Y/N. But,” he pushed off the couch, rising to his feet. “As much as I’d love to stick around and enjoy the show, I’ve gotta make sure I hold up my end of our little deal. And Tama,” he focuses his attention on the man next to you, “don’t play too rough, we might need her… services again soon.” He winked at you, extending his hand for you to take, shaking your hand as a means to confirm the deal before walking out of the locker room and shutting the door– locking it behind him. Your head is then turned by Tama, who looks deeply into your eyes.

“If you don’t want this you can tell me now, I’ll just–”

“No, no, it’s okay,” you smile softly at the man in front of you, “we made a deal, right?”

“Well yeah, but this wasn’t really what I had in mind when I thought about getting you alone…”

“Mmm, so you’ve thought about this before?” A wave of embarrassment washes over Tama’s face, softening as your hand finds his cheek. “Then show me.” His eyes darken at your words, nearly pouncing on you as he pushes you down on the couch and climbs on top of you. His lips crash into yours roughly, hands wandering your body as a moan spills from your lips. The two of you frantically strip yourselves of your clothing, nearly ripping it off of each other as your tongues battle for domination. His hips grind into yours, the growing wetness between your thighs only getting stronger as your core aches to be touched. Whines fall from your lips as his connect with your neck, finding the sensitive skin under your ear and marking you with purplish bruises. 

“Fuck, Y/N, I can’t wait any longer. Come here.” He pulls you off the couch and onto his lap, your thighs straddling his as his tip pokes at your entrance. His hands move to your hips, crashing them down onto his cock as he fully enters you. A loud moan spews from your throat, as he wastes no time to guide your hips. His cock stretches you completely, feeling as he drives deep inside you with the combined movement of your hips and his matching each other's thrusts. You were fully bouncing on him, the sounds of your cries echoing the locker room as your hips connected. It was frantic, desperate, needy of release as your skin slapped together. He pulled you into his chest, holding you as his hips thrusted into you from underneath. Your orgasm approached faster than you could realize it, his cock teasing your g-spot as he pounded you mercilessly. You knew he was close too, his groans in your ear vibrating through your body and to your core, the slick from your pussy creating wet sounds with each snap of his hips.

“Fuckkk, your pussy’s so wet f’me. You were made for me. Shit, Y/N, you want me to fill you up, don’t you?” You moaned in response, that being the only form of words you could muster as he drove you closer to release.

“I–”

“Mmm, go ‘head and cum f’me. I gotchu, baby girl.” Your orgasm rips through you at his words, your head nestling into his neck as you cry his name and release on his cock. He follows suit, a low groan reverberating through your ears as his cum paints the inside of your walls. His hips slow their rhythm as he helps you ride out your orgasm before pulling out of you, a whimper coming from your mouth.

“Oh, baby, you think that was it? We’re just getting started,” his voice oozes with lust as he flips you onto your hands and knees, continuing right where he left off. As he does the door unlocks and in comes Solo, a shit-eating smirk painted across his face. 

“They’ve been handled,” he walks over to the two of you, undoing his belt as he reaches the couch. “Now it’s your turn.”

[fallbhind]

oh boy sam how could u do this to me. no happy ending, your just oh so mean to me. i just fully woke up after shoving two hot chocolates in my system and some morning reading time, how could you hurt me so.

“‘i’m sorry i didn’t tell you sooner — i was afraid that you wouldn’t stick around. considering that..’ you paused. it developed into silence with tension that i could slice with a knife. ‘that..?’ i furrowed my eyebrows. ‘you can tell me anything — c’mon i wouldn’t leave you over something small y’know that rig —’ ‘i have morning sickness.. and i’m late on my period.’ ‘i think i’m pregnant, alec’” oh chawowwow bang what the freaky deaky, what an great way to start such an angsty dangsty fic. it’s just starting, felt it in my bones.

“it’s been five whole months. the news were shocking, that was for sure and i took a bit to grow used to that fact. especially since i had to come to terms that i was becoming a father. i didn’t necessairily have any experience, growing up in a laboratory could do that to someone. i mean, i was taught to be an X5, a soldier, a cold-blooded killer. i wasn’t dealt with the best cards since day one. and now i had to raise a child. the worst part was, i didn’t even know how. i never had a childhood, how should i give another tiny human one? one that’d have my genetics. the same genetics i was given from dear old manticore scientists.” alec being built as a cold blooded killer, my boy better suit up, my buddies gonna be a father, at least he knows that he gots to raise baby darcy. he’s got so much doubt in himself about being a father, he’ll be the best daddy out there, giving his kid a childhood.

“you didn’t even know i was a transgenic.” how could he keep such a big old secret from you.

“another one of them was hanging out with our friends. ‘we aren’t naming the baby darcy.” max butted in, shaking her head. “name him max.” she suggested, smirking and looked at you. “why should we name the baby max? are you the baby daddy?” i raised a brow as i asked the question. ‘no, but i’m gonna be his auntie and teach him all sorts of cool stuff.’ ‘cool stuff being.. riding a motorcycle and almost degloving your whole arm more than once.” i commented, a laugh escaping me. ‘we already have one badass we don’t need our little baby here to be another one who possibly gets killed in a motorcycle crash.’ you looked at me, then at max. ‘What makes you think it’ll be a boy?’ the questioned escaped your lips which made me focus on you for a moment, my eyes lingered over your visible bump and then your face.” darcy is a great name, but i defo leaned on max because she would teach darcy all the best motorcycle tricks, the special edition bag with the concussion on the side.

“i was a father. i had my own little mini me — mini us in my arms. her little wailing broke my heart until she calmed down in your arms — and then she was in my own. she was so petite and had the cutest eyes. they were filled with curiosity. i watched as she looked around, no clue in the world. it just made me want to break down into more tears. but i had to stay strong. for our baby. for you. and for our new little family.” oh how cute—i’m so happy, this is happy fiction(convincing myself everything is good, this is a happy fic)

“and i worry that i’ll be a bad influence on my little princess. make her keep others at arm length. because i want her to be like you. i want her to be independent and isn’t afraid to get what she wants. but what if i’ll be in the way of that —? and that causes her to hate me because she grew up to be just like me. a cold hearted soldier. what if she had enhanced abilities like him? and she would be an outcast all her life.” freak u sammy. the wording was literally was so perfect., ,,, BUT HOW COULD U CALL BABY DARCY AN OUTCAST. i’d love her to the best of my ability. 🤺🤺🤺 throw hands with anyone who decides to be an ass.

“she couldn’t cry because she’s been at it for more than an hour, and her little tear — engine ran out.” awh my poor baby’s tear engine ran out, my oh my give the child attention alec.

“i rocked her as gentle as i possibly could back and forth, my eyes focused on her. ‘oh my angel,’ i started, being careful to do it quiet enough so you wouldn’t stir awake. ‘come back — to me.’ ‘and i will love you.’ ‘'til eternity.’” gosh he’s atotalsweetatothepeaawithbabydarcy

“with time, i just felt like an awful father. especially now that you were out and about more often and i was basically a stay—at—home dad and i had a tear-soaked shirt from our baby in my arms.” he feels like a terrible father, though all babies cry a lot. oh and being a stay at home dad is such a cuteies poostie thingy i’ve seen yet.

“i shut the eye she was grasping the eyelashes from and squinted with the other, scrunching my face together. “attacking and pulling at my innocent eyelashes, are we? that’s very un-lady like, angel.” i scolded lightly — trying to focus on walking and not dropping her or the bottle before settling on taking a seat.” oh don’t scold her those eyelashes aren’t so innocent (I’m mad he didn’t tell reader about being transgenic crazy soldier).

“‘dah’ darcy babbled once more, squeezing at my cheek. ‘yeah, exactly, dah.’ i nodded and softly pinched her cheek between my index and thumb. ‘three months old and she’s babbling and cooing like crazy.’ you mentioned, my eyes flew to yours. ‘just like you.” i teased, laughing. ‘not true!’ you gasped. ‘in fact, very untrue!’” that made me laugh, actually. it did.

“darcy was five months old now. i was working my ass off to keep her sheltered and safe. i had a whole list of things i had to be very careful with before handling her. she was so miniscule and helpless, relying on both of us to take care of her. hence why i wanted to keep her as satisfied as possible — well.. as satisfied as you can keep a baby.. which isn’t as easy as other people might make it seem. although, today, i had a bottle of milk. so i was going in to feed her some more. and as i tried to put the bottle in her mouth, she looked confused before she started flinging her arms around and spat it out, her eyes filling with tears.” what did u do sam… what did u do sam I am with ur green eggs and ham???

““Dada..” She so desperately wanted my attention. She softened her expression into just a pout. “Dada!” She repeated, pointing at the sink. “Aba.” Back to her little babbles. She then formed her fingers into a C shape to make it seem like she was holding a cup to then signal that she wanted a glass of water.” understand the whirlwind i’m going through, she finally said dada and she’s drinking water not formula of shadooks i’m gonna bawl my little freaky to the deaky eyes put.

“Her hand was still so tiny in comparison to mine. But enough to be able to hold it in my own. And then I slowly moved to the sink in the kitchen in the same speed as DARCY moved, to not overwhelm her.” remember, deep breaths. deep breaths it’s not real you can’t actually have a child yet (immence baby fever)

“Careful, angel. Don’t fall!” I yelled, intensely watching her as she began to run around as fast as she could. I lifted my eyes off her for a moment and glanced at you. “I never expected to have a little family with you.. this soon. And.. see DARCY so happy with the.. pulse, trashy town and all.” I finally admit to you, watching as you glared at me. “Me either.” “She reminds me of you.” I mentioned, my emerald green eyes focused on yours. “And she reminds me of you, too.” i’m actually so happy she started running. she’s so gonna be flash 2.0

“I couldn’t say that one single word. It was too much. Saying that one word made it official. Too official. I just can’t — right? I should be protecting her. Not whatever i’m doing. I can’t. I should be fighting for her. No child should hear the word ‘Goodbye’. I am the worst father in the world. A disgrace. I got a gift, a blessing. My DARCY. And i’d be throwing it in the trash. They told me they‘re going to get her and. The ink was blotchy from there forward, making the words unreadable. Fingertips went beneath the next page, a moment of hesitation. You turned the page.” fuck if I’ve ever not punched air i’m punching it super hard rn. i need happy endings (pushing a psychotic break to bring me in a State Of Zen.

“SHES gone. I failed her.” who tf is cutting onions stwap it. it’s nwat funny. freak j sam making em go through this shit. freak u freaku

“The journal ended there. Confusion and fear filled you reading those pages. Why did he keep track of her since birth? Was Alec insane? Did he do something to DARCY? Those questions lingered in your head far longer than anticipated. You knew your little girl had been gone for a month or so. But Alec seemed too busy at the Crash, drowning himself in alcohol. Even though he never got drunk. You didn’t know why. It was fucking strange. You spent hours looking for her. And then you stumbled upon a box. Hidden in the ceiling in a little box in the corner. And you found thirteen journals. Each year — except seven had two journals he could write all 365 days in. But he highlighted some. Were those his favorites? Did he lose his shit and imagine someone came after your daughter when in reality, he was the danger all this time? You shook your head. You shouldn’t try to get conspiracy theorist on a guy who spent day and night showering her with love. He must’ve had a logical explanation. Right?” yeah he never got drunk ‘til his child disappeared tf. crying because i’m going through it rn and finishing this up is just a fucking roller coaset cos he didn’t write all three sixty five hundred days a year cos darcy baby is(not was cos i’m in denial) so important. he definitely lost his shit for not getting his shit together for nit writing all year long. i want alec w severe arthritis in both wrists.

“I didn’t fucking do anything to her! Why are you accusing me of such utter bullshit!?” Alec shouted, he was fuming. “I loved her to fucking pieces! That was the only wrong I did. I made those journals to read back incase I forgot anything!? Is that such a fucking crime?!” You stared at him. “Your last entry?” “If you wanna kep on with your conspiracy theories, what’s the fucking point?!” WHIPLASH. GET’ER GIRL !!!!! grchie chow, grrr chie chie. make him stop w “kep”ing those conspiracies

““I assumed you’d say that. Well, X5-494. You give me the child with legal rules or we will kill your family.” Alec stared at her in disbelief. “You wouldn’t kill a pregnant person —” She laughed, “Oh, no, I wouldn’t. They would, though.” She gestured to the men behind her. “The offer I give you is better than what others wanted. You see.. you can keep the child until the age of seven. After the seventh birthday, my men will get the child. And if you are lucky enough and the child is human.. you’ll get them back. However, if not, we’ll keep them.”” wtf i’m in such an emothing whisplash this hurts what the seven whiplashes???????

“He was on his knees, hallucinating his fucking daughter. He has lost it.” dw alec i’m currentlh loathing my fucking shit 2

“He paused. The thick maroon colored liquid was blending with the gray floor. He forgot how to breathe, his eyes welled up with tears. And then the guards brought him closer to the room. A bigger puddle of that thick, deep red colour. It was so vibrant — and it most likely came from his little girl. He had failed her. He was doomed to be a terrible father from the start.” i literally started balling. sam u need to do a part two &&. be like “SYCH BITCHES I GOT U” pretty please

In fucking concluded this shit is great but i balled the shit out of my eue balls.

Oh My Angel ? — alec mcdowell

— CONTAINS : girldad!alec | mom!reader | heavy angst | possibly implied child murder ( i do not condone murder nor is this fic in any way shape or form supporting it, it is fanfiction ) | grieving | description of blood | dont read the ending | afab!reader | i refer to reader as you

> PS. @a1ecmcdowell made me do it with her hey june fic ( which ghis fic is heavily ib by ). sorry in advance. + i didn’t proofread

— SUMMARY : an unexpected pregnancy falls onto you & alecs lap, causing you both to have a bumpy ride into parenthood due to the circumstances with The Pulse and your medical care — or well, lack there of. although, it doesn’t get any better when you two get to hold your baby.. it actually just gets worse — but you don’t know it.

THE BEGINNING

I hadn’t expected to find out through Logan, of all people, that somethings been going on with you. He told me, in an unexpected way.. which was whilst I paid him a quick visit, that you’ve been feeling quite unwell, you told him but not me, already strange enough.. And he went on, said that you’ve been having ups and downs regarding your physical health. And, as any normal person would do, I worried.

But, it didn’t take me long before I went to your workplace. Jam Pony — where I worked, aswell. Except it was my day off.

Considering Normal was so very fond of me that I could take any amount of time off without him batting an eye. Being the Golden Boy came with its perks and flaws. Today it was most definitely a perk considering I could just waltz in and ask for you.

“Oh, right over there.” directed me to you with a point of his finger.

I immediately made my way to you, putting one foot in front of the other until I reached you at your locker, shoving some random things in there. “Hey.” I greeted you, my green eyes probably proving to you that I had something on my mind. “Oh.” You didn’t seem quite pleased to see me. You looked surprised — given the fact that it was etched into your expression.

“Don’t look too happy to see me.” I replied, the tone in which I spoke in had an edge of concern to it.

“No — no, it’s not you. I just thought you had your day off.” A moment of silence was exchanged between the both of us. “I do.” I sighed, pressing my lips together. “You don’t look too hot.” I pointed out, with furrowed eyebrows. “I just caught a cold, is all.” You answered. “You sure that’s it? Logan seemed to have other concerns.” I finally remarked, a scoff escaping my lips.

“He told you?!” I heard the pissed off tone in your voice. “Just ‘cause he knew you wouldn’t tell me.” I raised an eyebrow, “Care to tell me what all that is about?”

“Look.. I was meaning to tell you but I wasn’t sure how you’d take it. I just.. well, I thought..” You paused. “Can we continue this conversation somewhere where Max, Cindy and Sketchy can’t hear us?” I pretended to think for a moment. “Maybe.” You furrowed your eyebrows. “You came here to talk to me and when I want too you tell me ‘maybe’ what is your logi —”

“Seems to me you still don’t know when i’m sarcastic, baby.” I stifled a laugh that threatend to escape my mouth. “Oh.. oh you annoying little —”

“I gotta stop you right there. You wanna go somewhere more private or do you wanna keep letting me provoking you?” And with that, you grabbed my forearm and dragged me into the backroom of Jam Pony. I waved to Max and Cindy on the way there. They — especially Max seemed uninterested which got a chuckle out of me.

And then the silence engulfed the both of us. “So..” I started, clearing my throat.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner — I was afraid that you wouldn’t stick around. Considering that..” You paused. It developed into silence with tension that I could slice with a knife. “That..?” I furrowed my eyebrows. “You can tell me anything — c’mon I wouldn’t leave you over something small y’know that rig —”

“I have morning sickness.. and i’m late on my period.”

“I think i’m pregnant, Alec”

BUMPY RIDE INTO PARENTHOOD

IT’S been five whole months. The news were shocking, that was for sure and I took a bit to grow used to that fact. Especially since I had to come to terms that I was becoming a father. I didn’t necessairily have any experience, growing up in a laboratory could do that to someone. I mean, I was taught to be an X5, a soldier, a cold-blooded killer. I wasn’t dealt with the best cards since day one.

And now I had to raise a child. The worst part was, I didn’t even know how. I never had a childhood, how should I give another tiny human one? One that’d have my genetics. The same genetics I was given from dear old Manticore scientists.

You didn’t even know I was a transgenic. I wasn’t sure if you’d still love me or want to keep the child after that ( though, you couldn’t exactly abort it if you didn’t, because medical care was impossible to get after The Pulse ).. Because everyone would react completely normal if they’d get told that ‘our baby could possibly have enhanced abilities because of me, sorry!’.

On the positive side, you began to grow a baby bump. You were glowing. And I honestly tried my best to make this ride as stress-free as possible for you.

With my worst attempts, obviously. To name a couple, I sang Oh My Angel to your growing stomach, a couple lyrics i’ve heard from that song back at Manticore. I would also give you massages and joke around with you randomly and not to mention, tease you so you’d be more focused on being annoyed than the unhinged cravings you so badly wanted to give into.

Another one of them was hanging out with our friends. “We aren’t naming the baby DARCY.” Max butted in, shaking her head. “Name him Max.” She suggested, smirking and looked at you. “Why should we name the baby Max? Are you the baby daddy?” I raised a brow as I asked the question. “No, but i’m gonna be his auntie and teach him all sorts of cool stuff.”

“Cool stuff being.. riding a motorcycle and almost degloving your whole arm more than once.” I commented, a laugh escaping me. “We already have one badass we don’t need our little baby here to be another one who possibly gets killed in a motorcycle crash.” You looked at me, then at Max. “What makes you think it’ll be a boy?” The questioned escaped your lips which made me focus on you for a moment, my eyes lingered over your visible bump and then your face.

“Just a feeling, a girls gotta do when a girls gotta do.” She responded, crossing her legs. “She bet on it with Cindy.” Logan corrected, furrowing his brows. “I gotta get my money.” Max added, confident.

The same day, just a little later when Max left with Logan, I was making some pasta you told me you started craving. I wasn’t a chef, God knows I haven’t touched a pan in the entirety of my time on earth. But considering I had enhanced intelligence and I was a transgenic, it shouldn’t be too hard.

“DARCY ain’t a bad name, is it?” I eventually prompted, stirring the pot of raw pasta, picking it up carefully and making sure I strained the water. “We’ll just have to wait and see.” You answered me pretty simply.

I turned my head over my shoulder, my eyes meeting yours as you sat neatly by the counter. I then placed the empty pot to the side. “Meaning?” I prompted, eyes concentrating on you. “Well, I mean if we hold the baby in our arms, we’ll figure it out.” I processed your words, rolling my shoulders in a shrug. “I suppose.” I then continued on with the pasta.

“How come you’re craving pasta today? I barely see you eating any.” I eventually questioned, currently mixing the pasta with the sauce. “The baby asks, the baby gets.” You stated. “Well, I suppose this’ll be practice for our pasta-loving baby in your stomache.” I noted, my voice playful transferring the pasta to a plate. “I guess so.”

“A plate of pasta for the lady and the little one.” I finally said, picking up a fork and sliding the plate of pasta in front of you on the counter. I observed you picking up the fork. “You seem to be doing a lot of work.. research, too.” You mentioned, which was true. I had been reading up on random parental guide books and asking women with babies at libraries for advice, as awkward as it is.

“I guess I just don’t want to fail our little DARCY.”

DAY 1 / 2556

NEWBORN ADDED TO THE FAMILY

TODAY, our little DARCY was born. I held her little tiny body covered in an equally sized blanket. As anyone can find out pretty easily, we found out our princess’ gender. A little baby girl. She was so little I couldn’t stop the tears from flowing. It was the biggest moment of both your life and my own.

I was a father.

I had my own little mini me — mini us in my arms. Her little wailing broke my heart until she calmed down in your arms — and then she was in my own. She was so petite and had the cutest eyes. They were filled with curiosity. I watched as she looked around, no clue in the world. It just made me want to break down into more tears. But I had to stay strong. For our baby. For you.

And for our new little family.

I was afraid. That was something I had to admit. I was afraid — what if I couldn’t be a good father? What if she needed something and I couldn’t give it to her — and you were exhausted so I take care of her and then she starts wailing and screaming — so I stand there cradling her and rocking her back and forth to no avail?

What if she grew up like me?

Became someone like me, a little arrogant and cocky version of me. And no traces of you in her. Apart from physical appearances — because she had your hair color.

And I worry that i’ll be a bad influence on my little princess. Make her keep others at arm length. Because I want her to be like you. I want her to be independent and isn’t afraid to get what she wants. But what if i’ll be in the way of that —? And that causes her to hate me because she grew up to be just like me. A cold hearted soldier.

What if she had enhanced abilities like him? And she would be an outcast all her life.

But then I look down at her in my arms. Her little tear-filled eyes looking up at me. She couldn’t cry because she’s been at it for more than an hour, and her little tear — engine ran out. You’ve been knocked out for a bit. So I spent time with our little baby.

“Hi.” I whispered, feeling my posture soften with her little head tilt to get a better look at me. “Who am I? Who is this big giant holding you in his arms and saying hi to you, little one?” DARCY looked confused which got a chuckle out of me. I never thought I would feel comfortable having a daughter and slipping into the role of a dad especially with my environment when I grew up. But she made it all worth it. All the pain led me down the path to have her.

“C’mon, don’t look at me like that.” I held her close and made sure to support her head as I stepped to the crib in the room, my shoes clanking against the hospital ground. “You got a judgmental glare, little lady, you’re gonna get grounded a bunch when you’re older with that look.” I playfully scolded DARCY with an unintentional parentese I hadn’t noticed I added.

She reached up with her hand barely the size of my fingertip and wrap her miniature fingers around my fingertip.

I felt my heart clench with just how adorable she was being. “I’m sorry, your highness. You win with that cute little move. I surrender. No ones gonna ground you, angel.” and then her eyes fluttered shut. “But I suppose we gotta get you all ready for bed, dont we?”

I rocked her as gentle as I possibly could back and forth, my eyes focused on her.

“Oh my angel,” I started, being careful to do it quiet enough so you wouldn’t stir awake.

“Come back — to me.”

“And I will love you,”

“ 'til eternity.”

“Oh my angel.” I bent over the crib, as cautious as I could to not drop DARCY too fast and make sure to place her down carefully, making sure to remove the blanket she was tucked in to then place ontop of her, so she could still move around. I noticed her little onesie from the hospital. My gaze softened and I watched her chest rise and fall before a quiet voice dragged me out of thought.

“And you were worried that you wouldn’t be a good dad.” You pointed out, I rolled my eyes whilst I turned around to face you. “I don’t know what you’re on about.” I spoke softly and acted clueless.

“Oh, sure you don’t. You totally fell inlove with her the moment you held her.” You murmured. “Aren’t you supposed to be asleep?” I rolled my eyes and approached the side of the hospital bed, leaning over and placing a kiss on your lips. “You just pushed out a whole human from your body.” I mumbled, concern evident in my voice.

“Oh? Is Mr. Cocky concerned about my well-being?” You acted surprised. “Shut up.” I groaned. “You’re so annoying.” I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Funny considering I used to say that about you.”

“Is it too late to say I hate you?” I grumbled, pressing a kiss on your forehead.

“Pretty sure it is, yeah.”

DAY 84 / 2556

FIRST SMILE

IT’S been three months since DARCY entered our life. You’ve been working at Jam Pony on and off just helping Normal get packages to deliver considering you just wanted a breather so I decided to take care of DARCY. She’s growing so fast, it’s absurd. I honestly can’t keep up with her.

There are moments where I freeze due to not knowing what I could do to stop her from screaming and crying. It wasn’t often, but it also wasn’t rare. And it made me feel useless.

Because nine times out of ten, whenever I gave her to you, she’d be able to calm down in an instant. It was clear, you were her mother. I wasn’t, and she was spending nine whole months in your womb. But I just wanted to able to care for her without needing you to stop whatever you were doing just to help me out.

With time, I just felt like an awful father. Especially now that you were out and about more often and I was basically a stay—at—home dad and I had a tear-soaked shirt from our baby in my arms.

Though, I feel like I finally did something right. Today she’s been quite observant. Eyes locked onto my face as her hand lifted and she grasped at the fat of my cheek. “Oh — oh, sure I guess.. that’s better than having you crying.” I head to the couch with her bottle in my hand, shaking the baby bottle so the formula can mix well together. With me walking forward, placing one foot in front of the other and having the wooden floorboards creak or groan here and there, with her in my arms, she started to grab at my eyelashes.

I shut the eye she was grasping the eyelashes from and squinted with the other, scrunching my face together. “Attacking and pulling at my innocent eyelashes, are we? That’s very un-lady like, angel.” I scolded lightly — trying to focus on walking and not dropping her or the bottle before settling on taking a seat.

I sat on a beanbag in her nursery and slowly tried to pull her away from my face. I then leaned back on the back — rest part of the sofa and placed her little formula bottle on a nearby table.

My emerald green eyes focused on her. Now I had both arms supporting her tiny chest. She was wearing a soft red onesie with little yellow seed patterns around, like a little strawberry. I lifted her up and down. “Oh.. oh! And she’s taking off!” I gasped and had a very bad attempt at a sound effect of what was supposed to be a rocket taking off as I raised her up, her feet not touching my chest. “She’s up in the sky! And.. whoosh!” I turned her left and right.

“Now she’s coming back down..” I slowly settled her so her weight was supported by my hands and her feet on my chest, before I brought her face to mine. “And she’s getting kisses from her daddy.” I let my lips connect with the soft skin of her cheek, her forehead, head and basically everywhere on her face. “Gotcha!” I said, enthusiastically.

I pulled back DARCY a little to get a good look at her face and then I saw the corners of her tiny mouth curled up into a tiny smile as she swung her hands around from joy.

Her first ever smile. She was precious.

She babbled and giggled, her hands coming up to rest on my face. My emerald green eyes focusing on her emerald green eyes. She looked just like you smiling. She had everything in common with you, physically, apart from the eyes.

“Oh my god, that’s a little smile, isn’t it?” I felt my heart melt at the sight.

“And Mr. Cocky is no longer cocky but a big ol’ softie. Do I call you Mr. Softie now?” I heard you tease as my eyes shot toward you. “Oh — hey, you’re home. Also.. no idea what you’re talking about. Anywho.. well, I thought you had to work the night shift..”

“Normal freaked out when Max threatened to punch him, especially since he supposedly had a date and told us we got to go home earlier.” You explained, putting your things down. “How’s our little girl doing?” You asked whilst she pinched my cheeks and leaned forward, trying to mimic the way I gave her kisses earlier. “Happier than usual.” DARCY then babbled. “See, her highness agreed herself.”

“Dah” DARCY babbled once more, squeezing at my cheek. “Yeah, exactly, Dah.” I nodded and softly pinched her cheek between my index and thumb. “Three months old and she’s babbling and cooing like crazy.” You mentioned, my eyes flew to yours. “Just like you.” I teased, laughing.

“Not true!” You gasped. “In fact, very untrue!”

DAY 152 / 2556

DADDYS WORST NIGHTMARE ; TEETHING

DARCY was five months old now. I was working my ass off to keep her sheltered and safe. I had a whole list of things I had to be very careful with before handling her. She was so miniscule and helpless, relying on both of us to take care of her. Hence why I wanted to keep her as satisfied as possible — well.. as satisfied as you can keep a baby.. which isn’t as easy as other people might make it seem.

Although, today, I had a bottle of milk. So I was going in to feed her some more. And as I tried to put the bottle in her mouth, she looked confused before she started flinging her arms around and spat it out, her eyes filling with tears.

“DARCY? Angel, are you not hungry?” I asked, concern evident in my face. I got up and put the bottle to the side, going to her and I wrapped my arms around her, taking her out of the high chair and cradled her, supporting her head and neck. “Oh, honey.” I frowned as she wailed in my arms, her eyes squeezed shut and mouth open as shouts and cries escaped her. And I reached to take her bib off.

I stood up from the chair and started rocking her, “Princess, what’s wrong?” I whispered, her little arms still flung around as she kept her ear-piercing cry going. “Shh, shh.” I tried to figure out what she could possibly need. She was definitely not hungry. “Are you sleepy? Do you need to burp?”

Safe to say, the rest of the day was me panicking and running around the house, trying to figure out what on Gods green earth she could possibly need. Her cries didn’t stop, at all. Which just made me feel so helpless. My little princess just cried in my arms and I didn’t know how to stop it. God, what type of a father was I? Letting my baby girl cry on for hours.

And then I realized when I was exhausted and holding her in my arms in her little nursery, that teething could be it. I pressed my lips together and before I do something I researched about — because yes, I care enough to do research.. I washed my hands thoroughly, and made my way back to her nursery.

I bent over her crib and gently picked her up once again, she was still sobbing and clung to me. She was relying on me, so I had to do something about it. I sat on a chair, settled on it before making sure she was settled and comfortable on my lap.

Then I put my thumb in her mouth to gently rub her gums. They seemed swollen and that just made my heart ache. DARCY seemed to calm down just a little after I kept up the massaging for a little longer. It seemed to ease my worries, too because I finally felt like I could help her. Be her protecter like I had intended to be. Be there for her unlike me — who had nobody to turn too.

I watched as she opened up her teary green eyes and focused them on me. She seemed curious and still a little in pain, but she just looked at me with her little green orbs.

With a tilt of her head, I relaxed in the chair after what felt like ages. I was exhausted, that was for damn sure. I ran left and right and tried to figure out why she was screaming her tiny little lungs out just for it to be due to teething.

But it was worth it seeing her calm down because I helped her.

DAY 365 / 2556

FIRST WORDS AS A TODDLER

SHE was so little just yesterday — I could’ve sworn she was as big as my bicep just a couple days ago. She used to be a little baby crying over everything with those big tear-filled emerald green eyes. Always spitting out the food I tried to feed her. Refusing to cooperate whenever I tried to change her diapers or even confusing me when she cried for no absolute reason.. And now it was her first ever birthday. She was already moving her mouth as if she were about to speak.

I probably would’ve broken down into tears had I not wanted her to look up to me and wanted to think her daddy was brave. Even if she’d forget everything sooner or later.

Little DARCY already a toddler, running around and picking up random objects. Running back to me because she found something and then shows me how to use it ( visually, we aren’t exactly at the point of verbal yet, she’s still too young for that ). Then she’ll give it to me and wait for me to redo every step she did and then wait for her approval, meaning if I had to do it over again or if she was pleased and let me off the hook.

She was precious. Her little emerald green eyes looked like one of a does. They were so big and innocent. Especially with the fact that she was just barely reached a little more than my knees. She had your face — and hair color.. her skin was a mix of both yours and mine.

Today, she seemed impatient, tugging on the fabric of my pants. Her eyebrows were furrowed and she had the cutest expression — where she tried so hard to look mad but ended up looking just so sweet. Her lips pressed together into a pout and her head tilted up to look at my face. “Mah..” She babbled, and I didn’t think much of it before she whined. “Dada!” And that made me pause.

“Dada..” She so desperately wanted my attention. She softened her expression into just a pout. “Dada!” She repeated, pointing at the sink. “Aba.” Back to her little babbles. She then formed her fingers into a C shape to make it seem like she was holding a cup to then signal that she wanted a glass of water.

I was able to compose myself enough to get what she wanted so she didn’t think I was neglecting her. But she said her first word. “Water?” She nodded and I crouched down just a little to grasp at her little hand. Then I felt her tiny hand in mine.

Her hand was still so tiny in comparison to mine. But enough to be able to hold it in my own. And then I slowly moved to the sink in the kitchen in the same speed as DARCY moved, to not overwhelm her. “C’mon, up goes the elevator.” I told her, crouching down fully and stretching my arms out as she let go of my hand to jump into my arms. Her tiny arms barely wrapping around my neck.

And then I wrapped my arm around her, supporting her body as I slowly rose to my feet, she gasped and giggled as I felt her wiggle her legs once they were off the ground.

I reached up and opened a cupboard, grasping for a cup and turning the tap on. “Cold?” She looked at me confused. “Coo — ld?” I said once again, but slowly speaking out every word before she hesitantly nodded. “Whatever you want, princess.” The water hitting the bottom of the sink repeatedly echoed in the silent room.

I reached forward with the cup and filled it with water. “Who am I?” She let one arm go to close and open her hand repeatedly, mimicing a ‘gimme, gimme’ motion.

“Dadaaa!” She huffed, very obviously annoyed with the angry expression. Which reminded him of you. “You two could be the same person.” He grumbled under his breath. “I am dada, yes, good job, angel.” I snickered and brought the cup to her lips. “Drink up.” I watched as her free hand grasped the cup that was bigger than her hand and try to hold it alongside my own hand. “Good girl.” I said, removing the cup from her mouth.

“Drank all of it so quick. You were really thirsty.” I commented, heading to a towel with her in my arm and wiping her mouth with it, all so carefully.

I then tried to place her back on the ground but she refused. “Bah.” She shook her head and I brought her back up into my arms, adjusting my hold on her. “But you’re a big girl, you can walk, princess.” She looked insulted, clearly. And then I laughed, which caused her to break her little act and cause a giggle to escape her lips.

She doesn’t even know the lengths i’d go to be able to keep that smile on her face.

DAY 730 / 2556

UNUSUAL BEHAVIOUR

SHE looked at me with her arms crossed over her chest. “No!” the word that she’s learnt from no other than you. You were being sassy to me and DARCY overheard, which then made her believe that she could be just like you even more and decide to go against my every word. Today being no different. She was throwing yet another tantrum. “You have to sleep, princess.” I was crouching and cupping her face.

“I not sleepy.” She pouted with furrowed eyebrows. “What if we snuggle, hm?” I suggested, raising an eyebrow. She seemed to think about it. “I can join.” You butted in, crouching beside me. “Whad’ya say, little miss?” I questioned, a grin on my face. “But.. blankie evil!”

We both exchanged a look between eachother. “Blankie evil? How? Tell us, we’ll protect you.” I said, slowly ripping my gaze off you and onto the tiny two-year old rascal.

“Blankie trapped me!” She whined. Which elicited an over-exaggerated gasp from me. “No! Really?” You added, jaw dropped. She nodded her head up and down in a quick motion. “Do you have a boo—boo?” I asked, my voice in a low whisper. “Boo—boo?” You bit back a laugh as you looked at me. “Shut up.” I said through gritted teeth.

“No..” DARCY answered my question pretty much quickly after. “And we’ll both be there for you and save you if blankie tried to trap you.” I told her, pressing a light kiss on the top of her head. Her eyes darted between both you and me. Her eyes brighter than ever. “Promise?”

I blinked, “I promise, princess.” I looked over to you. “I promise, too.”

I wasn’t expecting parenting to be easier than what I imagined it to be ( obviously, considering I was the one who thought that ). But in all honesty, I thought raising DARCY would be catastrophic. Explosions and world war breaks out. But I seemed to be doing well — so far. At least I hoped so. She seemed at ease around me. Or maybe that was because of you.

Because you’ve been doing a great job, honestly. It was shocking how well you kept up mentally and were able to stay strong — especially given the fact that you didn’t exactly have DARCY with your own choice. You didn’t have a choice because abortions were hard to get your hands on now — a — days.

I couldn’t help but think. Of course, you tell me I was a good father. But I simply just dropped the asshole act around her. She seemed to have loads of your characteristics.. which I was glad about.

And then I got brought back to now. I was holding her hand alongside yours as I head up the stairs — yes, stairs. I know my apartment doesn’t have stairs within the apartment but.. well, I may or may not have stolen some cash from a rich dude and bought a better house for DARCY to be able to live in. But hey.. no judging — i want

only the best for my little girl.

I watched as she struggled on a couple stairs before bending over slightly and picking her up, holding her close to my chest with my arm supporting her weight. I did almost slip.. and fall, but you holding my hand managed to balance me. “I will not be thanking you.” I replied, in a way more sassy tone than I intended. “Oh, okay, I hope you know I hear all that sass.” I rolled my eyes and kept going up.

“Good for you.” I heard you let out a laugh. “Your cocky and arrogant behaviour used to make me so mad — now it’s just funny because you’re so gentle. Who knew being a girl dad could change a man this much?”

“Uppie!” DARCY randomly blurted out whilst clapping her hands together and her eyes flew between me and you. “Yes, baby, uppie.” You replied, your motherese slipping out. “Says the one who became so freakin’ cute after having a baby.” I pointed out, a stupid grin on my face. Then I felt DARCY shift around in my arms once we reached her room.

“Look, daddys got you, princess, blankie won’t hurt you.” I reassured her, rubbing her back with my free hand and urged you to follow us into the room.

She looked around the room frantically, as if her blanket would come out and attack her. But, I read up and already knew kids could have irrational fears at her age. Hence why patience was all she needed including a bit of safety so she knew that she had nothing to be afraid of. “Can you grab her stuffed animals?” I whispered to you, slightly rocking my body back and forth.

“Mhm.” I watched you go around her bed and bend over, picking up her rabbit stuffie and dinosaur stuffie. “Look who’ll be joining us!” DARCY gasped. “Mr. Din-din!” I slowly lowered her on the ground as she rushed over ro your side.

“Mr. Car-car!” I crossed my arms over my chest and laughed. She was so happy about them it was absolutely heart-warming. She then raised her arms up at you, opening and closing her hands. “Me want up!” She pouted before you picked her up and handed her the two stuffed animals. “You gotta sleep, honey.” We both said simultaneously. “Otay..” ( that’s literally how she pronounced it, don’t make fun of me )

DARCY then got brought to her bed, you placed her down ever so gently. She seemed freaked about the blanket but nonetheless, I settled on the bed beside her alongside you on the other side of her. “Snuggles!” She exclaimed, grinning. And then I wrapped an arm around her, meanwhile you threw her blanket over all of us, yes, including the stuffed animals.

“Daddy..” She whined, grasping at the white fabric of my tee. You turned behind you to turn on her night light and then I focused on her. “Yes, princess?”

“Song sing..” I paused, “You want the song?” She nodded eagerly in response. My eyes shot to yours and you shuffled around on the tiny bed to fit yourself onto the tight space and cuddle up to her other side.

“Anything you want, princess.”

DAY 1095 / 2556

NEW THINGS GOOD & BAD

DARCY was playing around, as usual. A three year old should start to get around more and do things. I read that in a book — yes, I read when I want too. I am a transgenic and intelligent.. doesn’t mean I knew how to raise children. So, I sat down and I read a book about how children act throughout the years. I wanted to be the best daddy for my princess — or prince if DARCY were a boy, of course.

Speaking of her, she took me out of my train of thoughts. “Daddy! Look, that.. that is one tree!” She shouted, pointing at it, she was extremely proud of herself as she ran around on the playground. I was sat on a picnic blanket next to you. “Good job, sweetheart.” You shouted and clapped, cheering her on.

“Careful, angel. Don’t fall!” I yelled, intensely watching her as she began to run around as fast as she could. I lifted my eyes off her for a moment and glanced at you. “I never expected to have a little family with you.. this soon. And.. see DARCY so happy with the.. pulse, trashy town and all.” I finally admit to you, watching as you glared at me. “Me either.”

“She reminds me of you.” I mentioned, my emerald green eyes focused on yours.

“And she reminds me of you, too.”

I leaned forward, cupping your face, connecting my lips with yours, feeling you kiss back.

A shriek made me jump back, eyes wide. “What? —” You looked surprised, too. And my eyes searched around the park. My eyes landed on DARCY laying on the concrete, holding her leg in pain. I immediately sprang toward her, hearing you close behind me. “Angel, angel! Baby, i’m here, i’m here.” I reassured her immediately whilst dropping down onto my knees.

“Are you okay?” You asked, holding the back of her head and helping her sit up slowly. She had tear—filled eyes. “It hurts.” She whined, shaking her hands around and wailing in pain.

“Angel..” My eyes inspected her head, trying to see if theres any injuries there. I didn’t catch any so I inspected her legs, and then I noticed her pants torn open at the knee, she scraped her knee on the concrete. I hissed at the blood that stained the dark fabric. “It’s okay, we’re here. Y’know what, scratch me.” She shook her head. “I dooon’t— wanna hurt you.” She dragged out a couple letters due to her crying.

“Can you bring the medkit?” I asked you, raising an eyebrow. “You brought a medkit? ” “Just incase something like this happened. It’s in my bag.” I pressed a kiss on your cheek before holding up DARCYs head.

“It’s okay, daddy’s here and i’ll make sure it’ll all go away.” I whispered, easing her fears as I picked her up gently and placed her on my lap.

I watched as her emerald green eyes followed you as you ran back. You crouched down, opening up the medkit and beginning to scramble for items. “Sterile wipes for the wound.” I said, eyes focusing on DARCY. “Antiseptic for around the room.”

You gathered everything, “How do you even know all this? I didn’t know you studied medicine —” “Not medicine, just got a lotta wounds to patch up.” It was a half—lie.

DARCY winced when you began the cleaning but I tilted her head up, pointing at a bird in the sky. “Look! That’s a birdd.” I added some more toning to the word bird, and she looked curious. “Can birds fly?” “Yes, angel.” “Can we?” “With a plane.” “What is.. a plane?” “A metal box that can bring us places in the sky.” “Can we go on one?” “Soon.” I laughed at her suddenly forgetting about her wound and jumping to ask questions almost immediately.

“Has daddy had ouchies before?”

“Mhm.”

“Are ouchies bad?”

“I think of ouchies like.. you went through an adventure, the scar of an ouchie reminds you of it. Ouchies can be good and bad.” I tried to make her look at the positive.

“So.. is my ouchie cool?”

“It’ll heal and be the coolest thing ever.” I paused, thinking what to say next. Before I parted my lips, sucking in a breath, “New things can be good and bad. It just matters how you handle it, angel.”

DARCY looked at me with big, curious eyes. “New things.. can.. can be gooood and bad.” She slowly repeated, making sure each word was the same way I pronounced it, tilting her head. “New things.. can be good and bad!” She repeated, this time much more confident with how she said it.

“Exactly.”

DAY 1461 / 2556

PUDDLES AND RAIN

DARCY was just growing up — way too fast. I mean, I could just.. remember her being tiny and — her tiny fingers barely overlapping when they curled around my finger. And now here she was, going backwards and telling me too — “Look! Daddy. I can walk!” I laughed, nodding. “Backwards.” I corrected, crossing my arms over my chest.

We were quite a bit away from home since I picked her up from Logans place — since both he and Max offered to babysit so me and you had time for ourselves. And, lucky for us, it started raining when I had no rain jacket with me and brought one for her just incase.

So now I was soaking wet and having to make sure she didn’t do anything stupid, like run onto the street and get hit by a car.

But the only stupid thing she was doing was genuinely just.. stupid toddler things. And I didn’t complain. That over — deadly stupid things. And she seemed to be having fun. Until — “Daddyy, can we dance?” I was baffled. “In the rain?” My voice was filled with surprise. “Pleasee.” Her tiny, high-pitched voice caused me to break.

“Fine.” And so I reluctantly agreed, reaching out and spinning her around in a puddle. As she stomped whilst dancing and proceeded to splash me with it. “Oh my god —” I bursted out laughing. “Oopsie..” She exclaimed, covering her mouth in surprise that she did that.

I rolled my eyes playfully.

“You’re such a little rascal.”

And she reminded me of you.

DAY 2191 / 2556

HEART OF GOLD

OUR little girl all grown up. Six years old was — an accomplishment. For me.. at least. Especially in this environment and.. the wages we had to live off of. You were still working at Jam Pony, full time whilst I went back to work on and off. Taking care of our girl was most important.

I always wondered how she grew up. Given the circumstances. I wondered if we — I fucked her up in some way.

Having a transgenic as your father could fuck you up in ways — you just wouldn’t notice. At least, until now, I found no trace of her being a transgenic-human mutant thing. Like me. Again, only thing we had in common, our eye colour nothing more, thankfully.

But God, she had a heart of gold. For example, we walked past a garden and she noticed an little boy upset. And she head toward her. “Hi!” She greeted, all cheerful and happy. That big grin displayed upon her lips. “Hi.”

“My name’s DARCY.” A moment of silence exchanged between them “Mine is.. Peter.” “Daddy told me being alone when sad isn’t always...what people want.” DARCY waited a moment before adding, “Do you.. want to be alone?” “No..” Peter replied. And with that, she stood there. And she began making conversation. She was smiling and giggling the whole time. Peter slowly joined along. Her laugh mingling with his in the air.

I was sure she made his day by being so warm and friendly.

Wonder how she got so wise.

DAY 2555 / 2556

GOODBYES

TODAY was the last day i’d see her.

Today was the last day i’d see her.

Today was the last day i’d see her.

Today was the last day i’d see her.

Today was the last day i’d see her.

I couldn’t say that one single word. It was too much. Saying that one word made it official. Too official. I just can’t — right? I should be protecting her. Not whatever i’m doing. I can’t. I should be fighting for her. No child should hear the word ‘Goodbye’. I am the worst father in the world. A disgrace. I got a gift, a blessing. My DARCY. And i’d be throwing it in the trash.

They told me they‘re going to get her and

The ink was blotchy from there forward, making the words unreadable. Fingertips went beneath the next page, a moment of hesitation. You turned the page.

DAY DAY 2556 / 2556

?

SHES gone. I failed her.

JOURNAL ENTRIES ; FINISHED

WHAT THE FUCK?

The journal ended there. Confusion and fear filled you reading those pages. Why did he keep track of her since birth? Was Alec insane? Did he do something to DARCY? Those questions lingered in your head far longer than anticipated. You knew your little girl had been gone for a month or so. But Alec seemed too busy at the Crash, drowning himself in alcohol.

Even though he never got drunk.

You didn’t know why. It was fucking strange. You spent hours looking for her. And then you stumbled upon a box. Hidden in the ceiling in a little box in the corner. And you found thirteen journals. Each year — except seven had two journals he could write all 365 days in. But he highlighted some.

Were those his favorites? Did he lose his shit and imagine someone came after your daughter when in reality, he was the danger all this time? You shook your head. You shouldn’t try to get conspiracy theorist on a guy who spent day and night showering her with love.

He must’ve had a logical explanation. Right?

Tears filled your eyes. You prayed you were wrong. That you didn’t stay with the man who ultimately turns your life upside down for some sick reason.

And for DARCYS sake.

“I didn’t fucking do anything to her! Why are you accusing me of such utter bullshit!?” Alec shouted, he was fuming. “I loved her to fucking pieces! That was the only wrong I did. I made those journals to read back incase I forgot anything!? Is that such a fucking crime?!”

You stared at him. “Your last entry?” “If you wanna kep on with your conspiracy theories, what’s the fucking point?!”

STRAIGHT TO THE POINT

Alec glared at the men beside Elizabeth Renfro. “As you may know.. manticore was.. well, burnt to the ground. And I.. well, I made another one just incase.. You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” She trailed off topic due to Alecs disgusted yet surprised stare. “You’re supposed to be dead.”

“Max told you that? Did she ever bother to check my pulse before leaving?” She questioned. Alec went silent. “As I was saying. You’ve got a pretty little partner. Young.. sweet, inlove with you.” Alec scoffed. “Get to the fucking point you old shit —” “They’re pregnant.” “Surprise..? I don’t know where the fuck this is going.” Alec rubbed his temple in frustration.

“We want the child.”

“Over my dead body.”

“I assumed you’d say that. Well, X5-494. You give me the child with legal rules or we will kill your family.” Alec stared at her in disbelief. “You wouldn’t kill a pregnant person —” She laughed, “Oh, no, I wouldn’t. They would, though.” She gestured to the men behind her. “The offer I give you is better than what others wanted. You see.. you can keep the child until the age of seven. After the seventh birthday, my men will get the child. And if you are lucky enough and the child is human.. you’ll get them back. However, if not, we’ll keep them.”

“Fuck you, you sick bitch.” He spat, utterly disgusted by her. “We’ll send you the contract soon.”

“Pleasure doing business with you.” She said with a smile.

MY BABY

Alec stopped pacing, now leaning over the kitchen counter with his hands on his face. “I am a fucking transgenic. A human-like scientist experiment designed to be a fucking soldier. I escaped but manticore seemed to fuck me in the ass.” Alec ran his hands through his hair. “They made a deal to get her at seven years old. If not, they would’ve killed you.” He explained, not really caring if you decided to believe him or not, anymore.

“You’re insane.” You told him, with a shaky voice. “Believe whatever the fuck you want.” Alec was staring at the counter. All he could think of was his baby.

You immediately scrambled to get out of there. You grabbed a few vital things you needed before making yoir way out. “You should’ve helped her, you monster.” Was all he heard from you before his ears echoed the front door slamming shut. Now he was alone with his thoughts. Fuck.

“Daddy?” DARCY called out, heading to the kitchen. Her beady emerald green eyes focusing on me. “I lost my bag at school toooday.” She explained. Alecs gaze softened when his eyes landed on her. He lowered himself onto his knees to be eye level with her. “That’s okay, angel, we can get you a new one.” He reassured, tears filling his eyes.

“Are you okay, daddy? Why are you crying?” She asked, eyebrows furrowed and eyes filled with concern when she should’ve been happy.

“I failed you.” He whispered, hands reaching out to her. “No you didn’t.” She shook her head and wrapped her tiny arms around him. “I love you, daddy.” And then the tears kept flowing. As he went to wrap his arms around her figure — she vanished. And everything seemed empty once again.

He was on his knees, hallucinating his fucking daughter. He has lost it.

OH , MY ANGEL

There was an empty promise I gave DARCY when she was still tiny. ‘I will always protect you.’ And it was outright nonsense. Because he knew from the start he had limited time with her. The journals were to honour her memory — incase..

But that wouldn’t happen. Because he was now going into the manticore building to see his little angel. Have her in his arms again. As long as they haven’t finished their testing — they allowed him to see her now. He wasn’t ready to see her. Seeing her trapped in the very place he was stuck in and so desperately wanted to get out of.

Max was waiting for him outside just incase. And he entered the freshly made Manticore building through the big.. doors.

Two soldiers guided him down the hall. He wasn’t sure what to feel when his eyes flew around the place. The place looked like a mental institution. White, glossy walls paired with gray, marble floor. His eyebrows furrowed in hesitation when a guard put a keycard into some sort-of machinery next to some metal doors.

Uncertainty filled him but he proceeded. Stepping forward. One foot in front of the other. Ever so carefully. His eyes darting around for any bad sign.

And he got what he was looking for.

His heart dropped. And his ears started having a high-pitched ring. The hallway that led to the room the guards brought him too —

Blood.

A path of blood. It was smeared from the room down the hall. It slowly started disappearing at one point.

He paused. The thick maroon colored liquid was blending with the gray floor. He forgot how to breathe, his eyes welled up with tears. And then the guards brought him closer to the room. A bigger puddle of that thick, deep red colour. It was so vibrant — and it most likely came from his little girl.

He had failed her.

He was doomed to be a terrible father from the start.

The song he sang to her seemed hypocritical now. Because it could be interpreted as him singing about her.

“This fire in my — heart,”

“consumes my — happiness.”

“Since we.. are apart,”

“I have nothing.. to hope for,”

“I have nothing.. to cling to.”

“Life for me — has no meaning darling,”

“if I have — to live — it without you.”

“Oh my angel,”

“come back — to me.”

“And I will.. love you,”

“ ‘til eternity”

“Oh my angel.”

[benispunk]

Who's That Girl?

Chapter 14: Taking Care Of You

Y/N is really sick and her knight in leather jacket comes and saves her.

logan howlett x reader

TW: language, D&W, this part is a sickfic!!.

A/N: oh hi! wait? is that a chapter where nobody cries or thinks bad things of themselves? I think it is...also, happy new year!!!! we're more than halfway through this series with around six chapters left...I swear there's a light at the end of the tunnel!! anyway, hope you enjoy this one!! (you should, the next one isn't as nice and cute...oops...)

→ this fic is inspired by the TV Show New Girl, Wade and Logan aren't Deadpool and Wolverine (no powers/mutant gene etc) but I did take most of their character traits and storyline!!

Masterlist /Previous Part

Y/N was curled up on the couch, her body trembling despite the heavy blanket draped over her. Every muscle ached, her head throbbed relentlessly, and the fever made her skin feel like it was on fire. She had tried to get up earlier to grab some medicine but gave up after nearly collapsing. Wade wasn’t home—off at one of his gigs again—and Logan had disappeared hours ago. She didn’t know where he was or when he’d return. The thought of being alone in this state left her feeling even weaker.

The sound of the front door unlocking barely registered in her mind. Logan stepped in, his boots thudding softly against the floor as he put down his keys and phone. He was about to shrug off his jacket when he spotted Y/N curled up on the couch. Something was wrong. Her face was pale and damp with sweat. Her eyes, half-open, looked distant and glassy.

“Y/N?” Logan called softly, crossing the room in a few long strides. She didn’t respond. Kneeling in front of her, Logan reached out, his large hand brushing against her forehead. Her skin burned under his touch.

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath, the worry in his voice unmistakable.

Her eyelids fluttered weakly, and she leaned into his hand instinctively, her body seeking the coolness of his touch. Her lips moved, but no sound came out.

“Hey,” Logan said, lowering his voice. “Can you hear me?”

A faint sound escaped her lips, but it wasn’t coherent. Logan’s stomach twisted. He pressed the back of his hand to her cheek for a moment, then against her neck, confirming what he already knew. She was burning up.

“Stay here,” he murmured, though she clearly wasn’t in any state to move. “I’ll be right back.”

Y/N barely understood what was happening as he left. Her head lolled to the side as she struggled to focus, but the pounding pain behind her eyes made it impossible. It felt like only a few seconds before Logan was back, though it must have been longer. He carried a glass of water, some fever medicine, and a damp cloth in his hands. Setting the items down on the coffee table, he knelt beside her again.

“Y/N, you need to sit up for a minute,” Logan said, his voice gentle as his hand lightly caressed her arm, his thumb brushing over the blanket she clung to.

She groaned weakly, her body unwilling to cooperate. Logan hesitated for only a second before sliding an arm beneath her shoulders, carefully lifting her into a sitting position. She whimpered at the movement, her head rolling against his shoulder.

“Sorry,” he murmured, adjusting his grip. “Just for a second, okay?”

He pressed the glass to her lips, tilting it gently. “Drink,” he urged.

She managed a few small sips before turning her head away, the effort seeming to exhaust her. Logan didn’t push. Instead, he handed her the pills.

“You need to take these,” he said.

With shaking fingers, she tried to take them from him but fumbled. Logan caught her hand and steadied it, guiding the pills to her lips.

“Attagirl,” he said as she swallowed them down with another sip of water.

He set the glass aside and grabbed the damp cloth, folding it neatly before pressing it to her forehead. Y/N’s eyes closed as she exhaled softly, the coolness offering a small reprieve from the relentless heat coursing through her body. Logan stayed like that for a moment, silently observing her as she seemed to drift in and out of consciousness.

“Logan,” she murmured suddenly, her voice so faint he almost missed it. Her eyes cracked open, searching for him.

“I’m here,” he said, his voice steady. “I’m not going anywhere.”

She gave a small nod, her head barely moving. Logan sighed, brushing a few stray strands of hair away from her clammy face. He knew he couldn’t leave her on the couch like this. Standing, he bent down and slipped his arms beneath her. She let out a startled gasp as he lifted her effortlessly.

“Flying…” she murmured deliriously, her head resting against his chest.

Logan chuckled softly. “Not quite.”

As he carried her toward her room, she blinked up at him, her eyes catching on his jacket. Even in her disoriented state, she recognized it. Her gift.

“Looks… good on you,” she whispered, a faint smile tugging at her lips.

Logan’s heart stumbled in his chest, but he forced himself to keep his expression neutral. “Let’s get you to bed, okay?” he said, ignoring the warmth spreading through him at her words.

He nudged her bedroom door open with his foot and carefully laid her down on the bed. The motion was so gentle it didn’t even jostle her. He pulled the blanket up over her, tucking it around her shoulders. Y/N’s eyes fluttered shut almost immediately, her body finally giving in to exhaustion. Logan sat on the edge of the bed, watching her for a moment. Her breathing was shallow but steady. Reaching out, he brushed his hand over her forehead again, frowning at the heat still radiating from her skin.

“You’ll be okay,” he murmured quietly, more to himself than to her. He stayed there, his hand resting lightly on her forehead, until her breathing deepened and her body relaxed into sleep.

Even then, he couldn’t bring himself to leave.

———

She stirred about thirty minutes later, her mind slowly dragging itself from the fog of fever-induced sleep. The pounding in her head had lessened slightly, but her body still felt like lead. As she blinked against the dim light of her room, she became aware of the faint scrape of a chair against the floor. Turning her head, her eyes landed on Logan, seated at her desk. His jacket was slung over the back of the chair, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He held his phone in one hand, occasionally swiping at the screen, but when he noticed her move, he was immediately at her side.

“You’re awake,” he said, moving to her side in one swift motion, his face shadowed with concern.

Before she could reply, his hand was on her forehead again, his touch cool and grounding. His brow furrowed as he assessed her. “Still too hot,” he muttered, mostly to himself.

“How long was I out?” she rasped, her voice scratchy and weak.

“Not long,” he assured her, pulling his hand back reluctantly. “Maybe thirty minutes. How’re you feeling?”

“Hot,” she said with a faint attempt at humor, though her words lacked energy. As if on cue, a shiver suddenly ran down her spine, and she involuntarily drew the blanket tighter around herself. Her body was at war with itself, burning and freezing all at once.

Logan’s lips pressed into a thin line, his frustration evident— not at her, but at his inability to fix this for her. “I’ll get more water and medicine,” he said before disappearing from the room.

The room felt quieter and colder when he left. She closed her eyes, her head throbbing again, but before she could fall back to sleep, he returned.

“Here,” he murmured, placing a fresh glass of water and another dose of medicine on her bedside table. His movements were methodical, careful, like he was afraid to startle her. He sat down on the edge of her bed, his presence reassuring.

“Are you hungry?” he asked, his voice dipping into a softness she rarely heard from him.

She shook her head slowly. “You don’t have to do this,” she whispered, her throat tight with a strange mix of gratitude and guilt.

Logan tilted his head slightly, his eyes narrowing with something close to exasperation. “Why not?”

“Because…” Her voice wavered, barely above a whisper. “There’s probably a thousand things you’d rather be doing than looking after me. And you’ll get sick.”

Her words hung in the air. Logan’s expression softened, his gaze steady. For a long moment, their eyes met—hers filled with uncertainty, his with quiet intensity.

“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be,” he said finally, his voice steady but soft, like he was afraid she might not believe him. His gaze didn’t waver from hers, the weight of his words sinking deep into her chest. “And I don’t care if I catch whatever this is.”

Her heart skipped, warmth spreading across her cheeks that had nothing to do with her fever. She bit her lip, trying to suppress a small, stupid smile. “Damn fever,” she muttered, burying her face slightly into the blanket to hide her expression.

His lips twitched, but he didn’t let the moment linger too long. “Do you want to eat something?” he asked again. 

He rested his hand on the bed beside her, his fingers brushing hers as he shifted slightly. The warmth of his hand against hers sent a flutter through her chest, but neither of them moved until she gave him a small nod, though the thought of food seemed distant.

“Alright,” he said, standing with a quiet determination. “I’ll be right back.”

———

Logan returned with a simple bowl of leftover soup, steam curling softly into the air. He placed it on the bedside table and helped her sit up, his hand steadying her back as she shifted against the pillows. She leaned into his touch instinctively, her body still weak and achy.

“Eat,” he said gently, handing her the bowl and a spoon. “There was still some soup from yesterday.”

She managed a faint smile as she took the spoon with trembling hands. The soup was warm and comforting, and as bland as it was, it didn’t upset her stomach. He stayed by her side, his gaze steady and unyielding, watching her like she might crumble if he looked away.

“You’re hovering,” she said with a tiny smirk, though her voice was still hoarse.

“Yeah, well, I don’t trust you to not pass out mid-bite,” he replied.

When she finished, he took the bowl from her hands and stood. “Stay put,” he said, heading to the kitchen. The sound of running water and clinking dishes drifted faintly into the room, but it wasn’t long before he returned, wiping his hands on a kitchen towel.

“You should sleep,” he told her, his voice low but firm as he stood at her bedside. His presence filled the small room, grounding her in a way she couldn’t quite explain.

She looked up at him, her eyes heavy but still shining with a hint of vulnerability. “Logan,” she murmured, her voice soft and unsure.

He stopped, his hand resting on the back of the desk chair. “Yeah?”

Her fingers reached out, trembling slightly, and brushed against his wrist. She looked at him like she was searching for something she wasn’t sure she’d find. “Can you… stay? Just for a little while?”

Logan’s breath hitched, his chest tightening at the simple, fragile request. He hesitated for only a moment before nodding. “Yeah,” he said quietly.

She shifted on the bed, making room for him, and he lay down beside her with careful, deliberate movements. He kept a respectful distance, his body stiff with the effort of not leaning too close.

She turned toward him, her head sinking into the pillow as her eyes fluttered half-closed. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice so faint it almost disappeared into the quiet of the room.

Logan swallowed hard, his throat tight. “Don’t mention it,” he muttered, his voice gruffer than he intended.

Her breathing began to even out, the exhaustion and fever pulling her back toward sleep. He watched her, his gaze softening as he allowed himself a moment of quiet reflection. Her face, even flushed and weary, held a certain peacefulness that tugged at something deep inside him.

As the minutes ticked by, her hand unconsciously brushed against his arm, the small contact grounding them both. He shifted slightly, his body relaxing by degrees, until he found himself lying closer than he intended.

When she stirred again, barely thirty minutes later, he was still there, his hand resting near hers on the mattress. Her feverish eyes opened slowly, and she found him watching her with a quiet intensity.

“You’re still here,” she murmured, her voice tinged with surprise.

“Yeah,” he said simply, his lips twitching into the faintest hint of a smile. “Figured you might need me.”

Her chest warmed at his words, her heart skipping a beat.

“Logan,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “You’re all I need.”

He blinked, caught off guard by the unexpected comment, but before he could reply, her eyes closed again, and she drifted back to sleep.

This time, when he reached out to brush a strand of hair from her face, he didn’t stop himself.

———

Her breathing deepened again, signaling that she’d drifted back into sleep. Logan stayed there, watching her for a moment longer. The rise and fall of her chest, the soft sound of her breath—it was strangely calming.

He told himself he’d leave in just a minute, that he’d give her space to rest properly. But his body betrayed him; the weight of the day, the emotional toll of seeing her so vulnerable, and the quiet warmth of the room all worked against him.

Before he realized it, his head dipped forward, his body sagging into the mattress. His eyes fluttered shut, and he fell asleep right there beside her.

When morning came, the soft light of dawn filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow across the room. Logan stirred first, his senses slowly sharpening as he registered the warmth pressed against his arm.

His heart skipped a beat when he realized where he was—and who he was with.

The faint light of morning crept across the floor as Logan blinked awake. He shifted slightly, careful not to disturb Y/N. Her breathing was steady, her face peaceful in sleep, and he felt an odd pang of reluctance to leave.

But he knew better than to linger.

With a careful hand, he pulled the blanket up to her shoulder, tucking her in. Then he rose from the bed, his joints stiff from sleeping in an awkward position. He glanced back at her one last time before quietly slipping out of the room, closing the door behind him with a soft click.

The apartment was still, the early morning air cool and quiet. Logan made his way to the kitchen, running a hand through his tousled hair. He’d barely stepped inside when he froze.

Wade was already there, leaning against the counter with a mug of coffee in one hand and a smirk that could only mean trouble. His eyebrows shot up in exaggerated surprise, and Logan instantly knew he was doomed.

“Well, well, well,” Wade drawled, setting his mug down with a flourish. “If it isn’t Sleeping Beauty, emerging from the princess’s tower.”

Logan groaned, rubbing the back of his neck. “Don’t start.”

“Start? Me? Never!” Wade raised his hands in mock innocence, though his grin betrayed him. “I’m just wondering, how was it? Cozy? Romantic? Did you guys hold hands and share your deepest secrets before you dozed off?”

“Wade.” Logan’s tone carried a warning, but it only made Wade grin wider.

“Oh, come on,” Wade teased, circling the kitchen island to stand closer. “I’ve got questions, man. Did you sweep her off her feet? Or, wait, no—don’t tell me—you spooned all night like a couple of lovesick penguins, didn’t you?”

Logan sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “She’s sick, Wade. I was just—”

“—being the knight in shining armor,” Wade cut in, clasping his hands together and batting his eyelashes. “Gallant Logan, tending to his fair maiden in her time of need. Truly heartwarming.”

Logan shot him a deadly look. “Are you done?”

Wade tilted his head, pretending to think. “Not even close.”

Logan shook his head, grabbing a mug from the cabinet and pouring himself some coffee. He could feel Wade’s eyes on him, the silence practically crackling with anticipation.

Then Wade leaned against the counter again, his smirk softening into something more knowing. “You’re a good guy, you know that?”

Logan paused mid-sip, frowning. “What are you talking about now?”

Wade shrugged, his usual theatrics dialed down just a notch. “I know it’s not just a tiny little crush. You care about her. Hell, I’m pretty sure you’d go back to war for her. So, stop all your brooding and self-deprecation and fucking admit it.”

Logan set the mug down, his jaw tightening. “She’s our roommate.”

“Uh-huh,” Wade said, dragging the syllables out like he’d heard this a thousand times before. “And I’m your roommate. And we’re like brothers. Come on, man. I’ve been watching this slow-burn romance play out for months now, and let me tell you, it’s both entertaining and painful. Mostly painful. For me. And the readers.”

Logan huffed, trying to focus on his coffee. But the truth Wade was poking at made his chest tighten.

“Look,” Wade continued, his tone softening again, “I’m just saying, you’ve been through a lot, man. And maybe it’s about time you let yourself be happy. You deserve that.”

Logan rolled his eyes before finally meeting his gaze, and for all of Wade’s teasing, there was genuine care in his expression. It caught Logan off guard, leaving him unsure of what to say.

“Anyway,” Wade said, breaking the moment with a grin that was back to full mischief. “Just remember—when you two eventually get married, I’m calling dibs on being the best man. Or officiant. Or both. I’m flexible.”

Logan groaned, setting his mug down with more force than necessary. “I’m not having this conversation with you.”

“Too late,” Wade quipped, grinning like he’d just won a prize. And well, maybe he did.

Logan shook his head, muttering under his breath as he turned to leave the kitchen. Wade’s laughter followed him down the hall, a constant reminder that no matter what he said, Wade wouldn’t be letting this go anytime soon. And as much as he wanted to deny it, he couldn’t shake the quiet thought that maybe Wade was right.

As Logan had just started rinsing out his coffee mug, his phone buzzed on the counter. He glanced at it, and he frowned.

Wade, still leaning against the counter with a sly grin, raised an eyebrow. “What’s that? The love doctor calling to check up on their patient?”

Logan didn’t respond. His jaw tightened as he stared at the screen, the name flashing there like a warning. Without a word, he grabbed the phone and walked a few steps away, his back to Wade as he answered.

“Yeah,” Logan said, his tone clipped.

Wade sipped his coffee, watching with mild curiosity that quickly turned into concern. Logan’s posture stiffened, his free hand curling into a fist at his side. The voice on the other end of the call was too faint to hear, but whatever was being said had Logan’s entire demeanor shifting. His shoulders tensed, his face darkened and his frown deepened.

“Fine,” Logan said after a long pause, his voice low and guttural. “Yeah, I’ll be here.”

He ended the call abruptly, the phone still clutched tightly in his hand. For a moment, he just stood there, staring at nothing, his breathing slow but heavy.

Wade set his mug down, his smirk gone. “Uh… that wasn’t Doc Love, was it?”

Logan turned, his expression unreadable but with a shadow of something darker lingering in his eyes. He slid the phone into his pocket and exhaled through his nose. “It’s Victor.”

The name hit the room like a dropped stone. Wade’s face immediately fell.

“He’s coming here. Next week.”

For once, Wade didn’t have a quip or a joke. His brow furrowed, and he let out a long, slow breath. “Shit.”

Logan didn’t respond. He just turned back to the sink, gripping the edge of the counter so hard his knuckles went white. Wade watched him carefully, the silence between them heavier than it had been in years.

And as the quiet stretched on, one thought circled Wade’s mind like a warning bell: Chaos was coming.

[the-universal-sun]

Hii, I've been reading a lot of you're writing andi love them so much!!! If you feel comfortable enough and only if you want to do you think you could do a sick agere? I forgot if you already done one so if you did you can just ignore this, but if not then can you do one where stan or Ford gets sick while out on the Stan O war and regress from it, thank you, again you don't have to do it or anything thank you!!!

Thank you so much! And of course I'd do it, it was they were both such lovely prompts! I hope you're still here, both of you. Sorry it took so long, and sorry it's been so long since I posted last, I've not been feeling super good myself these past few days. But! I'm feeling loads better now, maybe some rest does do one good! I hope your stomach ache feels better, those are the absolute pits, and I'm sorry you got one.

I have Ford use "stummy" here because I have a tendency to say that so I wanted him to as well. How do we feel about that word/smaller and babier words in general, yay or nay?

I hope you all stay safe out there and in this weather, drink warm and eat warm and bundle up in you need to! Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoy!

As always, I welcome any helpful comments and criticisms on my writings.

Thank you for being here!

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

"Mmmmmmmh. Buddy!" Ford whined, curled up in Stanley's bed, one hand clutching his stomach and the other his head. He felt terrible. Worse than terrible. He felt awful. His stummy felt like it was rolling down hill, queasy and with sharp pains panging around periodically. His head felt too big, like his brain was going to burst out from all the pressure he felt. And he wanted to sleep, but he couldn't because everything hurt. He hated it. He hated being sick. It wasn't even his fault! Not really, he just got excited about seeing a Kraken that he stayed out in the rain longer than he should have. Stanley can't blame him for being curious, now can he? Not when he's the one encouraging him.

Ford sneezed, his stomach and head rocking. He should have listed to his brother. He sniffled, both from being sick and from holding back his tears. He wanted Stan, his Buddy. He also wanted Dr. Mittens, but he can't until his friend is properly suited up in scrubs and a mask, Ford didn't want Dr. Mittens to get sick like him. That's where Stan was, but he was taking too long, he looked at the clock on the side table. Five whole minutes!? They both should have been here four minutes ago. He opened his mouth to croak for Stan again before he appears right in front of him, slipping on his glasses. When did those get taken off?

"Hold your horses there, Poindexter, I'm here and I've got your little friend. Don't worry, he's all trussed up in that Doctor gear you made us get for him." Stan handed Dr. Mittens, all suited up and ready to safely cuddle Ford through his sickness, to him. He snatched him up, curling his body around his plush friend as his head pounds and pounds. He wants to cry, he thinks to himself, whining against his toy, he hates this so badly. Ford didn't realize he was crying until a tissue is wiping his face dry and Stan is helping him sit up.

"Noooo, don't wan'na get up," He whined through tears, hiccupping and trying to lay back down. Can't Stanley see he's sick?

"Shhh, I know. You want to lay down, I get it, trust me, Buddy, I do. But if you want to feel better, you have to take-take this, uh," Stan hesitated, staring at the warm tea that has a dose of dissolvable Tylenol in it. He hated even talking about medicine, but he has to, he has to take care of Ford. "This tea has some medicine in it-"

"Ugh, icky." a whine interrupted him. And yeah, Stan silently agreed, icky is right.

"No, not icky, Stanford, medicine to help your head feel better. Relieve your sinuct pressure or whatever it's called." Stanley propped Ford up against him. Ford made a face at the word medicine, he hated the taste and feeling of medicine, it made his throat feel icky and greasy, and it tasted to awful. "Listen, it's one o' those sweet berry teas, with some honey, so it should taste sweet enough for you taste buds." Well, Ford thought, honey is good for fighting on the inside germs that make people sick, and he does like fruit teas, so maybe if he can't taste the medicine, it will be fine. But, he clutches his stummy again as pain burst through it, there's one issue.

"Buddy, my stummy hurts, don' know, know if, the tea-" Ford hurt too much to form sentences, whining crying as his head and stummy feel even worse. He hated this. He hates it, he hates it, he hates it. He could feel himself cry, his face felt hot and his head hurt even worse! He just wants to sleep.

"Hey now, Buddy, I'm here, good ol' Stan's right here. Come on, shhh," Stan gathered Ford close and rocked him, one hand rubbing his stomach as he spoke lowly in his brothers ear. It seemed feeling small made Ford unable to hide how out of it and cruddy being sick made him. Stan hated it, how much pain his brother showed he was in, his tears, his sick whines. But on the other hand, Stan could finally take proper care of a sick Ford. Win some, lose some in his opinion. The ends outweigh the means blah blah blah. He was just glad his brother was more receptive and demanding when he's sick and Little, his brother never usually let him take care of him out of some guilt-ridden mentality about being the one to erase Stan's mind. Which is undeserved guilt, but they're working on it. For right now, he just wanted to keep his Little Buddy from crying and get some-ugh-medicine in his to soothe his pains. "Your stummy hurts? Probably from eating a whole bag of jelly beans before bed, right?" He didn't wait for a response, he didn't want to tease his brother too badly when he's regressed, he can't always understand teasing and jokes then. "It's okay, this tea is going to help your head and stummy, and you might even get a nap out of it!" Stan released a strained chuckle, still rubbing Ford's aching stomach, hoping it really did ease his pains. Just because he could better help his brother didn't mean he liked seeing him like this.

Ford felt the cup against his lips and opened them, slowly sipping the tea. It wasn't icky, it didn't taste the best, but if it helped him stop hurting and can make him sleep, then he'd drink. He felt Stan wipe his tears away again as he took small sips out of the plastic cup-it was his special moth cup-slowly so he didn't spill anything. Once finished, he's laid back down in bed, Stan had taken his glasses so he didn't squish them. He felt sort of better, maybe? His head didn't hurt as bad and his stummy didn't feel like it was tumbling down a hill, more like rolling down one. It was an approvement, more so when a hot cloth was put on his face right over his eyes and forehead. Ford sighed and settled further into Stan's bed as the blankets were tucked tightly around him and Dr. Mittens and his weighted one with all the constellations was tucked in over all the rest. Ford felt so comfy and cozy and warm.

"Buddy, I, mmmmmy head doesn't hurt..."Ford trailed off into mumbles. Huh, the tea must be working already, Ford felt so tired, but his stummy and head didn't hurt anymore, so he could actually get asleep now. No, to sleep, he could get to sleep. He couldn't keep his eyes open, one slowly closing, then the other. Ford mumbled more and leaned his head slightly into his brother's hand, the one that swept through his hair. When did that happen? Ford couldn't be bothered to think about that, not when he was so warm and cozy with the Best Brother and Buddy in the world beside him and taking care of him and petting his hair.

The rocking of their boat lulled Ford further into sleep, his stomach settled, his head cleared, and his brother and best friend right beside him.

[martygraciesversion381]

SO HIGH SCHOOL (OP81)

oscar piastri x reader

WARNINGS‼️: SMUT!, pnv, bit of angst, that's all i think

Series name: the tortured poets department Song: so high school

a/n: the story behind 21 how Oscar and Y/N met

You were at Oscar’s house to make your homework with some other of your friends. You met Oscar once he moved to the uk for his racing career (he isn’t in f1 already!) and you immediately clicked. He got along with all of your friends and you all soon became a big group, they were part of your family. 

"Hey guys why don’t we play spin the bottle?" Emily your best friend suddenly said. "You’re saying this just because you want to kiss James." You point out. Emily and James were two of your best friends ever and they’ve always been in love it just took them 10 years to realise it. You all sat on the floor and took a bottle. 

You were the first one to spin it and it landed on Emily. When you spin it again, it landed on James. Emily squealed happily and went to kiss her boyfriend. Oscar fake gagged and you chuckled. They both broke apart and it was Emily’s turn to spin the bottle. The bottle first landed on Oscar and then on Melody your other friend who joined your group only last year. Oscar and melody kissed and James whistled while Emily looked at you with a sad smile.

She was the only one who knew about your crush on Oscar. Seeing him kissing another girl made you want to throw up you got up and immediately ran to the bathroom closing the door behind me before spilling out in the toilets. Oscar came in a few seconds later. He held your hair up in a ponytail while rubbing your back as you threw up and felt hot tears going down your cheeks. 

After this everyone went home and you were left alone with Oscar. He made you sit on his bed and wrapped a blanket over your shoulders before heading to the kitchen and coming back with a hot chocolate. "Thank you" you mumble. Oscar sits down next to you and rubs your back concern plastered on his face. "You feel better?" You nod and feel a tear spilling from your eyes. 

Oscar whipes it and tilt your head to make you look at him. He smiles softly and you try to smile back but the the image of him and melody kissing keeps replaying in your mind. "I have to go" you say before grabbing your things and nearly running out of his house. 

The next day, you ran into a group of people after school and melody was in the middle of them. "I’m sure she got sick on purpose that slut only wants Oscar’s attention like he’s hers. I can’t stand her anymore can’t she see that he likes me more?" She says. "Yeah she thinks that he’s going to fuck her one day but the girl who’s gonna end up in his bed isn’t her." Another girl said and they all laughed. Tears started to build in your eyes as you ran away from the scene. 

Your feet guided you to the first safe place that they knew and you found yourself in front of Oscar’s house. You knocked at the door and he immediately opened it. "Gracie what happened?" He asked seeing your glossy eyes. "Can we talk inside please?" He nods and you both head to his room.

You both sit down on his bed after he locks the door behind him and you start telling him everything from the beginning. How you felt the day you met him, how you realised that you fell in love with him, how you felt when he kissed melody and everything that she said about you. Tears were spilling non stop from your eyes from sadness and fear of being rejected by Oscar and ruining your friendship.

When you stop talking, Oscar immediately crashes his lips into yours. Your eyes widen but you immediately close them and wrap your arms around Oscar’s neck. He pulls back from the kiss. "I’m so sorry for everything melody said. I love you too sweetheart I always have." He kisses you again and makes the both of you fall on his bed. His back hits the mattress and you crawl on top of him not breaking the contact of your lips once.

 He bites your bottom lips gently and runs his tongue on it making you moan and open your mouth for him. His tongue enters your mouth and he tastes it gently. You gasp as his hands squeeze your ass and he groans into your mouth. 

He breaks your kiss and latches his mouth to your neck leaving soft kisses there before nibbling and sucking the skin behind your ear. He keeps marking up your neck with his bites before he glides his tongue all the way up and connecting his lips with yours again. 

You whimpered as you felt his now hard erection pressing against your pussy through your clothes. You craved him and he craved you. He looked up at you through half lidded eyes and you nodded. He made you sit up straddling him and he took off your shirt before taking off his. 

You run your hands over his toned chest and shoulders and he groans as his hands find their way to your hips. "You sure you want to do this?" You nod "If you want to stop at any moment just tell me" You nod and he smirks before cupping your breast, who was still covered by your bra, with his hand and squeezed it gently. 

You moan and he sits up still with you straddling him and unclamps your bra before throwing it on the floor with both of your shirts. "God you’re so gorgeous" he groans running his tongue over your breast before starting to suck your nipple. You moan and arch your back. Oscar lays you down on the bed and latches his lips to your other nipple while you buck your hips in search of search of friction. 

"Ozzie….fuck me please" you moan. "Your wish my command babe." He answers. You take off your shorts while he goes to search a condom in the bedside drawer. Oscar’s pants were soon discarded too and your panties and his boxers found their way on the floor too. You watched as his erection sprung free and hit his abdomen while unconsciously licking your lips at the sight of him. He ran a finger through your slit. "Look how wet you are for me" he then brought his finger to his mouth humming before wrapping the condom around his shaft and using your arousal to coat his dick to ease himself more easily inside you.

You felt every inch of him gliding inside your pussy and you dug your nails into his back both from the pain and pleasure. You both gasped once he was fully inside you and he left you time to adjust to the stretch of his cock before rocking his hips slowly against yours. You moaned as Oscar continued thrusting into you.

"O….Oscar fuck…feels so good" you moaned and he sped his movements placing both hands on each side of your head to stabilise himself. He curses under his breath and hides his head in the crook of your neck and sucks on your shoulder gently while groaning. 

You felt a familiar feeling building in your stomach and you knew you were close. You tapped on Oscar’s shoulder. "Osc…I’m close" he sped his movements determined to bring you to your climax. He brought his thumb to your clit rubbing circular motions. The sight of him looking at you and his damp hair stuck to his forehead was what made it for you. You reached what was the best orgasm you’ve ever had. Oh god how many times you dreamed of this with your hand between your thighs.

You were a shaking and moaning mess under Oscar as your release milked his cock and spilled down your legs. Oscar grunted as he spilled into the condom and prolonged both of your highs. When you both rode down your highs, Oscar pulled out of you and collapsed on the bed next to you pulling you in his arms. "Love you" he mumbles against your hair before getting up and helping you to clean yourself up. You both got dressed and headed to the living room to watch a movie. You cuddled with Oscar when there was a sudden knock on the door. 

Oscar got up from the couch and opened the door. Melody was standing in the doorway. "Hi Ozzie." she said and bit her lip. "I was wondering if I could spend a bit of time with you…alone." she whispered seductively. Oscar pushed away her hand which was trying to reach for the hem of his pants. "First of all don’t call me Ozzie you are not my friend anymore. Second I already have company." He opened the door a bit more revealing you to melody. She gasped as she saw you wearing one of Oscar’s shirt.

"Are you still trying to steal him from me you slut?!" She spat out to you. "I’m not stealing him from you I was here before you!" You get up and shout back. "You bitch!" She shouts trying to slap you. Oscar blocks her hand and shots her a glare. She backs off. "You’re not part of our friend group anymore. Go have fun with your fucking little friends." He told her. She looked at him shocked before walking away. 

Oscar closed the door and turns to you. You smile at him and he hugs you tightly burring his head in the crook of your neck. "You deserve so much more happiness sweetheart I’ll make sure to give it to you" he murmured and you melted into his touch hugging him back. You loved him so much and were going to spend the rest of your life with him. You felt so high school.

Tagglist:

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[miizuzu]

Once Upon a Dream Part 2

“Please babe! Don't be like this. I'm sorry!” Satoru was begging for your forgiveness.

You kept questioning him about what the girl at the sweet shop said and he finally confessed. “So everything that happened was not by chance. How did you even know where I was?” You were confused, all the loving feelings you had for Satoru had developed into something else; uncertainty.

“I might have followed you home and broke in and planted a bug on you…?” Satoru was coming clean, he didn't want you to be angry at him. “That's wrong on so many levels Satoru!” the colors on your face were drained and you started shivering from what he revealed to you.

Satoru sees your nervous and scared expressions and his heart felt like it was being torn apart. He tried to reach for you but you backed away from him. He felt his heart sink to his stomach as you backed away from him.

“Baby, please! I need you, I can't live without you anymore.” Satoru starts begging again. All you feel is disgust at this point, you need to get away, you don't know how you should process the truth.

“I need to get out of here.” You turned as you began to run. Only to be stopped by Satoru pulling on your wrist. “Nooo!!! Let go!!” You panicked, using your full force to try and break free from him. Satoru let's go right away, he didn't want to scare you further but his body just acted on its own.

“Please don't follow me, I need some time.” You said to him with tears threatening to spill, running off to God knows where, just wanted to get away from Satoru.

Satoru could only watch you disappear into the distance, he couldn't risk himself scaring you any further. He knows he cannot follow you, he couldn't even listen in on you through the bug since he was supposed to be by your side and thought he wouldn't need it. He felt devastated, his only saving grace was you didn't break up with him right there, yet. He's really hoping it does not come to that.

You weren't sure how long you've been running, all you know is you had to get away from Satoru. Your feelings were all jumbled up, you couldn't tell if you actually love him or was it just manipulation from Satoru. You couldn't believe the things he did to get close to you, you felt sick to the stomach. You end up throwing up, most of it landing on you coat. You were feeling hopeless and alone, feeling disgusted with your puke all over yourself.

You were walking down the street and people were looking at you funny, you saw a place that does dry cleaning and decided to go in and get your coat washed and to collect yourself.

You were greeted by a huge figure with red eyes and pink hair, you feel intimidated. The man could see you had been crying and saw the mess on your coat, he reached his hand out to you, and only said a single word. “Coat.”

You took your dirty coat off and handed it to him, nodded his head to the side, telling you there were seats you could use to wait as he gets it cleaned. He could see how shaken up you were and he wasn't going to ask you any questions. You headed over to the seats and sat there as you lifted your knees and hug them like you were trying to protect yourself.

He was searching your coat pockets for items you might have forgotten when he found the bug planted by Satoru, he looked over to you for a second when furrowed brows but decided to just throw it out without letting you know.

Your thoughts were running wild, trying to figure out what you should do, you know you didn't want to go home, you didn't want Satoru to find you but you weren't sure where you should go. The front door opens and you could hear a familiar voice, “Y/N?” You look up and see Choso, walking over to you as he look at you worried. “Choso? What are you doing here?” You no longer believe in fate, you think everyone is after you, you curled up into a defensive position. “My uncle runs this place. Are you ok??” Choso was so worried, he could see the tear stains on your cheeks.

“Yeah, I'm ok… I threw up on myself.” You didn't want to tell him about what happened between you and Satoru. You thought that was something personal and you should bother others with it. “Where's your boyfriend? Did you have a fight?” Choso continues with the questions you didn't really want to answer anymore. “Yeah… something like that, I don't want to talk about it right now.” He could sense that you were about to cry again so he stopped asking you things.

“My brother is off work and will be here soon, he has some desserts on him, I'm sure it could cheer you up!” Choso tried his best to calm you down the best way he could think of. As if it was right on que, a teen with pink hair comes walking in through the door. You realized he was the kid who helped you at the dessert place.

You were feeling sick again from the reminder that you and Satoru were just there not too long ago. The older man saw your face turned and threw a bucket at Choso for you to use.

“I'm so sorry about that, I'm not feeling well.” You excused yourself. “I guess you do feel really bad since you missed work. Do you want me to take you home?” Choso offered, “Wait, you live by yourself right? Who's going to look after you if you're not well?” Choso is such a worry wart when it comes to you, he is madly in love with you but you never noticed. “Sakuna, can she stay with us instead? We have spare rooms at home. Then we could watch over her till she gets better.”

Sakuna looked at Choso then to you, he could tell that you were the girl he was crushing on and decided to help his nephew out. “I guess. Her coat is almost clean, so we can go home early.” Sakuna walked to the back to get things ready.

“Choso, that would be too much trouble, I don't want to bother you.” Even though you don't want to go home, you don't want to bother your co-worker. “I'll feel better knowing you aren't by yourself.” Choso smiles at you and you sighed and agreed.

Arriving at Choso’s place, he led you into the spare room, gave you a spare change of clothes and asked if you would like to wash up before dinner. He also asked what you would like to eat, said he could make or order it for you. You told him anything is fine and that you do wish to shower, since you did throw up on yourself.

Choso watches as you step out of the bathroom with his clothes loosely hanging on your figure, all his blood rushing down south, he quickly hands you the food he prepped and confined himself in his room. You thanked him for making you some heartily soup which was easy for your stomach, you finished the food and cleaned the dishes and went back into the spare room prepared for you.

You finally settled down looking towards your bag, you decided to check your phone. You weren't shocked to see hundreds of miss calls and texts from Satoru, you checked the text and it was him apologizing and wanting to know where you are.

You were not sure if you wanted to reply to him, you were not sure if you could forgive him. You couldn't help but think this whole relationship just happened because Satoru manipulated you into it. You weren't sure if you actually really loved Satoru or was it just your body trained by him to want him.

Satoru was worried, he got home and tried to listen in on you through the bug but it had gone radio silence, he rushed to your place to find all the lights off and you were not home yet. He kept calling and texting you hoping for a miracle that you would pick up, right now he just wants to know that you're safe. He sat by your front door and decided to call again, and this time the line miraculously went through.

You didn't speak but the line definitely was picked up, he could hear you breathing and he finally was able to call himself.

“Y/N?”

“...”

“I'm sorry, I know what I did is wrong… it's just… I love you too much. I've fallen in love with you since the moment you gave me the desserts. I've been desperately trying to find you but when I did, I didn't know how to approach you.”

“...”

“Please, I'm not asking you to forgive me right away, just give me another chance. I'll make sure I change! I won't do anything that will make you uncomfortable. I just want to know you're safe.”

“... I'm safe, I'm spending the night at my friend's place. Please give me time, I… I need to figure out something.”

“... Alright, but… can I see your face one more time before we hang up? Please??? I just want to see you safe.”

“...”

You hesitated, but decided to change the call to a video call. Satoru changed it the second he saw you so you could see him too. He looked warned out, but has a soft smile now that he sees you. You felt a squeeze in your heart when you saw his tired eyes, your heart is telling you to forgive him right away but your brain is telling you no.

“Good night, Satoru.”

“Good night, my love.”

You hung up the call, hugging your phone while deciding what you wanted to do. You want to talk to someone about it and maybe they could offer you some advice? But who could you talk to? You didn't have a lot of friends, most of them are your co-workers and you're not sure if you should tell them about your personal life.

You decided to go down to the kitchen to get a glass of water, you walked past the living room and saw Sakuna watching TV while sipping on his beer. The 2 of you nodded your heads in acknowledgement and you went to get your water. You remember Choso calling him uncle but he doesn't look that much older, 7 or 8 years older at most. You kind of want to ask him for advice, since he's older (and maybe wiser) and he sees you hovering.

“Come sit brat, stop hovering.” Sakuna clicked his tongue in annoyance, you quickly went around and sat down on the sofa, leaning against the armrest. You keep peeking at him and he sees you at the corner of his eye. “What is it? Spill.” Sakuna closes his eyes as he rubs his temple.

“Well… I have this friend…”

“I know you're talking about yourself, so cut the crap and get to the point.”

You felt flustered, this is the first time someone is being so straightforward to you, it kind of feels refreshing. “If you find out your lover has been doing things behind your back to get you to… um you know… what would you do?” You blushed hard as you turned your face away. Sakuna raised an eyebrow and thought for a second, “What kind of things? Like lying?” He remembers about the bug from your coat and could tell your lover is kind of a control freak.

“Something like that… making you believe it was fate that brought you together but it was actually all an act…” you kept your head down, tears threatening to spill from your eyes.

“Do you think you are simply manipulated?” Sakuna sinks back into the couch as his attention slowly shifts back to the TV as he sips more of his beer.

“I'm not sure? At least I don't think I am.” You tried your hardest to think of any other time that someone else has tried to manipulate you.

“I told you to sit down and you complied right away. That doesn't sound very convincing.” Sakuna scoffs. “That's because!!! I wanted to see if you could give me some advice!” You started pouting, Sakuna could see why his nephew likes you, you were very interesting and had a cute face especially when you pout.

“You sure? Feels like you would hop onto my lap if I told you to.” He chuckles as he leans towards you. Your eyes widened as you jumped out of your seat, backing away from him. He laughs, “Relax. I'm only kidding.” he leans back to his seat.

You had enough of talking and wanted to get back to the room. You thanked him as you walked and Sakuna just waved it off.

You decided to sleep early, since you wanted to go home in the morning to change before going to work. You lay there, looking at pictures of you and Satoru together, you think you do love him and that you miss him, but you don't want to easily forgive him. You fell asleep while thinking of a way to get back at him.

In the morning, Choso wanted to go with you but you insisted that you wanted to go by yourself and that you've already bothered him enough, plus you weren't sure if Satoru was going to be there or not. You felt a ping of disappointment when you arrived home and saw that Satoru was not there, even though you were not going to let him off easy. You got yourself ready and went to work. Satoru had not messaged you yet, honoring his promise about giving you time, but he did send you a big bouquet of blue roses which all the female co-workers envy.

A week had passed and you were receiving bouquets everyday, people noticed the 2 of you hadn't been eating lunch together and were starting rumors that you broke up with him and he's trying to get you back.

You called Satoru during your lunch break and he picked up right as the line went through.

“Y/N!! You finally called! I've missed you so much! I wanted to come see you so badly but I wasn't sure if you were still mad or if you even wanted to see me…” he was going to keep talking your ear off but you cut him off.

“Satoru, stop sending flowers to my work, you are bothering my coworkers and I have no space to put them. If you think getting me flowers will make me forgive you then you're wrong.” You sighed.

“I know, I know… it's just, I don't want you to forget about me. I want you to know I'm always thinking of you. Please forgive me babe. I'm hitting my limits, I need to see you.” Satoru begs.

“We can meet up, but with one condition.”

“I'll do it no matter what it is!!”

“Give me Nanami’s contact information.”

“What??! Why would you need that?”

“Gojo. You said anything.”

“Omg! Ok! Ok!!! Just don't call me by my last name again, I think I'm going to throw up.”

“Give me his info and I will let you know where we will meet.”

“Fine… I'll send it…”

“I have to go back to work now, I will message you later.” You hung up before he could say anything else.

Satoru was worried, why did you want Nanami's number? Do you want to break up with Satoru and then get together with Nanami? Satoru felt sick in the stomach as he glared at Nanami, who noticed but ignored Satoru.

“Hey Nanamin, my girlfriend Y/N is wondering if she could have your number. Can I give it to her?” Satoru was hoping Nanami would say ‘why would she need that?’ or a simple ‘no’, but he agreed instead and pulled out his phone and asked Satoru for your number instead. He blinked and hesitated but ended up giving your number to Nanami.

Nanami looked at Satoru, he was acting very jittery and nervous which made Nanami raise his brow in question. He starts texting you.

“Hi Y/N, this is Nanami. I heard from Gojo that you wanted my contact information. Is there something you need?”

Satoru was nervous, why did you want to talk to Nanami? What if you wanted to tell Nanami all the things he did to you and wanted to get him arrested? Satoru was pathetically panicking and didn't notice Nanami snapping a picture and sending it to you.

“Hi Nanami! Yes I was wondering if you could help me keep an eye on Satoru. We had a bit of a fight and… just wanted to make sure he's ok.”

“I see. That explains why he's acting like this right now.”

Nanami sends you the picture of Satoru. And you couldn't help but giggle. Satoru watches Nanami text you and he suddenly lets out a soft smile. Nanami smiling????? What are the two of you talking about? It's bothering Satoru to no end. He starts throwing a tantrum, lifting things just to slam it down and Nanami had this all recorded and sent to you.

Nanami stands up now, and Satoru blinks at him. “I'm going to go do my rounds.” Nanami walks towards the direction of the door. “Wait! I'm coming too!” Satoru quickly follows. The 2 men were patrolling around and were walking towards your work place. Satoru was excited to see you. He had a legit reason if you did notice him and you couldn't get mad at him.

With your work building in view, Satoru already spotted you. You were walking with Choso following you closely. Satoru was already feeling annoyed at how close he was standing behind you, it instantly became worse when the person walking in front of you stumbled which pushed you right into Choso's embrace. Satoru was waiting for you to move away from Choso as his hands clutch into fists, you didn't move away, or you couldn't, since your hair got caught on Choso's buttoned shirt. Satoru could only watch silently as Choso caressed your soft hair to try and untangle you from him. You couldn't see Choso’s face but he was blushing with a huge smile on his face.

Satoru was seeing red. He wanted to rush in and punch Choso for touching what belonged to him. Satoru knows if he shows up in front of you like that you would end things with him for sure, so he swallowed it down, fist clenched so hard his nails cut through a shallow layer of his palm.

You noticed Choso had been more direct with you after spending the night at his place. You didn't think much of it, but you do notice his reaction every time Satoru's flowers would arrive, he would always be a bit more gloomy than normal.

You decided to fulfill your promise to Satoru for Nanami's number, you left work and headed to the dessert shop. You texted Satoru for him to meet you there,

You thought it would be fitting since everything started here. Within 10 minutes Satoru burst through the entrance, his smile so bright as he rushed over to your table and sat down and reached for your hands on the table before you pulled away, his smile fades instantly and turns into a pout.

“I am willing to give you another chance, but you have to follow my rules.” You’ve thought about it for a while now and you do want to be with him, but not without some payback.

“Omg yes! Yesyesyesyes!! Anything!” Satoru is beaming again. Awaiting what you were about to tell him.

“First, I want you to give me your location at all times. I don't want you stalking me ever again.”

“Done.” He pulls his phone out and turns on and leaves in his location for you.

“Second, you're not allowed to touch me unless I say it's ok.”

Satoru hesitated for a second, he thought it was only fair from how much he did without your knowledge.

“Okay. I promise.”

“Lastly, do not hide anything from me again or I will never forgive you.”

“I wouldn't dare hide anything from you anymore. Everything that's mine is now yours.”

“Remember what you promised me, Satoru.” You finally smiled at him and he felt like he's melting. He wanted to hug you so badly and you could see he's restraining himself, you walked over and hugged him only for him to bear hug you back. “Can I kiss you?” Satoru asks, you could feel him shaking from trying to hold back. You pound at his chest lightly, and hide your face in his chest, you felt embarrassed even though you were the first to get up and hugged him. “Not in here. Too many people.” People were starting to stare and Yuji saw you and wanted to wave to you but ended up staying quiet and just smiled.

“Let's buy some desserts and head out?” Satoru suggested. You nodded and he held out his hand, waiting for you to hold his hand. You grabbed his hand and walked towards the counter and bought your desserts. You decided to grab some fast food to eat at home, you were struck by an idea and went into the supermarket and bought some frozen food to heat up at home while Satoru waited outside.

When you got home, Satoru waited outside the door, not sure if he was allowed in, acting like a kicked puppy. He was delighted when you told him to come inside. He sat down and waited patiently for you to prepare dinner but was confused when he saw what you prepared. You heated up a couple of corn dogs and brought over some ketchup and mayo.

“What? Am I not allowed to have corn dogs for dinner?”

“Of course you are, you could have anything you want. I would order anything for you. Just…” Satoru wasn't sure why you picked corn dogs. He couldn't finish his sentence as he watches you bring the corn dog to your lips, his eyes glued to your mouth while his mouth gaped open and swallowed air. He watches as your soft lips wrapped around the corn dog, mayo dripping at the corner of your mouth. You pushed the dripping mayo back into your mouth and he was rock hard. You brushed back your hair behind your ear with your free hand and Satoru was moaning. He thought you were so hot and he wished that corn dog was his cock right now. His hand was reaching for you, “Nuh uh uh~ You promised you wouldn't touch unless I say.” You shook a finger at him.

All he could do was helplessly gulp down air and try to calm down. You continue making out with the corn dog till Satoru was restless and whiny.

“That's not fair baby, I want to touch you. I want to make you feel good. Let me touch you please…” Satoru was begging, with his shiny baby blue puppy eyes, you thought for a second.

“Hmm, nope.” You placed your hand on his thigh, and slowly moved closer and closer towards his hard throbbing boner in his pants, he was leaking so much pre-cum you could see it through his pants. You finished the corn dog without him realizing, too focused on your hands and how soft they feel. He wants to rip his pants off but he couldn't since he rushed to you still in his uniform.

You got up and walked towards your room, pausing at the doorway to hint Satoru to follow. He was gleaming again and quickly got up from the chair to run towards you. You stopped him just as he was about to hug you. “Satoru, I didn't say you could touch me yet.” He's pouting again. Pretty sure he's about to get a mental breakdown from the mood swings.

You wrapped your arm around him and found what you were looking for. You took his handcuffs and turned him towards the bed before pushing him down. “Strip for me, Satoru.” He kept his eyes on you as he quickly got out of his uniform, he only had his boxers left. “Since you kept trying to touch me without my permission, you need to be punished.” You dangle and swing the handcuffs in front of his face.

You could tell he was getting excited, you could see his cheeks getting redder by the second, his boxer is soaked and his pre is seeping through the fabric. You made him scoot back and cuffed his wrists to your bed frame. You wrapped a piece of cloth on each of his wrist just so he wouldn't hurt himself even if he struggles.

You started kissing him, and he responded back, you were licking his lips and he parted his mouth for you, sucking in your tongue as he moaned. He missed kissing you but you pulled away shortly after, making him whine again. “No babe, that's not enough, I want to kiss you more.” His eyes were so dilated his pupils almost looked black except a fine ring of baby blue. You started kissing down his neck, marking him as you do, his moans were feeling up the room. He is grinding his hips and thrusting slowly towards the air.

Your hands are on his tone chest, sliding down so very slowly, Satoru though this must be the most effective way to torture someone. Your fingers brushed against his nipples and he twitched and started breathing with an open mouth. His chest rising and sinking at a fast pace. “Your hands are so soft… play with me more. I'm yours. Do what you want with me.” You didn't say anything, you just looked him in the eyes as your hands touched him.

Your hands stop at the waistband of his boxers, and he is eager to have you remove it for him. You stood up and he looked at you confused as he watched you walk towards your nightstand. You pulled out something and walked back towards him and straddled on his thighs. You kissed him again and when he got into the kiss, you blindfolded him.

“Huh?? Wait babe, I want to see you.” Take them off please…” Satoru couldn't see you and he couldn't touch you, he was getting extra whiny and very desperate. “‘Toru, you said I could do anything I want though. Are you backing out of your promise?” You make yourself sound like you were pouting and all he could do was just moan at how cute you sound and the nickname you called him. His wrists were starting to get red from him trying to break free, “please babe, let me touch. I'm begging you…” he starts whimpering. “Not until I'm satisfied.” Your hand reached down to palm his throbbing cock and he twitched again.

He could only listen to what you were doing, and he could tell you were starting to remove your own clothes. He couldn't tell how much you've taken off, he could only imagine how you looked as you straddle him. Suddenly you lower your pussy on him, causing him to cuss and hiss from the warm feeling but the thin layer of his boxer getting in the way. “No!! Take it off!!! Take it off!!!!” He's rutting his hips against you as much as he could, he's dying to feel you against him again without anything being in the way. He's whining so much it almost sounded like he was about to cry. He could hear you moaning and feel your slick soaking his boxers. He was dying for more of your touch, he wouldn't sit still. “Satoru!! Stop moving around so much! Nymph!” You cupped his cheeks with your hands and he's leaning into your palm as he whines. “Please… mmnh take them off… pleaseee…” he was actually crying, his tears soaking the blindfolds.

You didn't think you would actually make him cry, so you kissed his eyes over the blindfolds and moved to remove his boxers. “Thankyouthankyouthankyou!” He keeps repeating till he feels your wet entrance on his tip. “Omg fuck, pleasepleaseplease!!!” Satoru was losing his mind, he stopped making sense the moment he felt your wetness on him. “Please what, Toru?” You continue rubbing your entrance against his tip. “Let me fuck you!! I want to be inside you! I can't wait any longer!! Fuckkkkkkkk!!!!” He could feel you sinking down on his cock, he came so hard as your walls milk him, you thought you were going overboard but you came as his cock spills hot cum, painting your walls white.

You were slowing your movements and Satoru thrust his hips up against you, making you scream out in ecstasy. “No babe, don't mm, don't stop, keep going.” He was grunting and hissing, he was still stiff even after cumming so much. You heard a loud snapping sound and a second later, Satoru already had you flipped, back laying on your mattress as he pinned you down. He broke the chain between the cuffs and now has his hands on each side of your head as he pants, his cock throbs halfway inside your pussy.

He finally reached up and pulled the blindfolds down to his neck. He was waiting for you to give him the go ahead to touch you, his hand hovering above body but wouldn't dare to lay a finger on you.

“You can touch me, Satoru.” His lips instantly crash into yours, guiding your tongue into his mouth again as he sucks on the tiny muscle. His hands caress your breast and down your body, and once his hands get to your hips, he grabs you tightly and slams the rest of his cock deep inside you. You back arch, but you were still pinned under him. His not letting go of your tongue and lips, he fucks and moan into you like he had been starved of you. You couldn't even protest, your nails digging into his back. You could only feel his cock kissing your cervix with every thrust. Your mind was going blank from everything, feeling the delicious stretch as his thrusts gets faster but sloppier, his grunts getting louder and louder as he finally released his second load deep in your cunt as your own orgasm washed over you. There was so much of your combined liquid, it started leaking out even with his cock plugging you up.

Satoru finally pulls out of you, making both of you hiss, he pulls you into his embrace. “Never separate from me again… I promise I will do everything you say.” You snuggled against the crook of his neck and said,

“We’ll see.”

@haruhatake @baepsays

[narrans]

A Small and Tall Collection | Chapter Eleven | Remedies and Apologies

~~~~~^*^*^*^*^~~~~~

Chapter Eleven | Remedies and Apologies

It took Soren a few minutes in the bathroom to compose himself after witnessing what he did with the miniscule woman. She was so small – so real. She could’ve been mistaken for being human if she were average height. The minute facial expressions were so clear that Soren could picture them if he closed his eyes. It was lucky that he was so good at reading people after the past few years of training.

Also, the girl didn’t have a poker face.

After pinching himself for the dozenth time and realizing this was no dream, he splashed a few handfuls of lukewarm water onto his face before heading for the kitchen. The sight that was waiting for him in the other room, however, made him wish it was a dream.

Dorian and Rey were both crestfallen on the couch. Shoulders were slumped. Eyes glossy with tears. Bottom lips trembling. Both boys sat on their hands and were holding still as they sat. Soren knew the position, since he was the one who implemented it. Well… his mom did anyway…

It was the position of punishment – time out.

When he did something wrong, his mom would make him sit on a chair quietly, usually with his hands under his legs, while he thought about what he did wrong. Soren didn’t experience this a lot as a child, but it was an effective method meant for him to reflect on what happened.

What was more astounding was the fact that Dorian and Rey were there. Soren hadn’t told them to go sit on time out. He’d just told them to go to the kitchen. Did they do this themselves? For feeling bad for what happened? Soren cleared his throat and both boys glanced over their shoulder, Dorian reaching up and wiping his nose on his sleeve, before looking away. It was a pitiful sight, but Soren was glad that the two of them seemed to recognize that they had messed up.

He walked around the couch and sat down on the wooden coffee table so he could face the two of them. His hazel eyes flicked from boy to boy before he took a breath and said, “Did you two put yourselves on time out?”

Both boys nodded.

“Do you know why you put yourselves on time out?” asked Soren. Both of them nodded before sniffling, their little brows furrowing as they shifted uncomfortably under Soren’s gaze. “Care to tell me about it?” Dorian was the first to pipe up between the two of them.

“Because,” he sniffled, snot rattling around in his nose. “I hurt the little person. I… I didn’t mean to. She was falling off of the desk and… and I didn’t think I grabbed her that hard. But… I’m sorry. I’m the one who said we shouldn’t bother you.” Soren clenched his jaw and nodded slowly before glancing at Rey.

“Rey? Why did you put yourself on time out?” asked Soren. Tears spilled down the cheeks of the young, pale blue eyed boy.

“Because I… I knew I should go get you and I didn’t. She was hurting all night because I didn’t do the right thing,” Rey said, his trembling voice tugging at his oldest brother’s heart strings.

Gosh… they’ve grown up so much. Mom… you’d be proud.

“Thank you both for apologizing,” stated Soren softly. “But remember what I said in the other room? I might not be the one you need to apologize to. Yeah?”

“H-how is s-sh-she?” asked Rey. “Is sh-she mad at us?”

“Right now, I don’t know. She hasn’t said anything as of now, but I think it’s just because she’s a bit scared; and it’s okay to be scared. If you think about how big the world is to us, imagine what it would be like coming from her perspective.” The boys nodded in agreement, so Soren continued. “She’s doing well right now, but she’s going to need some time to feel better and recover. I think she’s sick, probably with what we all had, and her arm is going to be sore.

“So, if you weren’t feeling well and were hurt, what would be something nice for someone to do for you?” asked Soren. The boys’ brows furrowed as they glanced at each other. As their caregiver, it was up to Soren to teach empathy and problem solving skills; and this was the perfect opportunity to test his two young brothers.

It only took a few seconds for Rey to speak first, muttering, “Get a comfy blanket?” It came out like a question, but it was a good start.

“Good. If she’s cold or wants to rest, a comfy blanket would be very nice to get her,” stated Soren.

“Let her pick the show she wants to watch,” suggested Dorian.

“Also a good idea. She might just want to rest at the moment though, but we can ask when she wakes up,” agreed Soren.

“I could make her something so she doesn’t have to use her hurt arm to reach for stuff,” Rey said eagerly.

“Also a good idea. We’ll need to spend time making it for her though. It has to be the right size and something she can use on her own,” Soren reminded.

“What if… what if we share some of our toys? She maybe could use some of them since she’s so small,” Dorian said.

“Again, good thinking. Remember we don’t want her to feel like a toy though. A person’s a person, no matter how small, and giving her pieces of toys or actual toys might give her the wrong idea,” Soren stated, which made Dorian’s features fall ever so slightly. His mind was in the right place though. Soren remembered the boys had some play toys that were forks and plates and knives, all things which the miniscule woman would be able to use. 

“Um… Get her something good to drink? And maybe eat?” asked Rey. Soren smiled and nodded, which brought back that little bit of twinkle in the boys’ eyes.

“I think that’s a great idea; and, while she’s resting, we can make something for her and for ourselves,” Soren smiled. “Now, who’s going to come help me in the kitchen?”

Both Dorian and Rey glanced eagerly at one another before looking back at Soren. Their collective illness had left them eating the minimum amount each day and, finally, they had an appetite again. They would have a chance to have a good breakfast for the first time in a week, and they would get to do something nice for their new little friend.

So, after Soren gave them a quick hair ruffle, the two youngsters trotted along behind Soren to help make things right.

~~~^*^*^~~~

Darkness. Bliss. Quiet. Warmth. Aching. Throbbing. Worry. Panic. Ease. Confusion. Exhaustion. The different feelings and thoughts and sensations swirled around her mind as she attempted to open her eyes for the first time in who knew how long. There were a few things that stood out to her.

One, she was still sick. A clogged nose and sore throat told her that much. She silently thanked her lucky stars that she wasn’t nauseous anymore. It probably had something to do with the cracker piece and cap of water Soren had given her before she’d passed out.

That’s right!

Ashlynn’s groggy senses sharpened in an instant as the clear memory of her simply laying down and falling asleep with a human within arm’s reach of her flashed before her eyes. Her body lurched involuntarily as she attempted to sit upright, but the immediate twinge in her arm told her she needed to move slower if she didn’t want to hurt herself more than what she already was. A fuzzy blanket was draped over her shoulder, which she vaguely remembered pulling onto her body as she fell asleep.

What kind of idiot Borrower am I? Falling asleep with a human so close by? I’m just asking to be… Ashlynn looked around the room while she felt her chest tighten as her thought tapered off into a single word. Caught…

The word rattled around in her head.

Caught. I’ve been seen. I’ve been caught. How on earth am I going to get out of this one?

Ashlynn glanced up at the ceiling, a sense of vertigo tugging her nausea back into the forefront of her mind. The Borrower woman tore her eyes away as she focused on her surroundings. The bottle cap filled partially with water was still in front of her. The cracker fragments were within arm’s reach. The red bag and container with the blue lid were gone, as was the human.

As far as she could tell, nothing else had been touched or removed. The only main difference was that the door was completely closed instead of being slightly propped open. On any other day, Ashlynn would be able to hear everything going on in the apartment and be able to pick up on faint scents that would be dangerous or good for her. Nothing was worse than losing your senses as a Borrower, and Ashlynn had lost two plus her injured arm.

Everything inside of her felt heavy, as though she’d spent the entire day borrowing and climbing. The spark of energy from earlier was depleted, and it was likely not going to come back without more rest. She reached up and ran her fingers through her hair. The piecemeal ideas coming to her were poor attempts to escape from the top of the bed and survive until her arm felt better.

I could try and climb down. No. Not if my arm keeps twinging like this. I’ll drop and fall. I could have a one handed line and lower myself down. No. I don’t have a line or safety pin. I might have that in my bag. Did I bring it with me? Shoot… it’s in the drawer. I can’t climb that again. I could try and make the jump to the bedside table, but… no… that’s not going to work either.

Ashlynn wasn’t sure how many poorly thought-out ideas came and went, but the ultimate realization came as she attempted to move her arm to test mobility.

I can’t leave… Not on my own… and not like this.

Her chest tightened, constricting her breathing, while her eyes started to burn again. It was a crushing realization. The autonomy she’d so enjoyed for all of her life had been crippled. The dangerous thought of whether or not she could even survive on her own even if she did get away began to grow stronger and stronger.

Before she could spiral completely into this new, crushing thought, Ashlynn felt the ground beginning to shake ever so slightly. It was low, deep, and rhythmic – all pointing to the signature human footstep approaching. The Borrower’s instinct was to flee and hide behind the edge of the drawer, but that dangerous thought of being unable to escape her current fate left Ashlynn planted firmly on the bedspread.

The door cracked open followed by a few distinct taps. Ashlynn could see Soren’s face as he opened the door and peered in. The sight alone was unnerving, sending a chill down her shivering spine, but she stayed seated. Whether she was freezing or simply too exhausted to move, Ashlynn wasn’t sure anymore. What she did know was that there was something warm and inviting in Soren’s smile as he pushed the door open a little more so he could step partially into the room.

“Hey there, little miss. Sleep alright?” asked Soren, his deep, melodic voice drifting through the air like warm cinnamon sugar. Ashlynn remained silent, still debating whether or not she should break the last Borrower rule and actually talk to the human in front of her.

When he didn’t receive a response, Soren nodded and pointed further into the room, asking, “Is it okay if I come in?”

Ashlynn wasn’t sure what to do. Did she respond? Nod? Shake? Say nothing? Or could Soren simply discern through whatever method he was using earlier to simply read her mind? A smile tugged at the corner of Soren’s lips as he nodded.

“Still not sure, huh?” he muttered. “I can come back later if you’d like. We just wanted to see if you were hungry and felt well enough to eat a little something.” Ashlynn chewed the inside of her cheek as she thought about the question. She didn’t really feel hungry, but then again she could probably eat. Was she actually not hungry? Or was it because she was feeling stressed and sick that kept her appetite at bay?

I have to do something.

Is nodding considered against the rules?

Would it be so bad if I nodded or shook my head?

“I’ll come back in a few minutes. Sound like a plan?” Soren’s decision took care of Ashlynn’s predicament, which was a relief. He’d be back sooner than later though, and she was no closer to a proper answer.

In what felt like only a few seconds, there was another set of short taps on the door as it once again swung open. Ashlynn’s heart skipped like a boulder down the mountain, crashing against her ribs in solid thuds, as her blue gray eyes snapped back to the door. It was Soren again. This time, however, he had something in his hands.

“Hey there, little miss. Thought any about if you’re hungry or not?” Ashlynn’s insides felt hollow, but still no appetite came to her. I need to eat something, probably. Alright… I… I have to do something…. I hate this. I hate this. I hate this!

Ashlynn looked back up with reluctance into Soren’s reassuring golden hazel eyes, the curiosity and fascination they held obviously being kept at bay and replaced with concern, before tearing her eyes away and doing something she hoped she wouldn’t regret.

She nodded.

The Borrower rules were always adamant, as were other Borrowers she’d met along with her family members, that the rule was, “Do not speak to a human. Don’t let them know you can talk.” The second part was, “Don’t let them know you can understand them. Otherwise, you’ll never be able to leave.” Ashlynn was purposefully ignoring that part of the rule in hopes that Soren, a human, would be understanding and let her go; or, at the very least, not stop her when she was well enough to leave.  

She felt her insides churn when she saw Soren’s eyes widen, even from across the room, as he registered her acknowledgement of his question. What was going through his mind? Was he contemplating if it was a fluke? Or was he making plans to keep her now that she’d made her intelligence known? At the moment, it only prompted him to ask another question, which was, “Is it okay if I come in? I have a few things I hope you might like.”

Again, Ashlynn forced herself to swallow the bile in the back of her throat as she nodded again. Her chest compressed. Everything felt tight. She listened to the approaching footsteps and shut her eyes tight, wishing herself to be anywhere but here. The comforter nearby shifted, telling Ashlynn that Soren was within a foot or so of her. She flinched away involuntary, which only made her arm twinge.

She felt herself starting to shake as she chewed the bottom of her lip. The dry flecks of skin pealed off easily from her teeth scraping against them, creating a nasty flaking paste in her mouth. To keep herself from gagging, she reached up and spit out the substance into her sleeve while wiping her mouth.

Thud.

Thud.

Ashlynn thought it sounded like Soren’s knees hitting the ground one at a time, and a quick glance up revealed she was right. Soren was indeed only a few feet away, further than she thought, and an immense wooden tray was to her left.

It was then that she heard something she wasn’t expecting – a nervous exhale. Ashlynn glanced up just in time to catch the slightest bit of nerves in Soren’s eyes as he attempted to smile with some reassurance.

Weird for him to be nervous. He’s the human here, not me. He’s got the power. He’s in control. Why is he nervous?

“Feeling any better?” Soren asked. Ashlynn clenched her jaw, completely entranced by his eyes, before looking down at her feet that she’d pulled closer to her, and shaking her head. Again, a faint, nervous breath from Soren. “No? Well, that’s to be expected. You were only asleep for a little while. You’ll need more sleep and, well, pretty much everything else if you want to get better.

“Speaking of which, we weren’t sure what you’d like so we made a little spread. We have some cut fruit, cream of wheat, pancakes, sausage, a bit of bread, and some of the soup that I made for the boys. They call it magic broth, but it’s just a bunch of vegetables and meat that’ll help you feel better. Sorry if that was a lot all at once. And don’t feel obligated to finish anything, especially if you don’t like it. Okay?”

The list was enough to make Ashlynn’s head spin. It sounded like he listed off an entire pantry’s worth of food, and yet it was all there on that tray. Honestly, crackers sounded the best because she hadn’t been sick after eating one of those. Plus, she hadn’t heard of a bunch of the things Soren talked about; but, if it made her feel better, she was willing to give it a try. Getting out of here was the goal, and the sooner the better.

“Do… you need help up? Or do you just want to move over here at your own pace?” asked Soren. Ashlynn’s expression, even before she shook her head, must’ve said it all because Soren smiled and chuckled lightly. “Yeah, I’d probably say the same thing if I were in your shoes. Just two more things and then I’ll leave you alone. Deal?”

The question was an earnest one, and he was obviously seeking some kind of confirmation, so Ashlynn nodded. It made her insides twist uncomfortably, but it was with the promise that she would be left on her own.

“Alrighty. Thing one is whether or not you feel up to taking some medicine.” The word made Ashlynn’s insides clench. Medicine? Like the stuff that made me throw up and got me into this whole mess in the first place? “I don’t know if you want to take any, but it might make you feel better faster and let your body get some essential rest. I also don’t know what you can and can’t take, so we can play that by ear if you’re willing to try it.

“Thing two, and you’ll probably say no but I want to ask, is that the boys want to apologize to you.”

Ashlynn’s blood ran cold.

Apologize?

The boys?

Have those two young boys near me again?

“I know, and I figured that would be your reaction; but, I promised I would ask. They feel really bad about everything that happened last night and want to say that they’re sorry. It’s up to you, obviously, but it would mean a lot to them. They could just stand by the door and not come in if that’s what you’re worried about,” explained Soren. “But, anyway, I wanted to ask on their behalf.”

Ashlynn wasn’t sure what to think. Much like the dilemma with whether to nod and shake her head to communicate roughly with Soren, there was no clear answer that made her feel confident. If she said no, it might make Soren and the boys angry and lead to some kind of punishment of some kind. If she said yes, she would have to see the two young humans and possibly have to interact with them as well.

Soren, thankfully, had given her the choice and simply pleaded the boys’ case. After a brief silence, Soren left the room and Ashlynn was once again alone. She still felt weak. Every part of her felt tingly and brittle, like she’d fall apart at any moment. It took nearly five minutes just to stand on her feet and prop herself against the wooden drawer that was once her prison. With a little effort, she managed to make it up onto the tray to view the enormous buffet in front of her. Everything was in some kind of bottle cap or tin foil, perfectly laid out along with what looked like a small plastic bowl and a few tiny utensils that looked like they belonged to a doll house.

She’d never seen so much food. Not only that. Ashlynn had never seen so much food untouched and unspoiled, just ready to eat. It made her head spin that humans could have so much at hand while her and every other Borrower had to fight every day for unspoiled scraps. Days of not eating well made her mouth water at the mere sight of the display before her, even though her appetite wasn’t completely back. She recognized almost everything, but decided to focus on the “magic broth” Soren had mentioned.

Ashlynn walked over, sat down, and cautiously dipped out a small portion into the tiny plastic bowl she’d been given. Her sense of taste was skewed, but it was still warm and, from what she could tell, delicious. She’d never had something so mouthwatering before. Between that and the bread, she nearly finished the entire bottle cap as she sat there in silence as she picked up fragments of sound in the apartment.

So… they eat like this every day? What is there to ever complain about then? It must be nice, not having to worry where your next meal is coming from…. Maybe… being a pet wouldn’t be so bad…

It was an intrusive thought, jolting Ashlynn out of her stupor.

What?! What on earth am I thinking?! I’m not a pet. I’m a person. I’m a Borrower. I shouldn’t even be out here! I’m just here until I’m better. Right? Just until I break this stupid sickness and then I’ll be back in the walls, with or without my arm feeling up to snuff.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

The soft three wrap knocking on the door snagged Ashlynn’s attention and directed it back toward the door where, sure enough, there was Soren. He was standing there with a friendly and hopeful look as he cracked open the door a little wider.

“Hey there, little miss. How are you feeling? Is it okay if I come in?” Ashlynn thought about the question for a minute while she huddled on the tray before nodding. She wasn’t sure what he wanted, but noticed once he came in that he had a couple of small cups in his hands. Well, small for him. For Ashlynn, they looked like wash bins for dishes or clothes.

When Soren was close enough, he once again knelt on the ground a few feet or so away from where Ashlynn was sitting, making her heart jump into her throat, as she glimpsed at what Soren had in the cups. The nausea in the back of her throat reared its head when she noticed the dark teal liquid in one of the cups.

“I hope you’re feeling better. Looks like you enjoyed some of the soup at least,” Soren said. Ashlynn glanced down bashfully, unsure if she was supposed to have as much as she did or if it was just a ration, before Soren continued, saying, “If you want any more, just let me know.

“Anyway, I’m back to see if you’ve thought about the two things I mentioned earlier. One about the medicine and two about the boys. Any thoughts?”

Ashlynn found herself chewing on the inside of her cheek again nervously. She hadn’t really given it much thought, and now Soren was expecting some kind of answer. She pulled her injured arm closer to her torso, making it twinge once again, while averting her eyes.

“Not sure? You don’t have to if you don’t want to. I just thought it might help you get some decent rest,” stated Soren. “And… for the boys? Is that also a no?”

Ashlynn swallowed dryly, her sore throat forming a tight lump and making it difficult for her. She could still taste the sick mucus coating her throat as she did. It made the Borrower want to gag. This time, however, her apprehension seemed to ease as she thought about the pale blue eyes of the youngest boy.

That one… Rey… he didn’t seem angry or malicious when he was holding onto me. And… the other… Dorian… it feels… like an accident. He shouldn’t have grabbed so hard, but… Soren’s right… he’s just a kid. Both of them are. They’re just kids who want to say they’re sorry. Maybe… I owe them that much? I guess it’s all Soren can ask of me. If letting the boys say sorry is the only “payment” for patching me up and letting me go, then it is a small price to pay.

She couldn’t believe it, but Ashlynn let herself shake her head. Soren’s eyes gleamed happily as he asked cautiously, “You… just shook your head? So, that means yes? That you’d be okay with the boys apologizing?”

Ashlynn nodded slowly, but tensely.

“That’s… great. Seriously, thank you. This’ll mean the world to them. I’ll keep them by the door for you, if you’re okay with that,” Soren said. Ashlynn nodded again.

Soren’s heart was racing as he marveled at the hand sized woman sitting on the tray in front of him. Her responding to “yes” and “no” questions was both a shock and novel experience. Soren suspected she could understand him, but it was only confirmed with that first small nod. He could only hope that her responding mixed with his efforts and his brothers’ apology would help form a little more trust with the miniscule woman.

He stood as carefully as he could and stepped out of the room to see his two brothers eagerly waiting by the edge of the kitchen table. Both of their pale blue eyes looked at him with hopeful anticipation as he stepped out of the room and shut the door behind him. With a smile, the boys knew immediately that their request had been granted. Before they could start cheering, however, Soren knelt in front of them and laid a heavy hand on each of their shoulders.

“Okay, you two, we need to be on our best behavior. She agreed, but you will have to stand by the door. She’s still a bit apprehensive of all of us. Speak clearly and gently. She’s still sick and hurt. I’m sure all of this is a lot for her. More importantly, she’s a person with thoughts and feelings. We need to respect that. Understand?” asked Soren. “A person’s a person, no matter how small.”

“Yessir,” both Dorian and Rey said simultaneously. Soren smiled, coaxing the boys forward as he stood, before tapping on the door again.

When the door opened again, Ashlynn saw all three humans consuming the doorway from one side to the other. It was an unnerving sight, and it made Ashlynn squirm ever so slightly. Still, true to his word, Soren kept the boys by the door as they spotted her. All six eyes were fixed on her body, making her feel like she was standing under a magnifying glass, a thing she found unnerving in the last home she lived in.

“Um… miss?” spoke up the youngest as he glanced up at Soren before looking back at her. “I’m… well… we’re really sorry about last night. We shouldn’t have put you in the drawer, and we should’ve seen if you were okay before we went to bed. I should’ve gotten Soren to help check on you, and I’m sorry I didn’t do that.” Tears glistened in the boy’s eyes as he sniffed and wiped his nose on the back of his sleeve.

“I’m sorry too, miss,” Dorian said, his voice shaking ever so slightly. “I didn’t mean to hurt you or your arm. I thought I was helping you by keeping you from falling off of the desk. I shouldn’t have grabbed so hard. And I should’ve gotten help sooner with Rey. I hope you can forgive me.”

Seeing the two human boys with glistening tears rolling down their cheeks sent Ashlynn back into her memory. She remembered seeing her younger brother apologize like this when he had broken her first borrowing and, in that moment, Ashlynn could only sense genuine remorse from the two young humans.

It was a pitiful, sad sight. It made Ashlynn’s heart flutter and left her nodding subtly before tearing her eyes away from the three humans. She missed the look of surprise and relief on Dorian’s and Rey’s faces when they saw her nod, but what she didn’t miss was Soren ushering the boys out of the room and walking back over to her.

“Thank you…”

Ashlynn glanced into Soren’s eyes just for a moment and, like every other time, saw fascination, but also gratitude. It made his eyes shine like the evening sun on a summer day. Ashlynn wasn’t sure if it was her fever or the sudden thrum in her heart beating faster, but her cheeks and body suddenly felt completely flush.

She looked away quickly, hoping Soren didn’t notice, and listened as he asked about whether or not she wanted to take either of the medicines he brought. The teal one was something called NyQuil, which helped with fevers and cold symptoms as well as her pain. The other one with a much longer, technical name that Ashlynn had no hope of pronouncing, was meant to help reduce the fever and help with the pain. Though she hated both options, especially how they smelled, the one that could handle it all was, to her dismay, the teal NyQuil.

“You don’t like the smell or taste?” asked Soren. Ashlynn shook her head as she stared at her muted reflection in the viscous fluid. “Well, that’s good. Means your like everyone else who’s ever taken it. Word of advice. Hold your nose as you swallow and drink something immediately after to get rid of the taste. It’ll make the experience less miserable.”

Ashlynn remembered Soren saying something like that to his brothers before they took this medicine, and she intended on taking his advice. Taking a deep breath, she only took a single mouthful as she held her nose and swallowed. It felt like the same mucus coating her throat as the liquid traveled down her throat. There was a burning and cooling sensation happening all at once, making her gag as she had done the night before. Quickly though, she stepped over to the cup of water Soren had brought and drank as much as she could muster before gasping for air again.

The moment she breathed, she could feel the cooling burn the medicine left behind, but it was nowhere near as bad as what had happened the first time she put the teal liquid into her mouth.

“Better?” asked Soren. The Borrower woman nodded as she drank a little more water to soothe her aching throat. “Good. Well, you should try and get some more rest, okay? That medicine will let you sleep long and hard, so take advantage of it. I’ll make sure the boys don’t come bother you, but I’ll be back to check if you need anything. Sound good? And don’t worry about the food. I’ll leave it here if you get peckish.”

Ashlynn watched as Soren once again vacated the room, surrendering it completely to her. She breathed a sigh of relief as she made her way back to the wooden box and retrieved her blanket. She pulled it over to the corner and made a comfortable place before laying down, eyelids drifting lower and lower as relaxation flirted with her desire to sleep.

I’ll be better soon. I just have to make it a few more days and then I’ll escape. I hope I’m better by then anyway…

And Soren… he’s been so kind. Maybe… maybe he’s not such a bad human. Maybe none of them are…. No. Don’t worry about that now. Get some sleep. Feel better. Find a way to thank Soren… eventually.

With that, Ashlynn succumbed to sleep once more, the first signs of being on the mend on the horizon.

~~~~~^*^*^*^*^~~~~~

Continue | Coming Soon

Previous

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A Tall and Small Collection | Original Story

[sunnwalker]

Tonight's cooldown sketch

[opikiquu]

aventurine pl. Plea s e . PLLEEEEEEASE

[avirael]

This Home of Mine

How had it come to this?, Aviloh asked himself as the argument around him began to get louder. Somehow he had known it would all end horribly one day. He just had hoped it would take a little longer. He only had himself to blame for this, he thought as his eyes fearfully scanned the crowd that was slowly gathering around them.

There at the sidelines stood U‘khaya with a gleeful expression on her face. She knew this would happen, he realised. But A’viloh wasn’t the kind of person to blame her for what happened…

U‘khuba‘s twin sister had always been following the boys around even when they all had still been kids. She had been a brave and stubborn little girl, maybe a little mean sometimes but not more so than her brother. A‘viloh had always thought she was following them because of Khuba - twins being inseparable or something. Never had he imagined the reason would be Laqa instead.

Of course he could have guessed it. Everyone loved Laqa! Apparently Khaya wasn’t an exception in this matter.

That evening - before the argument - A‘viloh had waited for quite some while by the pond. They had always used to hide there when they still had been kids, every time the other boys had stirred trouble or teased the girls.

By now it was one of the spots Laqa and him sometimes used as meeting points when they sneaked out of the settlement together. But today the other Miqo’te had arrived so late, A‘viloh had already started to wonder if something had happened.

“There you are!”, Aviloh said relieved as Laqa finally appeared just when he was about to go searching for him. “I was already worried. Did something happen?”

The blonde Miqo’te made an annoyed face. “Just Khaya happened…”

A’viloh didn’t understand. “Khaya? What’s wrong with her?”

“Everything apparently!”, Laqa exclaimed disgruntled, which made A‘viloh even more confused.

Laqa sighed.

“She waylaid me on my way outside.”, he explained but couldn’t help to look a little angry still. “Started talking some nonsense about how impressed she was about the quarry from our last hunt and how it is a shame that it isn’t me leading the tribe instead of father.”

A’viloh furrowed his brows, still not quite connecting the dots. Laqa grimaced. “Then she threw herself at me and tried to kiss me.”

“She what?”, A‘viloh exclaimed a little louder than intended, with a mix of shock and disbelief on his face.

Laqa raised his hands in a calming manner. “Don’t worry! I of course told her that I am not interested. Like I ever would be anyway! We may be almost the same age but she is still my mother’s sister. What was she even thinking, Vi?”

A‘vi shrugged but couldn’t help to remember something one of Laqa’s sisters had once told him. “Lamana mentioned that Khaya didn’t agree with some of U‘odh‘s opinions. She thought her and Khuba were still mad with him because of their father…”

“That makes no sense! They have no reason for that! It’s not like father threw them all out!”, Laqa said annoyed. “Alone because of mom he wouldn’t have! Anyway, grandpa had been old already, if not father then someone else would sooner or later have challenged him. All of them were always treated equally. Why would they be mad?”

A’viloh gave another shrug and smiled weakly. “Maybe it’s none of that and she really just is a little in love with you… I can’t blame her…”

Laqa lightly glared at him, as if he wanted to say “this isn’t funny”, but couldn’t help to grin himself.

“It’s still absurd!”, he said while shaking his head.

“You think?”, A‘viloh asked and chuckled. “I wouldn’t be surprised if half the village was secretly in love with you.”

Laqa made a sound somewhere between an annoyed huff and a suppressed laugh. Then he stretched out a hand for A‘viloh to take. As A‘viloh did so Laqa pulled him closer and wrapped his arms around him. “Too bad for them that the only one I will ever love is you.”

All too willingly - too carelessly! - A’viloh melted into the other Miqo’te’s embrace. Laqa saying things like this never failed to give him a warm and fuzzy feeling. Just as much as Laqa kissing him always made his heart skip a beat and his mind go silent.

Gently A‘viloh wrapped his arms around the taller Miqo’te’s neck, like an invitation to pull him even closer and deepen their kiss, when suddenly a sound appeared nearby. Their ears, currently slightly drooped, attentively shot up and both Miqo’te instinctively turned to see where the unexpected sound had come from.

Without doubt, there by one of the larger rocks nearby, eyes wide and mouth agape in disbelief, stood a Miqo’te girl with dark hair and bright blue eyes.

Khaya!

This was the exact moment A‘viloh knew he was in trouble.

“Khaya…”, Laqa was the first one to find his voice again. He sounded almost as if he wanted to reassure a shy animal, but it only made the girl unfreeze, whirl around and run away. “No! Khaya, wait!”, Laqa called and ran after her. He probably wanted to explain, wanted to beg her to stay silent, but A‘viloh knew it was too late already.

With his heart hammering against his chest and his thoughts racing he stood there and just watched them go. For a second he wondered what he should do now. But he had nowhere else to go, probably no one else who would defend him apart from Laqa. So slowly he followed them back to the settlement, wishing he could just vanish into thin air.

***

“Tell me this isn’t the thruth.”, U‘odh demanded from his son. His voice was still relatively calm but there already was a tone in it, a kind of threatening sound that also reflected on his face.

For a moment the thought crossed A’viloh’s mind, that Laqa could simply have lied. That he simply could have denied everything. Maybe, just maybe, his father would have believed him.

But that wasn’t like Laqa.

“It’s true!”, Laqa admitted and turned his face a little bit to look at A‘viloh, who so far had stood a few steps behind him, trying to stay out of U’odh’s attention. “A‘vi and I are a couple.”

A murmur went through the crowd and somehow even A‘viloh felt surprised to hear him say this so bluntly for everyone to hear. U‘odh laughed, but it lacked any humor. A’viloh already looked very uncomfortable but when the nunh’s sharp eyes landed on him, he almost flinched away and cast his eyes down to the ground.

“That weak little welp?!”, U’odh spat out, speaking to his son but still looking and pointing at A’viloh. “What do you want with him?! He’s good for nothing!”

A’viloh had never quite understood this either. There were so many better people than him and still Laqa had chosen him instead. Carefully A‘viloh glimpsed up at Laqa and could see his whole body tense up against the nunh’s insulting words. Stubbornly Laqa stared into his father’s eyes and growled.

“Don’t you dare to speak of him like that! I don’t care if he can fight or not, he is kind and wonderful and I love him!”

But U‘odh simply shook his head and laughed condescendingly.

“Love?! Don’t be foolish now… you know nothing about love.”

That had been too much for Laqa.

Usually no one dared to speak up against U‘odh no matter how harsh his words sometimes were. But Laqa, in a way just like his father and in another just like his mother, never had known how to back down. The anger about the situation and also about his father didn’t help, so his next words sounded especially blunt and sharp, more so than he probably truly thought.

“More than you! You wouldn’t recognise love if it stood right in front of you! Because you are just a bitter resentful man who doesn’t know how to love!”

Shocked gasps sounded from the crowd and everybody stared at either Laqa or his father, waiting for a reaction. For a few long seconds both remained silent. But while Laqa just stared at the older Miqo’te with a stubborn, unyielding face, the nunh‘s face changed slowly but entirely. All the mockery faded from his face and instead his expression turned to an angry snarl.

A‘viloh knew he would only end up in the crossfire but if he didn’t do something now, they would certainly fight and that was the last thing any of them could want. He didn’t really know what to say but scraped up all his bravery and stepped forward a bit. Trying to divert their attention from each other he spoke up, still quiet but clearly audible against this deadly silence.

“Please stop, I don’t —“

But U’odh wasn’t going to listen to whatever he had to say. Furiously he whirled towards him and stepped closer with wild rage in his eyes.

“No one allowed YOU to speak, you pathetic little weakling! Get out of my sight, you are none of my kin and I never want to see your whiny face again! You are nothing but a parasite and I have suffered your presence here for long enough! Begone! You are no longer welcome here!”

Of course. A‘viloh had expected this but it still hurt to hear these words out loud. He tried not to cry but already looked quite miserable already, even without tears. U’odh however wasn’t done with him yet.

“Oh, how I regret the day I allowed you to stay here! I wish you had just died with the rest of your miserable family!”, the nunh hissed and looked as if he was about to attack A‘viloh with more than just hurtful words.

With tears in his eyes A‘viloh shivered in fear and flinched away. He had never seen U’odh so furious before. But before the man could loose his self-control entirely and really tried to strike at him, Laqa stepped between them and protectively wrapped his arms around A‘viloh.

Instantly everything went silent again. Everyone seemed shocked by what had happened or what U’odh had just said. Even the nunh himself seemed stunned when he saw his son’s disgusted face, staring at him. But U‘odh was not the kind of man to give in or admit his failures. Instead he quietly but sharply said, “Don’t look at me so. My word is final. He is none of our family and I want him gone by tomorrow.”

With a strange mixture of defiance and sadness Laqa looked at his father for a moment, before he spoke.

“In that case I don’t consider you my family any longer either. A place where A‘vi isn’t welcome I cannot call my home. If you send him away, I will go with him!”

Briefly a shadow crossed his face but then U’odh looked entirely unfazed again.

“Where would you even go?”, he asked and shook his head dismissively.

“Anywhere but here...”, Laqa replied coldly and turned to A’viloh. “Let’s go and pack our things.”

All of this had happened so suddenly A’viloh still could not quite believe it. No matter what U’odh had said, for him this place was still his home and the people here the closest thing he had to a family. He didn’t want to leave.

“What? Now?”, he asked and pleadingly looked to Laqa, hoping that there was some way to make everything right after all.

“Yes! I’m sure we can stay with the Flames for one night and tomorrow morning we leave.”

His decision seemed to be final, just as U’odh’s. What was A’viloh supposed to do against that?

Laqa made a point of taking A‘viloh’s hand so everyone could see it and knew to whom his loyalty belonged. Slowly he let his gaze wander over the crowd of curious faces giving them one last chance to speak up but they all remained silent.

With a last disappointed look at his father he turned around and walked away, unconcerned that they all stared at them as they left.

[kaisollisto]