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russellsppttemplates · 10 months ago

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Parenting Practice (Lando Norris)

A look into the Norris family summer vacation

Note: english is not my first language. It's been some time, hasn't it? A lot has been going on, and my mental health has taken the biggest toll, so the blog hasn't received much attention as I'm trying to keep the train going! For those who are here and have stayed, thank you for being so patient and for staying - I hope this is good enough ✨️

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm not taking requests right now, so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to send them in but know that I don't know when I'll be able to get to them!

my masterlist

Cw: reader is pregnant

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog @hiireadstuff @c-losur3 @sltwins

"Are you all packed, my love?", Lando asked you as he zipped his suitcase effortlessly.

"Yes - are you sure it's fine if I take my pillow?", you wondered, holding the pregnancy pillow close to you, folding it into the carrier bag.

"It's regular carry-on, and as much as I hate that I have to share my cuddles with it, I know you sleep better with it so you definitely need to take it", Lando winked.

Blushing at your husband's antics, you made sure it was packed before looking around in case you missed something you needed to pack, "seems like I'm all good too - when do we need to leave?".

"In thirty minutes - how about I make us a snack to eat, then you can go pee before we go and then we head to the airport?", Lando suggested.

"Why did you need to specify that I have to take a pee break?", you poked you tongue out at him, pinching his butt as he walked past you.

"You were the one that told me I should always inform you of when you couldn't pee for a long time! The jet will touchdown to pick us both up and go straight up again - I don't think we will have time to use the base's bathroom, and you say you don't like the jet's bathroom, so I was just warning you, woman!", he bit back playfully.

Recalling the last time where you tried to use the bathroom and had to call Pietra to hold you in case you couldn't get out on your own, afraid that the bump would make moving around the tiny space impossible, you swore you'd always plan your pee breaks carefully from now on, "I'm craving something salty", you beamed as Lando walked down the stairs.

"A salty snack for mama and baby girl coming right up!", he yelled back and you could just imagine his head shaking from side to side with a charming smile on his face.

Your mother in-law was the first to greet you as soon as you stepped inside the aircraft, Lando holding your hand to make you didn't fall and helping with your shoes, "Y/N! Oh, you look so gorgeous!", she cooed.

"It's the compression socks, isn't it?", you giggled, lifting up your long skirt to show her, "doctor said it would be better for the swelling - Goodness knows I need all the help I can with that", you mumbled the last bit.

"Don't be silly, you look beautiful!", Pietra complimented.

"She does, doesn't she?", Lando complimented, kissing your cheek before letting you go and feeling slightly jealous that everyone was now looking at you when you had been a sight for his eyes only for the past few days.

"Is all of that jealousy, brother?", Cisca asked her brother, touching her toes on his thigh after she sat down on her beach chair. The sun had finally showed up and there was a light breeze going on, making it the perfect beach day and it was only lunchtime as they sat on the beach bar after making the food orders.

"Jealousy? Of what?", Lando quirked his eyebrow over his sunglasses, drifting his attention from you and looking back to his youngest sister.

"The girls haven't left Y/N since the plane, only to sleep and Sav was just saying she swears she heard Athena call your wife before she fell asleep", she snickered, "You've lost favourite uncle status, we all have I think".

"Like we stood a chance to begin with", Lando scoffed, "she was made to be a mother, and before that she had all the practice with being an auntie. And the girls genuinely think they can play with baby girl like they play with their dolls once she's here with us".

"Mila is gentle most days, Athena is... still a bit hard on her movements I think - oh, just on cue!", she yelped.

"Oh, darling, that was a bit strong, wasn't it?", you scolded softly, taking her hand away from your ear after she pushed on your hoop.

"Come here, you trouble maker!", Adam called, grabbing the little girl away from your lap as you rearranged your jewellery.

"She surely has a strong grip!", you chuckled before winking at Lando, mouthing a silent "I love you, Lan" across the table.

Cisca groaned playfully, "is all of that jealousy, little sister?", Lando teased her before blowing you a kiss and mouthing it back.

You were enjoying the pool the villa had, soaking up the sun as you laid on Lando's chest, tracing random shapes on his chest while his hand travelled around your waist and bump, often tapping it when your little girl kicked or moved.

It was fairly quiet until the girls woke up from their naps, immediately coming down to join you and invite everyone to swim with them.

Deciding to engage in their delight, you got up and walked to the edge of the pool, carefully sitting on the warm stone and letting your legs dip in the water to cool your body while Lando dove in and played with the girls, "careful, Mila, you can't unzip your vest!", he called.

Pulling her closer to you, you managed to zip it back up and help her swim back to her uncle, "is the bump getting in the way?", Sav asked you, mimicking your early movements and sitting next to you.

"When I'm sitting down, yes", you chuckled, "I don't have the same range of movements and my mind still has to catch up with that".

"It's a sign that she's growing well though", your sister in-law added, propping herself up on her arms so she could ease the rest of ther body into the water, getting immediate attention from her children as they called her to them, "soon enough you'll have someone calling you every waking second!".

"She already does, though! Look at him making a bee line to her now that she's free!", Oliver joked as Lando swam to you.

"I won't even bother answering that", Lando pointed to his brother before reaching you, ignoring everyone else as he gently wrapped his arms around your calves and rested his chin on your knees, "hi, beautiful", he smiled.

"Hey, handsome", you smiled, brushing a fallen curl away from his forehead, "did you enjoy your splashes?", you asked giggling.

"It was fun, yes. Athena poked my eye a couple of times though", he argued, "can you imagine our little princess playing with them this time next year?", he wondered.

"Three little girls", you mused, nodding at the idea, "you better get ready to be a princess too!".

"I have what it takes to be a girl dad, some people might even say I'm very girl dad coded", he tsked you, earning laughs from you.

"You definitely are, yes", you rubbed your bump, "you haven't been her long and she's already kicking like crazy - definitely a daddy's girl".

"Hey, sweet girl", Lando spoke, lightly wetting the skin as his hands touched your bump, "are you having a good time in there? Mummy always says she's too hot so we hope you're doing good away from this heat. And this helps, no?", he wondered as the baby kicked against the droplets, "yeah, it's good and cooling", he cooed.

"I'm craving something salty", you said as you grabbed the menu, flicking the pages to see what tickled your fancy.

You had decided to go to the beach bar and have lunch there, not wanting to have to pack everything to go back home only to come back for the afternoon. Everyone was gathered around the table as the waiter took the orders.

"Feeling good? Well rested?", you asked Lando once you caught him looking at you.

"Yes", he admitted, "I thought it would be harder to switch off, but it's been very good", he squeezed your thigh, kissing the side of your head and pulling you to his chest, "how are my girls today? You look ethereal in this dress, darling".

The white dress was flowy at times and tight in all the right spots, showcasing your babybump perfectly, "we've been good, no more harsh kicking on my bladder which I appreciate, isn't that right, Tilly?", you rubbed just above your bellybutton, "but we're both quite hungry".

"The waiter said yours should be quick to make", he offered since the waiter mentioned that the Caesar salad was a popular plate and they always had it running.

Once everyone was served, you began eating, delighted and exclaiming how good e everything was.

"Have a bite of this, baby, trust me!", Lando offered as he gathered a bit of everything on his fork to feed you.

"It's sweet, I'm not sure I'll like it", you scrunched up your face.

"Try a little bit", he encouraged as he made a shell shape with his hand to catch anything that fell or dropped.

The food was definitely the opposite of what you had, but it was delicious. That you couldn't deny.

"It's good, isn't it? I told you!", Lando smiled, "do you want some more?", he offered while already getting everything on the fork again.

"Baby girl seems happy too", you giggled, feeling her move.

"She has good taste in food, what can I say?!", Lando giggled back.

The vacation was well underway by the time you decided which days you wanted to spend on the boat, Oliver and Savannah staying inside with the girls along with Adam and Cisca who decided they would make lunch for everyone.

"Do you know what I have just realised?", you spoke to Flo as you both watched Lando and Cisca's boyfriend jump into the water, "your brother has a massive head - like, it's really big, specially when you compare to Max's", you pointed to your husband's best friend who had joined you for the last few days.

That morning, you cried about the fact that your bikini dug on your hips only for Lando to tell you that you hadn't tired the sides properly and that you had more than enough room to accommodate your growing body, so right now this was a way better way to deal with the rush of hormones you were having.

"I think we all do, to be fair - Cisca has the smalled one I guess", Flo squinted as she looked at her sister who walked closer to you.

"Why are you looking at me like that?", Cisca wondered.

"I've just realised how big your brother's head is and how I'm probably going to be split apart when this little girl - little body but surely a big head - joins us", you rubbed your bump as tears formed in your eyes.

"Oh, Y/N, my friends have had babies with big heads and they're fine", Pietra offered, "they were just fine", she said before waving at Max so him and Lando could come to the rescue.

"I don't know why I'm crying, which makes this even worse - Goodness", you wiped your eyes and chuckled, "I can feel her head, it's about here from what I remember from the scans - and it's big, like, really big! How is that going to work?", you blurted.

"What's the matter? Is everything alright? Y/N, are you good? Is it Tilly?", Lando asked worriedly as he saw you break into a fit of giggles and seeing the girls fight their laughter a bit before joining.

"The matter is that you have a big head and Tilly's will also be big", you explained, "I'm not the tiniest person ever, so there's definitely room but can you imagine? I have to ask your mother how big your head was when you were born because I feel like I need to do prep work for it", you mused, "it's all natural until you decide to have a kid with the guy who has a big head".

"Oh, Y/N has gone dark", Max muttered, earning himself a swat on his forehead from Pietra, "what? Did I lie?", he hissed, containing his laughter.

"I'm not sure what you'd like me to do here, my love", Lando admitted, sitting next to you and attempting to squeeze your thigh lovingly, knowing the affectionate gesture could go both ways.

"Our baby is making me feel like I have the emotional and cognitive skills of a toddler", you mumbled as you cuddled your husband, supporting your bump with a pillow Flo got for you as you both layed down.

"It's okay, Y/N, I don't mind having to reason with you - we'll consider this practice for when we have our little one, okay beautiful?", Lando kissed your forehead.

#lando norris imagine #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris fluff #lando norris fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fluff #f1 x you

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southlandvamp · 20 days ago

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Words not Spoken (Remmick x S/I OC)

Warnings: NSFT so MDNI, first time, description of autistic traits, self harm, psychiatric wards, death, vampirism, just pure self indulgence

Author's Note: based this on my own experience with autism. been writing from 8 p.m. and it's now 3:30 a.m. and I get up for work at 7 a.m.... Sav loves to make choices like these hehe

Word Count: 5.1k

Remmick was scared the first time Siobhan had a meltdown in front of him. He knew that some days, she’d shut herself in her study and wouldn’t come out for hours. When she finally did, she looked exhausted and would drag herself to bed and stay until noon the next day. He didn’t pry, didn’t ask what she did in that room. Everyone had their secrets, he figured, even if she had figured his out. She had the good grace not to throw him out when she found him covered in blood that wasn’t his own, so the least he could do was to not get in her business unless invited. And invite him in she did, willingly or not.

She was washing dishes, muscles so tense that he could feel the uneasiness around her like a storm cloud, like the weight of the world was on her shoulders. It came crashing down when her shaking hands dropped a pan that fell with a loud bang! That didn’t alert Remmick; what worried him was the noise that escaped her lips. It was guttural, animalistic. He came running into he kitchen, just in time to see her shakily jerk the apron from around her neck and throw it to the floor. She stomped on it before retreating to the corner, slumping against the wall and covering her ears with her hands.

“Too loud, everything’s too loud!” She wailed. He fell to his knees and reached out to touch her but backed away when she flinched.

“Bonnie,” he spoke to her slowly, as if calming a spooked horse. “Bonnie, did you hurt yourself? Get cut on a glass?”

She shook her head. “It’s too loud. I want it to stop.”

His eyes darted around the kitchen, then stopped when he saw the faucet still running. He got up quickly to turn it off. When he turned back around, she was gone. He caught a glimpse of her fleeing from the kitchen and followed into her private study.

It was dark in the room; the only light source was an oil lamp that sat atop her roller top desk. Once his eyes adjusted to the low light, he saw her crawling into an oversized armchair. She wrapped herself in a quilt adorned with patterns of flowers.

“Siobhan,” he said carefully. “Are you alright? What happened?”

She refused to answer, just pulled the quilt over her head, wrapping it like a headscarf around her. He approached her slowly, raising his hands as if he were surrendering. “I wanna help you sweetheart, but I can’t do that unless you tell me what’s wrong.”

Abruptly, her hand shot out to point towards the desk. “That’s what’s wrong. Read it yourself. Everything that’s wrong with me is right there!”

He furrowed his eyebrows and walked towards the desk, pulling out the chair and sitting down. He was confused until he saw what sat atop the desk. An old ratty journal and a file with a startling label:

St. Winifred’s Hospital for Nervous Maladies

Patient Record #3021- Siobhan A. Sterling

Date of Admission: March 17, 1928

Age: 18

Admitting Physician: Dr. Walter C. Everly

Remmick looked back to Siobhan, but she refused to meet his eyes. And so, he opened the folder first.

March 17, 1928: Initial Intake Evaluation

Patient committed by father, Mr. Thomas J. Sterling, following recent bereavement (death of mother). Stated reasons for admission:

Peculiar habits

Unnatural emotional expression

Unsuitability for marriage

Father notes patient “puts off potential suitors” with her behavior.

Upon interview, patient presented as clean and well-groomed, though unresponsive to direct questioning at first. Eye contact I intermittent and unsteady. Patient eventually answered in full sentences, often speaking metaphorically or using unusual turn of phrase.

When placed in communal day room, patient attempted interaction with another girl by offering her a scarp of embroidered fabric she had stitched. When the girl ignored her, patient followed her around the room silently for nearly an hour, clutching the fabric. This behavior was interpreted as unsettling, though patient appeared to believe she was being kind.

Observation: Patient is clearly attempting to engage socially, but does so in ways that are perceived as off or intrusive by others. She does not appear to understand unspoken social boundaries.

March 25, 1928: Ward Behavior Report

Patient continues to struggle with peer interaction. She often interjects into conversations at inappropriate moments, quoting literature or folk sayings that confuse other girls. When corrected or ignored, she withdraws and begins pacing or rubbing her fingertips together

In one incident, patient sat beside another girl during embroidery hour and began describing the shape of clouds she had seen earlier. When the girl distressed disinterest, Miss Sterling did not perceive this and continued speaking until redirected by staff.

Later that evening, patient was found crying in the corner beside her bed after wrapping herself in a blanket. When asked what upset her, she replied, “I said something wrong again. I always do, but never know what it was.”

Staff Interpretation: Strong desire for social belonging, repeatedly thwarted by patient’s inability to perceive subtle social feedback. Emotional responses to rejection are acute but internally processed. No signs of malice; only confusion and sorrow.

April 10, 1928: Group Session Notes

During a therapeutic storytelling exercise, patient shared an elaborate narrative about a girl who “feels too much and speaks sideways.” Story was metaphorical in nature but clearly autobiographical. Fellow patients laughed at certain turns of phrase, unaware they were personal disclosures. Patient grew visibly uncomfortable, but did not express this directly. Instead, patient withdrew. Pacing increased that evening and patient was observed circling the common room 27 times before being coaxed to bed.

Summary: Patient continues to express a deepened for connection, but her social ineptitude leads to repeated feelings of exclusion and self-blame. She lacks intuitive understanding of conversational rhythm and tone. Social friction appears to cause genuine distress.

April 18, 1928: Incident Report

Patient was found distressed following time in the courtyard with other female patients. She had isolated herself in the laundry room and was engaging in repetitive fingertip-rubbing and low, rhythmic vocalizing. When approached, she was visibly shaken but compliant. She would not make eye contact and spoke only when prompted.

Upon questioning, patient stated, “I don’t think they like me. They laughed at me.” She went on to describe the emotional atmosphere as “sour and hot.” When asked to clarify, she added, “They weren’t just mean to me. They’re hurting, too, and I can feel their hurt in my soul.”

Witnesses reported that two other girls had mimicked Miss Sterling’s pacing and repeated earlier phrases of hers (“It feels like there are bees inside of my head when there are too many noises”) in exaggerated tone. Others laughed. Patient initially stood still, confused, and later withdrew. She did not respond in anger, but quietly disappeared from the group.

Patient refused dinner. When staff attempted to engage her, she stated, “They don’t mean to be mean. But they don’t know how loudly they feel. I always hear it, even when they don’t say it.”

Interpretation:

Patient demonstrates heightened emotional attunement to the feelings of others, even when socially rejected or confused by their behavior. This “excess empathy” results in emotional overload and withdrawal.

Conclusion:

Patient’s social isolation is compounded not by disinterest but by her acute emotional sensitivity and difficulty interpreting social cues.

Recommendations:

Reduction in group exposure

Increased time in calming, solitary activities

April 29, 1928: Incident Report

At approximately 12:15 p.m., patient experienced what staff described as a “shut-down episode” following an environmental disturbance during the midday meal. The dining hall’s overhead electric light system flickered erratically due to a wiring issue. Simultaneously, another patient dropped a metal serving tray, producing a loud noise.

Following the noise and lighting change, Miss Sterling froze in place- rigid with wide eyes. She then sat down on the floor beneath the table. She remained there, entirely non-verbal and unresponsive to verbal cues or physical prompts.

Respiration shallow but steady. No signs of physical illness, injury, or lack of consciousness. Duration of unresponsive episode: approximately 47 minutes.

After being escorted to the infirmary and allowed to sit in silence, her first words were, “It was too much light. And the sound cut me like a knife.”

Patient then began to cry. Stated, “I want to be good, but I couldn’t stay inside my skin.”

Staff Observations and Patterns:

Patient has demonstrated multiple incidents of extreme sensory distress triggered by bright lighting, sudden noises, and multiple competing sounds (echoing halls, voices, clattering dishes).

Patient reports sensations of being “stung” by noises or “blinded from the inside” by intense light.

These responses are consistent, though poorly understood by current medical models.

Interpretation:

Patient suffers from heightened and adverse sensitivity to sensory stimuli. Overexposure results in emotional and physiological overwhelm. Though patient shows no signs or psychosis or hallucination, these episodes appear involuntary and deeply distressing.

Recommendations:

Remove patient from communal dining and large group gatherings when possible

Permit meals in quiet quarters with reduced lighting

Maintain consistent environmental conditions

Minimize sudden noise exposure

May 12, 1928: Incident Report

During a structured reading hour, staff observed patient growing visibly agitated as two other patients began whispering and giggling nearby. Though their laughter was nt directed at her, patient appeared to misinterpret sounds and tones. She covered her ears briefly and began breathing in rapid, shallow bursts.

When redirected by staff, patient whispered, “They’re laughing at me again, I can feel it.”

She was assured that this was not the case, but her distress escalated. She stood abruptly and retreated to the far corner of the room, crouching with her back to the wall. She then began rhythmically striking the tops of her thighs with both fists, first through her skirt, then more forcefully. The behavior was not loud or violent towards others, but persistent and clearly compulsive in nature. When a nurse attempted to intervene, patient curled further into herself and stated, “I have to; it keeps it from spilling out.”

Episode lasted approximately 15 minutes. Patient allowed staff to sit nearby but rejected physical contact or questioning until she had calmed. No damage to surrounding property. Thighs were bruised, but unbroken.

Post-Incident Interview:

When asked why she had struck herself, patient sated softly, “I don’t want to hurt anybody. But when too many feelings happen at once, I don’t know where to put my anger. It helps my outside match my insides.”

Interpretation:

Patient displays self-harming behavior in the context of emotional overload. Behavior appears to serve as self-regulatory function rather than being suicidal or attention-seeking. Combination of emotional hypersensitivity, misinterpretation of tone, and sensory overload likely contributes to these episodes. Striking herself seems to be a coping mechanism rather than a deliberate act of self-injury.

Recommendations

Increased supervised quiet activities

Provide patient with access to private spaces for de-escalation

Permit safe, alternative methods of self-soothing (tactile objects) if available

Continue monitoring for patterns of emotional dysregulation triggered by social confusion and overwhelming stimuli

June 6, 1928: Physician’s Review

Presenting Concerns:

Miss Sterling, age 18, was admitted following the death of her mother. Her father cited “social ineptitude, obsessive habits, melancholia, and unsuitability for marriage” as justifications for institutional placement

Observations Over 12 Weeks of Care

Emotional Presentation

Contrary to initial impressions of emotional bluntness, patient exhibits profound sensitivity. She internalizes others’ emotions and appears distressed when others are stressed, even without direct involvement. She once remarked, “It’s not mine, but I feel it anyways.”

Social Behavior:

Patient demonstrates strong desire for friendship and affection, but cannot comprehend common social cues. Her approaches to others are often rejected or mocked, which causes genuine confusion and “heartbreak.”

Sensory Disturbance

Aversion to bright or flickering lights, sudden loud sounds, and overlapping conversations. These sensory events often trigger what she calls “the drowning feeling.”

Self-Soothing Behaviors

Repetitive motions including rubbing her fingertips together, circular pacing, singing hymns, and self-injury in the form of striking herself.

Dietary Restriction

Strong food preferences. Accepts bread, potatoes, red meat, and most fruits. Refses foods with certain textures (porridge, grits, applesauce).

Diagnosis:

Hysterical Sensory Disorder with Obsessive and Withdrawn Tendencies

Prognosis:

While unlikely to thrive in crowded or socially demanding environments, Miss Sterling possesses the temperament and capability for a fulfilling life if provided routine, solitude, meaningful occupation, and companionship. Further observation of her condition will continue.

June 9, 1928: Discharge Summary

Summary of Discharge:

Mr. Andrew Thigpen arrived at St. Winifred’s after several written appeals requesting the release of his niece, Miss Siobhan Sterling, to his care. Despite medical advice to continue observation, Mr. Thigpen asserted her condition to be misunderstood and her placement unjust. He presented a calm, well-reasoned argument, describing a quiet home, work suited to her interests, and a “life not governed by shame or noise.”

Against medical recommendation-but within his legal right as next of kin after her father surrendered all parental rights-Mr. Thigpen signed all appropriate documents and took custody of Miss Sterling.

Patient’s State Upon Departure:

Patient appeared calm and composed. She asked if she could take her sewing tin and an orange from the morning meal. She expressed polite gratitude to staff. She left quietly beside her uncle and did not look back until they reached the gate.

Final Notes:

While Miss Sterling does not present as violent or deranged, her case remains clinically ambiguous. She demonstrates emotional instability, marked sensory hypersensitivity, and self-regulatory behaviors that are poorly understood within medical literature. Her inability to function withing social norms and her episodes of withdrawal and self-injuring behavior raise legitimate concern.

Though her uncle’s intentions appear earnest, it is the opinion of this physician that further observation and controlled care are warranted to better understand her condition and protect her long-term wellbeing. Her discharge was made against medical advice, and future intervention may be necessary should symptoms escalate.

Signed,

Dr. Walter C. Everyly

Attending Physician

St. Winifred’s Hospital for Nervous Maladies

When Remmick closed the folder, he felt a multitude of emotions: anger, sadness, pity, and finally, happiness. Happiness from the fact that she got out. That she had at least one person looking out for her in a world not suited for her. Everything had clicked into place once he read these documents.

He peered back at Siobhan, who had uncovered her head, and now laid asleep in her chair. The sun was only beginning to set, but he knew she needed the rest. Quietly, he rose from his seat, stretching as he walked to where she sat. He carefully reached beneath her knees and neck, then lifted her from the chair. She stirred, mumbling something in her sleepy daze.

“Shh, shh, shh,” he shushed. “I’ve got you, Bonnie. Just taking you to bed.”

He moved up the stairs cautiously, trying to avoid hitting her head against any corners on his way to their bedroom. He laid her on the bed and tucked her in beneath her favorite blanket. Then, he kissed her forehead, wished her sweet dreams, and headed back downstairs to her study.

He picked up the old ratty notebook and opened it to the first page. The handwriting was unfamiliar, but the other pages he flipped through were unmistakably Siobhan’s.

June 20, 1928.

My dearest Siobhan,

This book belongs to you.

Sometimes words are too heavy to peak, but they still need somewhere to go. I thought this might be a safe place for yours. You can write anything here-joy, sorrow, confusion, anger, wonder. You can even write nonsense if it helps the storm pass.

You don’t need to show me what’s inside, unless you’d like to. I trust what’s in your heart, even when you can’t find the voice in it.

You are not too much. You are not too strange. You are mine, and I love you just as you are.

With all my heart,

Uncle Andrew.

July 1, 1928.

The house smells like soap I love it. I hung the sheets to dry today and watched the breeze push them like sails..

Uncle Andrew doesn’t make me speak. He doesn’t flinch when I cover my ears or pace. I like being with him, because I don’t have to be embarrassed about myself.

The journal entries started constant, then dwindled as she fell more into a routine of living in the house. They picked up consistently again about a quarter way through the notebook.

November 3, 1931.

Uncle Andrew’s hands are trembling now. He says it’s just the chill of the morning, but I know he’s been coughing into his handkerchief. I watched him fold it three times before he thought I was looking. I can feel that his body is tiring. I keep the house warm and make his tea. He’s become frail and confused. I take care of him nonetheless.

The next entries charted his declining health, her anxiety over it, and the details of him preparing her for his death.

April 2, 1932.

Uncle Andrew died this morning. I knew it was coming, felt it in my bones.

I opened all the windows and hung black cloth over the mirrors, just like mama told me to do, so his soul wouldn’t be trapped. I ain’t afraid of haints and ghosts, but I want his soul to be free.

The next entry was over a year later.

September 10, 1933.

Remmick’s been with me three months now.

He works at night, but I don’t mind. The sun is too bright for me, too. He’s gentle with the animals and kind to me. Never rushes when I speak or fills my silences. When I’m quiet, he waits.

October 1, 1933.

I asked him tonight why he never eats. He always makes an excuse.

Later. Not hungry. Ate in town.

October 13, 1933.

I found him behind the creekbed. Wasn’t trying to sneak up on him. He was crouched over something. A rabbit.

I saw his mouth, latched onto it and sucking its blood. He heard me before I could step away. He dropped it. Blood was all over his mouth. Sharp teeth. Glowing eyes.

“Siobhan.”

The way he said my name made me ache. He was scared. “I didn’t want you to see.”

We sat in silence until the cricket chirps came back. I went home without a word and left the door open for him.

I don’t know if he’s a haint or a monster or a boogeyman, but I know he’s still the man that sings real pretty when he works, still the man that knows I don’t like grits or vegetables, still the man that’s patient and kind.

October 14, 1933.

He didn’t come inside until just before sunrise. I didn’t sleep. I waited for him.

He didn’t knock, just stood there in the doorway.

“I’ll go if that’s what you want.”

I told him no. I told him I left the door open on purpose. He looked confused. I walked to him and took his hand and put it on my chest so he could feel my heart. “I’m still calm.”

He wanted to cry. I could feel it.

“I don’t think you’re a monster. I’ve been called things I’m not. I won’t do that to you.”

I reached up and touched his face, holding him in my hands like fine porcelain. “I want you to stay. And not just in the barn.”

He froze, like I do sometimes. I kissed him. He kissed back, soft. Then he cradled my head and pulled me closer. I felt dizzy when our tongues danced. I never read romance books because daddy said they weren’t proper. I didn’t know what to do. Other girls knew how to be natural around romance. Not me.

He put his hands on my waist and pulled me closer when we kissed. I felt butterflies in my stomach and tingling down there, in my womanhood. I had felt it before, here and there, but never knew what it was; just a confusing ache. Something shameful.

But when he kissed me, my legs pressed together and my skin buzzed. I asked him why I felt strange. He didn’t make me feel stupid, just said, “That’s your body waking up to being wanted.”

I must have looked worried or confused.

“It’s not bad, or wrong.”

I told him I didn’t know what to do. He said that he’d show me, and that I had to tell him what feels good. I took him to my room, because he said I’d be more comfortable there. I lit just one lamp so we could see.

I sat on the edge of the bed and told him again, “I don’t know what to do.”

“Let me teach you. You have to tell me what feels good and what doesn’t. Only say yes if you want to.”

I nodded. My voice was trapped in my head.

He took my shirt off first. I tried to cover my breasts, but he caught my wrists. He told me not to hide from him, because he thought I was beautiful and want to see all of me. I wanted to cry, but from happiness.

He kissed my wrists, up my arms, across my collarbones. The funny feeling grew stronger and I pressed my thighs together again. “Why do I feel… Like that?”

He looked up from where he was kissing my belly. “That’s your body telling you it wants more. I’m gonna take off your skirt and undergarments now. Stop me if you don’t feel right, ok?”

I nodded again. He slipped off my brassiere, but I didn’t cover myself this time. He made a noise, a moan, and grabbed my breasts gently. He put his mouth on one nipple and brushed his thumb over the other. I felt something strange in my underwear and froze. He stopped and pulled away.

“What’s wrong?”

“I-I’m wet. Down there, I mean. I didn’t mean to, I don’t know why.”

He laughed, but it didn’t sound mean. His fingers looped into the band of my skirt and pulled it down, leaving me only in my panties. I felt embarrassed seeing the big wet spot, until he kissed me again, short and sweet.

“It’s normal. It’s your body getting ready for me. Letting you know it wants to be touched. Gonna take these off of you now, okay?”

“Okay.” He didn’t make me feel stupid when he explained things to me. That made me happy.

He took them off and threw them on the floor. Then he moved his hand to my inner thigh. “We can stop if you want.”

“No. I don’t want to stop.”

“Atta’ girl. Let me know if you change your mind.”

He touched me, soft and gentle. My hips moved without me telling them to. He circled his fingers around my nether regions and the tingly ache grew into something bigger, better.

“Gonna help you get ready for me, okay, Siobhan? Gonna use my hands first, slow, until you’re ready.”

“Okay.”

He slid a finger inside easily. It felt strange, tight, but good, and I grabbed onto his shoulder.

“Doin’ so good, sweet girl.” His praise made me feel good. I gasped when he started to move, curling inside me.

“Feel good?”

“Yes!” I yelled out louder than I anticipated. He laughed again and continued working at me, like I was an instrument he was tuning.

“Gonna add another, just stretching you out so you’ll be more comfortable for me.”

He inserted another finger, and I whimpered. He paused to let me adjust. “Breathe through it, let me know when I can move again.”

I nodded to him after a moment, and he started moving inside me again. I never knew anything could feel so good. My hips moved on their own again, setting a rhythm that he followed. He took my breast in his mouth again, and I let out a guttural, drawn out moan. My nerves were on fire, but in a good way. After a moment, he leaned in and his voice got low and serious.

“When I take you fully, you may bleed a little. It’s normal, but you tell me to stop if you want me to, at any time, no matter what. Promise?”

“Promise.” I was nervous, but I just wanted to keep feeling him making me feel good. “Will it hurt?”

“Only a little. I’ll go as slow as you need me to. Won’t go any further than you want.”

He withdrew his hand from me. I whimpered, wishing he wouldn’t have but I wanted more ALL of him.

“Let’s take it slow,” he said. “Why don’t you undress me? Ground yourself a bit.”

He helped me sit up. My hands were shaking as I unbuttoned his shirt and slid it off of him. I ran my hands over her chest and arms. I’d never seen a man undressed this close. I started humming and rocking a bit, and he grinned at me. “Like what you see?”

“Mmhmm.”

“What’re you doing, rocking and humming like that?” It was a genuine question, not mean or malicious.

“I do it when I have big feelings.”

“What are you feeling right now?”

“Excited.” I reached for the waistband of his pants, looking him in the eyes for a second. Only for a second, though. “Can I- Can I see all of you?”

“Sure can, sweet girl.”

I giggled at the pet name, and he stood up to make it easier to undress. I froze seeing him fully nude, not in fear, but in awe. The happiness and feeling between my thighs grew a thousand times greater. I rocked even more.

He reached his hand out and touched my cheek, beckoning me closer for another kiss. After he pulled away, he rested his forehead on mine. “It’s like you’re looking at me with your entire soul. It’s beautiful. You’re beautiful.”

“You’re beautiful, too.”

“Thank you, darlin’. Now lay down and spread your knees apart for me.”

I did as he said, rubbing my fingertips as he climbed on top of me. He settled between my legs and grabbed my thighs, pulling me closer. He took his manhood in one hand and looked down at me. “Tell me if it gets to be too much, Bonnie.”

“Bonnie?” I grinned at the nickname. It felt natural, less wordy than Siobhan.

“Yes, Bonnie,” he mirrored my smile. “Did you hear me?”

“Mmhmm!” I reached my right hand out to touch his arm again, rubbing my fingertips together on my left.

“Remember, it’s gonna sting, and there may be blood. I’ll take care of you, though, Bonnie girl.”

I took a deep breath, blinking hard and trying to calm down. He looked down and guided himself in. I starting humming loudly as the tip breached my opening. He let out a strangled grunt and slowly pushed himself into me.

He was right, it did sting, but it helped that he went slow. I whimpered and reached up with both hands, clinging to his shoulders. He gave me a moment to adjust and kissed my forehead. “Gonna feel a sharp sting when I go deeper and split your maidenhead, ok? Might hurt for a secon’, but I got you.”

I nodded, not able to get my words out. He went deeper, and I felt a slight snap. I yelped and held onto him tighter. Tears brimmed my eyes and fell slowly down my temples. He dipped his head down to kiss me again, I guess to distract me from the pain.

The pain faded just as fast as it came, and I moaned as he shifted his hips, tentatively thrusting. He moaned, gritting his teeth.

“Feel s’good, s’tight.”

I could feel every inch of him as he rocked against me, pulling noises from deep inside my chest out into the air. I wrapped my legs around his hips instinctively and tried to meet his movements. Instead, he changed his thrusts to match mine.

I felt something building up inside, a coil in the bottom of my stomach each time he hit a certain spot deep inside.

“Feel good, darlin’? Can feel you-ah-squeezin’ me.”

“Feel funny again, but different, like I’m gonna explode.” My words slurred now, caught up in the feeling of him.

“’s normal,” he grunted against my neck. “Feels even better than this right here. Lemme help you out, sweetheart.”

He propped himself up on one elbow, using his free hand to reach just above where our bodies met. He touched me, rubbing soft, slow circles in rhythm with his thrusts. The coil wound tightly and I began to cry out incoherent wails. My hands moved from his shoulders to his hair, holding onto him for dear life. My muscles tensed, toes curling and lightning shooting through my nerves. I squeezed my eyes tight and the coil burst; it felt like a million explosions going off inside my body and brain.

I found my words again, but could only repeat his name like a prayer as he held me tight. I let the wave wash over me, and as it subsided, I could hear him talking.

“Shit, darlin’, I ca- I’m… I’m gonna-” His voice was raspy, animalistic and raw. I held him closer, pulling him in for a kiss. He grunted into my mouth as his hips stuttered. He turned his head and moaned, and I felt something twitching and warm deep inside me. I assume what had just happened to me happened to him as well. He collapsed on top of me for a moment. The pressure of his weight felt nice, grounding, even.

“Are you,” I panted; I hadn’t even realized I was out of breath. “Are you okay, Remmick?”

“I-I am.” He whispered. “Are you?”

“Yes. Jus’ tired now. Real tired. Like I just walked from here to Biloxi.”

He chuckled and I felt the rumbling in his chest. “Me too, Bonnie. Do you… Do you wanna go get a bath? I know you don’t like bein’ sweaty.”

I thought about it for a second, then shook my head. “No. I don’t think my legs would work after that.”

He let out a happy, sleepy hum of his own. “Then why don’t I flip you on top, and we can sleep til sundown. You didn’t sleep, after all.”

And that’s what we did. He shifted onto his back, letting me lie on top of him as his fluids flowed from my body. It would’ve felt gross to me most days, but I was too tired to care. I rested my head on his chest, letting the sound of his heartbeat lull me to sleep.

It’s an hour before sundown now. I’ve woken, but he is still sleeping. So, I write this in my notebook, because I want to remember this moment forever. I want to remember the night I became his.

Hours had passed when he finished reading, and when he did, he reached for her pen and wrote beneath the entry.

You’ll forever be my Bonnie Girl.

Til the end of eternity,

Remmick.

#remmick #remmick smut #f/o x s/i #f/o community #s/i #s/i community

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