#wolfe oc

It seems to take forever, seeing how giant everything is compared to your small size.

In the middle of grabbing what you can find, you hear a sniffle.

Apparently someone is home? They sound sad.

You follow the noises as quietly as possible, just to see what's going on. You come face to face with a giant sitting on his own bed, head buried in his hands. He's rather pale, with long well-kept light brown hair, blue eyes, and dressed in what you assume is a culturally accurate garb for giants; simple but elegant clothing.

No, don't feel sympathy for him, you remind yourself. Just get what you came here for, and get out.

And so, you quietly rush back to work, gathering all you can carry. Its a little loud, but you're sure the giant won't be able to hear you over his own sorrow, for what ever reason that is.

Just as you go back to the table with more loot, you suddenly hear footsteps.

You gasp, scrambling for a place to hide.

There!

You hide behind a huge glass pitcher of what you're sure is lemonade or some sort of sugary drink for giants.

Its too late when you realize you didn't even put the gold back like you found it. The giant looks over to the table, eyeing it suspiciously. Your stomach is doing flips.

"I'm losing my mind," he laughs to himself, but it doesn't seem very humorous. More like its bordering on hysteria. He then goes over to the glass pitcher you're hiding behind, lifting it up with a cup prepared in his hand.

You're frozen in shock.

The giant stares at you with wide, red-rimmed eyes. He nearly drops the pitcher as he lowers it onto the table carefully. His mouth forms an 'o' shape.

"A human!" he gasps. His voice is soft, which seems so unfitting for his large size. Just as he reaches forward to grab you, you manage to react quick enough to run away and try to find somewhere else to hide. "Wait!" the giant shouts, panicked, "It's okay, I'm not gonna hurt you!"

You look for an exit. The window!

Before you can reach the window to climb back down the beanstalk, the giant grabs you. Its gentle, thankfully, but you still scream.

He's not necessarily large enough to comfortably hold you in his hand without using both, but can still grab you just fine with one hand. He brings you to his face, getting a better look at you. You try kicking him, and it seems to startle him, but not really anger him. He just seems... worried, almost?

"You poor thing!" he cries, sounding like he's genuinely scared. Scared? Really? "You must have been lost from your parents! Oh, you poor baby..."

Huh? You blink, confused. Baby? Parents? It dawns on you, that he thinks you're a kid. You suppose that makes sense, you are almost about the size to him that a human baby would be to a fully grown adult, if not just a tiny bit smaller.

Yet if he knows you're a human, shouldn't he also know this is a perfectly normal size?

Maybe he hasn't seen humans very much, which wouldn't be surprising. Humans did a good job hiding from giants, and you're pretty sure you're the first human to find a way to enter their world by climbing the beanstalk.

Well, at least it should make things a little easier.

"Um..." you start, nervously looking away. Should you correct him? Probably not. It's probably best to let him keep thinking you're a child so that maybe you won't have to face his wrath for trying to rob him. "I got lost! Yeah."

The giant coos, adjusting his hold so you're sitting much more comfortably in both of his large palms. He's not as large as the other giants you've heard can be, and if he were just slightly smaller then he might not be able to hold you like this, but it works. He's large enough to do so, just barely.

"It's okay, honey," he speaks softly, "what's your name?"

"(Y/n)," you answer. "What... what's your name?"

"My name is Wolfe." Wolfe gives you a small, sweet smile. He doesn't look nearly as sad anymore. In fact, he appears to be very happy now. But why?

A part of you wants to ask him why he was crying earlier, and yet the thought also scares you.

Its not worth asking him that. Not now, at least.

"Can you tell me what happened?" he asks again, voice laced with worry. "How on earth did you get here, baby?"

You're not sure if its a wise idea to tell him the truth. "I'm not really sure... Everything is a blur, I just don't really remember much."

He's either gullible or not letting on more than he's thinking, because he sighs heavily in relief and gently kisses your forehead. It's still awkward given how much smaller you are than him. If you were to give a best estimate, you'd say he's about three or four times taller than you.

Which is still a lot... but you suppose it could be worse. You heard some giants are much, much larger.

"It must have been so scary for you," he says sympathetically. He adjusts his hold so you're cradled in his arms like an actual baby. Compared to him, your height is kind of like a baby.

Your face feels like its burning with embarrassment, and you squirm in his hold uncomfortably.

"I-I'm okay, though," you defend weakly, "really."

Wolfe hums in acknowledgement, but it feels very patronizing. He does not seem to believe you one bit. Though, he seems more worried than skeptical.

You feel tired from walking around the massive house, searching everywhere for gold and jewels. There aren't many options right now, and Wolfe is very gentle with you, so you suppose to take your chances slipping away when he doesn't have his attention on you.

Apparently, that'd be harder than you thought.

Not once does he take his eyes off you.

He basically swaddles you in the smallest blanket he has (which is still very large), and holds you against his hip as he makes food, humming to himself all the while. Occasionally, he glances down at you fondly. You have no choice but to stare up at him, too scared to close your eyes.

This doesn't feel right, at all. Is he always going to act like this? Is there no way out of it?

No, you'll just wait until nighttime. Even though you don't know anything about giants, you can assume they need sleep like everyone else.

"I should get you some more clothes soon," he murmurs to himself, yet addressing you. "Maybe I should take up sewing again. Oh, and I'll make you a darling little room right next to mine! Yes, you'll love it! With toys, a bed..." He nods to himself.

You laugh nervously. "What about my, uh, real parents? I'm sure they're worried about me."

Wolfe tilts his head. "Oh, no, silly. Why would you want to go back to them? If you managed to get lost and ended up all the way here, surely they must not care about you all that much. I'd never let something like that happen to you. And I won't."

He shakes his head, as if to rid himself of the terrible idea of sending you home. You shudder at how easily and quickly he dismissed you.

You mull over your next words for a moment, just wanting to change the subject. "Why were you crying earlier?"

The way Wolfe flinches makes you regret ever opening your mouth. Your stomach fills with dread as you realize just how insensitive that sounded.

You immediately backtrack and try apologizing, only to be shushed gently. Wolfe presses a kiss to your forehead again, smiling, though you notice the way his eyes become distant for a split moment. He looks a lot sadder now.

"It's nothing to worry about, sweetheart. No need to think about adults' problems," he reassures.

For what ever reason, this rubs you the wrong way, like someone had stabbed at your pride. If he fully knows you're a human, you wonder what he thinks an adult human is supposed to look like. Then again, maybe he really just knows nothing about humans other than the bare minimum.

If anything, you hope it means he's more easy to escape.

For the rest of the time he's cooking, he goes on rambles about how much he already adores you, how long he's always wanted kids, and all the plans for the future with you. It makes you nervous, but you know that it'll be useless to argue back.

Your meal is way too big for you, but thankfully he cuts it up into a tinier portion that would suit a normal meal for you.

At realizing the table is too high up for you, he clicks his tongue and sits you on his lap instead, feeding you with a spoon. The entire thing is beyond humiliating, especially when he starts doing things like wiping your face after every bite like a helicopter parent or reminding you to slow down while eating.

But, at the very least, the food is amazing. Maybe even better than any meals you've had back home.

With the events of today catching up to you, you lean against him tiredly when finishing dinner, resisting the urge to sleep. You need to stay awake so you can slip away at night.

He chuckles in adoration. "So sleepy. We'll work on your room tomorrow, okay? Until then, you can sleep in Papa's bed."

"Papa?" you repeat, unimpressed.

"Yes! Good job!" Wolfe coos, sounding like he might cry again.

He puts away the dishes after washing them off, putting you down onto the counter while doing so.

You try hopping off the edge and running, but he catches you again just before you land safely onto the floor.

"No!" Wolfe cries desperately, looking absolutely horrified. "Don't jump like that, sweetheart! You could have seriously hurt yourself!"

That attempt of escape didn't work out, sadly. You can only hope he's a heavy sleeper so you can sneak away tonight.

And, once again, you're being cradled against his chest.

"It's a miracle you survived this long without me," he tuts, though he doesn't seem upset anymore. "If you want to play hide-and-seek, we'll have all day tomorrow, okay, baby? For now, its bedtime."

You know you're not getting out of it, so you just nod.

Once you arrive in Wolfe's bedroom, he settles you down onto a pillow carefully. He excuses himself very briefly to change into some night clothes. The only reason you don't run away is because you've come to terms it won't work. Once he comes back, he swaddles you back in blankets and then brings you to his chest once again.

He pets your head soothingly as your head is practically pressed into his shoulder. You watch him grab something; it looks like a children's book.

"I've always collected little things like these," Wolfe mumbles, "because I wanted to have children someday. And now I finally have the cutest little one!" He peppers kisses on top of your head. "Are you ready for a story?"

No, you're not. Not at all. You sigh, agreeing halfheartedly.

Its a very generic story of a prince saving a princess, defeating a dragon. That sort of thing. Maybe it really is doing its job, because you feel exhausted just listening to the boring story. You're afraid if you pretend to fall asleep, you'll end up falling asleep for real.

Only when its the last page of the story, do you pretend to doze off. It works, and Wolfe looks satisfied. He closes the book shut, setting it aside onto a nightstand.

"I can't believe my wishes are coming true," he whispers to himself, as you've noticed he frequently does.

Once you can hear his soft snores, and you feel his grip loosen up on you.

You don't get hopeful yet, though. The blanket is still tight around you, so you have to wiggle yourself around until you get free. Its hard, and you almost knock some things over during your struggle. Luckily, it doesn't disturb Wolfe too much. He only stirs slightly, but never fully awakens.

Finally, you crawl away from the bedside and begin the trek down the halls.

It's nearly pitch black, so you have to feel your way around. It seems like it takes hours, but you manage to make progress until finding a window, just a tiny bit of light spilling out of it from the moon.

Carefully, you slip your way outside through the open window.

You hesitate, wondering if you should grab what you originally came here for, but decide against it. You just want out of here.

The drop isn't so bad, and you nearly sprint to where you remember the beanstalk being, the way you got here to begin with.

After lots of searching, and running out of breath several times along the way, you find no sign of the stalk.

Realization dawns upon you like getting doused with ice cold water. Someone must've cut it down after you got here.

You hang onto desperation and hope, wondering if perhaps you didn't check well enough. Yet despite all your efforts, you find nothing. You have no choice but to accept that fact. Someone found it and removed it. What are you going to do now? Surely there's another way back down, right?

"Baby?" a panicked voice shouts.

You freeze up, blood running cold. Of course he's figured out you're gone by now.

"Baby!" Wolfe calls again. His voice sounds broken, hysterical.

Before you can even process anything, Wolfe's figure approaches. He looks beside himself, frantic, eyes filled with tears and cheeks already tear stained. He collapses onto his knees as he comes up to you.

You consider running, but you know outrunning him is impossible. Instead, you just wait in fearful anticipation.

"Why would you run away like that?" Wolfe whispers in disbelief, as if he can't process it. "Why would you scare me like that?" He doesn't seem like he expects you to answer, just scooping you in his arms and taking long strides back home.

He's holding you tight, like he's terrified you might somehow slip away. He's shaking, and you're pretty sure you are too.

The rest of the way is silent as Wolfe cradles you securely.

He's already back inside the house when he breaks the silence.

"That was very dangerous. You are so, so lucky another giant didn't see you," he rasps. "If they did..." He shudders. "What were you even thinking?" His voice isn't raised, it never had been, but you can tell he definitely isn't pleased with you. He wipes at his eyes as he carries you back into his room. "You really scared me, (Y/n)," he breathes, "you can't do things like that."

"Sorry," you reply lamely, guilt starting to settle in your gut. "Please don't be mad at me." You wince when you feel his large thumb wipe away some stray tears that had fallen from your own eyes.

"Oh, no, I'm not mad!" he cries sympathetically. "I'm worried about you. Please understand that." He gives a shaky sigh. "I was just scared. I've been alone for so long, I..." he trails off. "You shouldn't have to hear that, I'm sorry, sweetheart."

You don't ask questions, nor do you respond.

He kisses you on the forehead again as he starts redressing you in the huge blankets. "Please stay safe in Papa's arms tonight. Promise me..."

He chuckles, low and fond. "So sleepy still. That's alright. Little ones need their rest."

Compared to him, you suppose 'little one' is a true statement. Not only that, but he clearly sees you as a child regardless of your actual maturity.

You let him sit up and adjust the blanket, cradling you in one arm. He studies you with those soft, red-rimmed eyes, brushing his knuckles across your cheek in a gesture that has no business being as gentle as it is, coming from such a gigantic hand.

Wolfe leans in, smiling when you hold still for the inevitable forehead kiss he gives you.

"You don't need to do all this," you almost plead.

Wolfe's lips draw into a thin line. After a moment, his expression becomes unreadable.

"I want to," he says. "I enjoy taking care of you." As if to prove his point, he adjusts you in his arms, cradles you snugly to his chest, and smooths his broad palm over your back. "You need this."

The rest of the day is painfully awkward.

Not for Wolfe, though. He talks to you as if nothing happened last night.

Wolfe still carries you everywhere; propped against his hip while he stokes the fire, perched on his knee as he repairs a cracked chair, swaddled against his chest whenever he suspects you might try to wriggle away. You test his grip once or twice, shifting, squirming, feigning discomfort. Each time he only coos and tucks the blankets tighter around you.

At one point, you dare to glance toward the same window you escaped from yesterday. Just a glance. Wolfe follows your gaze immediately.

"Curious, aren't you?" His tone is soft, but there's an edge beneath it.

He rises, strides across the room, and with you bundled against him, he grabs some tools that look almost just like the ones you had back at home, but larger.

To your horror, he secures wooden planks over every window that would have been even slightly manageable for you to get through.

"These won't be permanent," he reassures you, before you can voice your terror. "Just to make sure you can't try to break the windows, or pry them open. No more distractions for you." He boops your nose.

...

Another day passes, and it's somehow even more humiliating than yesterday.

He made a little carrier wrap that perfectly fits you in it, so you're forced to watch as he builds you a bed, stopping every couple of minutes to check on the measurements, and then you. You almost fall asleep several times.

"Why don't you just go buy my stuff, rather than make everything?" you mutter. You don't really want to talk to him, but there's nothing better to do.

"Nothing would fit you perfectly if I did that, silly," he chuckles at you. "It's best to make everything by hand. Besides, it's more special that way. I do have some little things I collected over the years, though. I always dreamed of having a baby of my own someday."

Oh great, he sounds emotional again. "And I'm assuming that 'baby' is me?"

Wolfe laughs lightly. "Of course you are!"

You look around your surroundings, as much as the wrap will allow you to, and see what work he has already achieved. The windows are boarded here too, there's a shelf lined with childrens' books, a dresser stocked full of clothes tailored specifically for someone your size, and a chest of toys, the only things that don't look completely handmade, probably intended for giant babies.

This man really wants a child of his own, badly.

"Do you have anyone else?" you ask, then wince at your own bluntness. "Like... friends, or family?"

His shoulders stiffen. He'd seemed so content until now. But then he smiles again, though a lot more sadly.

"Sweetheart," he scolds gently, "don't ask questions like that. Okay? They're a little rude."

"I didn't mean to sound rude," you defend nervously. "I was just wondering. Sorry." You guiltily look away.

His expression changes, almost as if he wasn't expecting you to actually apologize.

After a moment's hesitation, he answers your question. "No, I... I don't. But it's okay." He sounds so heartbroken. You wonder why that is. "Because I have you now. You're all I need, and I'm all you need."

You hope you're not treading on dangerous territory with your next question. "Did you ever have anyone else?"

He stops working, letting out a deep exhale. "No." Wolfe glances down at you, seeing the curious expression on your face, prompting him to continue, albeit reluctantly. "Your Papa has always been a bit of an... outcast. No one's ever given me a chance, or liked me that much. Even those who were unconditionally supposed to from the start."

"But why?" It doesn't add up in your head.

Why wouldn't anyone ever want to befriend or love someone like Wolfe? Sure, he's clingy, perhaps delusional, and definitely a little odd, but you're sure if he was just another human you met under different circumstances, you might've enjoyed his company.

"My life story isn't for your ears, baby. But trust me, the past doesn't matter anymore. Nothing else matters now besides you."

When Wolfe finishes working on everything for your new room, he carefully unwraps you from the wrap carrier and sets you down onto the small bed, yet perfect for your size.

It's cozy, but you can't get over the bars on the side. "I don't need a crib."

"It isn't a..." Wolfe trails off, taking notice of your pointed look at the bars. "Ah, well, now that you mention it, it does look like a crib, doesn't it? I promise, it wasn't intended to be like that." He smiles apologetically.

"Oh. It's meant to be a cage, that's much better," you sarcastically say.

"Come now, it's just so you can't sneak out while sleeping. That would be very bad, wouldn't it? You don't want to go crawling around at night, alone, with nowhere to go. Not without Papa with you. The world is dangerous. It'll eat you right up." He tickles your side in emphasis.

You wonder if his words are literal.

When nighttime comes around, you can tell he's nervous to leave you in your new bedroom. It's much more fixed up, with the walls painted in pastels, stuffed toys surrounding your bed, and the dresser filled with clothes he crafted for you. The bed has bars on the side still, but you wonder if you can find a way to climb over them.

Squeezing through them would be too hard, the spaces not enough for you.

He hovers over your bed, hesitating. "Will you be able to sleep fine? I could bring your bed to my room, just to make sure everything goes smoothly..."

"That won't be necessary," you hurriedly reject the offer. Even when he was sleeping, his presence is suffocating.

It makes Wolfe visibly sad, but he nods anyway, accepting your decision. He pulls the warm comforter up to your chin, petting your head soothingly. You notice how he seems to do that quite frequently, as if touching you confirms that you're alive and safe.

"Do you want a bedtime story?" he asks hopefully.

He's clearly stalling, but you humor him by nodding.

His voice is rather soothing, as he scoops you up again and sits on the rocking chair in the corner of the room, pulling out a children's book. Once again, this is embarrassing, but you find it easier to tolerate.

With his warmth and the softness of his lap, combined with his smooth voice reading to you, it doesn't take long for you to feel tired and sleepy.

When you wake up, its still dark inside, though you're not sure if that's because it's still the middle of the night, or because he boarded the windows.

You figure its likely still nighttime, because he's such an early riser, and keeps you on a somewhat similar schedule. Wolfe claims its 'because babies need routine'.

The bars loom above you, almost tauntingly. You eye them, feeling the strange mix of anger and anxiety bubble in your stomach.

You feel sick as you reach up and give one a solid shove. It's strong enough to stay sturdy. Damn him. Even if they were loose, there isn't enough space between each individual bar for you to crawl through.

Which means climbing is your only option.

Your fingers close tightly around the rails. Slowly, you pull yourself into a standing position, holding onto the bars as tight as possible. It'd be humiliating to fall and wake up Wolfe after you tried to escape him again.

A shudder runs through you as you consider the idea. He'd be even more protective, surely. If he lets you have the privilege of having a separate room again after tonight.

If you succeed in sneaking away.

You step up onto the mattress, leaning against the railing to steady yourself as you stretch toward the lip of the rail. It takes all your strength to hoist yourself up, then swing your legs over. Somehow, you manage to clamber over without kicking the wooden frame.

It leaves you sitting on top of the railing, legs dangling over the other side, and trying desperately to slow your breathing.

In a spike of horrible luck, you lose your balance, and with a squeak of fright, your palms smack against the ground to stop your face from hitting the hardwood floor. There's no point in holding back the gasp of pain at the jarring impact to your wrists. You know its wishful thinking to even hope Wolfe didn't hear you.

You practically hear him throw off the covers as he leaps out of bed, footfalls thundering through the hall.

By the time he wrenches open the door, you've managed to get up, nursing your left wrist.

His expression is wild as he steps into the room, looking for danger, before noticing how you're not in the bed anymore. Then, the realization sinks in as he stares at you. You look away guiltily, still rubbing at your sore wrist.

"Oh, sweetheart," he says, voice breaking. Tears threaten to fall, but he holds himself together as he rushes to you.

He gently cups the sides of your face in his massive hands. You don't dare to breathe as he peers anxiously at you.

"Are you alright?" His gaze roams all over your body, before his attention falls on your injured wrist, which you try to hide, but fail miserably as his fingers wrap around yours delicately. "Did you fall?"

You nod stiffly.

He lets out a whimper of pity. "Aw, you poor thing." He examines your wrist for broken bones. "How badly does it hurt?"

"It only stings..." It's true, the pain is quickly going away. You're pretty sure it's a sprain at most.

Wolfe examines your expression for any deception, then sighs, relieved. "Papa will kiss your boo-boo better." He kisses it sweetly, and you look away.

You hate when he talks to you in that voice, or uses such patronizing words.

"Now," he murmurs, getting to his feet with you still in his arms. "How on earth did you manage that?"

"I..." You contemplate on telling him the truth. Part of you would rather deal with his disapproval than his infantilizing, but then that'd mean less freedom and more restrictions. "I had a nightmare." Which, technically speaking, you have been having nightmares since being stuck in his 'care'. "And I wanted to get you, because I didn't want to be alone."

Sure, it hurts your pride, but it isn't like there's much of that left.

"Oh." He appears surprised for a fleeting second, before melting into that overly-soft affection again. "Oh, baby..." Wolfe sniffles.

Is he about to cry again? That didn't take long, nor did it surprise you.

Once again, his face is streaked with tears as he holds you closer than you're comfortable with, resting his chin on top of your head. A small sob slips out of him, then a shuddering sigh.

You don't resist or argue against his embrace. You can't afford to lie to him again, or use excuses that don't add up with his perception of reality.

He presses tiny kisses to the top of your head. "Papa loves you," he chokes out, "so much."

And for some reason, you believe him. Even if you don't like this situation at all, you find it hard to doubt he genuinely loves you.

Wolfe grabs the nearby blanket that fell off during your tumble, bundling you in it, although gentler than usual, like he thinks you're especially fragile right now.

"I should bring the bars up," he mumbles, more to himself. "If anything happens like this again, you can yell for me, baby. Please do."

You think you're about to get placed back in bed, but he instead carries you back to his room, swaying you back and forth in motions that are already making you sleepy again.

"Human children really are so jumpy," he chuckles weakly.

He settles down into bed, placing you on top of his chest with him wrapped snugly around you. His heart pounds beneath your ear, lulling you even quicker to slumber. He rubs your back soothingly. Before you realize it, you start relaxing into his warmth.

"I love you so much," he whispers.

You don't reply, reminded eerily of when you tried escaping a little more than a day ago. Guilt seeps into your stomach. Why is there guilt?