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charliemwrites · 11 months ago

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Mafia!Price warm up because I am… so tired. I’ve had back-to-back events the last few days and ya bitch canNOT hang. So, while I rehydrate and wait for caffeine to work it’s magic, here’s this:

Part 1 here

No Content Warnings

Mr. Price is the best boss you’ve ever had. He’s straightforward and blunt, but unfalteringly courteous. Likes things a certain way — his own way — but that’s nothing you’re unfamiliar with from rich men responsible for billions. At very least, he seems to respect when you challenge him.

“We’ve always done records this way,” he says.

“Yes, sir,” you answer serenely, “but that was before you had me.”

He stares you down and you beam right back, tablet balanced on your forearm. One beat, two. In the corner of your eye, you see Gaz shift. You tilt your head at your boss.

He sits back in his big office chair, thumb swiping over his index and middle fingers. A gesture you’ve been mentally cataloguing as “contemplative” — perhaps deciding if he’s annoyed or amused. You don’t let yourself get nervous seeing it; you’re good at your job and you know it. He’s going to know it too, by god.

“And what do you have to do with it, luv?”

Your smile stretches wider as you take that as an invitation to round his desk. He turns and shifts a bit to make room for you, eyebrows ticking up as you set a neatly paper-clipped report in front of him, highlighted for convenience.

“See here?” You point at one section, a list of finance records. “Inconsistencies that the accountants took two months to notice. Two!”

He grunts as you set it aside, face up, for further perusal and then show him the next set. Different highlighter (and a smiley face in the corner).

“And look here, doing it this way, we noticed the discrepancies within a week,” you explain.

He picks up the page, eyes scanning over it thoroughly before setting it down. Taps his index finger over the discrepancy (circled in bright red) twice.

“Would you happen to have the account — ah, thank you.”

You hum, smoothing the sticky note (hot pink, shaped like a heart) onto the page. “So what do you think, sir?”

He runs a hand down his face, palm rasping over his beard. But there is a grateful note to his gaze as he glances at you.

“We’ll be doing it this way from now on, then.”

“Thrilling, sir. I’ll send out a memo.”

He waves you off, frown already forming on his face. You politely leave his office, stop by the break room to make a fresh cup of tea (a dollop of cream only, no sugar) and knock on the closed door. It’s Gaz that opens it.

“For the boss,” you say. “Before heads start rolling.”

“You’re a doll,” he breathes, accepting the cup and slipping back inside.

You happily toddle back to your desk and begin calling appointment confirmations. You’ve got about a million emails and a hundred calls to make.

—

Working for Price also comes with some… eccentricities. For one, you have a driver now.

Usually Farah, sometimes her partner Alex. On the rare occasion it’s Gaz. They always usher you into the backseat. On rainy days (so, most days in the UK) they hold an umbrella over your head while you scurry into the luxury leather interior of whatever stupidly expensive ride you’re taking.

That was a non-negotiable when you and Mr. Price discussed the details of your employment contract with him. Something about safety…? You feel silly being driven to work as an assistant, but it was your first encounter with the Steel Gaze of Decision and it was unfortunately effective.

Not that you mind the rides! All three of your usual drivers are wonderful. So friendly and chatty. You love hearing about Alex’s niece and Farah’s hobbies, Gaz’s little “spats” with Soap. You spoil them with extra treats from whatever bakery you make them stop at for morning breakfast. (Always local, you love supporting small businesses and strong arm Price into doing so as well).

There’s the gun as well. You’ve only seen it once or twice, always discreetly hidden under his suit jacket. A shoulder holster, all black. Pretend that you don’t see it because… well, you’re not entirely sure it’s legal and you’d rather live in the blissful cloud of plausible deniability.

And speaking of — there’s his bodyguard. To be fair, bodyguards aren’t a new or weird presence with your bosses. Expensive men, they need protection. Ghost is a different kind though.

He always covers the lower half of his face — actually, he’s covered head to toe. Usually in black, sometimes with little skeleton or skull motifs. And he’s fucking big, which is saying something because Mr. Price isn’t a small man either.

Ghost hardly interacts with you, but he’s unfailingly polite when he does. Not talkative, but he holds doors for you, has walked you down to the car. Even once attitude-checked a guest that decided to be rude to you. Didn’t even say anything, just walked into the guy’s personal bubble and stared him down until he subsided. Then he turned, gave you a nod, and you squeezed his arm before toddling off to let Price know his appointment had arrived.

All around the vibes in the office are pleasant, if sometimes stuffy. A little odd. All of his employees are polite if not kind to you, and Price himself is a fair and reasonable man — at least with you.

(The first time you heard him raise his voice through the closed office door nearly scared the daylights out of you. He always uses a low, even tone when speaking to you, so to hear his voice booming like that was something of a shock. Even more shocking was when he opened the door — damn near throwing his “guest” out — before turning to you.

“Call Farah when you have a mo’, would you?” He asked, calm as you please.

You blinked, still having war flashbacks of your last boss. “Yes, sir.”

“Cheers, luv.”)

There’s also the “field trips” as you call them.

Mr. Price is something of a very “hands on” businessman (“micromanager” you tease when he’s in a good mood) who has a hand in several industries. One of them is shipping. Which means that sometimes you find yourself standing beside him in warehouses or at loading docks. And of course you have to go, you’re his assistant! You take meeting notes, provide information or report details. Basically act as his second brain while he reams out idiots or organizes plans.

You suck it up, but you rather hate the smell of low tide. And the occasional gusts of blood on the sea breeze from fishermen gutting their catches. Price catches you looking ill once or twice and at least makes an effort to keep things short after that.

“Poor thing,” Soap teases when you’re in the back of the car, fussing at your wind-swept hair. “Get a bit blown, did you?”

“MacTavish,” Price snaps.

That’s the other thing. Even the slightest hint of suggestive or inappropriate words at your expense are met with firm, almost harsh, reprimand from your boss. It does wonders for you nerves and your respect for him.

“Wish I’d known we were going to the docks,” you sigh, carefully picking at pins to fix your hair. “I would have used more hairspray.”

“Thought I told you?” Price says.

“No, sir, you did not,” you answer, long-suffering. “You know you can put it into the scheduling app, right?”

He blinks. “Scheduling app.”

You blink back at him. “Oh, dear. Here, look at this.”

You spend the entire ride back to the office showing him how your scheduling software works so that you don’t have to deal with any more surprise dock visits.

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#cod #my writing #fanfiction #reader fic #mafia!au #mafia boss price #mafia!price #assistant reader #oddly wholesome for a mafia au

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boolger · 3 months ago

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A lapdog at a farm - chapter 1

AO3 link. next chapter -> Call of duty. Explicit, 18+, minors do not interact. read the tags. wc: 4,147

Maybe support me on kofi?🥺👉👈

Farmer!John Price x Hybrid!Reader, hybrid! Kyle Gaz Garrick x hybrid! Johnny Soap MacTavish x hybrid! Simon Ghost, John Price x Nikolai.

Summary: When Price was young and left his childhood home, a farm in the middle of nowhere in England, he didn’t enter the military. Instead he moved to London, got a degree and a good career, earning good money. He got you, a human dog hybrid as a pet, after feeling lonely - and you lived your best life for years, spoiled and pampered, Price’s lapdog who got praised at every party. Loved and fucked every night. That was until Price decided to return to his roots and go back to farming - dragging you along to the middle of nowhere, away from all the wonders of the big city. Expecting you to accept this sudden change in lifestyle and pretend to be a farm dog. Bad luck however, because you fucking hated it, and became more and more unruly. In hopes of getting you to calm down and to keep his live-stock and farm safe, Price then got three working dog hybrids - and all at once, your life was even worse than before.

tags: Rape/non-con elements, dub-con, dog!hybrid!people being kept as pets, alternative universe - farm, dark, farmer!John Price, working-dogs, punishments, mating cycles/rut/heat (no omegaverse), the dove isn't dead but its dying, reader is a brat, knotting, animal tails and ears, mentions of trauma, violence, angst, hurt/comfort, collars, rough sex, breeding kink, biting, threesome, foursome, everyone is fucking your honor, enemies to lovers, chubby reader, reader has a pussy

author's note: Hi sinners <33 Just a heads up; the reader is gonna be a spoiled brat. If you want a smart and sweet reader who isn’t mean at times, well. Bad news. This ain’t it.🥰The reader is she / her and has a pussy and is chubby. I tried my best to keep the descriptions somewhat vague otherwise. Reader is a cocker spaniel hybrid. I will tell the others along the way. In this universe, hybrids have ears, tail, claws beneath nails and canine fangs. There will be heats and ruts but there is no omegaverse. They will have personality traits of their dog breed and so on. Now. I know there aren’t wild wolves in the UK… but in this fic there is, ok? mwah.

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The countryside was peaceful compared to the city; the absence of the bustling streets and constant traffic, created a quietness that was indescribable.

Out here, at the new farm, the noises only came from animals that lived in the stables and barn or the occasional rumble as a tractor turned on. The wind caressed the never ending fields of wheat and the long rows of fruit trees, under which the goats and sheep walked most days.

The stress here wasn’t the same kind as in the city. Sure , there were stressful moments and sometimes Price looked like he needed to sleep for more than just the few hours he got everyday.

But he didn’t have to worry about the morning traffic, waiting in a queue for an overpriced, questionable tea or coffee. There was no need for him to wear a suit, no noisy, overfilled train cars in the underground. No crowded dog or hybrid parks, no meetings or rules to follow - except those John Price decided for himself.

He was happy, so much was clear to you. It had been three months since the move - Johnhad gone back to his roots, buying back the farm that his parents had used to own a little while ago, using some of his endless wealth on renovating the place. There was no step on the stairs that was loose, like it used to when he was a kid - sure they still creaked, but you weren’t afraid they would disappear from beneath you.

It was modernized, but most of the old charm left. Price fit right in; the furniture he had inherited and never believed he would use was suddenly in the living room. His knowledge of the business world was abandoned in the city, for the knowledge of farming that he still had left from his youth. John got a couple of farm hands and workers, who helped him with the big place.

It was like he reclaimed his own self that had been buried beneath the suits, ties and paperwork. Now he didn’t smoke his cigars from stress, but from pleasure, clearly much content.

It was like the farm had truly made John Price happy once more; his smiles more genuine, his true self stepping forth. Returning to his childhood home and taking over the farm had been the best decision Price had made. There was no question about it.

… and you hated every bloody day at the farm.

The early morning hours in bed with him, being disturbed by the farm waking up, the rooster crowing and John leaving the bed, giving you a pat in between your ears, taking all the heat with him. The constant bugs, the muddy stables and the big animals, the helpers who always teased you for not fitting in, the lack of friends you had out here. The foxes’ screams in the night, the wolves howling, and the cows occasionally mooing sounded like creatures stepping out of nightmares.

You were not made for farm life. Literally. Simply not made for it.

Some would argue that you, as a hybrid pet, didn’t have a say in it and sure , legally you didn’t. But you were a lapdog, an elegant pet. Not a farm dog. Created to be cared for and cuddled, you were a purebred cocker spaniel hybrid; you weren’t made to run around on a farm, following John on his duties And doing work.

Sure, you had the instincts to hunt a few things here and there, but it was mostly balls and the occasional bird or squirrel. You weren’t a guard hybrid, not really a working dog.

You had had enough trauma throughout your life - you deserved not to be forced into this! You had grown up being trained to be a lapdog, not a working-dog like you felt like John expected you to act like now.

You wanted John to be happy, you really did - you loved your Master! When he bought you a few years ago, when you were still aggressive and unruly (… more than now at least), you had thought he would tire of you like everybody else had. But with patience, rules, training, praise and punishment and a whole lot of sex later, you were a perfect hybrid pet for the city! People always praised how well you looked, laughing when Price said you were really a little troublemaker. You would follow him throughout the fancy apartment, on your daily walks, sometimes for meetings.

But why the fuck did it have to be a farm? He worked somwwhat the same time that he did before, genuinely seeming to enjoy himself. Forgetting about poor you!

Out here, there were no hybrid daycare that you would go to when he had long days, there were none of your playmates nearby, everything stank of animals and there were no places nearby for you to get your hair and fur styled and pampered! No nail technicians, no fancy cafes, no shops for John to buy you things in! No special made coffee or chef-made meals every other evening, no freshly baked croissants.

You felt like you had tried . You really had.

But after the first week, you had your first breakdown - and as the weeks passed, they didn’t stop. At first, John was sympathetic, like the perfect owner he was.

Cooing at you, kissing your forehead, as he gently scratched your ears. Kissing away any tears, saying it was okay - that you were just overwhelmed, that it would be okay. That you would come to like it out here.

Big fucking joke.

He had tried every trick in the book, in an attempt to please you and made you less upset, but as days turned into weeks and tantrums began to appear, you knew his patience began to disappear.

He followed professional advice and then the advice of the neighbors down the street, Rodolfo and Alejandro (who had caught you running away at one point), tried some of the workers’ advice. He had given you your own room, and it was mostly designed like your own, perfect to the pale green paint on the wall, all your toys and dog beds, your CDs - everything. He had tried hauling you along every day, trying to give you a routine to follow - but after two weeks, he gave up, not having the energy to deal with a tantrum that got worse and worse each day. He went on walks with you, fucked you silly, tried his best — and you didn’t want it.

No, you wanted to go back to your old life. Not this country life that you hadn’t signed up for, with horses that neighed loudly whenever you passed them; they were definitely going to trample you at the first chance, you knew that. You could hear foxes scream in the night, warning you of the dangers. The goats and sheep were so fucking loud and no you didn’t want to go pick fresh apples off the trees - had he seen the size of the spiders crawling on them?

When you in one of your biggest tantrums took off and bolted from the farm in distress, Rodolfo and Alejandro had almost hit you when you emerged from the corn fields onto the road.

You had cried the entire drive home, no matter what the two men had tried saying, especially as Rodolfo called Price in advance — your master was livid . The worst thing was, that it was not that kind of anger where he yelled at you before punishing you - no, this one was almost silent, a sharp grip on your collar as he dragged you along after thanking his neighbours.

He had belted you then, ignoring your crying and screaming, only stopping when you broke, sobbing and going quiet. He had explained it to you then, what could have happened, what dangers you could have ended in - and as you sobbingly apologized and tried to explain, that you wanted to go back to the city, John had sighed .

Said that he had pampered you too much since he got you, which had made you greedy and attention seeking. Which only made you cry more, as you hid your face in his neck, fingers digging into his shirt, ass cheeks burning.

“Spoiled rotten, little birdie,” he mused, though you could hear the softness in him, your tail wagging a little, hoping to get him to be less mad.

“‘M sorry,” you had whined in distress, upset with yourself as well, ears tipping down, “wanna be good but I don’t like it.”

Your rather dull escape attempt resulted in several things. An AirTag on your collar, so that he always knew where you were. A remarkable lack of treats, sex and then… the crate .

You fucking hated the dog crate.

Sure, it hadn’t been nice of you to bite one of his pillows into a simple pulp of fabric, feathers everywhere. Or create chaos in the kitchen… or get drunk on his fancy whiskey (that one had ended worse for you, hangover was a bitch and there wasn’t much sympathy from John). And yes, you might have ripped most of the flowers surrounding the house up, until one of the workers had caught you. Maybe pissing yourself in the middle of the living room while staring him in the eyes and ignoring his warnings had been a little…excessive.

But the dog crate? You hated that thing with a burning passion.

Hated it when he locked you up, ignoring your whimpers and whines, your promises to behave, ignoring your little howls as he left.

Mean. The farm had made him mean. Perhaps you had become a bit unruly too, but it was like he didn’t take your clear suffering seriously.

Mean and happy - unruly and suffering. What a pair you were. One of the workers, KAte Laswell, who was a big helper and often stayed over for dinner, suggested a fucking shock collar. You had growled, only stopped when John sent you a sharp look.

You had even heard him talking over the phone with somebody, saying that he didn’t want to rehome you, but he didn’t know what to do.

That had made you melt a little and you had cried as you had crawled into his bed a couple of hours later, begging him to not abandon you. Fears of never getting to see John again or being loved again by him made you cling onto him as he kissed away your tears, gently fucking you.

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It was a random morning a couple of days later, that you found him still in the kitchen, reading the newspaper, humming to himself while smoking a cigar.

He looked nice like this. Despite how he sometimes muttered about being too old, he wasn’t really that old. Late thirties, and perhaps it was the peace on his face or the sun rays that kissed him, which made him look younger. But still. There was a decade between you, but days like this, you were reminded that it didn’t matter.

“Are you going to stare all day or are you going to join me, Darling?” He asked teasingly, pulling you from your thoughts. You let out a little huff and kissed him good morning, receiving a pat on the ass before you sat down on your own seat. It had been a while since the two of you had eaten together - often he was up at the crack of dawn, so his calm behavior and gentle humming was unusual to say the least.

“Why are you not working?” You asked carefully, as you ate some of the bread, trying to ignore how it wasn’t a fancy sourdough one - though you were pretty sure he had picked it up from a local bakery in the village which was a little drive away.

“Because,” he put the paper down, then tapping some ash off the cigar into his ashtray, before looking over at you, a pleased smile on his face, “you and I are going on a trip.”

“A trip?” You didn’t even bother to be embarrassed about how your voice got higher with excitement or how your tail thumped against the backrest of the chair as you wagged it, “where are we going? When? Can we go now?”

Price had laughed, a happy sound that you knew not many got to hear; it made your heart beat a little faster, made you feel butterflies in your stomach.

“Well, we got to do a few things first to get ready, and you ,” he used the cigar to point at you, your tail wagging a little faster, “need to not freak out when I tell you where we are going.”

Despite the warning, tears streamed down your cheeks when he told you. John didn’t get mad as a part of you had expected; he knew your abandonment issues first hand, knew how you had been left behind before, from one bad owner to another.

“You’re going to sell me and leave me with a mean owner and I’m gonna die of hunger and thirst - and - and —“

“Not gonna leave you, princess,” John crooned, covering your face in kisses as you hiccuped and sniffled, clinging to his clothes, “you know that. My favorite puppy. Pretty girl.”

Despite your tears and small sobs, your tail wagged at his words, “silly puppy,” he mused with a smile, gently scratching your lower back, “‘m not gonna sell you. Ale and Rodolfo are looking for a hybrid, I figured we could go look at the auction as well.”

“What if - what if - what if you’ll like them more?” You sniffled dramatically, sure that your life was only going to become worse than it already was. One thing was this bloody farm and the crate, another thing was having to share Price. You didn’t like the idea one bit. If that happened, you were going to show him how a proper tantrum was thrown - the crate would probably be the least of your worries.

As if to prove his love, John bent you over the table, fucking you in between the clattering dishes and cutlery, tea and coffee almost spilling over. Despite how many times your owner fucked you, it made you lose control of your mind every single time. His cock reached so deep inside you that it bordered on pain, your mouth open as you panted and moaned at each thrust; your soft stomach being pressed against the edge of the table, one hand holding onto the back of your collar, the other on your tail. The table rattled, John groaned and moaned, your fingers desperately trying to hold onto anything.

“My princess,” he snarled darkly into your ear, “you’ll always be mine-“ a moan, a grunt, “- no matter what happens, yeah?”

“Yes ye-ah- yes, sir, I’m yours - ah ah - I’m yours!” you managed in between pants and wails of pleasure, fear of abandonment forgotten in the ocean of euphoric satisfaction.

You came harder than you had for a while; the reminder of your worth, of how you deserved his worship, making you cream around his throbbing length, legs in spasms afterwards. He pushed deeper, filling you up with a loud roar like sound, his hands moving to grab onto the fat of your ass and hips as he came. Pain and pleasure made your toes curl and a content sigh left you, your tail wagging against Price as he chuckled.

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The auction hall was filled to the brim with humans and hybrids alike. Every owned hybrid followed their respective owners, all wearing mandatory leashes so no pets would be confused with the ones that were being sold. You wore your own pink one with pride, gem stones sparkling. A matching leash connected to the D-ring on it, that also bore your tags. You were convinced yours were the most beautiful in this entire place.

“They’re bonded,” Laswell pointed out, pointing to the papers that hung nearby, showing off general information about them, “gotta get all three.”

You dared to look at the little board with the informations about the three hybrids they were looking at.

“Ah, we don't have space for three, mi amor.”

“eso es una pena,” Rodolfo answered, while you looked over at John - who kept looking at the three hybrids. You dared to peek over at them.

All three of them were enormous .

Two of them wore muzzles, meaning they were biters. At least at the auction. You shouldn’t judge then, not really, but you did... Even though you had worn a muzzle five years ago, when Price had chosen you. You hadn’t tried biting people out of malice; you had been scared and angry at the world. Angry for being abandoned once more, over the fact that you were most likely being passed on to another abusive master. You leaned a little closer to Price, taking in his scent.

Even from the start, despite all the problems and your attitude problems, he had been sweet. Strict at times — probably not enough — but kind.

The biggest one looked like a Great Pyrenees breed, most likely. The fur on his ears and tail looked shorter, badly cut. Probably due to matting or if he refused to get it cut. His hair, a dark blonde almost brown, was in a buzz cut. He had scars, all over - unable to hide because of the lack of clothes most hybrids were given, only underwear. There was a lot in his face, though you suspected a bunch were hidden by the muzzle. He stared into nothing, his ears curled back, though they moved now and again, listening to different sounds.

“Hard to get sold,” Laswell commented and you looked over at her in synchronicity with John, “they’re ex-military.”

Like he had been called to them, a man who wore one of the seller badges appeared.

“They’re obedient once they fall into place,” he happily explained, going full seller-mode, “they’re just not too fond of the auctions - too many people.”

“Makes sense,” Price mused, clearly interested - much to your annoyance. The fact that he asked follow up questions made you frown, fingers tightening in his shirt. He was here to look. To help Alejandro and Rodolfo, who both had continued their walk. You dared to look over at the hybrids again. All three were staring at you and John.

“How come they were discharged?”

“One of them got a hearing loss -“ he nodded towards them, “the one with the mohawk. And they’re a bonded pack.”

“So only retiring him was out of the question,” John concluded once more looking over at them.

You felt your tail go in between your legs. He couldn’t be seriously considering those three . you couldn’t help but let out a small whine. Price gave your leash a little tug.

“They’re working dogs,” the seller continued, his eyes flickering to you, making you huff, “so they’ll need something to do, not just be pets.”

“Oh I know. I have a farm. Need some work dogs - this one isn’t guarding much.”

They all laughed, your tail going even further between your legs with embarrassment.

“You can’t be serious,” you whined in a whisper to John, not caring that you sounded needy - spoiled would Laswell had said and you ignored her as she rolled her eyes.

“Hush, Princess.” John didn’t even look at you.

“You have animals there?” The seller asked, “one of them is a herding dog - the border collie.”

“I do - several. That’s why there's a need for guarding dogs as well, bloody wolves have been terrorizing us.”

You knew he was telling the truth; he had muttered about dead sheeps and goats several times - even a calf had lost its life to the wolves in the area, despite he and Laswell having shot two already. Even foxes had gotten into the coop, despite the fences.

“They’re good at that too, with their training,” the seller offered, clearly interested in selling them or at least getting John to bid on them. “The one with the mohawk, Soap , will have hearing aids with him, so you don’t need to worry about that.”

You looked over at this “Soap”, scrunching your nose. They were still staring, the biggest one bending down to listen to the third one, a beautiful black man, whisper in his ear. No doubt judging you.

“It says here they don’t do well with others,” you muttered, in a desperate attempt to sway John, pointing to the board with their papers. It did indeed say so, to which you wanted to argue that YOU should be his main focus in this whole thing - how would he even consider adding them to your household if these dogs could get a hold of you?

“It’s in the sense that they’re not really housetrained to be social family pets,” the seller swooped in, pushing your argument away, annoying you even more, “they’ve had missions all their lives. They need to have something to do.”

“I’m sure you’ll get along with them, sweetheart,” Price answered, giving you a small scratch beneath your chin as he finally looked over at you, a glint in his eyes, “some company will do you good.”

You huffed, crossing your arms. Hardly . Price’s smile told you that he thought this was a great idea however. You dared to look at the men again. Still staring, fucking bastards.

The black man seemed like a mix of some breeds, German shepherd and… you looked shortly at the board. Belgian malinois. Fancy. He wasn’t as tall as the big one, but broad and with scars as well. There was a more slender look to him, but his six pack proved he was strong. His curly hair wasn’t too long, probably cut not too long ago. He was looking at you curiously, making you raise your upper lip a little, as if to warn him.

The one with the hearing loss looked like some sort of border collie - covered in scars as well, some of his skin looking like it had been too close to fire. He was broad like the two others, his upper arms the size of your head. He even sent you a cheeky grin, even daring to wink at you. You just looked away, tipping your chin up a little.

“You can look closer if you want, sir?”

You were pulled back into the conversation at once and before you could argue, John had already passed on your leash to Laswell and walked towards the men with the seller. You whined, distressed that he was really, actually considering this.

“You’ll be fine,” Laswell commented calmly, with empathy in her voice for once, though she didn’t look at you, merely at John and the others.

“He is gonna lose interest in me,” you whined, perhaps a little dramatically, bottom lip wobbling a little as you could feel tears welling up in your eyes, “then he’ll leave me in the crate all day and only care about them an—“

“Calm down,” Laswell said, “you’ll work yourself into a fuss.”

“He can’t do this to me,” you argued in a sullen voice, already imagining John forgetting all about you, focusing on these three hybrids for the rest of his life, leaving you cold and lonely inside the dog crate - maybe even rehoming you, “he promised he wouldn’t get rid of me.”

“You’re being dramatic,” Laswell answered just as calmly as before, “John loves you too much, you’re just being spoiled. Hanging out with some working dogs will do you good.”

“They probably have fleas,” you said, your prejudices seeping into your words, knowing you’re being mean, judgmental against your own kind, “they’ll kill me and eat my dead body.”

Laswell laughed. “No they won’t. Worst thing they’ll do, is probably knock you up.”

A high pitched, scandalized sound left you, despite knowing you had an implant. Laswell laughed again, giving your leash a little yank and then scratching you behind your long ears.

“Settle, Princess. That won’t happen without John’s permission.”

You almost cried at the sight of John shaking the seller’s hand.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

They all met up again for the actual auction part and you sat at John’s feet, sniffling a little. Crying hadn’t helped, in fact John had just petted and kissed you, calling you sensitive. Alejandro had gotten a hybrid earlier that they didn’t need to bid on - she was for sale for a certain price. Something about being too intense without enough space to roam, having attacked others before.

Fucking great. Beasts all around you.

John won the bidding on the three working dog hybrids he had been interested in - because of course he did. He spent way too much money on them too, according to you.

One more - or well, three more fucking things to hate about this “farming life” that had been forced upon you.

Maybe John had gone mad.

next chapter ->

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rosemaryhelenxo · 3 months ago

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Sopley Farm, Pick Your Own: Enjoy Fresh Berries and More in Christchurch, Dorset | Travel

“Nestled in the idyllic countryside off the Avon Causeway, in close proximity to the picturesque New Forest, is Sopley Farm – a seasonal Pick Your Own destination! “ Sopley Farm in Christchurch, Dorset is known for its Pick Your Own experience, specifically for their juicy strawberries during the summer and their pumpkin patch in the autumn! This family-owned farm, part of Dan Tanner’s, has…

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imaginaryf1shots · 8 months ago

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Doubt | Lewis Hamilton

WC: 4.1K

Lewis H. x reader

Summery:(REQUESTED) What happens when the news about Lewis move to Ferrari gets leaked and all eyes turn to you.

Warning: cursing? (Don't remember if there's any, but just incase be warned)

Masterlist

Lewis Masterlist

You've been in a relationship with Lewis for a little over two years, and it’s safe to say that they’ve been the best two years of your life. You couldn’t dream of a better boyfriend even if you tried, you don’t think you’ve shown Lewis or his fans any bad thing. You feel like you’ve always been friend;y with the fans, never responded to the hate you got for dating the 7 times world champion, and you’ve gotten a lot.

On February 1st you woke up to Lewis getting out of the bed, you blinked seeing him looking at his phone as he walked out of the room. His back is tense, you slip on Lewis’s shirt from the day before as you get out of the bed, you follow him out and see him pacing back and forth in the living room. You gave him a questioning look but he doesn’t give you any indication of what’s going on.

”-I just don’t understand how it’s already out.” Lewis says on the phone and you start to piece together what happened. “Only a few people know about the move.”

You close your eyes knowing how the media will eat this up and be all over the news analysing everything that ever happened and will happen this season, you go to the kitchen and put the kettle on for some tea, you also put some food in Rosco’s bowl. It takes Lewis another 10 minutes for him to finish the call. you go to his side with the tea, he gives you a thankful smile which you return.

“Who leaked it?” You ask him knowing that this is what’s going to be on his mind the most.

”We don’t know yet.” He groans and leans back on the sofa, his head tilted up, you rub his arms and lean in and press a kiss to his cheek.

”What will you do?” You ask him softly, not taking your eyes off him.

“Not address it for now, wait a bit to see what reactions the people will have.” Lewis says and you sigh.

”Okay, well don’t overthink it, it happened, we have under a month before the season starts, so let’s enjoy the last bit of your time off, come on, what do you feel like having for breakfast?”

“Hmm, anything you are I’ll love.” Lewis says with a smile leaning over, you kiss him softly on the lips and get up to head to the kitchen to start on breakfast.

you knew this wasn’t the end of it and that the teams will look into who leaked the news of Lewis’s move from Mercedes to the media, fans also were on it and had their theories and as the last bit of vacation came, they got wilder and wilder, the thing you truly didn’t expect os for the fans to turn their sights on you. those that hated you looked like they doubled with the amount of hate you’ve had on your socials, you’re being accused of everything under the sun, you’re being bullied and shamed for your looks, for not being trustworthy, for being a gold-digger and everything else under the sun. nothing really affected you from all that hate, as long as it;s coming from people that don’t know you, you believe that it’s done out of jealousy and want for what you have, they don’t know you so why would their words affect you? doesn’t mean you like it, or that it should happen in the first place, but you do slow down on your social media presence, but you don't sit and let it consume you, you continue living your life and let them talk.

Lewis and you are in England for the last preparation before the start of the season, he’s been super busy so you spent the last few days barely seeing him, spending your time with his family and your friends in the UK. so you’re a bit surprised when you get back from shopping with his mu, to see him on the sofa with his phone.

”Hey, when did you get back?” You ask, smiling, putting your bags to the side, and walking to his side.

”Two hours ago.” He says not looking up from his phone, you hum and lean in for a kiss but he moves last second so your lips fall onto his cheek instead, and before you could react he’s standing up and heading to the bedroom.

”Lew, is something wrong?” You ask and stand up following him slowly, confused, your brain goes over everything that has happened lately trying to find something wrong that you’ve done but coming up blank.

”No.” He says simply, you frown not believing him, he’s acting cold, it’s a stark contrast to his usual self, he goes to the closet and closes the door, you stand there nt knowing ahwaz to do, he didn't kiss you, left you in the icing room, is giving you one word answers, and closed the door to change all things he doesn’t do. you sit on the bed and put your head in your hands that are resting on your knees, there’s something definitely wrong, because why is this happening out of nowhere. You’re biting your lips, stressed and lost at the same time, when he comes out he’s dressed in a hoodie and sweats with the hood up covering part of his face.

“You’re leaving?” YOu ask him standing up, again he doesn’t look at you, another unusual thing.

”Yeah.” Is all you get.

”Where?”

”Out.”

”Oh.” It takes everything in you to get your eyes not to fill up with tears, but your vice is breathier and shakier. “When will you come back?”

“I don’t know.”

“Okay, well have fun.” You manage to say before he’s out of the bedroom and out of the house. Why is he acting so… so asshole-y, nothing is making sense to you right now, there’s no reason for him to be this way, no reason, and even if there was something that you’ve done, you’re the kind of couple that are completely open with one another if something is bothering one of you then you talk it out, you don't just let it come between you because well most things are misunderstandings, and you need to be patient enough and understanding enough to talk it out. You debate calling someone to ask if something happened, but you’re also not the type to ask for outer help when it comes to your relationship, to outsiders they think that you’ve never had a fight or disagreement that you’re the perfect couple. You’re really private when it comes to the dynamic and the inner workings of your relationship.

Feeling frustrated and suddenly so alone, tears gather in your eyes and l eaves in waves, you sit in front of the bed leaning your back to it, and just let them flow. Rosco comes into the room and whines, he rubs up against you making you scratch and pet him the way he likes.

”Do you know what's wrong with daddy? hm? I didn't think so.” You mutter and smile as Rosco licks your hand. “I know, I know, I love you.”

You decide to stop crying and wait for Lewis to come back, because there must be a reason for him being like that and you just need to talk it out, you convince yourself that he went out for a breather and he’ll come back soon, but as the minutes turn into hours and there’s no sign of him coming back, you change into your pyjamas and head to bed. You don’t know how long you laid there, tossing and turning, covering and uncovering yourself. you’re still awake when Lewis eventually comes back,sitting up when he gets into the bedroom, you know he expected you to be asleep from the look on his face. Your eyes are slightly red making him soften up a little, but he’s mad, he’s upset and feels betrayed and it’s eating him up.

“Lew, can we please talk?” You ask hating how small you sound, this is not you at all. you’re always confident and sure of yourself, you’re not this small upset little girl. guess when it comes to the ones you love you’re everything you’re usually aren’t.

”Later.” Again with the one word answers, he changed again in the closet closing the door behind him. You know that if he doesn’t talk to you, you won’t be able to fall asleep, so you move to the end of the bed and wait for him until he comes back out.

”I think we should talk now.” You say standing up but don't move towards him, in fear or rejection.

”I don’t think so.” He says shaking his head and shrugging, still not looking at you.

”Well, it’s not just up to you.” You say frustrated, you’re not backing down until he tells you what you’ve done wrong, or what happened. “You’re in a relationship okay, this works both ways, and you can't just ignore me for no reason because you want to.”

“No reason?” He scoffs, sounding a bit amused before he changes his tone. “No reason, there is a reason, okay.” This is the first time he’s shown you any emotion today and you can’t be happy because it;s all anger coming out of his mouth at the moment and it’s completely unwarranted.

”Then what is the reason Lewis, because surprise! I don’t read minds, and we haven’t even seen each other that much these past few days, so please tell me what happened.” You plead with Lewis in desperation, another thing that doesn’t ever happen, you never plead or beg unless playfully and in the bedroom.

“I know okay, I know, you don’t have to act anymore, you can just tell me.” Lewis says leaving you even more confused.

“Tell you what? you haven’t even said anything, how am i supposed to know what to tell you when I don’t know myself, look Lewis this isn’t like you, we never solve things this way, I don’t know what has gotten into you but just tell me.” You sounded tired at this point, no further well to keep fighting after being ignored and talked to in cryptic words.

”The news about Ferrari-“ Lewis starts before he stops himself.

”What about it? What does that have to do with-“ It dawns on you what happened, the reason he’s refusing to talk to you, the reason he’s so cold and distant, the reason for the betrayed look on his face. You couldn’t help yourself, you laugh, you laugh and you laugh.”Fucking hell LEwis, I don’t believe you right now, I truly don’t”

”Do you deny it?” He asks and you laugh again, every time you laugh you know he gets annoyed but you don’t have it in you to care, you see it now, and it’s all over his face, he’s feeling cheated, like he was stabbed in the back, just betrayed.

”Why does it matter what I say? I mean you already decided that I did it, so why does it matter if I agree or not?” You ask him, shaking your head.

”Just answer me, did you tell the media?” He asked stepping half way closer and this time you step away, you turn and head into the closet. “Where are you going? I’m not done talking about this.”

”Well, I am.” You say closing the door in his face, quickly changing in a sweat set and taking a beak pack and put a few essentials in, when you open the closet door to head out you find Lewis waiting for you, but you ignore him and take your purse from the vanity.

”Wasn’t it you that said that we have to talk?” Lewis follows you and you sigh.

”Yes, and it was also you who ignored me.” Lewis gets in your way blocking the front door. “Lewis, love, look, if you doubt me then why are we even talking, I mean you believe the conspiracy theories that the fans spouted out as if we haven’t been together for years, you clearly don’t trust me to believe that I would do something like this, you have no trust in me.”

”So you’re going to do what? Leave?” Lewis asks and you sidestep him.

”What else am I supposed to do, stay and beg you to believe me? I’m not that kind of woman Lewis and if I was you wouldn’t have been with me in the first place.” You say and open the door to leave. “Once the season starts, I’ll come back to gather my things, same with Monaco, you son’s have to see me anymore.”

You close the door in his face and leave, Lewis stands there in silence and for the first time since he was told by someone in his team that it was you that did it, he’s starting to doubt it, yes you’re one of the only people who knew about his move, but you weren’t the only one. however his fans and his team, everyone is saying it’s you.

The season starts and you’re not in the paddock, something that is clearly noticed. In the last two years you’ve been at every first and last race along with as many as you could, you’re one of the wags that are at most of the races. All this rules the rumours but they’re just rumours as of now, there’s no way for anyone to actually know, you still follow each other, but you haven’t posted since you last saw Lewis. You’ve dropped off the face of the earth, gone MIA. LEwis sen you one text saying you can stay in his London house for as long as you needed, and that was it. He wasn’t cruel, he begged you to move in with him and he wasn’t about to leave you in the streets, but he knows you haven’t been there, the security system hasn’t been deactivated once.

Bahrain comes and goes and so does Jeddah and Lewis is missing you, he won’t admit it but he misses you like crazy, he’s so used to having you by his side. You’re always there to hug him and take care of him after a race, whether you’re physically there or you’re on facetime with him. His bed is cold when he gets in, he finds himself reaching to your side of the bed to pull you close only to find you not there and every time it kills him a little. He still feels betrayed but he misses you, he loves you and it makes it so much harder for him.

It’s been over a month and you still haven’t confirmed your breakup and you haven’t unfollowed each other, but the fans have taken your absence as a sight to confirm that it was you that leaked the information.

The truth always comes out, sometimes it’s instant, sometimes it takes a while, but eventually it does come out. So here you are sitting on the sofa at your parents’s house, where you've been since you left Lewis in February. The headlines are bold and clear, someone from Mercedes heard Toto and George talking about the move and sold the news to the media for a bit of money. Suddenly you’re trending on twitter(it’s not X) and flooded with apologies and ‘I believed you’ and ‘we were wrong’, but it doesn’t matter to you, you don't care. You turned off your phone and went to go find your mum to help her with dinner.

You don’t turn on your phone the next day, or the day after or the day after that. Feeling happy with the detox you’re having. you do wonder what’s going through LEwis’s mind thought, he now knows the truth as well, he knows that you had absolutely nothing to do with it and as much as you want it to fill you with joy that he’s proven wrong, it doesn’t. You’re still miserable and hurt, you’re so hurt by him believing that it physically hurts you, you lost a big piece of you that day, the piece that you had given Lewis, the part that he promised to take care of to protect to love and he broke that promise, you thought, you believed the he’s different but he didn’t believer you in the end, he didn’t even ask you.

It’s a Wednesday night when someone rings the front door bell, you’re in your room and don’t move knowing one of your parents will answer the door.

”y/n!” Your mum calls for you, you get up from your childhood bed and go to see what she wants, walking into the living room you stop in your tracks seeing Lewis standing in front of you. You look at your mum and dad, your dad had an annoyed look on his face, you haven’t told them what had happened and they didn’t ask, but it doesn’t take a genius to guess with you turning up at their door one random day with a bag and no explanation.

”Hi.” Lewis says and takes you in, dressed in one of your lounge sets with your hair in a messy bun, but looking oh so beautiful, he missed you so much, he missed everything about you. You stand there not knowing what to do, you haven’t expected him to turn up, you haven’t been to Monaco to get your things yet, but you cleared your stuff from his London house and into a storage until just a week ago.

”Do you want him to stay?” Your dad asks and you know that if you said no, he;d kick Lewis out, no questions asked.

”No, no it’s okay.” You mutter and give your dad a small smile, your parents nod and leave the living room and go to the garden, you know for a fact it’s an effort for them not to eavesdrop on your conversation if they’re in the house.

Once they’re out you turn to look at Lewis and you see the bags under his eyes, you know he hasn’t been sleeping well, he hasn’t for a while, you could tell even from the TV. “Sit down.” You gesture for him to sit on the sofa, he follows your instructions and you sit across from him, placing your hands between your legs.

“I uh, I tried calling you.” Lewis says sounding nervous, you’re both acting like you haven’t been in a relationship for over two years and understandingly so, the last time you talked Lewis was hurt about the thought of you betraying him and now, he’s here because you never did but he betrayed you by doubting you and that hurt you and it missed him up. The guilt is eating him up, he came here knowing there’s a big chance you wouldn’t take him back and forgive him, but there’s a bit of hope inside of him and he’s willing to take that risk and try, he’d get on his knees if he had to.

”I turned my phone off a few days ago, it was all a bit too much.” You say and bite at your lip, not looking at Lewis for too long, you haven’t cried since you left him that day, but you feel like you’re about to cry now if you keep looking at him too long.

”I’m sorry about that.” Lewis says and you shrug.

”It is what it is.” You mutter, giving him a tight lipped smile. “Can’t do anything about it.”

”I could’ve but I didn’t, y/n, love, I’m so sorry, I’m truly sorry, I wish I could take it all back.” Lewis says his voice heavy and full of regret. “There’s no excuse for what I’ve done, and I should’ve stood up for you online and for my team. I feel terrible and I don’t blame you for being upset and mad at me.”

”I’m not mad.” You say tears leaving your eyes, you have to look away, your jaw clenching and unclenching, you sniff before you look back at him. “I’m hurt Lewis you doubting me is what hurts the most, I don’t care that you didn’t stand up for me online or any of that stuff, but you were so cold to me and you didn’t even talk to me about it like you usually do, you ignored me and the accused me, you were so cruel.”

”I know, and it’s my biggest regret, I don’t want to lose you, those weeks without you have been the worst and you’ve been, you've been too kind to me, you can yell if you want, curse me, hit me, tell me how messed up I am, just-just give me a chance, give us a chance.” Lewis moves to the coffee table so he’s close to you and there's no escaping his eyes now, the ones you missed so much the last few weeks. “Don;t forgive me yet, wait until I’ve earned it, but don’t shut me out, I’d do anything you want, apologise a hundred times if you want just please.”

“I don’t know Lewis, just as you felt betrayed when you thought I leaked it, I feel betrayed because of how you were.” You say pushing your tears away with the back of your hand, your lips red from all the biting you were doing to not sob. “I love you with all of my heart, but I still feel so hurt, it physically pains me to know you;d think of me like that, that I’d be capable of betraying your trust in me.”

”It was a moment of weakness, believe me darling, it would never ever happen again, never, I love you so much and being away from you is much worse than anything I’ve even been through.” Lewis says and takes your hand in both of his, they’re warm and conferring, you take in the details of his tattoos, the ones you usually take when you’re lost in thought or board, the ones that hold you and pull you close, the ones that pull you for randomly dancing because he just felt like it, the ones you missed so much. You stay silent lost in thought, you know you still love Lewis and you want to get back with him, but something like this can’t be forgotten easily. Lewis gets on his knees moving even closer to you. “I’m begging you my love please, just give us a chance, and if at any point you feel like you can’t forgive me then that’s it, I’ll let you go, no matter what I feel.”

You sigh, closing your eyes and resting your forehead on his, your hand cupping his cheek, feeling his beard, his skin, feeling him.

“Okay.” You breath, your voice is barely a whisper, Lewis thinks he may have misheard or imagined it. “Okay, let’s try to move on from this, but, but it’ll take time for both of us to heal.”

”I know, and I’ll wait for you and help you heal, as much time as you need.” Lewis pulls away to kiss your forehead feeling like a kiss on the lips might be too much right now. “Can I hug you?”

”Please.” Lewis stands up pulling you in for a much needed hug, you stand there for a long time, not saying anything just holding each other. Basking in the comfort of finlay being in each other’s arms again, you’re home.

It takes a while for things to get back how it was, you still were offline, and there has been no sightings of you with Lewis anywhere, everyone assumed that your relationship has ended and that you’ve both went your separate ways, but you’ve been working on your relationship and on yourselves, taking all the time you needed to heal and come out stronger than you were before.

So it takes everyone by surprise when you turn up to the paddock in Monaco hand in hand with Lewis, the fans go crazy with the news, the true ones over the roof with happiness. You do have to admit that you missed the paddock and the excitement and the rush that comes with it. You and Lewis aren’t big on PDA, but pictures of you two holding hands, hugging and sharing a couple kisses are all over the internet by the time the weekend comes to an end.

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