#she had to Deal with tha | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cherryheairt · 3 months ago

Text

Not Yet Blossomed

Cregan Stark x Bolton's wife!reader

Summary- When Cregan visits the Boltons to oversee their livestock problem, he can't help but be enamored with Lord Bolton's meek wife. When he finds the truth of their relationship, he commits himself to saving her.

named Tully reader no desc

part 1?

Cregan's journey to the Dreadford was uneventful to say the least. He had enough problems to deal with in Winterfell, so being summoned by the Boltons to oversee their newest livestock problems was the least of his concerns. However, Ryen Bolton's letter remained ominous when he first sent for Lord Stark's help. Apparently, the livestock were going missing in bundles at a time. Too many to be regular predators or the animals to simply be wandering off on their own.

Cregan promised himself to deal with this swiftly. No more than a few days, then he could go back home and deal with bigger problems.

Bolton was lucky that it was still summer, warmer, and bountiful in its harvests. If it were any other season, Cregan would not have bothered with the matter himself and instead sent his trusted bannermen to meet with Ryen. Though the ground was mostly clear of snow, it did not stop the slightest tears of white to fall from the sky in light showers, the sun deterring it from sticking to the floor for long. The air carried a chilling breeze, though the sunlight kissed his cheeks warmly as he traveled on horseback.

A few days, he reminded himself.

It was only when he first saw Lady Bolton that his mind was swayed.

A beautiful young lady, to be sure. Cregan had once considered her for his own marriage before her hand was swiftly taken by Ryen. The elder man had been enamored with her beauty and grace when she had visited the Dreadfort with her father, Samuel Tully.

A shame, Cregan had thought those years ago. The two of them were so similar in age, and their houses were both paramount over the Northern and Riverland Houses. A beneficial arrangement would have surely come from their marriage. Plus, he had found a pleasent friend within their short time together.

He had met her only once, when they were both five and ten. The young Lady had been a picture of Southern elegance and flowery words, though she had none of the falseness of her kin. She was all genuine, a breath of fresh air to all who sought her company.

Ciara Tully had married at the age of six and ten to Ryen Bolton, a man of eight and thirty. Cregan had scowled when the raven had come from Samuel Tully to inform him of his daughter no longer being available. If only he had moved sooner, he had sulked for days after the news before finding his resolve and moving on to other prospects. He had no regrets in that regard, for he found a love match in his searching.

Ryen had always been a callous and frustrating man to deal with, but Cregan persevered through their occasional meetings by telling himself it would all be over soon. The Lord never liked to speak for long, not when he was more focused on drowning himself in his cups. When he did speak, it was a whole lot of nothing.

When Cregan entered the keep's council room to meet Lord Bolton, he was shocked to be met with a young boy at the man's side instead of his wife. The seat next to him was empty, and only a few adult male kin of House Bolton and the Maester were also in the room. "Will Lady Bolton not be in attendance?" Asked Cregan, sitting across from Ryen. It was the one empty seat in the room now.

Ryen coughed, shifting in his seat. "Ciara has other matters to attend to. She need not bother with the matters of men." He said dismissively, though it seemed to Cregan that he had forgotten that most Ladies would attend council with their Lord husbands at all.

Arra Norrey had when she was alive, attending every meeting Cregan held until the unfortunate day of her parting. She was a brilliant and influential mind, never afraid to speak her opinion. The North was better for it.

Ryen did not seem to share the opinion that the Bolton Lady should attend to her political duties.

Cregan nodded and left it at that, glancing briefly at the boy next to Ryen, who puffed out his cheeks and fiddled with his fur coat boredly.

Ryen seemed to perk at the opportunity to introduce. "This is my son and heir, Dalton. A boy of four just recently." He said, russeling the boy's brown hair that perfectly reflected his own. He was a bit young to be learning the ways of Lordship, but Cregan dismissed that as the man being eager to have his son learn the Bolton ways. Who was Cregan to judge, anyway? He was no longer a father himself, nor had his son lived long enough for him to consider education.

The Stark nodded his greeting, turning back to the Bolton. "What of the situation at hand?"

Ryen straightened up, folding his hands. "My farmers have accounted for flocks of sheep and pigs going missing. Which, normally, I would send for poachers to deal with the wolves or bears taking from the fields, but none of my men have spotted any signs of such predators." He took a moment to lubricate his throat with an arbor red wine.

"Many farmers are reporting such activity, and it has come to a point where I thought we could benefit from an outside view on the matter."

Or he wanted to wash his hands of the burden of being Lord, Cregan thought wryly. Lazy as his father.

He firmly nodded. "I will scout out these areas myself, with Night Seeker to guide. The direwolf is a better tracker than most hunters, to be certain." He smiled tensely, scooting his seat out and excusing himself. "I will be back in a few days' time."

Cregan found himself wandering to the gardens of the Dreadfort after he finished gathering the farm locations from the resident Maester. He needed to clear his mind and plan for any possible outcomes. He had not yet dealt with a curious situation like this one.

There, he saw a woman in a blood-red dress crouched over some winter roses. Not yet in full bloom, the bright blue of the flowers was dulled and closed to a point.

Approaching slowly, Cregan cleared his throat gently to announce his presence.

Met with an almost violent flinch and swift turn, the woman revealed herself to be Ciara. "Lord Bolton—" She started, cutting herself off when she was met with a man other than her husband. Her hands grasped anxiously at her skirts, ruffling the silky material within her palms. She wore a fine ruby necklace and earrings to match, black laced gloves upon her smooth hands. It seemed far too thin and frilly to warm her properly in such weather, but the Lady seemed not to mind it, perhaps wearing such attire daily.

"Lady Ciara," Cregan greeted kindly, bowing his head to the young woman. The years had been kind to her, transforming her from a comely girl to a radiant woman.

"Lord...Cregan?" She asked tentatively, only going off of her faint memory of the man. He seemed to have grown in both height and muscle since their meeting years ago. "It has been a while. What brings you to the Dreadfort?"

Her voice was tense but not unfriendly. He was stunned at how warily she eyed him, not at all the joyful and outgoing girl he had met before. "Aye. Six years, if I remember correctly."

Ciara glanced behind Cregan, wringing her hands together. "It is nice to see you again. I am sorry to hear about your wife and..." she trailed off quietly, not finding the words to express the loss of his infant child. It had been three years ago that Arra met her unfortunate fate, followed by Rickon a year later when he had come down with fever.

"Thank you, my Lady. I am here to deal with Lord Bolton's problem with the flocks going missing. I'm sure you've heard of it."

"I have not, actually." Spoken hesitantly. "Is everything alright?"

"That is none of your concern, wife." Ryen Bolton spoke harshly from next behind Ciara's shoulder. Cregan almost cursed at the suddenness, as if the man had a beacon that told when others congregated on his lands. Glancing at the elder, he raised a straight brow at the interruption.

A firm had was placed on Ciara's shoulder, earning a barely consealed flinch from the lady. She seemed to shrink further under Ryen's presence, bowing her head and looking to her feet. "Forgive me, Lord Bolton. I will return to my chambers." With a curtsy and flurry of silk, she was gone.

Ryen spoke first, a heavy sigh coming from his thin, cracked lips. "Forgive my wife. She seems to wander these days, against her better judgement. Always disturbing the house and the children. I'll see to it that she does not bother you during your stay, my Lord."

Cregan narrowed his eyes, ticking his jaw at the tone and words used on the man's own wife. Never had he thought his former wife to be a bother in any circumstance, nor had his father spoken like that about Gilliane. "A disturbance to her own house and children, my Lord?" He asked.

"It may sound exaggerated to you, but you don't live with her. She is constantly interrupting the children's lessons and the staff for menial things. One would say she's trying to help, but I say she's always been like this—desperate for attention." Ryen leaned closer, hot breath hitting Cregan's senses unpleasantly as he did so. "Between you and me, she's always been a bit slow. Only good for her looks, I suppose, so she has her uses." The man bellowed at his own jest, excusing himself to attend to the awaiting Maester at the archway of the gardens.

Cregan silently seethed in the spot he was left in, breathing carefully to not lose his cool. He was Warden of the North, his attentions must first and foremost lie with the people's problems. He could not intervene in martial problems.

The rest of the day went by quickly, with Cregan waiting for the morrow's daylight before he left. At supper, Lady Ciara was missing too, only noticed by Cregan. Everyone else seemed not to mind or care, going about the dinner with loud laughs and shallow conversations. Young Dalton was now joined by an even younger sister, who Cregan learned was named Mabel. An imagine of her mother, even at the young age of two. The hair, skin color, and even eye color were all inherited from Mabel's mother, while Dalton was a mirror of his father. Mabel was ignored by Ryen, too, but not by the maids and servants passing by, always attending the children equally and kindly. The wet nurse spoon fed Mabel a few seats down from Ryen, quietly working to get through the supper before the men got too drunk and rowdy.

Cregan did not mention Ciara's absence again. He simply sipped on his ale and chewed on his mutton while waiting for enough time to pass for a suitable time to excuse himself.

Finally, when Ryen had drank enough to put a young squire to rest, the Stark abruptly left with the excuse of resting well for the morrow.

He made his way through the fort's winding halls, only stopping at the opened nursery. Ciara was not in the room, unsurprisingly. With no babes to look after in it, it was empty. He moved on to the next rooms, sure to find the Lady of the house's room nearby to her children.

It was not. After minutes of searching empty rooms and quiet halls, Cregan found Ciara's room in one of the towers of the Dreadfort. Tucked away in a cold corner, the towers of large keeps were usually reserved for when the keep housed many guests due to the towers having thinner walls and less insulation. Ladies and Lords never kept rooms of their own residence in such places.

When Cregan heard the quiet and peaceful humming, he followed it all the way up the spiraling stairs. The door was ajar, an inviting position for any passerbys—though none seemed to take it but himself.

Ciara sat on the stone floor, dressed in a velvety blue gown suited for dinner, though she did not attend it. She hummed on lowly as she embroidered what appeared to be a lavender baby's blanket, weaving darker flowers into it for her daughter. The stitching was near professional, similar to the stitches he was used to seeing on the clothes he bought from tailors, though hers was more personal instead of used for the practicality of his sigil.

Ciara huddled herself as close to the hearth as she could without burning herself, furs being placed over her shoulders and atop the fine dress. Still, she shivered under them and shook her hands occasionally to warm them. Even Cregan suppressed a shiver in the cold room, with his leathers and furs on his person.

The room itself felt empty and impersonal. There was no decoration; only a bed, hearth, settee, wardrobe, and what he assumed was a chest filled with embroidery supplies.

He announced himself with a brief knock on the open door, standing awkwardly in the archway. Her eyes shot up immediately to meet his, appearing like a rabbit in front of the wolf, betraying her Tully blood's 'fish' heritage. "Lord Stark." She said, swallowing harshly. "What brings you up here?"

Suspicious eyes glanced between him and the stairwell as she stood, setting her supplies down.

"I wished to apologize for earlier in the gardens. It was not my intent to bother you or upset Lord Bolton. I hope my mistake did not sway you to not come to dinner tonight?"

She shook her head quickly, though she furrowed her brow as if gauging his intent. "Of course not. In fact, I had wished to come tonight. It is nice to see an old friend, someone familiar to me. But...I was not summoned tonight." Was the simple answer.

"Summoned?" He could not stop himself from asking. "Surely you need not be summonded in your house." He said lightly.

Twisting her ring, she pursed her lips. "My husband gets irritated easily. He says it is best that I stay in my room most nights, so I cannot be in the way. Most of the time, I think he just forgets to send for me." She smiled sadly, though her words were beyond casual.

Cregan held a sigh back, going along with her casual attitude. "Your rooms are quite far, my Lady. Are there no open ones next to the nursery?" He asked.

She looked down at her feet again. This time, an indescribable tone laced her words. "I stayed there when Dalton was first born, but Ryen says it was much too close. That a woman's softness should not influence his son. I suppose he was right, I did spend too much time with them."

"They are but four and two. Children at that age need their parents—their mothers." Cregan offered, stepping a bit closer. He remembered little of his youth at that age, but knew from watching his own younger siblings grow that his mother and father both doted on them until they gained their own independence and started spending time with courtyard friends than their parents.

She took a subtle matching step backward, leaving Cregan to still himself entirely to not discomfort her. Shaking her head 'no', she disagreed with the Lord. "He is right. The children had started crying when parted from me. It was best that I moved away."

"That is a normal thing for one's own children to do. It shows that they are most comfortable with you, rather than servants." He stated.

"I'm afraid it is not possible. Staying up here has allowed me to keep Ryen happy. And Dalton, I'm sure." She nodded to herself, still avoiding Cregan's eyes.

"Dalton? Have you not spent much time with him after your move?"

"Oh, no. Of course not." She laughed quietly, brushing a stand of hair behind her ear. It held none of the true joy that it once did when she was younger. Her eyes held the same dullness that the winter roses in the gardens did, like the life had been sucked out of her since her marriage. "I'm not to see him at all, unless I am allowed to come to dinner. My daughter, though, is different. Her wet nurse takes breaks, and then I look after her for a time."

It should be the other way around, with the wet nurse taking Mabel only when Ciara felt drained from all the energy babes took to care for. Cregan had truly never heard of babes being taken from their own mothers except for special exceptions like illness or the occasional post-birth rut that trapped new mothers. Ciara was neither sick nor unresponsive, so Ryen's orders made zero sense.

"Have you eaten, my Lady?" He changed the topic of conversation, afraid to upset her or himself any longer.

"I have, earlier. Gresha brings me meals to my room." She said brightly, nodding to the settee and small table in front of it that he hadn't noticed before. Cregan felt a squeeze in his heart, seeing the half-emptied plate alone on the table. He had never guessed how Lady Ciara's life had been since her marriage all those years ago. Never would he have assumed it would be so desolate.

Most Ladies, even when dealt a poor hand with their husbands, always had their children to keep them company. Or visiting family, since their Houses were so close together. Ciara had none. She lived her days like a forgotten ghost haunting the Dreadfort, only remembered by the servants assigned to her and her husband, occasionally, when she got bold enough to wander the halls of her own home.

Even then, she could not find it in her heart to hold anger. Ever the patient and kind soul, Ciara persevered through the situation and found the best of it. Grateful for every crumb of respect and decency she was provided. This was no way a noble lady of her status should be treated.

For once, Cregan Stark felt utterly helpless.

He left early in the morning, Night Seeker at his heels. His first destination was to White Tower, one of the larger farms he had marked down on his map. Within the lands of the Boltons, White Tower held many acres and the largest flock of sheep available to the House. Cregan figured the root of the problem could easily be found at such a place.

White Tower was nothing special, only a few barns, mills, and a small house at the top of a hill. There, Cregan was greeted by Zayne and Milly Narrows. An old and kind couple, they recounted tales of their missing sheep with stressed tears filling their eyelines.

"You see, Lord Stark, it had only started with one or two at first. Then, weeks later, the sheep dissappeared in bunches at a time. We're already down to half our flock, and if it continues like this, we'll lose everything we've worked so hard for." Milly Narrows told him, hankerchief brushing her eyes and nose to keep appearances.

Zayne nodded solemnly, a more quiet presence than his wife. "I thought it was some coyotes or wolves, like it normally is, but our livestock dogs haven't alerted us to anything. No blood, no tracks, just missin' sheep."

Cregan hummed thoughtfully, glancing out of the window to the green fields. "That is a conundrum. I've never had a livestock problem where the dogs didn't know the situation better than the farmers." He said, mostly to himself.

"Can you help us, Lord Stark?" Milly asked, teary eyes hopeful.

"I will try my best, miss." He promised, leaving the home with his sword strapped to his shoulder. Whatever he would face, he would never do so without Ice. Night Seeker was already waiting by the fence where Cregan left him, panting at the sight of so many sheep flocked together in a confined space. Luckily, the wolf knew better than to give into such baser instinct. Cregan clicked his tongue for the direwolf to follow, pointing out to the forest where the Narrows had said the most foliage was tussled.

Night Seeker ran ahead, sniffing eagerly at anything and everything. It seemed he immediately found a trail, much to Cregan's surprise. Why hadn't the Narrows' dogs found anything?

He trudged forth, brushing past any bushes or trees in the way to follow the tracker. Night Seeker moved with a vigor, excitement growing at the chase, though admittedly Cregan's own curiousity grew as they went. Indeed, there were no animal tracks or strong scents to be seen by the human eye or smelt by the human nose.

Finally, after perhaps two hours of this, the forest broke into clear daylight. Beyond the treeline was more grass, though the chill was still lingering from the cool morning. Empty rolling fields, it seemed to be, leading Cregan to glance at his companion.

The direwolf's tongue lolled from its maw, tail wagging at his grand find. "What is this?" Cregan asked tiredly, doubting the location of multitudes of sheep being in such an open area.

The wolf huffed before breaking off into a dead sprint ahead, leaving Cregan to stammer and chase after him as best he could.

The fields winded for what felt like forever before leading to the border stones between House Flint and House Bolton. Only a few towers of smooth grey stone, as borders were oft marked by, it was an underwhelming sight. The direwolf knew better than to cross such things without Cregan's explicit permission, so he was left waiting for the man to catch up. Panting heavily, Cregan's brow furrowed. "House Flint?" He asked himself softly, wondering why the sheep trail would lead to the border.

House Flint had stayed unproblematic for Cregan's current rule and for Rickon's before him, too. Not having to do much in terms of peacekeeping, Cregan was glad to have a lightened load when it came to the ancient house.

"Go on." He commanded. They were surely close to the answer.

The direwolf happily led the way to a series of massive makeshift barns. Peeking inside, Cregan could not count the amount of livestock being held. On the doors was labeled 'Narrows', 'Fresc', and 'Limbant', three of the family farms that reported livestock missing.

Cregan cursed quietly, moving on to the next barn. Inside were pigs of ranging sizes and colors, labeled all the same. Wielding his ancestral sword, Cregan rounded the wooden buildings to the end of the row, finding a camp filled with a group of young men.

"What is this display before my eyes?" He demanded harshly, earning shocked stares and gaped mouths. The young men seemed no older than himself, perhaps thinking this all to be a fun juvenile prank, unknowing of the livelihoods being ripped from people.

One stood up from the bench, stuttering out his words, "Lord Stark!" He bowed quickly, the rest of the group following in suit. "We mean no harm, I swear! Simply following our orders, m'Lord."

Squires, the lot of them. It was clear to see now, these boys were not culprits but pawns. Fools, nonetheless. "And who has ordered hundreds of livestock to be stolen from House Bolton's lands?"

"Not stolen, m'lord!" Another valiantly spoke. "It is collateral, from the promise Lord Bolton owes our Lord Flint."

"A promise? What was owed that is equal to hundreds of livestock?" Cregan huffed out, shealthing his Valyrion steel sword.

"You don't know, m'Lord?" A blonde-haired boy asked, glancing between his friends. "Lord Bolton promised Lord Flint a hundred gold dragons if he could borrow working men to build some houses for him."

"How many? That's a steep price that few would pay for mere houses."

The one next to him shrugged, a shaggy-haired brunette, "a village, I 'eard. Right on the outskirts of the Dreadfort's walls.

The price made more sense, then. But for Bolton to offer a hundred gold dragons to outside help rather than his own men was an odd thing indeed. The first thought that came to mind was that Ryen Bolton was cheap—promising a payment that he never intended to pay and thinking he'd suffer no consequence for it.

"I see now." He sighed, rubbing his temple stressfully. "How did you get past livestock dogs with a whole group of men?"

The blonde smiled a crooked grin, puffing out his chest proudly. "That was my idea, m'Lord! I used some chamomile in their water supplies a few days before taking the herds. Knocks them to sleep real fast, though it doesn't last long."

"And how did you cover the tracks of so many?"

"Carts, m'Lord." One shrugged. "We took the trading route paths at night while some stayed behind to cover the tracks we entered through in the forests. A nasty job, it is." He huffed, scratching at his reddened legs. Seemed like he was one of the ones stuck with that job.

As much as Cregan wished to be angry at the boys, he could not find it in himself to blame them. Orders were orders, after all, and any young squire must follow them to achieve knighthood. "Get to work on returning them. Every. Last. One. I will deal with Flint and Bolton, and see to it that you go unblamed." He said heavily, making it clear that his command was non-negotiable.

With a few scattered groans and sighs, the squires all obeyed and got to work.

Cregan left again, borrowing a chestnut mare to make his journey back faster. He had much to think about.

💠

It was well into the afternoon when he finally returned, pointedly guided away from Lord Bolton's councilroom and chambers by a few maids. "Lord Bolton is resting at this hour. You can join him for supper." One said as she settled down lunch for Cregan in his guest chambers.

Cregan had half a mind to burst down the man's door and demand explanations, but knew that patience would yield the best results in this circumstance. He could not butt heads with such a stubborn and self-righteous man like Ryen.

Finishing his stew quickly, Cregan found himself too restless to stay confined. He took to the halls, intending to head to the gardens for a walk. As he passed the halls, commotion in the nursery caught his attention.

"...Didn't mean to, I promise!" Ciara's voice pleaded tearfully. Cregan wasted no time barging into the room, which had its door shut behind the last who entered. Ryen, it seemed, who loomed over Ciara and Mabel like a wild beast.

Ciara had Mabel clutched in her arms, protectively guarding her babe though she trembled like a leaf. In the hand holding the girl's head was also the lavender blanket, soft as silk and finished with its last sewn touches, he presumed. Neither adult noticed his presence, though young Dalton sat on his little bed and held himself in a ball, glancing up at the newcomer.

"What have I told you about coming in here?! You should be in your rooms until I say otherwise. I cannot deal with such nonsense any longer, I have tolerated your dimwitted behavior for far too long." He boomed, then dwindled into a growl as he spoke.

"I waited for someone to come in so I could ask to come downstairs. It's been nearly all day, so I thought Gresha had gotten ill and forgot to tell another maid to come up." She hurriedly explained herself, expression laced with guilt as she struggled to meet the man's eye.

"This is two days in a row that you've disobeyed my orders and left your room. At this rate, I'll have to lock you in the dungeons just to keep you in place."

"I only wished to give Mabel her blanket. She has been complaining at the night's chill for days." She mustered out, rocking the girl in her arms in a soothing matter as the girl whimpered at her father's tone.

"It is Summer, you daft girl! That girl would complain about the grass being too green, and you'd try to dye it blue just to appease her." He snatched up the blanket, tossing it into the warmed hearth and earning a squealing cry from Mabel.

Finally, Cregan thought he had seen enough. In the comfort of his own home, Ryen Bolton showed the kind of person he was beyond the watchful eye of the Starks. Stepping between Ryen as he took another intimidating step towards his wife, the grip Ryen had taken on Ciara's hand had slackened at the sight of the Lord.

"What are you doing in here, Lord Stark?" He grumbled out, unwilling to back down so easily when he was worked up so much.

"Watching my host make an utter fool of himself. I could hear you from my own chambers," he fibbed slightly. "Shall we reconvene in the council room?" He asked through gritted teeth, wishing to spare the children of a proper argument.

Ryen backed up, shaking his head firmly. "We will speak on the morrow." As he stormed out of the room, calling for a maid to bring him a keg of ale.

Turning to Ciara, Cregan gently brushed her wrist with his calloused fingertips. He saw only the conflicted storm held within glossy eyes, admiring how composed she managed to hold herself for the sake of her babes.

"Are you alright, my Lady?" He asked in a hushed tone, careful not to frighten the girl in her arms. He knew his size was not the most welcome sight to an already shivering young girl, much less one who had clearly been used to the biggest man in the house regularly using his size as an advantage.

Ciara nodded curtly, rocking Mabel in her arms until the girl stopped crying and only sniffled every so often. The repeated motion seemed to work to calm both of them. "Thank you, my Lord." She mumbled as she set the drowsy child into bed. Only afternoon, but little hands were adamantly rubbed at puffy undereyes already, the poor lass had worn herself to exhaustion.

Cregan saw similar puffiness on Ciara but chose to stay silent in his revelations. "Will you not stay in here, or bring the children to your room?" He offered. "I will ensure Lord Bolton does not bother you again today. Perhaps the quietness of the tower would do good for some quality rest."

Ciara seemed to contemplate but sadly shook her head 'no'. "The maester says the tower is much too cold for the children. They cannot regulate body heat as well as we can." She said, tucking Mabel into drab grey sheets. The whole room seemed the same to Cregan, though Dalton's side had more color and personality to it. Spoiled with toys and perhaps any other thing a boy of four had temporary whims for. Most lied scattered at the foot of his bed, though, untouched until a maid came in and cleaned it all up.

"And Dalton?" He asked, hesitating this time.

Ciara glanced up to the bed where he still sat, curious blue eyes on them both as they sat in the still silence. As quick as she looked, she broke the eye contact and left the room.

Puzzled, Cregan ushered the waiting maid at the door into the room, ensuring the children were taken care of being following the woman.

Her steps were hurried and floating, hands holding her dark emerald skirts to allow such fast movements. He noticed then that she was adorned in more fancy jewels. Emerald bracelets and a heavy necklace to match. Even in her simply-braided hair, that he assumed she did herself, lie a few studded pearls.

"Ciara?" He called after her, jogging to catch up with her head start.

She did not turn, instead rushing to the steps faster. On the first step, he was able to catch her arm before she could disappear into the sanctuary of her cold room. "Please, wait." He huffed.

Meeting his eye line better from the height boost, Ciara's face was dimmed with the low light available in the corridor. "What?" She demanded, a harsh and shocking contrast to her previous demeanor.

"What is wrong?" He scanned her briefly. "Is something...wrong with your son?" When he mentioned bringing Dalton along with her, the shift that he saw in her was concerning.

"Of course not!" She said, immediately defending her son with narrowed eyes. "Why would there be?"

"You didn't speak to him—nor comfort him like you did your daughter." The blunt words made her look away, blinking away tears rapidly. None fell, and she sighed shakily, as if the one thing she could control in such an unforgiving place was her own appearance.

"I cannot."

"Cannot speak to your son?"

"I am not allowed to, my Lord." She answered, clenching her jaw tightly. An unladylike behavior to grind her teeth or bite her nails, but both were nasty habits that she anxiously indulged in often.

Cregan laughed almost disbelievingly, shaking his head as if she told a most humorous jest. "Allowed to? I was not aware that mothers were given rules permitting their children's company." Though his growing anger seethed from his body clearly, none of it was directed at the woman in front of him. That did not stop her from stepping up another stair, twisting her ring around her finger as she did.

"It has been set for many moons, now. Lord Bolton had been unhappy with Dalton's behavior when I looked after him. He's better off with the maids." Her own son's name sounded foreign on her tongue, like she had tried to erase him from her mind to make the distance hurt less. Only, there was no distance. There were mere hallways apart at all times, yet it seemed like the Narrow Sea itself was placed between them.

"What could he have been upset with?" Cregan tried to make sense of Ryen's mindset, if he had any at all. A four year old boy could have many problematic behaviors, but surely none that could be influenced by a mother as sweet as Ciara.

Ciara sucked a breath sharply through her teeth, retreating a few steps more. "May I be excused, My Lord? I am quite tired from the day's affairs." She asked. There had only been the one 'affair', as she said herself earlier, but Cregan could not outright challenge her.

"I only wish to understand, Ciara. I want to help you." He pleaded, brows knitting together as he clasped the wooden rail of the stairs.

"You can't. There is no need to meddle in the affairs of others. Please, conduct your business and be on your way." She bit, turning her back and rushing up the steps finally, closing the door behind her.

Cregan was forced to retire to his chambers, his previous plans of visiting the gardens spoiled and his mind exhausted.

Early in the morning, Cregan woke before Ryen Bolton and weaved his way around the staff to start his day. Presuming that the Lord would sleep well into the day, Cregan made his way to the 'village' that had started the problem in the first place.

It was a short walk from the Dreadfort, and an annoyance to the residents who had already made their homes near the keep. When the Stark had asked a villager of the whereabouts of the new town, the old man had scowled deeper and pointed his nose toward the direction, grumbling as he walked off. "These young'ins...always with too much time on 'er hands."

Bemused, Cregan continued on.

As he passed the first building, he finally understood the old man's irritable nature. The entire place smelled of incense, sweat, and sex. He almost gagged, the scent reminiscent of his brief stay in King's Landing. He had made a point to make his visit very short after truly seeing the disgusting sights of the capitol. True, there were brothel houses and short 'silk streets' in the North, too, but never an abundant amount, nor were they as frequented as the ones in the South.

The further he walked through, the more he realized just how dire the situation was. Every single building was not a house like he had figured, but a mere cesspool of vulgarity. Even in the early morning, peeks passed opened doors showed sights of young men indulging themselves in the young and pretty women of the street.

Now, he realized what Bolton's intentions were. He had commissioned an entire 'village' to be made purely for the sake of pleasure and sin. As if the one pleasure house lying on the streets of One Hill, the collection of towns nearest to the Bolton's Dreadfort, were not enough.

It was an insult to the Flints, who made the buildings without compensation. It was an insult to the Starks, who, represented only by Cregan, had generously offered to solve the problem for the Boltons and were lied to blatantly. Most of all, it was an insult to Ryen's wife, who sat locked up in her room day after day, unknowing of her husband's unfaithful nature.

Cregan assessed how many buildings there were total, counting twelve along the cobble path before abruptly making his leave. An older 'Madam' standing at the curtained doorway of one of the houses beckoned the Lord close, a sultry look in her blue eyes. He brushed past the touch she laid on his shoulder, not bothering with polite words as he ignored her entirely.

He would ensure the Bolton Lord never saw the same status that the Starks had granted his house hundreds of years prior. He was not as generous and forgiving as his ancestors.

🩷

this was so hard to write solely in his pov idk why

I had so many good ideas going into this but none translated to words like I wanted them to, most getting scrapped. I need to get something out so I can stop focusing on one-shots for now and get dd chap 15 out its nagging my mind 😪

lmk if I should do a part 2 eventually

#cregan stark x reader #cregan x reader #hotd fanfic #cregan stark #hotd #hotd x reader

456 notes · View notes

boolger · 4 months ago

Text

A lapdog at a farm - chapter 3

AO3 link. <-former chapter - next chapter-> Call of duty. Explicit, 18+, minors do not interact. read the tags. wc:7k

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

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 this chapter was a fight bc i was unsure of what way to go with certain things and bc of so much going on in my real life. you know the deal w reader by now, otherwse go read part 1 or 2. This chapter was supposed to be longer but I decided to cut it, since it was already at 7k words. while i do have a humiliation kink, being mean to me, and saying i need to hurry up won't make me hurry up btw.<33 at least pay me. also i have a ko-fi now, wink wink.<33

Also according to Google translate: “ona delayet eto kazhdoye utro?”=“does she do this every morning?

The familiar scent of home sept into your nostrils as your face was pressed against the couch, the faint scent of the cigar smoke and of Nikolai added to the mixture. He had done nothing but push your skirt up, just like John had done earlier today, then pulled your panties down - contrary to John’s touch earlier, Nikolai’s hands were gentle, rough palms running over the skin of your ass, almost tenderly pushing your tail out of the way.

“Such a beautiful ass,” Nikolai all but purred, John chuckling from his chair, while you tried bending your back a little more, to show off your pussy as well, your tail touching your back a little, “so desperate, Lapochka”

“She is like that all the time,” John just casually commented, almost sounding proud and you hid your face a little more in the couch as Nikolai grabbed the fat of your ass and spread your cheeks, exposing your holes.

“Cute cunt,” Nikolai commented, almost if you were a piece of art that he was methodically going through, one of his hands moving to swipe a finger over said cunt, just along your lips, making your entire body shiver - until his finger continued up to your asshole, playing along the rim for a moment, “cute asshole too. You play with that?”

“Not often tha' she lets me,” John casually explained while you whimpered at the feeling; you weren’t really the biggest fan of anal sex, though you didn’t mind it. You would just rather have your pussy fucked, rather than your ass.

“Fuck me, pleasee,” You whined, hoping to distract him and Nikolai just laughed, fingers going down to run along your pussy again.

Maybe, if he was this easy to convince to fuck you, he wouldn’t be too bad to have around. As long as he didn’t try to ‘train’ you or anything like that.

Your mind turned off when he finally pushed two fingers into your cunt. The sudden intrusion burned for a moment, but it was essentially nothing and forgotten just a moment later. His fingers were thick, only slightly thicker than John’s, but the man hadn’t taken off the rings on said fingers. The metal was cold against your inside, not that you really minded.

Another finger was added and you felt your tail wag a little again — the stretch was nice, the fingers and the cold metal felt so perfect, especially as Nikolai curled them a little.

The delighted bark that left you from his touch was unexpected for the both of you, but Nikolai seemed to like it, given his repeated attack at just that spot. It made sounds leave you without your consent, your tail wag a little harder, the men laughed; honestly you didn’t give a fuck, too busy chasing your own pleasure.

When Nikolai pulled his fingers out, you didn’t even attempt to hold back your displeased sound - though it was quickly replaced by an impatient yap, as you heard him zip down his pants.

It had been a while since anyone but John had fucked you. You had grown accustomed to the feel of him inside you, on your tongue, in your hands. The weight, the shape, the length. The way his pubic hair that was nicely kept but still there, would tickle your own - the way his hairy chest and stomach would press against your back.

So when the head of Nikolai’s cock nudged its way into your cunt, your toes curled in excitement. He was a little thicker than Price, but nothing you couldn’t take, the Russian man behind you groaning out some words you couldn’t understand.

He wasn’t as long as your owner but it felt like his cock curled upwards a little, making a shiver go up your spine, a small mewl leaving you.

While John would have taken his time, making sure you were fully stretched and feeling good, doing just as he knew you liked, Nikolai once again was an opposite to him. As soon as he was fully inside you, curls tickling your cunt, he held onto you - then pulled back and thrusted hard into you, giving you no option to get used to his cock or to get ready.

Taking you, opposite to John’s familiar loving you. It wasn’t that John was never rough, he was, but without your deeper connection to Nikolai it felt dirtier. But John was right there, watching you.

Watching how his crush was fucking you hard. You were the center of attention, just like you deserved.

Nikolai’s hips and stomach hit your soft ass in a harsh rhythm, his fingers gripping onto what John lovingly called your ‘love handles’, using them to pull you back on his cock. Your mouth was open as you panted in between your loud moans, your sounds accompanied by Nikolai’s deep grunts, the slapping sounds of your bodies colliding - as well as the wet sound of his cock thrusting into your dripping pussy. You were pretty sure you could hear John jerk off as well.

Your fingers desperately tried to grip onto the fabric of the couch, but you were pushed further and further up, ending up pressing your hands against the armrest, so as to not slam into it.

Closer and closer to the edge, Nikolai’s cock hitting that sweet spot inside you, making your toes curl as the man moaned out words you didn’t understand. You mewled out words yourself, mind lost in the pleasure - until it was ripped from you.

An almost furious wail left you as your orgasm was so rudely ripped from you, Nikolai’s cock pulled out, you turned your head as you whined; watching him aggressively strip his cock, dark eyes on you, an almost manic grin on his face.

That asshole knew he had just stopped you from coming.

He slapped one of your asscheeks hard, making you wail again - then he came on your ass, moaning as he got it on your skirt and panties too.

“Nggh,” Your mouth wasn’t cooperating with your mind right now, even as you watched Nikolai wink at you, before he tapped his dick on your asscheek a last time - and then dared to fucking pull up his boxers. Your eyes flickered over to look at John, who had just come as well. That well-known, blissed out smile on his face from when he had a really good orgasm.

“Noo,” you whined, managing to push yourself up on your elbows, body tingling as you looked back at Nikolai, “please - touch me, lemme com’, please plea–”

“Net, Lapochka,” the man all but crooned down at you, even daring to pull up your panties, dragging the fabric through the mess of cum he had just created, “You misbehave earlier.”

“I didn’t, no no,” you sat up even more, your body feeling it was on fire from the missing euphoria, “I didn’t, I was good.”

“Was not.” Nikolai raised an eyebrow as he argued back at you, tipping his head to the side, clearly not looking like he was going to budge.

So you looked over at who you knew you could always trust.

Except Price had closed up his pants as well, taking another drag of the cigar, before he shook his head.

“You weren’t exactly nice,” he pointed out, voice calm from the orgasm like that traitor he was, “threw a tantrum when you got into the house as well.”

“You can’t do this,” you whined, pressing your thighs together, before sitting up, on your knees “I wanna come, master!” Using your best cards, knowing John got weak when you called him that. And you saw it, you saw the way his fingers tightened around the cigar. But he still shook his head.

“Nikolai said no. I said no. Accept it.” He said it so casually, like it was something you were supposed to be used to. A growl left you at his words, Nikolai giving your collar a little tug.

“Don’t be like that, puppy,” he mused, sounding delighted with the entire situation, “You will survive.”

How dared they? Leaving you like this? You deserved much better!

You growled at Nikolai who just let out a pleased hum at it, giving one of your ears a little tug.

“You’re being mean - John,” you escaped the couch and Nikolai, instead going to your master, getting on your knees and crawling in between his spread legs, watching him with pleading eyes, “I’ll be good, I just need to come, then I’ll be good, I swear.”

His lips pursed for a moment, eyebrows dropping a little. He was considering it and you nuzzled against his pant leg, fluttering your eyelashes at him, hoping Nikolai hadn’t already poisoned his mind too much.

“Pleaseeee,” you begged in soft whine, “I’ll be good.”

“Net,” Nikolai rudely interrupted and you almost felt proud of the fact that you didn’t shoot him a mean look, instead keeping your gaze at John.

“Nik,” John started and you recognised the tone of his voice, the one he always had when giving into you; the one you knew to chase, to catch onto and clamp down onto. So you blinked innocently up at him again, letting out a pathetic little whimper, pursing your lips. Ready to cry, if that was what he needed to see. Your pussy was almost in pain with need and it wasn’t the same with your own hand.

“No,” Nikolai repeated, a little harder this time, “she is too spoiled. You said that yourself, my friend.”

The signs of when he would usually gave in disappeared and holy fuck, you wanted to gnaw off Nikolai’s dick that exact moment.

“But—“ you didn’t get any further before John just shook his head, once again turning you down.

“Nope. Nik is right. You heard him.”

“So you hate me now,” you whimpered out, perhaps a tad dramatically, but god you were so turned on it hurt.

“Please, puppy,” Nikolai answered before grabbing you by the collar and pulling you backwards, away from your owner, “you are not getting to come. It is punishment for not behaving.”

You cried, cried actual tears but it didn’t help. In fact, it somehow made it worse, which it usually didn’t. You couldn’t help the sad howling sound as you were left, no, abandoned, by the men, the fingerprint lock making escaping the dog crate close to impossible. Touching yourself then felt pointless.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

They entered your house, your home, your territory. Sure you wanted to leave this farm any moment, willing to grab onto any chance to get John to move back to the city - but still. Three big, dirty and stinking hounds shouldn’t be allowed inside this farmhouse.

You had finally been let out of the crate after a little over an hour and now, barely two hours later, another punishment was forced upon you. You just stared at the three hybrids with an angry look as they passed you, where you sat in the living room in one of your many fluffy dog beds. Making no movement to greet them or offer help with anything.

The Scot’s tail wagged at the sight of you, grinning at you and yeah, you knew you were hot - but that dog needed to mind his own business. You just huffed at him and looked away. Laswell was helping in the kitchen, while Nik and Price helped show the pack where the different shower supplies were, as well as where they could find clean clothes.

“You have to get used to them, you know,” Laswell said, looking down at her phone, standing in the doorway, “do you know where the paprika is?”

“No I won’t,” you answered stubbornly, “and it’s in the kitchen cabinet next to the fridge.”

Laswell disappeared again.

“They’re probably going to use your brushes on their tails, you know,” she added from the kitchen, the words making you whine out loud and almost gag.

Disgusting. You didn’t like the idea of other hybrids using your brushes. You would have to ask John for some new ones, that shouldn’t be too hard… and maybe do it when Nikolai wasn’t listening. That man seemed to bring problems.

Even though John and Nikolai found your anger amusing as they returned, you still followed them into the kitchen. They were definitely torturing you.

“You could just sell them again,” you muttered, watching John take over from Laswell with the potatoes that were being roasted.

“You do not give up, no?” Nikolai teased, giving you a couple of pats on the head.

“No - and are we feeding a bloody army?” Yes, you were upset about several things and now the amount of dishes they were making was added to the list. They should be making those only for you, not from the men who were probably using your nice, expensive soaps and brushes.

“We’re three more than usual,” John pointed out, fishing out a piece of potato, taking a bite of it with a hum - before throwing the piece at you. You caught it with your mouth, easily, Nikolai making a small cheering sound that made your tail wag.

“File said food aggression,” Nikolai added as he put down some dishes on the table, “we need enough.”

“Besides, don’t you remember the food at the auction house?” John asked, eyes still on the pan.

You let out a small huff. You did. It hadn’t been anything to write home about and being reminded almost made you feel bad for them… almost. At least you were still the one living inside. So… technically John loved you the most. Right. Even if you wanted a tiny house now as well.

“You’re up to no good,” Laswell commented as she passed you with some vegetables, that made your tail wag from the mere smell, “go sit down and attempt to behave.

“I always behave,” you answered, barely looking at her, knowing she was just rolling her eyes - ignoring her “sure.” as well.

They did indeed have nice and brushed through tails when they appeared not too long after. They looked much cleaner, their new clothes helping them as well. They didn’t stink of sweat and auction anymore, which was a good thing you supposed.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

Dinner was tense. You sat at the opposite end, quite purposefully, while John and Nikolai tried to keep the men from fighting everyone over the food. Laswell was watching over the entire thing like a hawk and if you had to growl back at one of them, just because you wanted more sauce, you were going to throw a tantrum. Perhaps this would be another sign for Price to ship them back. Nikolai on the other end, was harder to ship back to the auction.

He in fact seemed to press his way in everywhere.

Despite having an endless amount of beds and nice places to sleep, you plopped down on John’s bed, on the right side. Your side.

Usually you would cuddle up next to him once he decided to go to bed after getting all the animals inside. It took a little longer tonight since he had three new hybrids following together with Nikolai, so you were asleep once John returned.

A displeased grumble left you as a hand patted your ass a couple of times before giving you a push.

“Move, sweetheart.” You grunted, knowing he could fit with the space left - so you made no move to make more space.

“I cannot sleep on top of you,” you opened your eyes at the voice, before slowly looking over your shoulder, squinting angrily at the owner of it. Nikolai was wearing nothing but boxers and a white undershirt, gold chain still on, like a walking stereotype.

You were not giving up your space in John’s bed. It might as well be yours and John's bed.

“Go sleep in the guest room,” you answered grumpily, not moving an inch as Nikolai laughed.

“Princess,” John sounded slightly tired, “be nice.”

“It’s two doors down,” you still looked at Nikolai, not even attempting to sound any nicer, “I’m sure you can find it.”

Bloody asshole laughed again. So, they were smooching. Fucking wonderful. Great. Just what you needed. Another man to annoy you.

Before you could do anything, a familiar hand took a hold of your ankle and pulled you down the bed, making you yelp.

“Sleep in the foot end or go to your room,” John demanded before getting into his own usual spot - that fucking traitor. While Nikolai moved to lay down in your spot.

“Meanie,” you grumbled, but still settled at the foot end, growling lightly as you stole one of the blankets hanging over the bed frame at the end. You weren’t going to sleep alone - you needed the sound of John’s snoring.

“It’s a sin to sleep together when not married,” you argued instead, pulling the blanket over you, turning your back to the men who just chuckled.

Nikolai gave you a little push with his foot in retaliation.

“As if you care about Christianity, slut,” he mused, making you grumble again. But you didn’t answer because you truly didn’t give a shit about it.

You definitely weren’t jealous at the sound of them kissing each other. Your traitorous tail definitely didn’t wag a little.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

When you woke up, you were curled in between their legs, body hair ticking your chin. You yawned softly, stretching your legs a little before wetting your lips. Both men were snoring. John’s leg was in between yours, his shin close to your crotch. You looked over at the clock.

5:43 AM. They wouldn’t have to get up before 6 AM; which meant you had time for fun. You tail was wagging, thumping a little against Nikolai’s leg, who grunted, giving it a seat - which you ignored, getting up on your hands and knees before crawling beneath John’s blanket.

You took in the scent of his musk, rubbing your face a little against his morning wood, your mouth already salivating like a good dog.

Because you were a good dog. The best. It just seemed like your owner had forgotten, so you needed to remind him. You could do that.

You pulled his boxers down slightly, only to free his cock. Licking his balls a little, taking in the taste of sweat and musk, his familiar pubic hair greeting you, before you licked a stripe up his length. John was stirring and Nikolai had stopped snoring. Your focus was on your owner for now however - Nikolai could get himself off, he had taken your sleeping spot after all.

You took the head of his cock in your mouth; it was hot beneath the covers but you didn’t mind, letting his cock slide further into your mouth, using one hand to pull back his foreskin. A groan left your owner and as you let the familiar weight of his cock, further down your throat. You felt him stir - then a hand slid beneath the cover, to rest on your head, nuzzling your ears a little.

“Well, good m’rning to you, princess,” his voice was rough, a little dry sounding and it went straight to your pussy, your tail trying to wag beneath the covers. Even from beneath the covers you could hear Nikolai’s muffled chuckle.

“Ona delayet eto kazhdoye utro?” You pretended the slightly muted words that you didn’t understand didn’t turn you on as well; Nikolai apparently had a wonderful morning voice as well.

A moan left Price as you slurped noisily around his cock, spit dripping down his balls as you sucked him a little deeper, moving your tongue. By now you could take his cock without problem most days.

“Not always - ah,” John managed to answer whatever Nikolai asked about, his hand moving to rest on the back of your head, holding your head down as he began thrusting into your mouth. A wet gurgle left you beneath the covers, air warm in your nostrils as he used you, cock forcing its way into your throat repeatedly. With darkness and the smell of John, his hand on your head, everything was normal for a moment. Just like you liked it.

The cover that hid you from the world was gently peeled away, exposing your face to the low light of the night lamp in the otherwise dark room. A tired looking John with heated cheeks and a slightly open mouth was watching you. His hair was a little messy and he needed a shave, but to you he was perfect.

He used you, fucking into your throat lazily, his moans so low they sounded like humming. His pleasure was above yours and for once you didn’t mind; you liked how he was the one who decided the pace, how much you were allowed to breathe. He could hold you down, face almost pressed into his lower stomach and there would be nothing you could do about it - there was nothing you wanted to do about it. Even though the idiot, Nikolai, was in the bed, it was a nice moment… Especially with how your owner looked as he tipped his head back a little, forcing his cock even deeper so hard that you almost gagged; his eyelashes kissing his red cheeks, breathing hard as he came into your throat, Nikolai whispering words you didn’t understand.

When you were finally allowed to pull off, you gasped for air, drool and spit dripping from your mouth - resting against John’s hairy thigh, as you caught your breath. Tail still wagging.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

Apparently the dinner last night had been enough of an experience for John and Nikolai, that they had decided that letting the hybrids eat on their own at first was the easiest, so that they could be sent out again.

The three brutes were once again let into your house - sure, it wasn’t your favorite place in the world, but the moment the three of them got inside, you suddenly loved it a bunch more - dragging along the scent of sweat and wet earth, all their eyes on you at first, then the food. Their body language was wary but not angry, their tails carefully wagging.

Freshly collected eggs, bacon, beans, whole grain bread, yogurt and fruits. Had it been served on a fancy plate in a cafe in the city, you would have loved it. But as you watched them, you despised it.

They ate like, well… dogs. It was nasty to look at and the sight made your nose scrunch as you stood, halfway hidden behind John as he was making more fried for the rest of you.

Ghost, Gaz and Soap had gotten each their own plate this time and it seemed to help on some of the aggression as well - you had listened to Nikolai and John discuss what to give them and how much and how to keep them from trying to take the whole dish, before the hybrid men came inside.

Their tails were wagging and there were pleased sounds coming from them that bordered on improper. Everything you had been taught was bad manners through years of training? They were doing that, seemingly not caring about any kind of etiquette. Much to your annoyance however, John didn’t seem to be bothered and Nikolai seemed more interested in making food for the rest of you.

Were you the only one who could see and hear how they chewed with their mouths open, ate too quickly and all messily, talking with food in their mouths?

You were far from a small person, but as John pushed you aside and exposed the rest of you, so that he could grab something and you felt the three hybrids’ gazes on you, you suddenly felt small.

Ghost was drinking water and though he wasn’t looking away from you, he mostly seemed annoyed with your presence - while Soap was chewing on a piece of bacon rather lazily, a little spit dripping from his lip, more focused on you than the food. As if it was you he wanted to eat. Whether it was in a threatening manner or an attempt at a sexual one, you didn’t know - no matter what, you didn’t like either option.

Gaz though, was looking at you through his lashes, licking the last of his little bowl with yogurt clean, with loud, slurp-like sounds; his red tongue caught the last of the white substance on the edge of the bowl. Giving it a couple more slow licks while keeping eye contact with you, a pleased rumble leaving him. Improper and loud, not even attempting to hide the sexual undertones.

They all looked at you, as if you were their dessert; hadn’t it been for you keeping the two men in between, they would probably have tried to eat you by now.

Brutes. Couple of knotted idiots. Horny bastards. Should be sent back to the military, sooner rather than later.

“Gon’ join us outside, lass?” Soap asked with a smirk on his stupid face, not even trying to be discrete in any way, the sound of several tails hitting chair legs not going unnoticed by you, even if you did your best to ignore it.

You growled at him, really all of them, before almost spitting out a “no”, nuzzling closer to John once more, pretending your tail wasn’t in between your legs. Your soft silk bathrobe at least hid some of your body.

“Don’t be snide, dove,” Ghost crooned, much more darkly, the scars around his mouth not helping him look one bit kinder even as he smiled a little, his ears tipped towards you, “haven’t even introduced yourself to us. Impolite, innit?”

“Fuck off,” you snapped back, still using John as a shield, even as the man muttered a “behave,” next to you; Nikolai only laughing with delight, giving your head a pat as he passed you to collect more plates.

“You can all play later,” John said too casually for your liking and he even just ignored your growling, continuing, “Out with your lot now, go get changed or something - Nik and I will be out soon, Laswell will probably join us.”

You dared to cast a last glance at Gaz; the Belgian Malinois and German Shepherd mix hybrid looked right back at you as he slowly licked a stray drop of yogurt from beneath his bottom lip. Once again you were unsure whether the sight turned you on or frightened you.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

“No,” you crossed your arms, defiantly looking at John with crossed arms, “ I will not.”

“Princess,” he looked at you with an almost tired expression, “he didn’t bring his phone.”

“Too bad for him,” you answered, not making any movement to even get ready to go outside, “If I go outside I’ll die. If not from your stupid hounds, then the horses will trample me to death and the geese will eat me.”

Price snorted, but he didn’t give up - because 30 seconds later you were pushed out of the door with a yelp, barely managing to keep on your feet; then shoes and a jacket followed, tumbling around you as you looked at your owner who just gave a nod towards one of the fields.

“Phone is in the pocket. They’re that way.” Then the door was slammed and as you heard the locks, you let out a little whimpery howl. A worker who passed near the barns laughed and you flipped them off, before putting on the shoes. It was a pair of John’s Wellington boots, which were too big on you - but you didn’t own any yourself, having straight up refused the idea of even going near tall, wet grass. At least he had given you one of his coats as well, which was warm. It couldn’t close because of your chest, but it was better than nothing.

The things you did for that man. You were better than this.

At least that was what you told yourself as you tramped across the gravel driveway, towards the direction John had shown.

While the boots were too big, they saved you from the dew of the grass that the sun hadn’t reached yet, even if they slowed you down.

The sun hadn’t quite gotten far up enough, so it was a little cold in your jeans and crop-top that John had dressed you in earlier. The top was white, with pink borders and said good girl across your chest, which he had caressed for a few moments and told you to live up too.

Easy for him to say.

“My my, what’cha doin’ out here, princess?” You didn’t like how you jumped at the voice and sudden appearance of the hybrid next to you, immediately growling at him. Gaz didn’t look one bit apologetic about it, his eyes almost shining with glee, tail wagging, grinning so widely that his fangs were exposed.

“Fuck off -” you snapped, stepping away from him before continuing to walk, “I’m looking for Nikolai.”

“Aaww, don’t be like that, puppy,” he continued, following you closely, even daring to get close to sniff at your neck! the nerve!

You growled and snapped at him, Gaz managing to pull his face back in time, but with a fucking laughter leaving him.

“Those teeth isn’t goin’ to hurt anyone, baby!” he pointed out smugly, following you as you walked again, increasing your pace, “You’re really just a little lapdog, huh? So weak.”

“I told you to fuck off.”

Gaz didn’t care, snickering and following along with you instead, like a hungry wolf, knowing the lamb would be vulnerable and tired soon; ready to sink its teeth into the lamb’s throat and rip it apart. You had no plans of letting any of the hounds get to you.

You snapped after him a couple of more times, hiding your excitement when you saw Nikolai, hoping that the man would get this mutt off your back.

“You could be nicer, you know,” Gaz cooed, hands in his pockets, walking backwards in front of you, his tall ears tipped towards you, tail wagging behind him, “just because you are a bitch, you don’t have to behave like one.”

You were going to strangle this motherfucking piece of shit and it was like Gaz could see it on you - tail wagging even faster.

“Why don’t you go fuck one of your stupid friends?” You asked, trying to ignore him even as anger simmered in your veins, curling around the fear of the bigger man, “it’s only a matter of time before Price sends ya ‘ back anyways!”

“Oh we both know that’s not happening, sweetheart,” he answered, voice going a little darker, licking his lips slowly. “Our owner said it himself, didn’t he? Too much to handle for him. Maybe you just need a good knot, hm?”

“Let me know when you find one,” you snapped back, relieved that Nikolai was right there, watching over Soap herding some sheep, “because none of your sad mutt dicks are coming near me.”

“Puppy - What brings you outside? Too lonely?” You could have slapped Nikolai or maybe bitten him, as he asked the questions with amusement in his loud voice; both Ghost and Soap instantly gave all their attention to you, staring you down. Had the situation been different, you would have bathed in that attention. Yet you felt fear go through your body at this point, even as you tried to hide it.

“No,” you grumbled at Nikolai, as a sweaty looking, tail-wagging Soap stepped towards your sudden little group, “you forgot this.”

“Ah, Spasibo,” Nikolai took the phone with an almost sheepish look, “I always forget. John finished paperwork, da?”

“Hello, bonnie lass,” Soap whispered as he passed you, a tad too close for your liking, hand running along your lower back, making you growl low, before focusing back on Nikolai. He stank of sweat and sheep. His tail wagging, blue eyes watching you intently.

“He isn’t, he’s waiting for a phone call. Something about problems with the tractor’s mechanic.”

“I am better than mechanic,” Nikolai argued, furrowing his brow, as if you were saying the opposite and not just the messenger, “I’ll go back. You boys can hang around with her.”

“Nononono-“ you argued, instantly following Nikolai as he began walking, sending the hybrids a mean glance, over your shoulders as a warning, “I’m not hangin’ out with these hounds.”

“awww, dove, don’t say that,” Ghost crooned, the bigger breed appearing behind you, following you closely, his footsteps heavier than yours, “we have to get to know each other, baby.”

“No we don’t.”

“Did you not socialize in the city, pretty?” Gaz asked, following on your right side, Nikolai still in front of you, not joining the conversation but no doubt listening along, “or were you too busy sucking cock?”

You snarled aggressively at him, ignoring Nikolai’s chuckle in front of you.

“Shut up,” you snarled at Gaz, who just winked back at you. They all wore outfits that seemed practical but comfortable, in stark contrast to your jeans and crop top, together with John’s jacket.

“Dinnae take it personal, cuilean,” Soap tried to weave his way in between you and Nikolai, but you merely stepped around him, giving him a shove with your shoulder - earning whistles from the other two. Ignoring the annoyed snarl from Soap.

Gaz’ hand slid out to hold onto your jacket, distracting you as he yanked you a little closer to him, “c’mon, we can show you a good time yeah? Don’t you wanna learn some new things?”

“Like what? Being mindless beasts? No thanks.”

You managed to yank it free, but the moment you did, Ghost took a hold of it from the back.

“We can be nice, you know.” He said, still a little playfulness in his voice, “when we want to.”

Once again you managed to yank the jacket free - only to almost stumble into Soap in front of you. The border collie hybrid was smirking and as you started walking to follow Nikolai, he started walking backwards, not taking his eyes off you.

“Ye’ve been angry every since we met, hen,” he continued, as if you hadn’t already turned each of them down so far, “we just wantae have fun - we’re not here to steal your master from you.”

“Your mere presence here proves that to be a lie,” you hissed back, stopping for a second, “I don’t want you here! I was perfectly happy in…”

It took you a second to realize but Nikolai was getting further away from you.

When you realized what was happening, it was too late; Soap had managed to create a space in between you and Nikolai, essentially herding you away from him. With Gaz on your right side and Ghost behind you, you had no other option than to bolt left, trying to catch up to Nikolai again or get into safety. Only, that was like throwing a bone to the wolves.

“c’mon bonnie,” Soap’s voice was louder, happier than before as he bolted after you. One glance at Nikolai proved to you that he wouldn’t be of any help. In fact, that fucking traitor just continued walking towards the house.

You weren’t supposed to be the prey here, you were supposed to be safe at the farm! All this bloody hell was because of this stupid farm!

Everything would be good if Price had just listened to you!!

The others were much faster, wearing proper working shoes instead of the ones you wore, that were too big, making it even harder to run. You weren’t really a runner anyways. Nor a fighter, but in the big city, it hadn’t been necessary. There, in the streets of London, you and John could wander without worry, the sounds of the city like an neverending soundtrack. There you could follow your owner in a nice tempo, without fearing being ripped apart by mutts like these, Soap snapping at you each time he got close. Purposefully guiding you once again, without you realizing before it was too late. It wasn’t until you spotted the shed, or rather the little house, that Price had given them - and not you, which was bordering on abuse, wasn’t it? - that you knew you were in trouble.

But despite your screaming, one boot falling off in the fighting and your desperate attempt to get away, it didn’t matter; strong arms got a hold of you, snapping teeth and fingers on your tail and nape. Soon you were on the ground, even for just a moment and it was three against one; you were doomed to lose.

The screams echoed throughout the fields, in between the wheat and the fruit trees, but the world didn’t stop spinning. In fact, it carried on, just like before. There was grass and dirt on your clothes, some of the dew wetting your exposed white shirt.

Nikolai out of sight, but you doubted the man would have helped you anyways. You couldn’t even hear his steps in the gravel as he walked to the front door of the farm house, closing it after himself; dooming you to your fate.

Ghost had hoisted you over the shoulder, letting out a grunt as you almost instantly began hitting his back, managing to tug at his tail a couple of times. Despite hanging with your head upside down, Soap and Gaz’s hands were still on you, tugging everywhere they could touch - until Ghost gave a sharp bark, from deep in his chest, that made you flinch.

It was almost like a wordless commando that the men instantly understood, dashing in front of Ghost to the shed, getting the door open while you tried twisting, almost hitting the doorframe, since it was barely big enough for the two of you, when you were on Ghost’s shoulder. Ghost didn’t do anything but grunt and force you through even as you tried holding onto the frame, desperately screaming and howling. Wordless howls and the echoes of your owner’s name didn’t change anything as the shed swallowed up every sound, the door closing behind you.

“Stop throwin’ a fit,” Simon grumbled before unceremoniously - and heartlessly, you might add - dumping you into their nest of mattresses, pillows and blankets. They hadn’t even been here for long, yet it already stank of them.

You weren’t even given a second to catch your breath before Gaz was pulling off John’s shoes from your feet, then his jacket, muttering about you getting their bed wet and dirty, like a naughty pup. He managed to avoid your bites, snapping at your fingers with his own teeth whenever you managed to get a hold of his ears - then Soap was upon you, fully distracting you from Gaz.

“These tits,” the mutt declared happily, ignoring you as he pushed his face in between your breasts, pawing shamelessly at them, “pure perfection.”

“Let go of me,” you snapped, almost feeling horror go through your body as you pulled his head back by his mohawk; only for the man to moan like a whore. Your pants got pulled down to your knees by Gaz, a yelp leaving you, unsure of where to put your attention in order to escape.

Bloody bastards; strays, mutts, illegitimate—

Soap’s hand was big as he suddenly and easily grabbed your throat, a tight grip around your pretty collar. Pressing you down into the mattress, cutting off your air for a moment, stunning you - while your hands went to dig your nails into his forearm, his skin saved by his shirt, he forced himself in between your legs; strong hands grabbed your wrists and Gaz pulled your hands over your head, while Soap tugged on your jeans even more, your well kept tail stuck in the hole in the pants.

You were crying and writhing, Gaz’s hands a little dry as they held onto your wrists, Soap freeing your bottom part. All while this was going on, Ghost just stared. Like an actual ghoul, standing a little from you, keeping an overview of the situation, leaving against the main door. Watched as the men began to humiliate you.

“Poor princess,” Gaz cooed, keeping your hand in tight grip, bending your fingers a little, trying to coax the claws out that wasn’t there anymore, “did Price declaw you?”

“Nooo,” you whined, attempting to tug your hand free as he unsheathed his own claws, letting them dig into your skin a little, as if to prove that he still had them. They were a little sharp, but not much; probably sanded down a little during their stay at the auction house.

“No? Nah you’re right, sweet sir wouldn’t do that to his favorite slutty princess, would he?”

Soap hummed, forcing his fingers into your mouth, running them along your filed down canines, “guessing he dinnae do this either, eh?”

You gurgled around his thick, dirty fingers, while tears began to swell in your eyes, from the embarrassment… not to mention anger, from the pure assumption that Price would do that to you? “Nah, ye are a pretty rescue, aren’t ye?”

You bit down around his fingers; the bastard laughed, but still winced a little as he pulled them out again with a “bad puppy.”

“Get on with it, Soap,” Gaz urged, his tail thumping against the mattress, sending you a wink as you stared up at him, growling.

“Look’at this kitty,” the way Soap spoke made you blink away a few tears in confusion, while you wondered what the fuck he was talking about; then, as Gaz laughed like a dirty dog above you, you realized Soap was calling your pussy a kitty.

You growled, trying to raise a leg to kick him away, but his hands were on your thighs, forcing them apart; he was stronger than yourself and you were one against three. It would most likely end badly for you and as he unceremoniously mouthed at your panties, a loud whine left you.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he growled, scraping his canines along the petty lace, “yer kitty smells divine.”

“Don’t call it that,” your voice was a little weak and it almost came out in a sniffle.

“Aww, dinnae worry, I’m gonna make it purr, yeah?”

“You’re so fucking nasty — shit!”

His tongue slid beneath the fabric, running along your pussy, making your brain shut down.

486 notes · View notes

tradgedyinwaves · 4 months ago

Text

Touch

Poly!141 x chunky!reader tw: mentions of cheating

Ghost found you. Pretty thing standing by the produce section and Ghost thought you too beautiful to be quite so sad looking. He snapped a picture and sent it to his team with two words. Found her. 6 Months Earlier.

“Fuck you, Kit! Take your stupid whore and get the hell out!” You screamed at your soon-to-be-ex husband, throwing a vase at the wall by his head. He’d been fucking your cousin because, as he put it, she was beautiful and skinny and you were some used up fat whore. He left with her in tow, smirking evilly at you over her shoulder.

You collapsed on the floor where you stood, sobbing as you tried to deal with your heart shattering into tiny pieces. You and Kit had started dating in high school, back when you were much smaller and he was the guy every girl wanted. Sure, you’d put on weight, but she hadn’t expected it to be the thing that destroyed your relationship. Well, that caused your asshole ex to do what he’d done.

The thing was you lived in an apartment building in a quiet neighborhood in Upper New York, second story with a neighbor above and below. You’d talked to the masked man that lived above, constantly having to apologize for the volume level that Kit would get to at 4 am when he was playing his games. The masked man would just grumble and glare, telling you to make sure he kept it down.

By the 6th or 7th time, Ghost noticed the bruise on your arm despite your efforts to hide it under a loosely knitted sweater and grunted, eyeing the mark before his dark chocolate hues flicked to yours in question. You blew him off, saying you fell in the bathtub, but he couldn’t ignore the fingerprint shape the purple splotch made.

This time he came down and banged on the door, a sense of urgency behind it. He’d never heard you scream like that and he’d found himself with a need to protect you, if he could. You stood from your spot, wiping your tears as you moved to the door. Peeking through the peephole, you let out a heavy sigh and steeled yourself for the masked man’s wrath. Ghost grunted at you, brow raised as he took in the way you looked. Your hair was a mess, body wrapped in a tattered sweater and dark circles that held spilled tears. “I’m so sorry for the noise. It won’t happen again,” you stated, not looking up to catch the man’s eyes and moving to close the door again. But it stuck, the man’s large boot between the jam and the door.

Your eyes widened and you opened the door, peeking around it and finally meeting his eyes. “Don’t d’serve that treatment,” Ghost grunted at you, arms still crossed over his broad chest. You’d always found him intimidating, but you had to admit that his size intrigued you. You whimpered in response, feeling a fresh wave of tears fighting to the surface.

Ghost bullied his way into your apartment, closing the door behind him with his boot as he scooped you up into his arms. He didn’t know why he was doing this, comforting a stranger like you, but he held tight to his words. From what he could hear, you didn’t do anything wrong and never raised your voice to your trash ex and no one deserved to be treated that way for nothing.

He moved to the couch, holding you against his chest until your cries quieted down. That also meant your sense was coming back to you. You scrambled from his lap, moving to stand closer to the corner of the room. “I’m sorry. I’m okay, you don’t need to be here. I’m-I’ll be fine,” your voice shook with every word and you couldn’t look him in the eye.

You heard the couch creak in a way it usually only did when you moved off it as heavy, black boots came into your view. You looked up and met his eyes, gasping softly as you caught your bottom lip between your teeth. “Don’t look a’ me like tha’, love,” Ghost growled low in his throat, massive form hovering over you in the corner.

Maybe something snapped inside you. Maybe you were having a full on mental breakdown. But the next thing you knew, you were raising your hand to the bottom of the black balaclava covering his face. Your eyes never left his, watching them grow darker as your fingers hooked under the bottom. You waited to see if he would stop you, but when he did it, you slowly began sliding it up and off his head, scars and marks revealed inch by inch.

Ghost didn’t know why he was letting you see him. Perhaps he wanted you to see that you weren’t alone in your brokenness. You closed the distance, pulling him down to you as you pressed your lips to his in a desperate kiss. He obliged you, letting you lead the kiss as you worked through your pain. His gloved hands came to grasp the flesh of your waist, backing you to the wall when his self-control slipped momentarily.

With a growl, he pulled back from you and shook his head. He stomped away from you, wrenching your door open and slamming it behind him. He leaned against your door for a moment, ripping his mask back over his head before disappearing upstairs. And you found yourself collapsed on the floor for the second time that night.

You were resolute, determined to rid yourself of everything that tied you to Kit. It would be a long six months of divorce lawyers, packing, moving, and erasing every last trace of him from your life.

Which was why you were standing in the produce section in the middle of Manchester, England, woefully looking over the peppers you knew you’d never end up eating. You hadn’t seen anyone tied to Kit or even your own family for about four months. You were lonely, but it felt better being lonely alone instead of lonely and married. You hadn’t seen the masked man that lived above you after he comforted you that night.

You felt eyes on the back of your neck, heading whipping up in paranoia as it swiveled side to side. But you didn't see anyone. You had moved out so quickly that Ghost didn’t have a chance to check on you and had been searching for you ever since, even looping in his team. How lucky was he that six months later, he happened to be on leave and you had moved right into his hometown.

If I continue, it'll eventually be poly!141. I'm trying not to use many identifying characteristics for the reader other than she is shorter. However, this is written with the idea that the reader is plus size. Please let me know any suggestions or ways to make this better. It's the first time I'm posting my writing publicly so please be nice.

#poly!141 #call of duty x reader #captain john price #task force 141 x reader #cod fanfic smut #johnny soap mctavish x reader #johnny soap mactavish #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #kyle gaz x reader #kyle gaz garrick #touchau #tradgedyinwaves

823 notes · View notes

azure-sorceress · 7 months ago

Text

One thing I absolutely love about the way Sanderson wrote Gavilar is how the reader's perception of him slowly changes as the books go along.

In The Way of Kings we are under the impression Gavilar was not only a great king, but a great person as well. The highprinces respected him where they don't respect Elhokar. Dalinar talks about him as a perfect brother, Elhokar talks about him as a perfect father and even Jasnah misses him. Only Navani seems to be a little glad he's gone, but we can easily disregard that knowing she's in love with Dalinar.

This perception of him stays mostly unchanged in Words of Radiance, but by Oathbringer this picture of the perfect king and good person starts to crumble. We have confirmation in the prologue that he wanted to bring back the Desolations and that was the only reason he had made the deal with the Listeners in the first place.

In Dalinar's flashbacks we see how he used Dalinar as his war machine, how his conquest turned Dalinar into a man that could not live without a war, and didn't give him a purpose beyond that once the fighting was over. We see how Dalinar gave up everything for his brother but got very little in return. Gavilar wouldn't even let Dalinar finally relax and spend time with his first son, he had to imidiately give him a war to fight lest he find that he could live without being the Blackthorn. We see how he didn't try to help his brother when he was a drunk and let him destroy himself.

At this point it's clear that Gavilar was not really a good person, even if Dalinar doesn't see it that way. But he's not tha bad, right? Dalinar did most of these things because he wanted to, Gavilar only pointed him in the direction he wanted to.

And then we get to Rhythm of War, where we find out that Navani's imposter symdrome, that has been so prevelant in the books since the beginning is all Gavilar's fault. He made her feel she wasn't really an artifabrian, that she wasn't intellegent, made her feel like she was a cheater despite the fact that she always remained loyal to him. He made it clear he didn't care about Jasnah's feelings when it came to marrying Amaram and how he didn't see Elhokar as a fit heir. Gavilar's family all cared about him so much, and yet, here we see how little he cared about them.

By this time we're all cheering Szeth when he kills this man because he didn't deserve a single good thing that was said about him throughout the entire series. Gavilar dying was the best thing that happened to all these characters and that realization is amazing.

#gavilar kholin #rhythm of war spoilers #stormlight archive #brandon sanderson #cosmere #dalinar kholin #navani kholin #jasnah kholin #elhokar kholin

1K notes · View notes

enwoso · 7 months ago

Note

hey, could you try write something platonic for arsenal x reader with anger issues and the team getting the brunt of it? maybe like kim/leah having to deal with them or learn to calm them down? something along those lines idrk hahahah

NOT YOU — arsenal wfc x reader

this went in a different direction then what i had originally planned. sorry if some sorts don’t make sense i wrote this while i was half asleep. but enjoy x

warnings: talks of an absent father, few swear words

masterlist

the team was worried about. more specifically kim and leah were worried about you. they had never seen you act the way you had in the past. usually you were always laughing and joking around with kyra, pulling pranks and overall just being a pest.

but something had switched, little things were making you snap more quicker than usual, you were making harsh tackles on your own teammates as well as making rude remarks to anyone who tried to talk to you which wasn't totally out of the normal but your actions were speaking louder than your words at the moment.

the team knew you had a short fuse but it had never been this bad before. something had lit your fuse.

the girls had tried everything to try and figure out what had happened but nothing seemed to work but by the day, your anger was starting to build and leah and kim were worried it was about to spill over and were worried for whoever was on the receiving line for when that actually happened.

"we need to try and figure out what is wrong with y/n, she's gonna seriously hurt someone otherwise" kim said as she walked back from the training fields with leah by her side, who immediately agreed with the scot.

a hushed talk of the other girls in front on the two talking about your negative attitude. the two giving each other a look knowing the longer your temper and bad mood continued the more it was going to affect the team.

you were walking behind everyone else, by yourself letting your thoughts override as you walked along the gravelled path of colney. your boots hanging from your hand as the wind hit your bare legs.

you were last to walk into the locker room to grab your bag as well as being one of the last to leave. checking your phone to look at the time but being met with several messages from your dad.

rolling your eyes at them as your scowl deepening as you didn’t even bother to read any of them knowing it whatever he had written but be a whole load of waffle, as the man couldn’t tell the truth if smacked him in the face and said ‘i’m here!’

you and your dad had a complicated relationship, actually scratch that, that was putting it in nice terms. to you he was a deadbeat dad, or you could go as far as saying a sad excuse for a father.

chucking your shoes on and tying the laces when you felt a showed stand over you, noticing the shoes you knew who it was before you even looked up.

“y/n, can we have a chat?” kim asked calmly, as you looked at her not saying anything instead nodding for her to continue. knowing that this chat had been coming as you’d noticed the looks and chats she’d been having with leah and a few of the others girls — knowing that it would most likely be about you.

“you don’t have to tell me but i can tell your not yourself y/n and we’re all here for you and we just want to help you if we can but- your behaviour is starting to affect the team” she began as you just sat on the bench not showing the scot any emotion. kim was walking on egg shells as she spoke, you being able to sense her trying to pick her words carefully.

“you going to seriously injure someone if you carry on lashing out at people. so if there anything we can help with?” kim spoke in the same spoke tone, you leg bouncing up and down your head was a mess and the last thing you wanted was to have someone pity you.

you didn’t like pity.

you shook your head, “nope i’m all good!” packing your bag up and slinging it on your shoulder.

“are you sure- cause we-“

“kim! i said i’m good! just leave it at that! leave me fucking be!” you spat storming out the room. the door slamming as you walked down the corridor. regret and guilt filling your body with each step, but you were sick of people asking you if you were okay, babying you.

why couldn’t they all just take the hint when you said you were fine?

“y/n.” her voice echoed along the corridor, making you freeze. “c’mere” leah spoke in a stern tone, as you turned around half of the blondes body poking out of one of the meeting rooms.

dragging your feet to where she was, taking in a big breath as you walked into the empty room. taking a seat in one of the chairs as leah turned on her heel the door clicking shut as she stood tall in front of you her arms folded across her chest, almost intimidating you.

“what’s going on? this isn’t the y/n i know.” leah said in the same tone she’d spoken to you in just a few minutes ago. you stayed silent, a part of you scared you may lash out at the blonde too.

leah knew you best out of anyone on the team, she was the one you trusted most out of the team even if she was several years younger than you. she was the one that took you under her wing when you first started training with the first team.

with that though meant the blonde could read you like a book. you couldn’t lie to her like you easily could to the others as she would know the minute you opened your mouth.

“maybe this is the new y/n” you spoke in a hushed tone, shrugging your shoulders as leah raised her eyebrows confused at your words.

“no. no, this isn’t you. has something happened with your mum?” she asked, as she watched your body language closely as that was the closest she was getting to you actually giving the blonde some clues as to what had happened.

your shoulders tense up a little more. leah knew about your close relationship with your mum how she was your number one supporter, the england captain having quite a good relationship with her, herself.

you shook your head, “no, my mums fine” you paused before continuing.

"my dads’ been back in contact." you mumbled as a sigh of defeat come from you. the room filling with silence as leah came and sat down next to you putting her arm around you not saying anything yet as she knew you hadn't finished what you wanted to say yet.

"begging to be back in my life, that he's so proud that i'm his daughter, that he misses me blah blah blah, coming back into my life once again when it’s convenient for him." the bitterness was obvious in your tone of voice as you spoke, it told the whole story for itself.

leah knew about the your history with your father, how he had treat you and your mother when you were little before leaving your mum to carry on your upbringing as a single parent when you were just four.

but then every few years he would pop back up into your life, wanting and begging to be apart of it. that he had changed and wasn’t the same man he was when you were five.

but you had learned the hard way, that people like him. they don’t change.

so the first couple of times when he would spring back up when you were younger, he would promise you the world. that he would promise take you out for the day and spoil you with anything and everything you want claiming it as his way of making up for lost time but it would always end the same way.

you sitting on the bottom step of your stairs, hair all nicely done, dressed in an outfit you would spent hours figuring out what to wear. you would sit there for hours, the sound of the clock ticking away. all for him to just not turn up and then make a lame excuse up as you cried in your mums arms.

so the last time you saw him before the past week, was when you were 15 just after making it into your first youth camp with england as well as joining the arsenal academy, your dad had told you that he had met someone in america and that he was moving there.

a small part of you was a little hurt but the majority of you was happy as sad as it sounds but he was never really a dad to you.

“i thought he was living in america?” leah asked as you hummed, a mock laugh coming over you “me too, until he showed up at my door at 6 in the morning!”

“thinking he was going to just have a place to stay at mine as if he didn’t just leave for 5 years no messages, no calls. then when i said no he started trying to manipulate me, saying how im such a bad daughter-“ you breathed out feeling leah squeeze your shoulders, her hand rubbing up and down your arms for comfort.

“have you spoken to your mum about this? does she know he’s back in london?” leah asked quietly as you shook your head. “no, she doesn’t need that stress right now.”

“i don’t know what to do le, everytime i go home he’s there. i don’t even fuckjng know how he got my address.” your voice cracked, all the emotions you’d been holding in for the past week finding flooding over.

you were conflicted, cause whilst you had spent so many years hating your father for never being there or if he was it was only when it suited him and not when you really needed him. you wanted to believe he’d changed but his actions spoke louder and then his words.

but then again he was your dad, where you got your blood from but that was it, you didn’t really know him at all and he didn’t really know you.

you both only really knowing of each other.

“it’s okay, y/n we’ll figure it out together i promise.”

#leah williamson #leah williamson x reader #kim little #arsenal wfc #kyra cooney cross #alessia russo x reader #awfc imagine #woso x reader #woso #woso imagine #woso blurbs #woso community #arsenal women #awfc #woso fanfics #england wnt #england women #england #enwoso

419 notes · View notes

trikruismybitch · 2 days ago

Text

Did I Cross The Line? Part Two

y'all said three parts so heres part two! I hope y'all like it!

Summary: After the incident with Natasha Y/n runs to the first person she knows could help her. Later on Natasha talks about what set her off.

Warnings: Talks about domestic violence, ptsd, mentions of bruises, mentions of torture and implied sexual assault

Pairings: Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader, Yelena Belova x Kate Biship, MentionPast!Kate Bishop x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.2k

Part One

"Y/n!" Natasha goes to chase you to explain. "Come back!" She needs to explain. She needs to apologize

You run, heart beating rapidly as you hear her footsteps as she follows you. You bang on the door as loudly and as fast as you can. You look around and see Nat rounding the corner, so you bang harder on the door.

The door opens.

"Yelena!" You and Nat both yell.

You rush towards her falling into her arms. Kate standing just behind her. You start to sob, and you know you'll be okay.

Yelena holds you and tries to assess the situation. Nat skirts to a stop, around three feet, before she can enter the apartment door.

She looks at Natasha, bloodshot eyes and out of breath very un-Nat-like.

Then she looks down at you in her arms, crying and shaking, very un-Y/n-like.

Natasha tries to step forward but Yelena pins her with a glare, essentially telling her to stay put. She turns your body slightly shielding you from Nat as she looks down at you.

She can barely see your face as it's buried in her chest but she needs to look at you and see what has happened.

"Hey" she says softly "Let me see." She gently grabs your chin and has you look at her.

It's a startling sight. Your right cheek is red and swollen. The same as your left jaw and you have a cut on your lip that's bleeding.

She takes a sharp inhale and looks towards Kate seeing her eyes have hardened as well. Kate looks sharply towards Natasha and takes a step forward.

As much as she loves her girlfriend, Yelena knows that Kate would die if she tried to fight her sister.

"Kate" Yelena softly calls out to her "Come grab her and take her inside" Kate immediately complies.

As softly as she can she touches your back "Hey, Y/n/n" you look at her "Come here" you move towards her and melt into her arms. She guides you inside as Yelena walks out and closes the door gently not wanting to startle you.

"What has happened, Natasha?" Yelena's smart but she didn't want to believe what was right in-front of her. "Please do not tell me you did that to her."

Natasha opens and closes her mouth "I did." Yelena's eyes harden "You must go. You cannot stay here. I will take care of Y/n and I will deal with you tomorrow."

"Yelena, I didn't mean to" Natasha tries "I didn't realize what I had done, until after. You know I would never hurt her."

"Y/n's face says otherwise." Yelena still loves her sister so she softens her eyes "I will take care of her. You must go, we will speak tomorrow. You go and talk to Clint." Yelena opens the door and goes inside

----

Kate's holding you on the couch. You having calmed down considerably.

Yelena walks up and sits on your other side.

Kate looks at Yelena and Yelena nods her head. Kate looks at you sadly.

You look at both of them noticing the pity in their eyes. "She-she didn't mean to" you say softly "We were arguing and I grabbed her arm when she turned away from me and she just snapped." you shake your head "It wasn't Natasha. My Natasha would never do that to me, her eyes, I could tell she wasn't fully there."

You look at Kate but she still has that same look. So you look towards Yelena hoping she'll understand. "Like when she has nightmares and she wakes up, she had that same look on her face. She would never hurt me."

Yelena nods understandably "I do know how that goes" she sighs "but, y/n/n, you understand that what she did to you isn't okay, right?" Yelena speaks gently. She knows what you've been through and she doesn't want to push you but she needs you to understand that what has happened isn't okay.

You look up at her as your chin wobbles and you nod. You don't want to start crying again but every time you think back to that moment your heart hurts remembering the look in Natasha's eyes. "I-i know Yelena....but you know Natasha... she would never knowingly hurt me...." you pick at your clothes trying to give yourself something to do besides think or stare into Yelena eyes.

Yelena looks over to Kate. She stares at you with a sad look in her eyes. Kate goes to look at Yelena face softening nodding her head to you and Yelena nods.

"Okay, Y/n/n. Let's get you out of your clothes, you can borrow something from Yelena and I's and we can go to bed. Is that okay?" Kate questions softly rubbing your back comfortingly

You nod your head "Is it okay if i stay in bed with you guys..." you wring your fingers nervously "I don't really want to be alone tonight if not its okay-" you start to ramble not looking into their eyes

Yelena laughs softly and nudges your shoulder "No worries Y/n L/n we can cuddle." She wiggles her eyebrows trying to get you to laugh and it works when you let out a smile smile while shaking your head.

Kate hands you some pajamas to change into. You wince slightly when you put on the shirt that says "cyka" clearly Yelena's, it makes you roll your eyes lovingly.

You try not to look in the mirror but you can't resist. You hesitate but bite the bullet and do so. Your eyes are bloodshot and puffy. You have a cut on the left side of your lip. There are bruises forming on the right side of your cheek and the underside of your jaw on the left side. You slightly raise your chin and you see the bruises from her hands and suddenly you feel your eyes sting and you look away taking a deep breath.

You're safe here but you know eventually you'll have to speak to Natasha and you don't know how to face her. You know it's not technically her fault but she hurt you and you were fairly helpless against her...What if it happens again? Will she hurt you again? What if-"

*knock-knock*

"You okay y/n/n?" Kates voice follows and interrupts your spiraling thoughts

"Yeah! I'm coming out right now." You take one final look towards the mirror hoping you look better tomorrow.

-----------------

You in fact do not look any better the next day. It's worse. The bruises on your face are a dark purple and your eyes are still puffy from your crying the previous day.

When you first woke up between Kate and Yelena you felt warm, not having been shown this much affection in a while. When you try to get up your ribs protest throbbing painfully causing you to release a quiet groan waking Yelena up.

Yelena looks at you for a second "What's wrong?" her accent is heavier in the morning "Are your bruises bothering you?" she questions already slipping softly out of bed when you nod, "Lets go. Don't want to wake Kate up, you know how she gets when she doesn't get enough sleep." she nods towards the door you nod in agreement and follow her.

Yelena grabs you an ice pack and some orange juice for you to drink "Breakfast of champions as you Americans say it."

You smile and then it gets quiet, both of you drinking your orange juice. You like your lips before slightly hesitating to speak "Thank you." You speak softly looking into your glass "I appreciate you letting me stay here and being here for me. I know it's hard because Natasha is your sister I-i just want to say I appreciate what you're doing for me and how you've been here for these last few months." You look into her eyes sadly

Yelena's face softens before nodding understandably, "Yes, Natasha is family. But I care about you Y/n. After the incident..." she hesitated slightly on what phrase to use, "you chose to come here, with us and I don't take that lightly. You do not need to thank us. We both care for you."

You grin before wincing forgetting about the cut on your cheek "ow fuck" you hiss

Yelena walks up-to you worriedly "Be careful Y/n L/n." Yelena stares at you, really takes you in. Frankly, you look like shit. The bruises on your face are darker already trying to heal. The cut on your lip had reopened from your smile and she watches as you blot the blood away. Yelena's blood boils the longer she stares at you. She doesn't understand how Natasha could have lost control, what could have happened to cause her to hurt you this way.

"I think you should go to medbay." Yelena finally says

You immediately shake your head "No, I can't, I'm fine Yelena."

"You need to get your ribs checked out. I can see it pains you by the way you breathe." Yelena purses her lips "No one has to know, okay?"

"How will I explain what happened to me? I haven't been on a mission in two weeks." You question her before lowering your voice "I don't want anyone to know what happened."

"I can bring Cho here. We can say you got into a bar brawl and don't want Steve to know about it." Kate interrupts walking into the kitchen gently touching your back and walking around to give Yelena a kiss on the cheek "Good morning by the way. Totally rude to leave me in bed by myself but I'll let it slide because I'm nice."

Yelena rolls her eyes but looks at you, "Is that okay? I'd feel better if you were checked out."

You look between them "Will Cho even come here? What if she tells someone?" you ponder

Kate shakes her head swallowing down Yelena's orange juice she stole "Nah. When I do missions off books and get hurt I always have her come here so Clint won't be on my ass." You and Yelena share a look then you both focus back at Kate. She notices and backtracks "I-i haven't done it in a long time and it was before Yelena and I started dating" You raise your eyebrow at her "And wayyy after we broke up!" She raised her hands up in defense "Can we focus on Y/n now" she whines

Yelena looks at her lovingly before kissing her cheek "We are teasing you Kate Bishop. As long as you do not do that without telling me we are good. It is a good idea and as long as Y/n is okay with it." They both look at you and you nod agreeing, "Okay, I will have Cho come here but I need to run a few errands so I won't be back for a few hours."

-----------

Yelena knocks on the front door but she gets no answer. She starts banging "Natalia I know you are in there! Open the door!" No answer "Cyka." Yelena bends down and picks the lock "Not cool sestra!" Yelena yells into the apartment looking around seeing Natasha sitting on the ottoman. Yelena sighs before walking up and dropping in the couch next to her.

"Did you even talk to Clint?" Yelena asks after a moment growing tired for the silence

"No." Natasha whispers back staring at the glass full of bourbon.

Yelena narrows her eyes at Natasha, "Why not? Have you been drinking?"

Natasha shakes her head slowly, "No I haven't...I-i wanted to but-" Natashas throat tightens and her eyes burn "I don't want that. I never wanted that to happen."

Yelena's eyes soften "What happened Natasha? What caused you to..." she trails off

Natasha leans fully back into the ottoman and bites her lip lightly, "We were arguing both accused one another of cheating-"

"Did you?" Yelena interrupts

Natasha's head snaps to her "Of course not." She stares dead Yelena in the eyes, "I love Y/n. I was drunk and jealous" Natashas eyes waver slightly, "she brought up a mission I had gone on a few months ago, to Murcia."

"Yes I remember you were gone for a few weeks. Y/n was worried sick because it was a no-contact infiltration." Yelena recants

Natasha laughs bitterly "Yeah, well I found some old video footage of my days in the red room...some of the things in that footage is stuff I barely remembered" Natasha scoffs "But I remember now. What they did to me. How they held me down as they-" She looks at Yelena. Her eyes, so very sad "When she brought it up every emotion I tried to bury by going on mission after mission came to the surface amplified by my drinking and the argument. I turned to leave and she grabbed my arm and I felt everything they did to me all over again and I reacted..." tears streamed down Natasha's face "I hurt her. I hurt my wife because I couldn't deal with what happened to me" Natasha hunched forward elbows on her knees and her face in her hands, sobbing "I fucking hit her Yelena."

Natasha breaks down and Yelena rushes to her side. Gently touching her and hugging her sister. "Shhh Сестрица, I got you." Yelena soothes, rocking Natasha back and forth. Tears rolling down Yelena's eyes as she watches the strongest person she knows break down. [big sister]

Yelena wants to tell her everything will be okay but she knows she can't promise her that. So she tells Natasha to let it all out and hums the Russian tune their mother sang them on their way back to Russia.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x you #black widow #angst #natasha romanofd x fem!reader #natasha romanoff x reader angst

177 notes · View notes