Goldilocks and the Four Bears
Chapter 3
Dark!Poly!141 x reader
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Warning: Descriptions of female anatomy, negative conceptions about anxiety/panic attacks, medical scenes, depictions of cuts/injuries, etc
Shit.
They had definitely heard that floorboard creak. The sound practically bounced off the walls in the almost silent cabin.
You heard the shuffling in the kitchen come to a stop. Before it had sounded like the group of men that had invaded your dwelling were rifling through the cupboard, searching for something. Now it seemed as if they were all unanimously holding their breath, waiting for another sound to pass through the cabin.
For another few moments you freeze. Hoping they think the sound was a byproduct of the old wooden cabin you all found yourself in, not you creeping down the staircase.
You heard shuffling again in the kitchen and assumed they resumed their searching. You take in a slow, deep breath. Trying to stay as calm as possible. You need to remember your training from Gunner and everything that you learnt before Miasma.
You let your diaphragm relax, lungs expanding and eyes focusing. You take a deep breath through your nose, allowing your head to clear and you to focus.
The front door is your target. All you need to do is get down the stairs, creep across the entry way and unlock it. From your place on the second floor, you can see over the banister that four sets of black boots sit on the mat by the front door. If you can make it down the stairs and slip on a pair of boots you should have some protection against the snow and stone outside. Maybe the men came in some sort of transport, you think.
A part of you knows you’re kidding yourself thinking you can slip out the front door undetected, but you have to try.
Moving in the balls of your feet you slip down the stairs. You stay in the middle of the steps, cushioning your feet on the red carpet running up the staircase. Once you reach the bottom, you press yourself against the wall. You take another silent breath.
You just need to make it to the door. Just a few quick steps and you’ll be there.
The words seem hollow now knowing that the four intruders are just next door to you in the kitchen. But you have to try.
You rush to the front door. With one hand you grab two boots, with the other you pull frantically at the door. As it opens and the light from outside pours in, a gloved skeleton hand slams it shut.
The Goliath’s body crowds your own as he pins you to the door. One gloved hand grips the back of your neck, making you seize up on the spot, the other trails down your hip.
You can’t help the shout that falls from your lips as your chance at escape is foiled, “No!”
Your arms are pinned behind your back soon after. The action pulling at your shoulders and reawakening one particular nasty gash on your side.
“That was bampot of you Bonnie, thinking you could sneak out under our noses.” The man with the Mohawk chides in his thick accent. He learns against the small fireplace in the main sitting room.
Now all the men are either sat or stood around you. Some with grim looks, others ticked off, all of them intimidating to you.
You sit in the middle of the sofa. Your hands are now tied together in front of you in white climbing rope. After your struggle with the skeleton man, there had been a flurry of action from the other men. A moment or two later after the Goliath has pinned your back to his front, their leader faced you with the rope in hand. You suspected it had come from one of their bags. The rope would blend in to the terrain here.
Sat in little apart from your oversized boxers and white T-shirt, you waited for their next move.
“We aren’t that bad love. You didn’t need to run off in nothing but your skivvies.” The pretty man tells you. He sits in one of the chairs off to the side, his brown eyes piercing yours. The longer he looks at you, the longer you think they might be hiding some flecks of green beneath.
“Being in your skivvies doesn’t matter if you’ve got a rendezvous point nearby,” Skeleton man spits. “You’ll tell us straight if there are more of you round here, right now.” He stands near the window, periodically looking out and checking for signs of life in the vast white.
The man in charge, sits with his ankle over his knee. Calmly, he raises his hand, “Easy Ghost, I’m sure the girl was just scared. Four big men breaking into the house, waking up to finding them looking at her.” His voice is soft, it almost pulls you in. Yet you detect a danger underneath it, like some kind of pitfall.
“Now, I seem to recall we needed to look at those injuries,” The man pulls a small first aid box from the side of chair he sits on, something you didn’t see before.
“I told you I’m fine.” You try arguing and move back on the sofa as an effort to make yourself smaller.
“It seems your story just doesn’t add up lass,” Mohawk starts “Were ye captive or are you a wee liar?”
“Be a good girl and let us take a look.” Pretty man tells you, looking ready to pounce at the first sign of you trying to escape again.
“It wouldn’t take much for us to force you, it’s better this way love.” The man in charge tells you.
A moment passes, tense. The air is charged with, something. You decide that even though you don’t want to bare anymore skin than needed to these men, doing it yourself is better than having them do it for you.
“Fine.” You spit. Words holding more attitude than any of your previous exchanges.
You slowly move your rope bound hands to the bottom of the oversized T-shirt. You pull it up to just below your breasts, baring some large bruises and the nasty gash that isn’t quite healing.
“See love, was that so hard?” The man in charge taunts. “Now all the way off.”
Your eyes bulge, “Absolutely not! I have nothing underneath.”
“And how good of you to think we would care.” Skelton man snarks.
“I am not taking my top off in front of you all. Just pass me the first aid kit and I’ll sort myself out.” You say indignantly.
“Well, it seems we’re at a bit of an impasse.” With a motion of hand from the man in charge, the skeleton man is stalking towards you.
You bolt from your chair only to be tackled by the pretty man. Rough hands are pulling up the white T-shirt, higher and higher. Finally, it’s over your head and on the floor. You let out a squeak and press yourself to the nearest surface, which just so happens to be the pretty man.
“Looks like ye got a friend, Gaz.” Mohawk laughs.
You keep your face down and cling tightly to the man, using his body to save your modesty.
“Well this won’t do, can’t clean her up like this Price.” The skeleton man grumbles.
Your grip on Gaz doesn't loosen as the men plan their next move. Your mind is running at a mile a minute and you feel your head getting gradually lighter as your breathing becomes quick and shallow. A panic attack? No, you were better than that, stronger than that. Gunner had told you so.
Amongst the arguing of the men around you, your mind wanders. Back when you were younger, much younger. When you were just a girl. A girl, who didn't fully understand how much her life would change. Your father had just been murdered in the house you had made into a temporary base as you ran from your mother country.
Armed men broke in, found your father and killed him. At seven you were unable to do anything to help. Only capable of sitting in the dark wardrobe and keeping quiet.
After a few hours, when you were sure the men had left, you crept out from the closet. In your hand you nursed a small teddy, still soft and gentle looking. On the floor you found your father.
Your mind blocked out a lot from the rest of that day. Small fragments of murky memory sometimes prevail through the darkness when you think hard enough. In the mirrors of your mind you see yourself curled up to his side, oblivious to the smell of the decaying body your father once owned. Later in the memories Gunner finds you, rips you away from him before burning the house that he lies in. He made you leave your teddy in the house that day, something about destroying evidence, something a child wouldn't understand.
When you sobbed and cried and yelled for it back he berated you. Told you to grow up. And that's what you did for the next 15 years.
"Look at what you've done to her boys, she's bleeding now", The man in charge tells the room as he lights up a cigar.
"She shouldn't struggle so much then Price", Skelton answers with snark.
"Can't have her bleeding all over the place Captain. We can at least try to clean her like this", The man you now know as Gaz rumbles lowly, trying not to frighten you anymore.
"You're too soft Gaz, could be a enemy spy for all we know and you're sat cuddling her like a kid". Skelton spits through his balaclava.
Gaz sighs, "The girls clearly frightened by us and stripping her down hasn't helped. The poor thing is panicking, look at her".
"Could just be an act". He spat in response.
"Give off Ghost, where's that kind and loving side to ya we all know?". The mohawk laughs as the Skeleton man, Ghost, gives him an incredulous look with his pale blue eyes.
"Enough of this. Ghost, Soap, go and clean up". The Captain orders them.
They both turn to Kyle who holds you and look like they want to make an argument to stay but after a few seconds decide against it.
Price puts out his cigar and moves closer to Kyle and sits down with the first aid kit on a chair next to him.
"Now I can't promise this won't hurt like a bitch, but most of these look pretty deep love and if you don't want them infected, I'll need to wash 'em out. Okay?" He doesn't wait for an answer from you before he grabs a bottle of saline water, soaking a few cotton balls with the stuff.
"Hold her steady Kyle", two arms wrap around you, one at your neck and the other at your ass, effectively pulling you closer to the man and trapping you against his body.
It feels like acid being poured into your cuts and wounds. The feeling makes your vision go white and a hiss to escape from your gritted teeth.
"Easy girl. take it easy" You find the advice hard to listen to when the very man sets your skin alight with salty water and cotton.
He continues cleaning to the sound of your whimpers and moans of pain. When he attends to the deeper cuts you try to fight and wriggle away. It proves pointless for you, but the movement prompts a rush of blood to Kyle's cock, not that you notice in your haze of pain and continuous movements.
"Right, get her on her side" The captain commands. Kyle forces you to the side on his lap. He locks one arm around your breasts and grips around your arm at the other side. His second arm goes to securing your hips to his best he can.
"This ones deep. Might even need Ghost to come and do the stitches." The thought of the gruff man poking you with a needle in the name of medicine does not appeal to you in the slightest. That must have manifested on your face as it cases the Captain to laugh.
"Alright lovie, lets get it cleaned and wrapped and see what it's like tomorrow. You'll just have to be careful." He tells you as he gets back to work. Now wrapping certain parts of your torso in gauze where he deems it's needed.
"Maybe save your escape attempts for when you can bend to the side without needing a doctor afterwards." Kyle tells you.
You roll your eyes at the wall in front of you. A particularly rough swipe of the cotton ball causes you to yelp. You twist your head to the Captain who holds his hands up to apologise, but there's something underlying in his eyes, a glimmer of enjoyment. What a sadist, you think.
"Right move her so I can clean her front".
You found yourself moved again. This time with your back to Kyle. His arms lock around your breasts and hips. Your eyes meet the Captains. Once again his eyes assess you, your face, your body, your injuries. Reading you, observing you, trying to figure you out.
"They don't seem as bad on the front." He muses, the notion causing you to scoff at his nonchalance.
Again he cleans any cuts he finds with the cotton balls. Taking care to gentle pull and stretch any skin around your abdomen to best clean the wounds. That's what you tell yourself anyway as you try not to focus on his hungry gaze when he touches your skin.
He takes one of your legs in his large palm and holds it straight, looking for further injuries. Then he takes the next and does the same. He must not find anything worth a swipe with the cotton ball but his hands remain on your legs, slowly creeping up your thighs. Softly, he rubs circles in your thighs with his thumbs, watching your face as it contorts to confused to the slightest bit relaxed. Then he abruptly pulls back, grabbing the oversized T-shirt from the floor and helping Kyle to slip it over your head.
When you've sat down again the Ghost man appears at the door. The Captain turns to him and smiles.
"How do you feel about taking the night watch Ghost?"
The pale blue eyes behind the balaclava dart over to your form. Watching you as you squirm on the sofa.
"Would be my pleasure Captain."
