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greatstormcat · 4 months

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Of Wolf And Man - Part 4

Poly TF141 x f!reader

Series Masterlist

TW: MDNI 18+, monsterfucking, hurt/comfort, angst, knotting, fingering, animal injury, p in v, blood

Winter

Snow begins to fall outside, collecting against the window panes of the cottage and dusting the bare branches of the dormant plants in the garden you planted. You stand and watch, sipping on the mug of tea in your hand. It’s been a couple of weeks since you left the Pack’s den and you haven’t seen them since, not hide nor hair, literally. A few times you heard them howl, far off up on the hills, the sound even more chilling than usual and you felt it was filled with despair. But that was probably just your own guilty conscience, you told yourself.

You’d struggled to keep the cottage warm, no matter how hot the fire burned in the hearth or the range boiled, a deep chill cut into your bones all day and night. Another punishment, you told yourself, the cottage hates you now and wants you to go too. Price’s words play over and over in your head, echoing amongst the drafty rafters of the cottage “money over Pack… money over Pack.”

In an effort to occupy yourself you dragged the box full of handwritten notes downstairs in front of the fireplace, determined to read everything it contains now you have no distractions. No one wanting you to walk the forest with them, no one wanting you to stop what you’re doing and just lay with them, no one trying to make you laugh. The loneliness is like nothing you’ve ever felt and you grasp at the only distraction you have.

You’d only managed to get through a fifth of what was held when you first found the box. To try and make sense of the contents you pull everything out and arrange the bundles chronologically, so you can read in some kind of order.

It took a few days to get through everything, and by the end you were exhausted.

One entry kept repeating over and again in your mind, from a man who had lived here in the early 1800s. He wrote in flowing, ink script that he had been told of a local woodsman chopping wood and his axe had slipped in his palms, bouncing from the block and into his leg. Price and two others from the Pack were there instantly, treating his wound and saving his life. Similar acts were repeated through the years by many other local people, they’d helped when fires had ravaged homes, protected the town during conflict and always, always been there. There was no need for the Pack to intervene, but they did, because it was the right thing to do.

You’d accused them of being selfish, self serving, and nothing could be further from the truth. You’d really fucked up. They wanted you to stay with them, and you knew deep down you wanted to stay too.

Stood at the window, lost in your melancholy thoughts, a movement catches your eye outside and you glance up just to see the tip of a tawny tail disappear. Your heart leaps into your throat and you scramble to the front door of the cottage, ripping it open in time to see a four legged shape moving into the trees beside the cottage.

“Wait! Please, wait!” You yell, throwing dignity to the wind as you jog out into the falling snow, slippers instantly soaked in the cold drift on the track. It’s for naught though, as you trudge into the trees and lose sight of whoever it was and the tracks stop. With a defeated sigh you turn to go back to the cottage, cold and wet for no good reason now, but behind you, you find Johnny’s wolf sat on a fallen tree watching you. A small hiccup of a sob escapes your throat, and he whines in response.

“Johnny,” you croak, unsure how to say what you want to say. “I’m sorry,” you give up and say weakly.

His tail thumps a few times against the log, and he whines again, licking at his muzzle. You get the feeling he wants to come to you but he is holding back, most likely on Price’s orders.

“I assume I wasn’t meant to see you, but I’m really glad I did. I miss you all and I’m so sorry for what I said…” the floodgates burst and you begin to sob, shoulders shaking with the hurt and guilt filling you. With a loud whine Johnny breaks and rushes over, standing up as he nears you in human shape.

“Shhhh… dinnae cry,” Johnny whispers and wraps you in his arms, holding you tightly against his bare chest. “C’mon, let’s get you back inside. You’re not built for the cold like this.”

Clinging to him you let him guide you back into the cottage, the fire crackling and suffusing the air with a comforting warmth. The werewolf fusses over you and gets you near the fire to warm up, sitting on the rug beside you and holding you tightly.

“Can you imagine what it’s like?” He asks you carefully, as though speaking to a child almost. “To live as long as we do, and fall in love with humans and lose them over and over again?” The words are a crushing weight on your chest, mixing with everything you already feel.

“I can imagine it’s a horrible burden, almost better not to fall in love at all,” you answer.

“What? An’ live a thousand years in isolation, fuck that,” he scoffs. “This cottage draws people in, special people. It was here well before Price, we think his Da’ built it but there’s no way to know. It’s linked to his pack and wants people here who deserve love.”

You stare into the fire, its warmth seeping into your bones like it used to. There is undoubtedly something unusual about the cottage, something that almost makes it feel like a living thing in its own right.

“How do I apologise?” You ask.

“Carefully, he’s been a nightmare since you left. He all but trashed the den.”

Several heartbeats of silence pass as you thoughtfully stared into the flames of the fireplace, your head resting gently on his shoulder. You twist and worry at the hem of your jumper as you think to yourself what you should be doing.

“Johnny, I’m not leaving,” you say, staring at the twisted fabric in your fingers.

“What?” he says, dumbfounded by your change of heart.

“I want to stay,” you say, looking him in the eye and smiling weakly.

“Are ya sure?” he asks, taking your face in his hands and staring hopefully into your eyes. “Really sure, hen?” You smile at his reaction, your tear stain cheeks warming in the glow of his happiness.

“I’m sure,” you confirm. In a blur you find yourself pinned to the rug under Johnny as he covers your face with kisses.

“Oh this is perfect, you won’t regret it,” he mumbles against your skin. “C’mon, we have to go and tell Price before he breaks anything else.”

You changed into outdoor clothes and walking boots, and follow Johnny in his wolf form up the trail. He bounds around you, tail wagging the entire time, nearly knocking you over as he shares his joy. You move into the deeper part of the forest the bottom of the hill below the den

The track is thick with snow as you follow behind Johnny, his paws making light work of it as you trudge along. The snow falls more thickly, sounds deadened in the air by the falling flakes and the forest has an eerie quiet to it. It feels as though the world is holding its breath, waiting for something. That’s when Johnny slows, hackles raised as he scents the still air.

Voices drift through the trees and your heart sinks as you recognise them. Too late, you see them walking between the thick trunks of the oaks, it’s the two trappers carrying heavy packs loaded undoubtedly with wolf traps again.

As soon as they spot you and Johnny they freeze, and the man thrusts his hand into his coat pocket, emerging again with a pistol.

“You again?!” The woman yells. “Fucking hurry up and shoot her!”

Johnny growls and lunges forward. The trapper holds the pistol out in front of him, the barrel wavering with his inexperience and uncertainty.

The noise of the gunshot is horrendous, world shattering as it echoes and bounces off the trees and rocks, as well as inside your head. But it’s nothing compared to the scream that escapes your lips as Johnny falls to the ground, bright crimson spattering across the crystalline white snow as he rolls over and over until he stops in a crumpled heap.

Something inside you snaps and you launch yourself at the man, the murderer, and flail wildly with your fists without a single concern for yourself. You bite, scratch and claw, trying to inflict as much damage as you can, as though you were a wild animal fighting for her life. Tears and rage blind you, stopping you from seeing the gun fall from his hand into the snow and vanishing from view as the man backs away from your attack. His partner drops to her knees and gropes through the soft powder trying to retrieve the weapon.

You begin to tire but force yourself not to stop, until you’re lifted from the ground, legs kicking wildly as you impotently scream out your anger and pain.

“That’s enough!” A deep voice penetrates your grief and stills you, calm creeping into your brain, a voice you know. “That’s it, calm down.”

You blink through your tears and your feet touch the ground again as you relax. A warm body holds you firml, and you look over your shoulder to see Price is the one holding you, his face grim. Kyle and Simon have the trappers corralled against the rocks, growling and snarling ferociously as the two humans cower.

Price lets you go and picks up a pack belonging to the trappers and finds a pack of zip ties, and uses them to bind the pair, wrist and ankles and leaves them wedged in behind some rocks at the side of the path as they scream and beg not to be left to be eaten alive. The pair have no idea they are dealing with werewolves still, thankfully.

You kneel in the snow beside Johnny, pressing your glove to the bleeding wound on his shoulder, tears running down your cheeks. The others gather around looking down as Johnny whines and licks your hand.

“Get up, Johnny,” Simon says, not unkindly. “You’re not that shot.” Johnny whines again, snout nudging at your hand again demanding your attention as you glare fiercely up at Simon, ready to curse him out for his insensitivity.

“Mate, c’mon,” Kyle says, nudging the fallen werewolf with his foot, and you start to realise you’re the only one distraught by the situation. Slowly you sit back on your heels and pull your hands back from Johnny’s fur.

“Wait, he’s okay?” you ask incredulously and realise he isn’t bleeding anymore

“Oh, he’ll hurt like a bastard,” Kyle chuckles, “but there’s no way that was a silver bullet so he’s gonna be fine.”

“It does bloody hurt,” Johnny complains bitterly after he shifts form and sits up. Blood seeps from the wound and his face is visibly pale, and he accepts Simon’s hand to pull him to his feet.

“Let’s get you down to the cottage and get the Doc to come and look at that, the bullet’s still in there,” Price says, and give you a curious look. “Kyle, go up to the den and radio into town. We’ll need someone to come up and collect those two as well,” he says, tilting his head at the two trappers.

You walk in silence with the three werewolves as you return to the cottage and get Johnny upstairs into your bed. Kyle soon joins the rest of you having returned from the den and goes upstairs to sit with Johnny while you, Price and Simon wait by the fire. A tense quiet settles over you all, Price watching you closely with his arms crossed over his broad chest.

“What were you doing coming up to the den?” He finally asks you.

“Coming to apologise,” you tell him, deciding to get straight to the point. “Also to ask if I can still stay?”

Price lets out a deep sigh, his eyes drifting closed for a moment before he opens them against and looks at you, brows raised. Simon tilts his head, listening to something you can’t hear, and interrupts Price.

“Sounds like the cavalry has arrived,” he grins, and a few minutes later there is a sharp knock at the door. You open it and invite in the Doctor and one of the senior police officers who have come up from the town. The Doctor is a man in his late sixties, small and balding, and smiles warmly when he sees you.

“What is it this time?” He asks, and you guide him up the narrow stairs to the bedroom where Johnny lays, Kyle sat beside him as they talk softly.

The Doctor speaks to them both like an old friend, clearly he knows exactly who and what they are, and he carefully extracts the bullet from Johnny’s shoulder and closes the wound, before wrapping it in a bandage. He gives him something for the pain, and to help him sleep.

“It’s best if he rests for a few days, preferably in one shape mind you,” he says with a conspiratorial wink and a nod to you, clearly putting you in charge of his care.

“Aye, I hear ya,” Johnny says, smiling thinly. “I’ll rest right here with the lass, no problem.”

“Just make sure he does rest, no strenuous activities,” the elderly man says firmly, patting you on the arm as if wishing you luck as he leaves.

“Ach, that’s no fun,” Johnny grumbles tiredly and Kyle laughs.

“You need to recover, so rest only,” Kyle says firmly, before getting up. “I’m going to make sure Price knows.”

You follow the Doctor and Kyle downstairs, letting Johnny fall asleep under the medicine's effects, and find Price talking to the Police officer who arrived in the car. He tells her where to find the trappers, and with a curt nod she leaves to arrange for the criminals to be taken into custody.

Soon it’s just you and Price left by the fireplace. He runs his finger along the lid of the box where it sits on the sofa, his thick nail making a hollow sound as it drags over the grain. Your mouth goes dry as he picks it up effortlessly and turns to you with a small smile on his face. He lifts it and tilts it so the bottom faces you, and you see in elegant pyrography the initials J.P.

“I made this a long time ago,” he says, putting it back down carefully. “It was in a gap in the bedroom wall, right?”

You nod, not sure what to say.

“It wasn’t hidden from us, love,” he says softly, walking closer to you and making the floorboards creak under his weight. “It was hidden from prying human eyes to protect us.” His hands come up and rest on your shoulders.

“We want you here because we love you, but I shouldn’t have pressured you so much,” he says, bringing his palms up to cup your face tenderly.

“I get that now, I’m sorry,” you admit openly, voice quavering slightly.

“Please stay,” he says quietly, looking at you with soft eyes. In response you rush forward and wrap your arms around his waist, getting enveloped in his embrace immediately.

“Of course,” you reply, and feel the kiss he places on top of your head.

Johnny dozes in your bed after the rest of the Pack leaves, his face a little pale and a small wrinkle on his forehead the only indication of any pain he feels. You keep him in your bed, keeping the wound clean, and marveling at how fast he heals from such an injury.

After just two days Johnny starts to become fidgety, and you know he is feeling better as his body repairs with inhuman speed. Waking up beside him on the third day you feel his hands caressing your hips and his lips on the back of your neck as he spoons up behind you.

“G’morning,” you mumble. “How are you feeling?”

“Hard,” he chuckles, and nudges your backside with his morning wood.

“No, you're still on bedrest , remember?” You chastise him despite the deep warmth you feel between your thighs.

“C’mon,” he whispers against the shell of your ear, “are ya telling me you don’t want this nice fat cock in ya right now, hen?”

Your ears burn at the outrageousness of his words but you still giggle, which turns into a gasp when he rubs himself harder up against your backside. The hands around your stomach slide down and inside your sleep shorts.

“I still dinnae hear a no,” he teases as he slowly runs a fingertip along the seam of your pussy, and softly moans as your breath hitches in response. He does it a few more times before pressing deeper, finding your wetness waiting for him and grinning with triumph.

“There she is,” he sighs and begins to circle you clit slowly as you squirm in his arms.

“Fuck, Johnny,” you whine as he slides his finger through your folds again, gather you slick before returning to your clit again.

“I plan to,” he sniggers and kisses your neck, groaning as you rock your hips and grind against him. Slowly he begins working his thick finger into you, his breathing hot and heavy against your neck, and rocks his hips in time with this hand, mirroring the thrusts. He adds a second finger, stretching your entrance whilst putting delicious friction on your clit with his thumb.

“Are you ready for me, love?” He whispers against your ear. “Gonna let me fuck you good?” You manage to nod, and your shorts are quickly pushed down, your top leg lifted up and the head of his cock slipping between your folds.

The tips of his claws dig into the softness of your thigh as he holds your leg up, and you reach down between your legs to grasp his shaft and line it up with your entrance, the ache inside you demanding to be filled.

“That’s a good girl,” he growls, a lick of broad tongue against your neck making you shudder as he thrusts inside you, filling you with his cock.

His grinds into you, his paws sliding over your body, pinching and squeezing at your breasts, hips, stomach, nipples. He gruffs and whines as he fucks into you, the wet noises of your cunt stretching around his already thickening knot clear and loud.

“Shit… gonna get you on my knot and never let ya go, bonnie thing,” he growls into your ear. As his movements become harsher, more desperate he rolls you onto your front, pushing your thighs wide to give him access to your body. His hips curl and snap, almost frantic as he fucks into you with abandon. The sensation of his knot pulling at your entrance makes you lightheaded, your orgasm starting to build under the onslaught.

You brace yourself against the headboard as his hips slam into yours, his feet scrambling against the mattress and claws digging into the sheets as he pushes harder and harder.

“Johnny! Johnny… gonna come!” You cry out and he lays over your back, with another hard thrust his knot slots into place and then he’s grinding into you as it finishes swelling. The pressure pushes you over the edge and you come, your cunt squeezing and milking his cock as he comes too.

“Fuck… ah… lass, you feel so good,” he grunts, rolling his hips as the last few spasms wrack his body. He pulls you against his chest and arranges the two of you on your sides, kissing the back of your next and shoulders tenderly.

“You feel amazing yourself,” you reply hazily in post orgasmic bliss. “I guess you’re all better now then?”

“Aye, all fixed up now. Let’s get you up to the den today,” he says gently. “Let’s get you back to your Pack.”

“Yes, please,” you sigh contentedly.

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owlcomics101 · 26 days

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Werewolf task force 141 x human!reader Head cannons

Warnings: Some gore, Reader’s gender is neutral, sfw (I am a minor), wolf cuddles, some language

Context: You are the only human on the task force 141. Lasswell put you on the team to balance out with all the bitting and snarling. Your practically their ‘babysitter’

Soap: Trying to relax? Get a good night’s sleep? NOPE! Not with Soap around! Soap will drag your ass out of bed either very early in the morning or late at night to get you to go running in the woods with him. He loves racing you, chasing after you, or you trying to chase after him. His werewolf form is very playful with you and sees you as his playmate and will not leave you alone for the WHOLE night. Hes always gentle with you when he plays with you and if he ever accidentally hurts you in anyway he will always lick you to death as his wolf’s way of apologizing. Though, this does leave you completely covered in wolf slobber by the end of the night. Gross. Enjoy having a clingy Scottish wolf slobbering all over ya

Ghost: Despite’s Ghost’s cold and aggressive demeanor towards you in his human form, his wolf form acts other wise. He’s not as clingy as Soap but he does make a point to follow you around base. He lets you do whatever you want throughout the night as long as you’re under his cared supervision. He hunts for you and even looks very smug and proud of himself with blood dripping from his jaws. You never really eat what he hunts for you or you at least cook it. When he watches you eat what he hunts for you can see his tail wag in the corner of your eyes. Clearly, happy you appreciate what he does for you and he’s even more happy when you share with him, but he doesn’t let you share with anyone else. Especially Soap. He’ll kill him.

Gaz:

Gaz loves to sing to you throughout the night in his werewolf form. Howling his lungs out and waking up the whole Damm barracks as he expresses his love and devotion to you. The only way to get him to shut up is to howl with him. Or at least try to. Sometimes the others might join in on the howl but Gaz always tries his hardest to be the loudest so you’ll only pay attention to his ‘beautiful’ singing. Other than that he is the most chill out of all of them. He’ll let you sleep during the night after you hear his lovely singing and won’t drag you out of bed unlike the others. Just dont mention the word ‘Treats’ or ‘walkies’. He’ll snuggle up next to you and fight Ghost and Soap for the spot next to you. He loves a nice ear scratch from you and chews on his hat which is alway torn in the morning and he has to buy a new one.

Price: Price is a patient wolf, he lets the others have their fun with you and then it’s his turn. His wolf form sees you as his pup and his alone. He’ll carry you around base by the ‘scruff’ or the back of your uniform. He doesn’t let you walk on your own. Price also hunts for you as well but he does not let the others eat until you have eaten first. He makes a point to give you ‘baths’ and by bath it means getting covered in old dog slobber. Sorry, you ain’t escaping it no matter how many times your shower. When you go to sleep he sleeps on top or you to keep you hidden under his fur, even if it’s suffocating to you. If you try to leave he will snap and snarl at you. Yeah. Your not escaping Price when he’s in ‘daddy wolf’ mode.

#call of duty #cod #cod mw2 #cod x reader #call of duty modern warfare #captain john price #captain price #captain price x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #soap x reader #kyle gaz garrick #gaz x reader #Werewolves #task force 141 #task force x reader #werewolf x reader #werewolf au

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crimson-nail · 8 months

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meryl stryfe? oh fuck sorry i thought you said meryl shrike

#charlie’s art #urban fantasy au go brrrrr #trigun #meryl stryfe #shes a shrike :] bc i like her #i’m working on a few other chars as well there’s. a Range #i love when modern fantasy aus are just yeah your barista is actually a vampire and that bus driver is a demon. what of it #what are u gonna do #be fantasy r*cist? no. not in my story #everyone just coexists like it’s a hallmark movie for werewolves and avians

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silent-shanin · 2 years

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When your werewolf girlfriends wanna cuddle on a hot summer morning

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the-likeable-wizard-mack · 11 months

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Modern Fantasy Monsters: Summer Time!

I have said this once and I will say it again. ORC BBQ BLOCK PARTIES. Imagine all the food. Like seriously ALL of the food you could ever eat plus some really cool war stories from everyone who has them. Orcs trading recipes with other members of the family while they also share different smithing techniques.

Merfolk gathering at night at the beach when humans are our partying disguising themselves to look like humans to take food and drinks back down to their secret cove to have their own party that actually recycles all the excess wrappers that nonmerfolk don’t think about throwing away.

Werecreatures having close to turning bon-fire nights where they all commune with each other in their wildness. All were creatures are invited to be to feel as free as they are while in their shifted form.

Vampires who stay out of the sun already are used as cold-water-bottles since they’re naturally pretty cold due to being a vampire. So this makes them prime content for their non vampy friends hugging them with their warm bodies to try to cool down. Vampire emotion can range from okay to this practice or “I SWEAR IF YOU DO NOT GET YOUR SWEATY BODY OFF OF MEEEE!!!”

Demons that sneak into abandoned places to have wicked parties. Imagine a group of rambunctious demon teens sneaking into an amusement park after dark partying it up.

Merfolk using small kiddie pools as tanning beds to get a nice summer tan.

Witches that create mix potions with cool drinks for different effects. Mostly effects to cool the body…hopefully it won’t turn the person drinking the potion into a giant ice cube.

Dryads soaking In pools to keep their bodies from drying out due to the heat. Sometimes they have to stay inside due to hot wealthier advisories.

Dragons who sometimes stay out in the sun and let the sun shine on their scales to sunbath (like the big lizards they are lol) or they sit in a pool of water just to cool down from all the excess heat.

Giants that don’t mind their smaller friends using their arm and hands as a diving board. Though they are still careful that their friends are safe and won’t raise their arm too high for them to jump into the water.

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anticanonsposts · 5 months

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Lunar Embrace Chapter 1

(ok obvi chapter one of the werewolf au)

cw: fem pronouns used, references to female body parts, slight reference to nsfw themes???

word count: 1,017

Glancing out one of the front windows of her cottage, while she packed her medicines and other apothecary paraphernalia, y/n noticed the snow that had fallen the previous night. It was only a couple of inches, but it had added onto the already nearly 4 feet of snow

It’s nearing the end of November and the weather has been unseasonably snowy and cold. Making y/n very thankful for the ample amount of fire wood she always had stocked.

Today just like any other Tuesday, she was gathering her items to be sold at the village market. She had learned how to make many from both her parents, but mostly her mother. Unfortunately she died of an illness, ironic enough, and her father died in a strange hunting accident. She never knew for sure since it happened around when she was 12 and her mother didn’t like to talk about it. All this to say, she is, was, the only child and left her parents’ skills and cottage. She lived a moderately uneventful life, selling her goods at market, buying what she needed, making a few friends in the village, etc.

Now slipping her boots on she opens and locks the door behind her. As her boots crunch along the heightening snow she starts to notice a few other townspeople making their way to the center of the village. Then all of the sudden she hears a loud neighing, followed by the clomping of horse hooves behind her.

‘Whoa!’ the driver says in a slightly accented voice. She wasn’t sure where the accent was from, but she knew it wasn’t from her village. She also knew exactly who that voice belonged to.

His name was König, or at least that is what he wanted the townspeople to call him. He was a very large, burley man, who towered over his horses, that pulled his wagon every week into town. He was a lumberjack who would bring more firewood to market than anyone else could ever dream of. Each week he would bring a nearly overflowing wagon of chopped wood, buy a few necessities, speak to very few, and leave for another week. However every few weeks he would be gone for two. Maybe to remind the town of his necessity, she wasn’t sure.

Once she arrived at the town square she started to set up shop in her normal spot, which coincidentally was very close to where König parked his wagon. As the morning went on and she made sales, she made sure to keep a few ointments and tonics to the side for König. Admittedly he was one of her most consistent customers. Usually depending on the season some people would need different remedies more often than others. But König, every week would need burn ointment, tonic for head and body aches, and an ointment for large cuts and scrapes. She had to admit it was odd, she assumed that someone like him who had been working in his trade for years would be skilled enough to not get hurt. But she was not going to question a good customer.

He eventually made his way over to her booth with four bundles of firewood, she thought three was a fair price but he insisted on four. Each week when she saw him she was reminded of how handsome she really thought he was. Despite his size he had a softer almost timid looking face. It may even look frightened if it weren’t for his very pigmented grey eyes. They really were blue, but appeared grey upon first glance. From his interactions with other townspeople he seemed to prefer y/n. She never let there be awkward silence for too long, and would often fill the space with quips or jokes that seemed to ease his tenseness.

“Hello! How are you today, König?” she asked, raising her eyebrows slightly.

“I’m fine, it was colder this morning.” he responded shortly, not in an unfriendly way, more so just simple.

“Would you like your usual?” she asked.

“Better put an extra bottle of the scratch salve please” he responds, wandering his eyes away from yours.

He truly was handsome, had a valuable skill set, and seemed moderately respectable. Her parents’ voices sounded in her head that she should be at least thinking about finding a partner. Then her eyes meandered down to his very large, and strong looking, hands, and she briefly wondered what they would look like spread over other, various surfaces.

“Sorry, i-is four bundles alright still?” he asked her, bringing her back to the present moment.

“Yes, I’m sorry I just…spaced out” she responds shaking her head and giving him his items while taking the bundles from him.

He gives her one last thank you before excusing himself back to his wagon. She curses herself for not speaking smoother or at least make an attempt to be alluring.

The rest of the day goes by, very uneventfully. Everyone leaves the square, going back to their homes. König leaves about the same time as she does, giving her a small nod, and was that a smile??, as he leaves and she is heading home.

Once home she collects her money and traded items, putting them in their respective places. Then she does a few household chores to occupy herself, not being able to get König out of her mind. She feels a bit tired so she drinks some broth before lying down to go to bed. Once she’s lying down, she ponders, and asks herself why she did not try to have a longer conversation with him today. ‘You idiot, why do you think he gives you extra bundles? Why might he spend longer talking to you than others?’ But she didn’t entertain these thoughts for too long, she did not want to get ahead of herself. But she concluded that she would start taking her hunt for a partner more seriously, and would devise a plan to win more of his favor. For now she let her heavy eyelids flutter shut and fell fast asleep for the night.

thank you so much for reading!! If there is anything you didn't like please lmk! Also chapter 2 is pending hehe <3

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http-paprika · 6 months

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Bite the Hand / Phillip Graves

⋆★⋆ ════ ⋆★⋆ ════ ⋆★⋆ ════ ⋆★⋆ ════ ⋆★⋆ ════ ⋆★⋆ ════ ⋆★⋆

part four - belonging ⋆★⋆ the masterlist ⋆★⋆ previous ⋆★⋆ next

summary preparing to deploy on her first mission with the shadow company, frost begins to grow overwhelmed by the shift in her feelings.

werewolf!au / pairing phillip graves x female!reader / callsign frost / wc 1715 / warnings mentions of past trauma, alcohol, and light swearing

notes well, after weeks of painful writer's block, here we are! this chapter is what really sets the gears in motion to fling together frost and graves along with diving a bit more into frost's past which will play a big part in her relationship with graves. also, i don't know anything about military planes and deployments, so, this is definitely inaccurate, but i tried. the taglist is still open, if you want to be added, let me know.

The Shadow Company armory, as Frost had come to learn, was always uncomfortably warm. She stood, shifting her weight from one foot to another as Erikson dug around the boxes of unassigned tactical vests and gear to find something that would properly fit her. During her training, she’d been in ill-fitting gear that she had to suffer with, but now as Graves and Lerch had greenlit her for her first mission, Frost needed to be properly fitted.

“And you’re sure that last vest didn’t fit?” Erikson asked her again, Frost looked over at the growing pile of discards, shaking her head.

“It’s not my fault I’m not as beefy as the rest of you.” She shrugged, wiping some of the collected sweat off her brow. Even with how much she’d been shifting in the past months, Frost didn’t compare to them.

“Yeah, yeah. I know.” Finally, he stopped digging. “Here we go, this should do.” Erikson handed over a dark green vest, slightly worn on the edges but otherwise unused. Without even trying it on, Frost knew it would fit. “I’ll talk to Rodgers, and get a new set of gear ordered for you. But for now, that’ll do.”

As she pulled it on, Frost examined the blood-type patch that sat right over her heart, it would have to be replaced to fit her own. “So, who did this belong to?”

“Some corpse probably.” Erikson darkly joked, observing as she secured the vest and its various buckles and velcro before moving onto the gloves, and padding. “Very nice, one would think this was made just for you.”

She smirked, pulling the gear off and brushing off the dust. “Whatever you say, Erikson.” Surveying the vest fully, she spotted sloppy writing on the inside, indicating the soldier it belonged to, but the writing had mostly been smudged away, and she decided against asking and not wanting her curiosity to bring back grief. Whoever it had belonged to, as Erikson had said, was long gone.

“How are you feeling, about finally being shipped out?” He asked, leading her to a free locker where she’d store the gear until the following morning when they would embark on the mission.

“Strange. Unsure. But, I’m ready to be back in combat. Even if things here aren’t the same as they were in the Marines. There’s a lot less of a moral code I’m being held to, less guilt if I fuck up.” Frost admitted, putting everything up and closing the locker. In some ways, that made her even more nauseous, she wondered how wild she could be before Graves stepped in and scolded her.

“Just don’t plan on being reckless, and you’ll be fine,” Erikson assured her, patting her on the shoulder. “Now, let’s get out of here before I sweat my entire ass off.”

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Under the red lights in the plane, the only way Frost could describe how she felt was antsy. The mask secured over her face felt like a muzzle, like an attempt to keep her from snapping. It kept her canines, which grew sharper by the day from shifting and the new diet of fresh, hot game meat, from showing. There would be no barring of her teeth today, even if she wanted to.

“You okay?” Graves asked, stopping in front of her. He’d been moving through the plane, making sure his soldiers were ready to deploy, that the radios were live, and everyone was in place for the hunt.

“Yeah, m’fine.” She promised him, but Graves shook his head with a displeased look. He’d become too familiar with her facial expressions and the way her voice strained when she tried to hide the truth. But Graves was too kind to Frost to push for the truth.

“You look good,” He commented, quickly finishing the sentence when she cocked an eyebrow up at him. “-In the Shadow Company uniform and wearing our insignia. Like it was made just for you.” She nodded in response, quieter than usual. It wasn’t the normal anxiety Frost had first felt when she entered combat years ago. No, it was something she couldn’t quite put words to, a fear that settled when she looked back up at her Commander or over at her packmates who chatted amongst themselves quietly.

“Frost, you’re gonna be just fine out there. I’ll be right there—“ He taps the radio strapped to her tactical vest. “If you need me. Just a call away.”

“Let’s hope I don’t.” Frost joked, trying to ease her unknown stress. At her feet, the case with her sniper sat, reminding her that she was the eyes for her teammates, they’d rely on her shots and calls to keep them guarded, and safe. A daunting task. She’d done it hundreds of times, but the edge of nerves would not cease.

“What’s going on in that loud mind of yours?” Graves tilted his head slightly, a few locks of sandy hair obstructing his direct and piercing gaze. Frost quickly looked down at the gun lying across her lap, trying to find an answer that made sense of everything she felt. Loyalty, bonded, brothers, her borrowed vest, sisters, the feel of her gloves against her palms, the pack, the smell of pine needles, pale blue eyes, and Graves.

As she opened her mouth to speak, Frost quickly closed it, overwhelmed by the words and emotions that filled her. She’d never known how much she craved a place to call her own and surrounded by the Shadow Company pack, she had. A bundle of warmth settled in the pit of her stomach, filling the hole that she’d blinded herself to.

Graves didn’t speak, he just tilted his head again in a way that fully captured her attention. “Well, when the cat finally lets go of your tongue, you always know how to find me.” He told her, a quick pat on her shoulder before he stepped away to speak to Lerch. Her eyes followed his figure, it was the only thing she seemed to focus on, not the countdown to her deployment or the itch in her hands. Just Phillip Graves.

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Hidden in the thicket of the woods, her breathing was masked by the loud calling of crows. The pungent smell of whiskey and motor oil overpowered anything else. She didn’t know where he was, she couldn’t hear him through the trees, but she knew he was coming after her.

“Don’t hide from me, girl. I am your father!” He barked loudly, the butcher knife in his hand still coated with sheep’s blood, his white apron stained red. The thirteen-year-old girl felt hysteric, on the verge of tears with the fear of what he’d do to her. She hadn’t meant to talk back to him, speaking before thinking. But her remark had invoked his wrath. “I can smell you, girl. A runt like you can’t hide from me, your stench is all over these woods.”

The words hailed down on her like nails pounded into her bones, catching her off guard and unalert for when he finally found her and yanked her out of the indigo bush by her forearm. She screamed, the sound curdling into a howl. Her body convulsed, bones being broken and reformed, the skin stretched and hair grew, teeth gnashing as she tried to free herself from his grasp.

That was the first time she ever shifted.

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Frost woke with a start, the sound of the landing gears and loss of altitude dragged her out of her slumber, ears popped in the descent. Stretching, she moved away from whoever’s shoulder it was she had fallen asleep on, her cheek indicted from the shoulder of the tactical vest, she tried to push back the memory that had invaded her mind. She didn’t like to remember how it all began, when she was younger she used to dream it had never happened, hating that she was her father’s daughter. In his eyes, she didn’t belong, even if she had the same noise and sharp tongue.

But she was no longer seen as her father’s daughter. The Shadow Company had become the only pack she would align herself with. There, she belonged.

“Thought you would sleep the whole time.” Dipaolo chuckled across from her as Frost brushed the hair out of her face. She’d shed the mask and gloves before falling asleep, allowing herself to freely be. “Surprised Graves let you.”

Almost launching herself out of her seat, Frost looked over at Graves who sat next to her. He didn’t give any indication that he cared, whether that was a good thing or not, Frost was unsure. “She did a hell of a good job out there, Dipaolo. Maybe next time if you do a fraction of the work Frost did, I’ll let you sleep on my shoulder.”

“Favoritism! I’ve been here for three years and you already like Frost more!” Dipaolo gawked. “It’s because she’s a woman, isn’t it?”

“Stop getting pissy, Dipaolo. She’s just better.” Vance tells him, cutting into the conversation. The attention was directed away from Frost as her teammates bickered back and forth, allowing her to bury her face in her hands with embarrassment, a groan escaping her lips.

“Frost, there’s no need to act embarrassed. We’re a pack, we help each other out. Even if it means offering a shoulder to sleep on.” Graves said to her quietly as the plane jolted, touching the tarmac. “You are hardly the first person who’s accidentally fallen asleep on mine. And unlike Oz, you don’t talk in your sleep. So I don’t mind.”

“Why does that not surprise me?” But even with his reassurance, her cheeks felt hot, a rosy shade that was hidden in the dim light of the plane. It was like an itch she couldn’t ignore. It was a feeling that Frost hadn’t felt in years, one that had once suffocated her and torn her to shreds.

But everything was different this time, she wasn’t that same scared girl. And Phillip Graves was like nothing she had ever known.

taglist @iamcautiouslyoptimistic @delusionally-loveless-by-choice @bacon-sandwich-of-dionysus @anna-banana27 @unicorngirly1

#call of duty #cod mw22 #fanfic #phillip graves cod #phillip graves #phillip graves x reader #call of duty werewolves #call of duty!werewolf au #phillip graves werewolf!au #phillip graves x you #bite the hand series #bite the hand series updates #call of duty mw3 #call of duty modern warfare #shadow company #shadow company werewolf!au

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finchibe · 11 months

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Part 2 Octo2 brainrot from ideas @sidotherobot & I came up with during multiple drawpile sessions

Also ignore how I accidentally spelled Temenos “Tenemos” on one of my drawings

#octopath traveler 2 #octopath #octopath traveler #temenos mistral #castti florenz #osvald v. vanstein #partitio yellowil #hikari ku #ochette #werewolves #modern au

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blingblong55 · 1 year

Text

Illicit Affairs- John "soap" mactavish

F!reader!, werewolf au

This is based on a request I got

It has been a few weeks since you joined Task Force 141. Everyone has been nothing but kind, in their own ways of course. You befriend Gaz, he becomes your guide through the base. He always joked around with you. Soap wasn't so open with you, and neither was Ghost. But as the lieutenant started to get used to you, and as Gaz reassured you that now you were truly a part of the team, you couldn't help but wonder why Soap was so off. He always sat the furthest from you.

For days you thought maybe he disliked you. But that's how military men are, you said to yourself as he had yet again left the room the second you walked in.

One morning you noticed how tired he seemed. This was the best opportunity for you two to get close. "Hey Mactavish, are you alright?" you cautiously approached him. "M'fine lass, go back to sparring" his eyes never looking at yours. "No."

"no?"

"nope. I'm staying until you look well..more alive?"

The next three days he actually talked to you. He wasn't so hesitant with his words anymore. He cracked jokes around you, and every time he made you smile it was a point on his books.

For him it was scary making friends with women, he was always afraid that if at any moment you got close and he revealed his secret, you'd leave. And for days since your little conversation, he watched from far at times. Other times he was close.

Tonight was no different, he was near, his arm around your shoulder. "Eyes too pretty." you drunkenly confessed, your eyes now on his. And for a brief moment, his world went silent. It was just you and him, his blue orbs staring at yours. A cheeky smile resting on your lips.

"What'd ya say?" Price interrupts. "What?" "you think we should get out and play a little game?"

"If Bonnie here says yes I'll join." The men looked for your answer, and you nodded, your eyes never leaving his. "Right, I'll take care 1," "Me and Gaz will join Price. Soap you and the miss go walking." Ghost stood up and exited the room with the other men. "was that a code for somethin' or?" "no, but we are both bladdered"

As you two walked back to base, his arm hung from your shoulder. "This was fun" you admit. "It was, we should do this again"

He noticed how cold your skin felt as his hand brushed your arm. "c'mere" he took his jacket off and put it on you. "better?" "yes." you smiled.

This feeling in his stomach was so different. As you looked forward, he never looked away from you.

----

"It is a small heartache, then you try to repress it, you might not want it but as your body tries to walk away from it, they like a magnet attract you. And when you get close to your mate, it all turns. Its adoration, devotion, your mind will start to worship them, and of course love. Those are the signs you have found them"

"nana? you think I'll ever meet them in this life?" a young Soap looks up at his grandmother, his eyes glistening with happiness and excitement. "We all meet one at least in this life. Now to bed y'go" She kissed his forehead and the child soon slept.

----

His eyes shot wide open. This was the moment, he thought. His heart rate is racing. Was it excitement or nerves? God does he hope it's just nerves. "Soap?" You turn to him, he looks down. "Hey talk to me what's wrong?" "Nothing, I think it's just a stomach ache."

Two days after that incident. He avoided you, he was ready but were you? The love of his life was finally present. You were the girl he could take home to his mother and present as his. His best gal. When he talked to his family about the experience he knew he had to make sure you were pleased with him. He knew it was meant to be, but not you. So ever since he has been redeeming his past actions.

-- "That training left me sore," you mentioned to Gaz, soon soap rushed to you. "Sit down while I rub your shoulders ye?" You obeyed.

-- "hungry" and wouldn't you know it, he was there, holding his meal.

-- one time some soldiers gave you trouble, and he stood next to you. "you don't speak to her like that, understood?" his voice raspy, almost as if it hinted at a growl.

-- One night he passed by your room, and he stood there, protecting you from anyone.

Tonight he brought you to his room. This is the night he would tell you what he was and who you had become in his life. But it was interrupted by Price. "Go home," he said as he stood on the doorframe, he had worked hard to give his team some weeks off. A better opportunity, his plan just got better. "Oh, alright. I guess I should go and pack." And once price left, soap stopped you. "I have an idea. I've been nothing but rude, why don't we spend this break together. As-" "Friends?" you finished his sentence.

Of course, you found him attractive. You had always been attracted to the odd things in life. And when a Scottish man in a mohawk appeared in front of you, you thought, "Wow, now this is a man"

You gushed to Gaz about him, every chance Gaz had, he made you and Soap stay behind. "Maybe it'll help if he gets to know you"

"Yes, as friends" he looked a bit disappointed, but hoped that soon, the name would change.

----

At around midnight, you reached his cabin. A recommendation from his friend Simon.

"This is my home, make yer'self at home." he got the luggage out of the back of his vehicle. You look around. It was either dead in the woods or go back home. Wise choice, you thought.

"Place is beautiful soap." you both stepped inside. "none of that, call me Johnny." "alright. well, Johnny what can I do to get a drink around here?"

He chuckled. "lots of things, but not tonight." he walked into his kitchen, and came back with two beers "Here y'go" he handed you one. "can we go outside?"

----

Once outside, he lit the fire pit and you two sat round it. "Can you tell me a legend about this place?"

"Sure, y'like hairy beasts?"

"Who doesn't!" you jokingly said.

"Well, the legend goes, werewolves roam 'round this place, but not to worry bonnie, I'll protect ya from 'em"

"Are they kind ones at least?" "yes, they aren't how movies depict them at all. Few of 'em are my friends" you thought he was joking. "being serious?" your smile wiped clean from your lips.

"would you be afraid if I said yes?" He got closer. "no" you lied.

"I'm one of the monsters r/n" he just blurted it out.

"Okay, jokes over" you chuckled but soon met with a serious soap. "Seriously?" your eyes never leaving his, hoping that somewhere in his eyes the lie would surrender.

"Would you be afraid of me? What if I told you I know deep inside we are meant to be, would'ya stay?"

"No and Maybe."

"If I kissed ya and you liked it, would you stick around?"

"Perhaps"

"If I turn right now, and it was a guarantee you would be safe, would you kiss me?"

"who knows"

"Kiss me bonnie."

"what does it mean?"

"Bonnie?"

"yes, what does it mean?"

"Beautiful-" and soon your lips met his. Not sure if it was the alcohol or not that made you act this way, but he for sure liked your lips on his. "Not too fast" he warned, "Or what, you'll scratch me?" a giggle leaving your lips. "Maybe." he smiled against your lips.

----

The next day everything was a blur. But after a long breakfast talk, you had come to your senses. 1. this man was actually a werewolf. 2. You apparently hugged him and petted him(which he loved!). and 3. You cried because people made you believe people like him were monsters.

The entire morning you asked him smart yet stupid questions. And after much laughter and flirtatious comments, he was set in. You were his mate for life and he was yours.

You were puzzled, how could this be happening and was it weird you were into it all?

----

By week 2, he slowly introduced you to his basement, where he locks himself in during back full moons, the night he turned in front of you was the best he's had. He taught you how to chain him up, which you almost cried about. How can you do this to him? "it's ok r/n, this is for your own good."

"Good thing about this is you won't have to worry about shaving when I'm clearly no one to judge" he joked and you lightly pushed him. "s'not funny" your smile giving you away.

By the end of week 3, you were ovulating, something this man could sense. Unfortunately. This was something he warned you about. "It's difficult because, well I'll quite literally tell when and then I'll get all horny."

You two tried having sex. and for the better part, you both liked it. No, you weren't his first time, but man did this feel perfect. Your bodies match each other's rhythm.

By week 4 you were already used to him. His weird habits and his sense of humour.

Meanwhile, this man was already planning his life with you. He knew this change wasn't easy. God, it was very difficult. You went from living a somewhat normal life to his secret life. Over days he slowly taught you things to keep you safe from him. You hesitated at first, but for weeks you tried. You hoped somewhere sense would wait.

Was this all too fast? certainly, did you enjoy most of the ride, well that was debatable. He taught you everything about werewolves. The origin, the night terrors, and the cravings.

----

When you arrived at the base, nothing made sense. You never told anyone. You grew a little distant with Gaz, but he was more than okay when he saw you and Soap together.

You ate warm pizza, giving him some bites in between. Gaz just stood there, proud of his two friends.

"I love this. What we have is good," he confessed as he looked up from his meal.

----

For months, you and he had your little escapes. You'd run around with him at night, and you made sure no one saw you leave. At times Ghost or Price would ask where you were heading at night. "Midnight run, I still have too much energy."

You knew you were the one that could stop this relationship. That if you said the word, he'd leave whatever you two had a move on.

----

Your relations escalated fast, what began in a room ended in some street close to the base. The worst parts were during meetings when his stares would almost give your relationship away.

The sneaking around, the lies you'd tell, the stolen stares. The love that had to be suppressed leaked when contained; It had become a dangerous love.

The code words, the coded stares. He turned you into his perfect woman. And he is your perfect man.

----

1 year later

There you were, a now-retired (for now) member of the task force. Your belly is swollen and your husband standing tall next to you. After tough battles with the enemy and even tougher ones at home, you and him tested time. (family calendar: if you last 6 months it was mating time))

For you, he would lay his life on the line. For you, he would destroy himself if that meant you would be safe.

And for you, he would burn the world, if it meant you'd smile.

You made him a mess. Your soft touch, to his rough skin. Your creative and brave mind. Your courage, knowledge, loyalty. You made an idiotic fool of him, and he wore that with pride. What is a man without the woman who made him who he is today? Not a father, not a brave soldier, not a lover, not a fighter, but a coward. And before you, he was a coward.

And today you stand here, by his side, his many sides that is.

REQUESTS ARE OPEN!!

A/n: I loved writing this! never thought I could do this but hey.. it's done now!

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greatstormcat · 4 months

Text

Of Wolf And Man - Part 3

Poly TF141 x f!reader

Series Masterlist

TW: MDNI 18+, monster fucking, p in v, fingering, knotting, mentions of previous SA, angst

Autumn

The last few weeks of summer bleed in together as you spend more time with, what you now know to be, the Pack. It takes a little bit of getting used to, but not as much as you had first thought. Discovering Werewolves existed outside of fairy tales was a shock, as was watching four huge men turn into wolves at will, but you adapted very easily. Getting used to their habit of walking around totally naked was the hardest thing, and an uneasy truce was found in the form of baggy shorts being kept in the cottage for when they turned up. Simon still groused incessantly about it though, if he even bothered to put them on at all, and you decided it just wasn’t worth the shouting anymore and let him be. You suspected he enjoyed the way you reacted anyway and you were only fueling his stubborn behaviour.

You asked questions, so many questions you were worried you’d piss them off but they were always happy to answer. They told you the differences between the Designations. Apparently Price and Simon were Alphas, the dominant ones, and Johnny and Kyle were Betas, and they told you of the lost Omegas. Hunted by humans over the centuries as trophies and feats of valour, the species has dwindled down to tiny isolated Packs, and the Omegas are almost all gone after being captured as pleasure slaves for human nobility in the past. That thought sickened you to your soul.

What takes you by surprise the most, however, is getting used to constantly having them nearby. You come to discover that they can’t stand you not being in sight of at least one of them, be it night or day. Even when they roamed their territory one of them would hang back with you whilst the others were away, and it turned out this had been going on for longer than you realised. Their protective instincts ran very, very deep. Having you sleep in the den with them seemed to be the best gift you could give them, curled in the middle of them in the huge communal sleeping platform that was built with the cabin they call the den.

The den itself was a beautifully made part stone, part wooden structure hidden up in the hills, with no access by road. The furniture and fixtures have been made by hand and changed over the years to create a comfortable space, and the solar panels on the roof are an addition in recent years along with a CB radio. The truck they use has its own, hidden car port, protecting it from the elements.

Spending time up there becomes second nature, and you quickly memorise the route through the deeper parts of the forest. You feel that they’d have you move up there permanently if they could only convince you, but you couldn’t abandon the cottage, and the thought of letting yourself get so closely entwined with them is… too intense.

However, this didn’t stop them from lavishing physical attention on you at any chance they could get. Touching was a big thing for them, they slept together and their bonds with each other went deep. You learned that Johnny and Simon were, what you thought of as, a pair, as were Price and Kyle. This didn’t stop them from sharing affections when it felt right though. In the Pack, everyone was loved equally and thoroughly by all.

It was a source of contention, however, that they wouldn’t actually fuck you, no matter how much you wanted them to. You understood that they were worried about hurting you with their knot, which was how their cocks swelled at the base during orgasm, something you’d never experienced of course. Over the course of the last month you’d been treated to insane amounts of being eaten out and taking multiple fingers, all as prep. The fascination still drew you though, how would it feel to have that inside you rather than in your hands.

You continue to clean and explore the various nooks and crannies of the ancient cottage as well, which leads to an unexpected find one morning. A loose panel in the bedroom shifts and you discover a space in the thick stone wall, begging for you to explore it.

Hidden in the depths you see a box in the dark recess, a layer of dust over the lid, and you reach out to tug it closer to the opening. It’s heavy, heavier than you expected, and you spend several sweaty minutes convincing it to shift close enough for you to pull it out. Disgruntled spiders skitter out of the way, and cobwebs cling to your arms as you work. Eventually it hits the floorboards with a heavy thud, dust mushrooming into the air and sending you into a coughing fit as you flap your hands ineffectually to clear the air.

The box is old and skillfully made, but without any fancy decoration, just lovingly sanded and polished wood and dark metal fastenings, which you guess at being iron. After a brief hesitation, imagining all kinds of curses and hexes that could be contained inside, you decide to open it and deal with the consequences. The contents are a massive disappointment after your imagined eldritch horrors, it’s just a collection of bits of paper, some looking old and bound with ribbon.

You leaf through them, and quickly become a lot more interested as you realise what this is. You pick one at random to examine more closely:

…..a lot more active in the evenings and mornings….

Full moon brings the inner beast to the surface…

..incredible sense of smell….even slight changes in hormones….

…John Price leads the pack as Alpha still…

Your eyes scan the hand written notes, the dates going back over hundreds of years with a variety of names at the bottom of each sheet, including Annie’s on the newest ones. What you have discovered is a history of the pack. You lean back against the wall reading for hours, excitedly skimming through what the previous inhabitants of the cottage have recorded about the local Werewolf Pack. The fact the one name is repeated by every different handwriting is almost too much to believe, John Price. It has to be the same Price, there’s no other way of looking at it.

The other names you read include Kyle Garrick who first appears about forty years ago in Annie’s notes, with Simon Riley and Johnny MacTavish joining the pack at the end of the 1800s. Several others are mentioned joining the pack but, sadly, the dates and causes of their deaths are recorded with due care and solemnity. What is quickly made apparent by flicking through each person’s entry in this record is no one ever leaves the cottage once they are here, every person lives out their entire life here once they’ve met the Pack. A tiny niggle of doubt creeps into the back of your mind, and you force yourself to hide the box away again in case one of them finds it, making a mental note to sit down and read everything in the near future.

One thing you hugely enjoyed was cooking and baking for the Pack, their appetites were insane and they ate everything you put in front of them with intense joy. You lean against your kitchen sink after having just given them another filling lunch, watching as they lounge happily around the table. Some items of clothing having been donned, but not much in the unexpected warmth of the day. The back door of the cottage stands open, letting a cooling breeze through the room.

“Quick question,” you call out, “you guys are quite instinct driven, yeah?” You ask with a smile tugging at the corner of your mouth.

“Yeah… why?” Johnny asks, narrowing his eyes at you, clearly sensing mischief brewing.

“So you like chasing things?” you continue vaguely, glancing quickly at the open door.

“Yeah… where are you going with this?” Kyle answers, and you see muscles tensing around the room as you take a small sidestep towards the opening. A grin splits your face a fraction of a second before you bolt through it.

Startled shouts turn into yaps and barks as you sprint as fast as you can out of the cottage and across the meadow. It’s frightening quick how soon they catch up to you, tongues lolling as they run beside you, nipping at your thighs and hands until Johnny sideswipes you and you crumple exhaustedly to the grass.

“What the hell was that?” Price grumbles, the first to change and lean over you possessively.

“Just wanted to see what you’d do,” you laugh.

“For fucks sake,” he growls but you see the humor in his eyes behind his stern voice. “I should strip you and mount you right here to put you in your place.” Heat licks through your core at the thought of him screwing you out in the open.

“You wouldn’t?” You gasp.

“Just try him, it’s the only way you’ll know for sure,” Kyle laughs, laying down beside you with his arm behind his head. It’s ridiculous how close you’ve become with them over the last few months. A peaceful moment unfurls as you lay there in the long grass, sweet smelling flowers still blooming around you under the clear blue sky. The cares of your life far, far away, or so you believed.

“Price, you hear that?” Simon snaps, the four of them suddenly becoming alert. “Are you expecting anyone?”

“No, why?” you answer, sitting up in confusion, unable to hear anything unusual over the rustle of leaves and birds calling.

“There’s a car coming,” Price answers, and you feel the tension in the pack at the unexpected intrusion.

“It’s okay, I’ll go and see who it is,” you say, getting up and dusting yourself off. “Maybe you guys should slip away before they get here?”

“I’ll stay, keep an eye on you,” Simon says as the others change one by one and move towards the trees. Price looks back over his shoulder and nods to Simon before running after Johnny and Kyle. You suspect they won’t be going far as the luxury car pulls up outside the cottage. You walk across the meadow with Simon at your side looking like an innocent, if enormous, pet dog.

As you near the silver car the door opens and your heart leaps into your throat as your boss gets out and waves at you. He’s wearing his usual expensive suit, probably a Tom Ford by the look of it, and looks totally out of place in this natural setting.

“Um, what are you doing here?” you ask as you get closer. You notice the way he wrinkles his nose as he looks at the cottage and how you’re dressed. Usually you’d be wearing a smartly tailored outfit, perfectly made up, so seeing you after you just rolled in a meadow was jarring.

“I wanted to check on you, no one has been able to reach you since you came up here,” he answers archly.

“I know,” you say flatly. “Come inside,” you say with little grace, Simon trotting ahead of you through the door and into the kitchen, clearly going to hide the discarded clothes.

You try to play the role of polite hostess and get him a glass of water, and he sits at the table in the middle of the kitchen and looking with distaste at the array of dirty plates and cutlery before him. You stand beside the large stone sink, arms wrapped tight against your middle and with Simon leaning heavily against your thigh, a reassuring presence.

“That's a big dog,” your boss comments, watching Simon warily as he pulls his phone from a pocket inside his jacket. You’d forgotten he hated dogs, so this was an unexpected bonus.

“Yeah he is, his name is,” you pause briefly, trying to think of a scary name for the huge black wolf sat beside you, “Ghost.”

“Okay, well… just keep him over there please,” he gulps, sweat clearly gathering on his forehead as he stares at Simon and taps his thumb nervously on the sleek case of his phone. “Look, the reason I’ve come all the way up here is to say I need you back. I know we agreed to a twelve month leave of absence but things have changed and I’m going to withdraw the agreement.”

“You can’t! I’ve got it in writing that my job is safe for the year. You owe me as much after what happened,” you explain, your hand drops down to rest on Simon’s head, fingers curling into his thick fur for comfort. You’re aware he is listening intently, getting answers you hadn’t intended to give away just yet, or at all really.

“I know what happened wasn’t ideal…” the man begins toying idly with his phone, and your temper flares.

“Ideal?! You let a client get away scot-free after he groped me!” you exclaim. I low growl rumbles from Simon in response to your words, and your boss’s eyes flick down to the huge wolf briefly. You’re mollified by seeing him swallowing impulsively.

“It was his word against yours, you had no witnesses who came forward to back up your allegation,” he says in a measured tone, absently turning his phone over and over in his hand. The constant fidgeting grates on your nerves.

“And because that client brings you in millions of pounds you sided with him. Yes, I remember. But now you’re telling me you can’t cope without me, right?” You say hotly.

“It’s not quite like that, but it's better for us to have you working than not,” he says stiffly. “It’s your choice, either you come back or we replace you. I will give you a month to decide, just to be fair, but beyond that I will not make you any promises.” He keeps jostling the shiny black device in his hand, knocking at the tabletop now, and you want to snatch it and smash it on the slate floor under your feet.

Simon huffs and trots out the back door of the cottage to your surprise, leaving you alone with your boss who continues to talk to you about projects and clients despite your obvious lack of interest. He begins opening emails and reading them to you from his phone screen, bemoaning the bad signal and lack of WiFi in the cottage.

You catch a glimpse of Simon stalking back in the front door of the cottage and silently coming into the kitchen behind your boss, then standing up in his human form.Your boss has no idea Simon is standing behind him as he flicks through his phone screen, the device directly over the glass of water. The werewolf leans down and whispers one word into his ear which you can’t hear, making him yelp and jump from his seat, the phone slipping from his hand and falling straight into the glass with a loud glug. Simon transforms instantly back into his wolf form and your boss turns to see nothing more than your guard dog looking at him impassively with his head tilted to one side.

“Oh no, your phone!” you shout with feigned concern, pulling his attention back to you. “Oh no it’ll be ruined, how clumsy of you to drop it.”

“What? No! Shit, its not waterproof!” He grabs at the sodden device frantically. You put on a show of helping him dry the damned device before he makes his excuses and heads back out to the car, glancing nervously around the cottage, clearly spooked by the voice in his ear. The car pulls away and vanishes between the trees lining the track, leaving you standing alone on the doorstep.

“Wanker,” you mutter to yourself as you turn back into the cottage. Simon sits on the sofa, Annie’s blanket draped across his lap, he can clearly see you are rattled already and he makes this small concession for you, his thick arm thrown along the back of the seat.

“I agree,” he nods, beckoning you over to sit beside him. As soon as you do you’re enveloped in him, pulled into his lap and held securely in a comforting embrace. “Is he always like that?”

“What, you mean a selfish prick? Pretty much,” you reply glumly.

“And he doesn't believe you were assaulted? That’s normal for him too?” You hear the anger in his tone, protectiveness rushing to the surface and you melt against him slightly.

“He believes one thing, and it's whatever makes him rich. He only agreed to the leave of absence to avoid me pressing charges and making a fuss about his favourite client. I really should have seen this coming.”

Simon puts his hands on either side of your face and tilts it up to him.

“Whatever you say happened, I believe you and so will the others. Your boss is a miserable piece of shit for siding with that client. Humans have too much attachment to money and it blinds you,” he says gently with a frown, then lets out a sigh as though deciding something.

“These scars for example,” he says, taking one of your hands and bringing it to his face to run the pad of your thumb over his top lip. “I was held captive for years, used in bear baiting to make evil people rich. Price got me out. Don’t let people use you just to make themselves rich.”

Your breath shudders as you feel the softness of Simon’s lip under your thumb, and you unconsciously part your own lips in response to the intimate gesture. Simon’s eyes lock onto your mouth, and a hot flash courses through you, made worse by the fact you see his pupils dilate when he smells it.

“How much longer before I’m allowed to… you know…” you ask, face warming with embarrassment as you drastically steer the conversation away from you leaving.

“D’you think you’re ready?” He asks with a cocky little smirk, taking the bait.

“Of course, but what about the others? Will they be pissed off?”

“It's fine, you’re safer with just an Alpha to start with, we’re better at controlling ourselves. Betas get pussydrunk far too easily and you’re not used to our anatomy,” he pauses. “Yet, anyway.”

“So, I could be with you?” you ask hopefully, gently plucking at the fine hair on his chest in a calculated act of coyness. Thoughts of the uncomfortable encounter dwindle as you feel Simon’s giving in to your desire, and heat pools low in your stomach. There’s an obvious nudge under the blanket against your thighs.

“Yeah, I guess it's about time,” he chuckles, taking your chin and forcing you to look him. His dark eyes draw you in, the comforting smell of him dispelling the tangled worries in your head. “If you trust me and you want this, just tell me.”

“I want this, I want you,” you say clearly.

“Fine, we’ll take it slowly and you tell me if you need to stop or anything doesn’t feel right. A knot is a hell of a thing to take, okay?”

“Sounds like you’re talking from experience,” you tease, but he looks back at you flatly.

“I am,” he states, and shakes his head at the look on your face. “Humans are so complicated, you make rules and draw lines over the most natural of things.”

He leans down and captures your lips in a searing kiss, his tongue sliding against yours as it has a dozen times before. With great care, he slowly undresses you, soft kisses pressing against your skin until you are bared to him. He takes his time, licking and sucking at your nipples, caressing the soft swells with his large hands. His huge body hovering over yours as he works you up into a needy, molten state of arousal with his thick fingers, until you mewl and beg for him.

Finally he relents, and sitting up Simon pulls your hips over his lap, settling you over his thighs so you hover over his red tipped cock. With great care he pushes you down, spearing you onto the veiny length with a deep, rumbling groan.

“Fuck… you’re so tight,” he hisses, gripping your hips until his claws dig into your skin of your hips. Your breath comes in sharp gasps as your muscles stretch around his girth, stinging slightly as you take him in.

“Just breath,” he whispers, pulling your head against his shoulder and rubbing the back of your neck tenderly. You’d expected him to be rough, to throw you around and fuck you raw, but the level of care and tenderness is unexpected and you find it easy to relax as you sink onto him fully.

“Gods… just breath for a moment,” he whispers against your ear, his thighs trembling under you. You rock your hips experimentally, feeling Simon moving inside you as you set a gentle pace, the sting of the stretch mellowing quickly and becoming a persistent, deep pleasure. His hands snap to your hips again as you cause friction to build.

“That’s it,” he groans breathily, “you’re doing so well. That’s it, just relax.”

You risk lifting your hips slightly, sliding up his length and back down gingerly, the resulting sensation making you clench around him, squeezing him hard and making you both moan. You do it again and feel his wide palms running up and down your back, his head falling backwards as you squeeze and stroke his cock with your wet heat.

“Oh fuck,” he groans, spurring you on as he lets you take the lead, controlling the depth and pace for your pleasure while he holds himself as still as possible and resists the urge to grab you and pound into you. A sheen of sweat coats his skin, and his muscles tighten beneath his skin, trying to change shape but he fights against it. All the time you grind yourself down onto his cock, your hands on his shoulders to stabilise yourself.

You feel it, the pressure building as the base of his cock swells and your walls pulse in response to the increased thickness. A needy whine bubbles from your throat at the alien sensation, but you don’t stop moving, feeling it pulling as it slips in and out of your drooling heat.

“Ya need to let me take over...” he pants and you slowly lift off of him, his cock hitting his stomach with a damp thud as it leaves you, and the emptiness it leaves behind is almost unbearable. You let him reposition you so you're kneeling on the sofa and he slots himself behind you, and carefully slides his thick cock back inside you. A firm hand rests between your shoulder blades, another grasping the meat of your hip, keeping you in position as Simon moves his hips in a sinuous motion.

“You okay?” he pants and huffs, voice thick and rough as the burgeoning knot settles back inside you.

“Yes, its… big,” you hiss.

“Thank you,” he grunts with a chuckle. “Play with your clit, it’ll help.” You do as he says and you arch your back at the added sparks of electricity that course through your body as a result. He picks up the pace in response, your orgrasm building within you.

“Fuck… fuckfuckfuck…” he lays across your back, kissing the skin and sharp teeth scraping across your shoulder blade. “Its gonna catch soon. Don't worry, okay?” He snaps his hips more sharply, forcing himself deeper and the knot catches, refusing to leave your body again and a tiny moment of panic rears inside of you.

“Simon…!” you whimper, trembling with the need to come and the new sensation.

“Yer okay, yer okay… doing so good… so good so fucking good…” he chants hoarsely, wet kisses trailing along your neck and you feel that calming effect again. His arms wrap around in front of you, caging you against him and you grab at his wrists to anchor yourself. He grinds his knot into you and heat flares inside you, pushing you over the edge into your orgasm. Your back arches and you push back against him, dragging your fingernails against his forearms and leaving red welts in their path. He snarls at the sudden dull pain and snaps his hips sharply against you a few more times, while you squeeze him so tightly he spills himself inside you with a deep growl.

Simon groans into your ear, rocking his hips into you as he comes, mouth sucking at your neck and teeth grazing your skin. You can feel how badly he wants to bite you in the tremble of his jaw, but his iron self control holds him back.

“Shit… that feels good,” you whisper, sparks of pleasure igniting while you feel his member twitching inside you and the heat of his cum starting to pool behind his knot.

“Good,” he mumbles, holding you tightly beneath him. “Just need a minute or two, you did so well.”

You spend several minutes tied together until the swelling calms, then Simon cleans you up and wraps you up with him to rest and recover.

“I want to do that again,” you murmur, your face buried in the crook of his neck contentedly. He chuckles back at you.

“Yeah, there’s no problem with that.”

The autumn wears on, and you find you’re spending more time in the den as the weather changes. There’s always an excuse for you not to go back to the cottage as the rains fall, and you spend more nights with the Pack. The first night you’d returned with the smell of Simon’s cum in you, you’d almost been tackled to the ground by Johnny and Kyle in their excitement and the Alphas had warned them not to get carried away.

You’d been exhausted but thoroughly satisfied by the time you’d taken both their knots the following morning after you’d recovered from your experience with Simon. Price was much gentler, as Simon had been, which was good considering his was nearly as big. One thing you knew now was a human man would never measure up after this.

As frost begins to coat the landscape in the early mornings, you stand at the window of the den drinking coffee after another warm and cosy night with them.

“You should stay here for the winter,” Price announces over his mug of coffee, and not for the first time since the weather began to cool down. “It's safer here, especially when the snows come in heavy. You won’t be able to get to town easily, if that shitbox car of yours will even start, which I doubt.”

“I doubt your crappy truck does much better in the snow,” you counter with a smirk.

“We don’t drive in the snow,” Kyle chimes in. “It's much more fun to run in it.”

You chuckle at that, imagining them running through the snow.

“I bet it is,” you agree. “But I’ve got to start thinking about getting ready to go back home. I’ve already risked a lot by not going back early, I don’t want to push my luck.”

“Piss on that!” Johnny snaps angrily surging up to pace the floor. Any talk of you leaving affects him poorly, his temper wearing thinner every time it comes up. It hadn’t gone down well when Simon had told them about the visit from your boss and the man’s threat.

“Settle down,” Simon warns him, and Johnny obediently sits back down in response to his instruction. Simon grasps the back of his neck and rubs his thumb against it to soothe him.

“So, are you really going back?” Price says once Johnny is quiet again. You look back out the window, guilt gnawing at you and making it hard to look at any of them. Even Kyle has an accusatory look in his soft, dark eyes that you can’t stomach.

“Money over pack?” He pushes you, and it leaves a bitter taste to hear it out loud.

“I’m not Pack though, am I?” You snap back at him, hating how he is making you sound so petty… so human. “I’m not like you.”

“That’s not the point, staying here with us is better than going back to your old life. You know that, don’t be stubborn,” he growls.

“It’s my decision, not yours!” Anger raging inside you at the way another man is trying to control you, to tell you what to do and manipulate you.

“It’s for your own good!” He says firmly. A red mist clouds your thoughts, and you feel torn. Guilt adds an edge to your emotions and you suddenly feel the need to lash out.

“No! It’s not! It's for you! I found a box in the cottage, it’s got notes on your from the last,” you wave your hand in the air trying to pick a number. “I don’t know, several centuries!”

“The box?” He asks.

“Yes! They’ve been keeping notes on you John Price,” You spit his full name in his face, something he’s never given you, then turn to the others one by one and jab a finger at them each. “Simon Riley! Kyle Garrick! Johnny MacTavish! You’ve been keeping people here for all this time, just to be your pet, your… your concubine!”

The moment you stop talking you see the hurt in his face, all their faces, and you know how incredibly out of line you are. Your heart shatters when Price turns away from you, showing you his back.

“Get out,” he growls and the hairs on your neck stand on end at the threat in his tone.

“Wait, she didn’t mean…” Kyle starts to say, getting up from his seat and giving you a cold stare.

“SHE GOES!” Price roars and even you feel the force he puts behind his voice, your brain screaming to get away from the enraged Apex predator before you. The three men flinch, heads bowed in submission and you bolt for the door.

You run, tears streaming down your face as you head for the cottage blindly, and rain begins to fall in icy, sharp bullets. The universe watches as you become soaked in punishment for hurting the kindest four souls you’ve ever known, until you burst, drenched and shivering, back into the cold confines of Annie’s cottage.

No fire burns in the hearth to warm you, the range has blown out and gone cold, so you crumple on the floor pulling the blanket around your shoulders, and weep for what you’ve done. For the first time all year you feel utterly alone.

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

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nightofthelivingtrashcan · 1 year

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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Call of Duty (Video Games) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: John "Soap" MacTavish/Simon "Ghost" Riley, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick/John "Soap" MacTavish/Simon "Ghost" Riley, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick/John "Soap" MacTavish, All implied lol Characters: John "Soap" MacTavish, Simon "Ghost" Riley, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, John Price (Call of Duty) (mentioned), Original Characters, minor - Character Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Werewolf, POV Outsider, Werewolf John "Soap" MacTavish, Werewolf Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, Gunshot Wounds, Minor Injuries, Protective John "Soap" MacTavish, BAMF John "Soap" MacTavish, BAMF Simon "Ghost" Riley, BAMF Kyle “Gaz” Garrick, why isn’t that a tag wtf, Author Has Never Played Call Of Duty, Established Relationship, John "Soap" MacTavish Loves Simon "Ghost" Riley, Simon "Ghost" Riley Loves John "Soap" MacTavish Series: Part 1 of Pack Mates Summary:

Everyone knew about the wolves of 141, and The Ghost was the scariest of them all.

Or was he?

The original characters are just some throwaway privates observing everything lol please read this 🥺🥺

#screaming please read this I’m actually so proud of it #ghoap #soapghost #gazsoap #gazsoapghost #werewolves #werewolf au #cod #call of duty #codmwii #modern warfare ii #fanfiction #ao3 #ghostsoap fanfiction #ghost x soap #soap x ghost #soap x gaz #gaz x soap #gaz x soap x ghost

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spielzeugkaiser · 2 years

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Are Witcher’s still made in the onlyfans Au? I just have a hard time picturing this modern good dad Vesimir putting his kids through the trails, especially if they might not survive, especially if Gerald doesn’t want to be.

You are absolutely right! He would never.

I have not thought that out in detail, but I imagine it’s a mix of spontaneous genetic mutations (that are quite rare) and a ‘running in the family’ thing, because they’re not 100% sterile anymore. For Lambert it was a mutation his parents didn’t see coming (hence they gave him away / maybe his father accused his mum of cheating, idk), Eskel just doesn’t know, he remembers his mum but not too much of her; and for Geralt… I thought that maybe there is some higher chance once magic is involved? Maybe he’s still a law of surprise child? I haven’t really thought about why Visenna gave him away, she just put him in Vesemirs care “for a few days” and never picked him up again.

#in the modern AU I ended up more close to the x men than anything else honestly #onlyfans!jaskier #what a lovely ask thank you!! AHH #the modern-fantasy setting is actually so interesting to think about I need to include it more one day #I mean we had hints here and there (like Geralt going to the same doctor as vampires and werewolves and trolls)#because he doesn't really fit otherwise in the system #but still my brain mostly goes...w hat if they... c udd le

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silent-shanin · 2 years

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Werewolf Alisha and Rose shenanigans (and Clem screaming 'no!')

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the-likeable-wizard-mack · 5 months

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Modern Fantasy Monsters: Holiday themed

Take care of the small fae that live in your garden during the winter months by giving offerings of small fabrics that they can use for blankets or small warm drinks for them so they won't freeze.

Werewolf cuddle piles during the winter, just imagine in the middle of a pack of werewolves cuddling up together using their fur and body heat to keep warm. Werewolf children also get in the pile maybe kicking a parent or sibling in the face while sleeping.

Vampires who THRIVE in the winter months not having to hide in their house. Cold weather? Cloudy skies? No sun??? They are absolutely loving it.

Dragons who lend their cave to very close friends as warmth. They would "hoard" their friends into a huddle.

Centaurs who take jobs during the winter as carriage horses becoming sort of tour guides around the city.

Sirens who sing beautiful Christmas songs bringing everyone in the holiday spirit.

Special magical holiday food and drinks served at coffee shops. (i.e peppermint hot chocolate with winter sprite sparkles or snowman cookies made with edible sweet snow and enchanted icing)

Having a cozy night in with Hobbits/ Halflings serving a grand Christmas/Holiday meal. A party full of good food and friends all around enjoying each others company.

Happy Holidays Everyone!! The wizard loves you all and would like to thank you for all of your support! 🧙🏾

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anticanonsposts · 5 months

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Lunar Embrace-Chapter 4

cw: fem pronouns used, allusions to nsfw themes, spooky?

word count: 1,130

As the howling continued she found herself feeling very thankful that she was on an upper floor of the cabin. As if that would really make a difference if someone or something got in. She didn’t even have a weapon. Now usually she was very kind to animals, prey and predators alike, but the howling this creature was producing wasn’t like anything she’d ever heard. Eventually the howling seemed to get farther and farther away from the cabin, and y/n drifted back to sleep.

Almost comically, y/n’s eyes fluttered open in the morning, around 9am, to birds chirping and the sun beaming through the windows down onto her. After getting up, using the bathroom, and putting pants on, she made her way down the stairs to the kitchen/dining area. There she met with König, sitting at one end of the wooden table. He looked as though he had been awake all night.

König’s eyes wandered up toward what was making noise and they landed on y/n’s form. His shirt draped lazily over her shoulders, exposing the left one slightly due to its size. He had had one hell of a night, rougher than usual and he wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed and tune everything out. But he gave her a small smile and mumbled good morning through his mouth full of eggs and ham he had made as soon as he got home.

Y/n’s eyes narrowed onto him once more, really taking in everything. The bags under his eyes made it seem like he hadn’t seen sleep in a month, and it looked as though there were several bruises forming on his arms and chest…That’s when she realized that he was shirtless. She tried not to gawk too much, but she couldn’t help but notice his build. He looked incredibly strong, even for a lumberjack, but again she saw copious amounts of bruises, scars, and gashes across his chest and back. ‘So this is why he is such a good customer,’ she thinks quickly, before responding to his greeting.

“Good morning König! I hope last night wasn’t too difficult and that the horses are ok.”

“Oh yes, thank you they were fine. The storm was just tough to get through.” he responds, averting his gaze from hers.

It seems like he was neglecting to tell her some crucial event from last night, but she didn’t pressure him. “Well, I should get going, I don’t want to intrude any longer!” she says, turning to pack up her bags.

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea” he says and continues when y/n gives him a prying look. “Oh umm, this morning before you woke up someone from a neighboring village to ours said that there was a lot of strange animal activity last night and that the authorities are advising people to stay inside for the next few days….Unless of course you have urgent business back home?” he finishes, feeling increasingly nervous. He didn’t want her to think he was lying, or that he was just trying to keep her captive.

“I-I would offer to escort you back myself but….” he trails off before repositioning so his left leg is out from under the table, exposing a huge gash across his shin and a very swollen ankle. “I just don’t know if its a good idea for you to go out on your own..I’m not saying you couldn’t take care of yourself, please don’t think that, I just-” he starts to ramble thinking that the absolutely blue any chance he had with her.

But she interrupts and says, “No, don’t worry, I don’t think that at all. I do think that that leg needs tending to, with gentler hands” she quips, trying to lighten up the mood slightly.

“I would appreciate that,” he replies.

So y/n got to work gathering salves, tonics, and bandages to help him. He pulled out his chair from the table, and she situated herself near his feet to get a better look at his wounds. She racked her brain to try to figure out what could have possibly happened to cause these kinds of wounds. But she pushed those thoughts aside so she could focus entirely on making him feel better. She noticed that although the injuries were severe, he was not bleeding as much as she thought he would, and things that normally stung didn’t seem to faze him much.

While she was cleaning and wrapping the wounds, she told him that she had also noticed weird animal activity the previous night. She described the strange howls she heard and that she even considered looking around his house for a knife or gun just in case. At that he let out a hiss as she was pulling the gauze tightly around the gash on his shin.

“I’m sorry,” she musters. And just replies with a small smile and shake of his head.

“Thank you very much, and I don’t want to ask you for anything else, but I am exhausted. Would you be able to help me up the stairs?” he asks, sounding even more kicked down, if that was possible, than before.

“Well of course, especially if I am camping out in your house while the monsters of the world wreak havoc outside.” she replies giggling. But his eyes quickly leave hers at the word monsters and he responds with what sounds like a strange chuckle.

Normally she would overanalyze his reaction and think herself sick. But her nurturing instincts kicked in and she acted as a human crutch getting up to his room. Finally more or less flopping him onto his bed she gets some pillows for under his ankle and makes sure he has water on one of his nightstands.

“Thank you, again. I know I am not being the greatest host right now.” König says with a small smile, trying to prop himself up on an elbow. But y/n quickly hushes his worries and gently but firmly pushes his chest back down with one of her hands. A hand, that König noticed, was so much softer and warmer than his, so much gentler, so much kinder.

Before he could make any further objections she scampered back downstairs, assuring him that she could entertain herself while he rested. And König’s heavy eyelids closed and he drifted into a heavy sleep.

Y/n found a few books on König’s shelves to keep her occupied and even took a small nap herself, after fixing herself something small to eat and tidying up the kitchen. As she drifted into her nap she tried to push out the carnal thoughts flooding her mind now of his hands, chest, arms, and everything else about König, telling herself that she was getting far too ahead of herself.

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http-paprika · 4 months

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Bite the Hand / Phillip Graves

⋆★⋆ part seven - exile ⋆★⋆ masterlist ⋆★⋆ previous ⋆★⋆ next ⋆★⋆

summary after frost exiles herself back to wyoming, she must cope with the grief of her past and plan for the future.

werewolf!au / pairing phillip graves x female!reader / callsign frost / wc 1765 / warnings references to childhood abuse & parental death

notes you thought this was going to be the chapter where everything comes together? well, hate to break it to you but frost has commitment issues and graves kinda sucks at relationships. but who knows, maybe a change of scenery is all they need.

Bones aching as the truck pulled to a slow, Frost buried her face in her hands. The plains around her were vast, stretching to the snow-jagged peaks. Soon, the whole landscape would be blanketed in white snow and black ice. It was the season she dreaded most as a girl, every morning Frost would bundle up in her father’s old work jacket while he’d scrape the snow off the windshield swearing about taking her to school.

Wyoming was as lonely as it was vast, not even the mountains seemed to break up the endless sky. The wind blew against her truck, sheep bleating in the pastures as Frost tried not to recant why she’d returned. She’d wanted to blame it on everything and everyone but herself, but in the end, it was by her hands that she’d left Texas. Left the Shadow Company, and left the man she thought there was a future with.

Finally gathering what courage she had left, the soldier got out of her truck. Boots collecting dirt as she walks up the drive onto the creaking porch where her uncle sat. The graying man looks up at her, his face lined with wrinkles and age. It was hard to believe that sixteen years had passed since she’d left the farm. Frost hadn’t even bothered to return when sent the news that her father had passed.

“I thought you wouldn’t come back.” Her uncle spoke up, sitting back in the old rocking chair. “Your father always swore you’d never come back. Wouldn’t have blamed you.”

“Things change.” She responds, glancing back over to the pastures of woolly creatures. “I just need some time. Few weeks, and I’ll be out of your hair, Richard.”

“I don’t mind. It’s just me and the ranch hand during the day. I could use the company.” Frost’s aunt had left when she was just a girl, only a winter after her mother had passed. It had left Frost to learn a lot on her own about becoming a woman, always too afraid to bring it up to the two men. “And the help.”

She nods, adjusting the duffle bag over her shoulder. “Right.”

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“I’m leaving,” Frost tells him, her voice quivering with uncertainty as she stands in Graves’ office. The winter sun bleeds through the blind, casting a halo of light across his head. “For the best interest of the pack and you, I’m resigning.”

That confidence she’d gained that night, after kissing that stranger, had quickly evaporated. Maybe it was sobriety, or maybe it was how quickly Phillip had become withdrawn in an attempt to shoulder the pain. There were no longer stolen glances during meetings, whispered approval as she geared up. And when he’d taken a bullet through the shoulder which was now hanging in a sling, it had been the end.

Maybe Frost had hoped he would speak, argue back, and order her to stay. But he didn’t, his gaze dropped down to the desk as Graves nodded. There was a flicker of shame on his face as he ducked his head, guilt surging through her veins. It had been her fault, she’d pushed him away and he’d responded accordingly. He was getting older, he needed someone willing to mate, to commit. And despite her best efforts, she wasn’t ready.

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The kitchen was dimly lit as Frost sat back in her old chair, the smell of burnt beans and rice making her stomach twist with unease, her nose scrunched. Before her, the plate of mush steamed as she waited for her uncle to return with what Frost had asked for.

“Here they are. A little faded, but still useful.” Her uncle announces, setting the moth-eaten map of the farm’s property lines down on the table. “Your father had always done a good job of going out and keeping them marked, I haven’t been able to due to my knees.”

Frost nods, pushing away the plate to get a better look at the markings. Cooking had always been her father’s job, he wouldn’t let her uncle in the kitchen except to clean up. It was the one thing he’d done lovingly, making sure bellies were full before sending them back to work.

“When was the last time someone marked them?” Frost needed to hunt, especially if the only food her uncle made was burnt. More so, Frost wanted to establish her scent over the property like her father used to do. There were no packs in the area, but she wanted to keep nomads away from the sheep.

“Oh, I sent the old ranch hand to do them in the spring after the last snow of the season,” He tells her, sitting down with his plate of beans and rice. It was no surprise to her that he dug into the food without a complaint, his taste buds were dying and his human nose didn’t pick up on the rancid smell like she did.

“And what about the upkeep of the farm, what is the new ranch hand actually doing?” She asks, worried about the state of the farm. As much as the place brought her grief, it was the home of her childhood, the place her mother had passed away. “Richard?”

Her uncle bawls up his fists, the silverware shaking in his hands. “He’s just here for the sheep, keeping them healthy and fed until the spring. It’s been since your father passed, he ran this place better than I ever can.

Frost lets out a scoff, shaking her head and feeling pity for the man. Despite being the eldest son, her uncle had let all responsibilities fall to her father. Long before he’d been bit and turned, her father had already been seen as a leader in the family. Broad-shouldered, thick skull. For all her father’s flaws, which were many, he was a hard worker and took care of his own.

“You’ve got my work cut out for me, don’t you?”

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“I’ve worked my ass off my whole life for your little ungrateful wretch not to give a damn.” Her father snarls over the phone. Frost sits in the infirmary, the thick gauze wrapped around her ribs as she tries not to fall apart again. As if a bullet that should’ve killed her and a bitter betrayal by the man she once loved wasn’t enough, Frost had to listen to her father’s griping as he lay in a hospital, thousands of miles away on his deathbed.

“I’m not coming back.” She repeated to him, her grip on the phone tightening. “I don’t care if you’re about to die, I don’t fucking care if Richard can’t run the ranch on his own. I’m not going back to Wyoming.”

Hadn’t he turned his back to her the day of Frost’s eighteenth birthday? Didn’t he vow not to call her again when she packed her bags to leave for the Marines? But in his most dire times, he’d realized he needed his daughter, and Frost had never hated him more.

When her uncle Richard had called the following day to tell her that her father had passed, she didn’t grieve. There was no weeping, not a single tear. His death was a comfort, the scars on her back didn’t seem to burn anymore. Even if she’d lost all else, Frost was free from him.

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A frustrated huff escapes her lips as she rubs the stained material of an old t-shirt of hers against the bark of a tree. The musk of her scent clings to the wood as she moves through the underbrush. Cowboy boots that belonged to who knows crunching against the drying winter grass.

Frost wipes her face as she pulls back out the property map, mentally marking where she is. Not too far from the river that created the southern border, the one Frost had fallen in one summer as a girl where she’d hastily learned to swim. If it weren’t for the bright sun, she would’ve had hypothermia as her mother bundled her up in an old, red flannel on the porch.

She turns back against the wind, returning to the house through pastures, past sheep who bleat and run. They were simple creatures, she couldn’t blame them for trying to stay away from the wolf in human’s skin. They’d only ever responded to her father out of fear, the man was a shrewd shepherd.

In the barn, Frost drops the rifle off her shoulder. The pile of logs for firewood beginning to bother her. She’d quickly learned the ranch hand wasn’t much help, barely an adult who never seemed to pay attention. A smirk crossed her face, she was certain her father was rolling over in his grave at the state of the ranch.

Finding the ax, and scraping it against the sharpening block; the noise made her teeth ache. She returns out into the winter morning, her thermal clinging to her stretching muscles as the ax swings. It cracks through the wood with one slice, the wood falling to the side as she grabs for the next log.

The ranch hand calls her name as the logs turn into fine slabs of wood for the furnace. With sweat clinging to her brow, Frost turns his attention to the boy. “What?”

“Richard wants you up at the house, there’s someone for you.” The boy tells her. She groans, jamming the ax into the chopping log before waving him off. Anyone who’d traveled this farm out must’ve been determined, there wasn’t even a sign for the ranch on the road. It was far from the beaten trail, the way she liked it.

Jacket in hand, she slowly returns to the house. Freezing at the sight of a black, shiny truck with a Texas license plate parked next to her battered one. It was a coincidence, Frost tells herself as she mounts the stairs into the house. Her ears must’ve been deceiving Frost as she listened to the two voices in the house. The sweet, southern drawl made her throat tighten.

And when she turns the corner into the kitchen, Frost is certain she’s hallucinating. Blue eyes gleaming in the morning light, the stubble thicker with the cold, and a tantalizing look of guilt that makes her heart swell.

“Hello, Frost.” Her former commander greets her, standing taller and putting his best foot forward. But she couldn’t help but wonder if he was hurting more than she was. Gray hairs seemed to be caught in the light from the window, tired eyes drooping as they met her gaze.

“You came?”

“I had to.”

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