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yourlocaldilemma · 8 months

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Road trip to nowhere (ln4)

Lando Norris x fem!bestfriend!reader

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings: mild smut, unedited

A/n: as always, feedback is appreciated :)

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It was something out of a fairytale. Soft snowflakes spin down around the car adding to the twinkling layer of snow covering everything. The ground, the trees, and the sky are all painted a pearly white by the thickly falling flakes.

The boy next to you hums along to your playlist as he navigates the icy roads with ease. His curls are still damp with melted snow from your mad dash to the car two hours earlier.

“How much longer?”

Lando all but giggles. “You’ll see soon enough princess,” he grins, dragging out the S as he turns onto another small forest road, even thinner than the one you’d been on for the last hour.

The winter break had come with never ending flurries of snow and lots of time spent with the Norris family. It was supposed to be you, Cisca, Flo and Lando on the trip, a cozy winter getaway with your oldest friends. The cold had come with consequences though, and a vicious winter flu had wiped the sisters off the map, leaving all the hot cocoa and board games for you and Lando.

If it had been any other of your guy friends, the drive would have felt awkward and the prospect of spending a weekend alone with them would have made you more than uncomfortable, but you’d never felt that way with Lando. Your friends had told you countless times they thought you were blind and naive to not realize how perfect you would be together, but you had always brushed it off with a laugh the same way you did when they found out you were alone this weekend.

The car turns one more time around a pocket of trees.

“Woah,” you exhale,” That’s, wow.” Landos eyes glint at your reaction to the cabin suddenly sitting in front if you. The small clearing before you is lined with shimmering, snow covered trees and a wood cabin straight out of an instagram post. The windowsills are lined with greenery and you can see warm lights and Christmas decorations inside the cozy house. Lando stops the car and pulls the hood of his sweater up.

“Run in on 3?”

Shards of snow clinging to the hem of your socks slowly melt as you unpack your bags. A slight sheen of sweat clings to your skin. After dinner, you and Lando had explored the property, which ended in you both lying in a pile of snow. The bedrooms in the cabin are cozy, with thick duvets and soft chairs. Dancing around the bedroom, you slide clothes into drawers and pull your stack of books out of your bags.

You’re in the middle of digging through your backpack for a lipgloss when the room goes dark and dead silent. Your heart skips a beat as your eyes adjust to the dark. Peeking out into the hallway, you notice the rest of the cabin has gone just as black.

“Lando?” The sudden dark seems to make your voice echo down the hallway more than it did in in the daylight. His footsteps pat down towards the kitchen.

“I think the breaker went. I’m going to take a look at it.”

“Mk.”

You make your way to the kitchen, sitting on the couch under the window before pulling you legs up under you. It’s only 3 minutes until you hear Lando come back inside.

“There’s nothing wrong. I reset everything multiple times. It might be something wrong with the grid?” He unlocks his phone and flops down the the couch next to you. Seconds later, he groans. “The snow took out a power line. It might be a while.”

“We’ll end up freezing to death in our sleep.”

Lando grins before dashing down the hallway, returning with his mattress in tow and duvets slung over his shoulder. “We can sleep in here! You know body heat and whatnot?”

You only laugh at his antics while you head to your room to get pyjamas on as he skips around the living room setting up the makeshift bed.

~~~

After winning five rounds of Uno lit by candles, and then dealing with a boy who happens to be a very sore loser when it comes to card games, you crawled as far under the covers as possible and curled up. Lando slid in next to you and tossed a still sour goodnight in your direction.

You’re close enough that you can hear him taking small little breaths in the dark, breaths that catch when you accidentally brush against him on the small mattress. The silence is almost deafening, but it all fades to a dull hum as you let yourself get lost in your head. Butterflies are dancing in your stomach and anticipation is building in your chest, tingling on your skin as your thoughts drift towards dangerous places. Things you know won’t happen, you know shouldn’t happen, but in moments like this, you wish for anyway.

Neither of you say anything for a long while, letting the night wrap around you, hoping you’ll fall asleep before anything crosses the line toed in the sand. The line that does, whether you both admit it or not, have footprints tainting the opposite side of it. The good-nights and I love you texts are never quite platonic, the words exchanged and phone calls after hard days are never the support of someone who is just a friend.

But I’d didn’t matter, and it wouldn’t ever matter, because you and Lando let everything go unspoken.

“You’re shaking the whole fucking blanket Y/N” What’s supposed to be a silence breaking joke comes out as nothing more than a whiny whisper. Even with the low light you can see Lando’s face flush at the pitch of his voice as he coughs lightly.

Your response is blunt and dripping of unappreciated sarcasm for his benefit. “It’s cold.”

A flash of white teeth as Landos lips stretch into a grin. “Thanks for the weather report Princess.” Closing your eyes again and flipping around in a small attempt to find a warmer position, you scoff at him before cuddling even deeper into your flat pillow.

When you speak, there’s an annoyed edge to your words. “A weather report would have been a good thing to check before you dragged me to the middle of the woods. You should at least say you’re sorry, don’t you think Lando?” The blankets move around you again but he doesn’t give anything but a grunt of acknowledgment to your snide comment.

The cabin is once again quiet but for the sound of the soft snow on the windows. If the heavens hadn’t decided to dump three winters worth of snow in two days, this would have been the perfect way to end what what, so far, been a perfect winter break.

“Y/N.”

You slide your eyelids apart the tiniest bit to see the silhouette of Landos face mere inches from yours. Even in the pitch black, you can find hints of colour in his pearlescent blue eyes and the pretty colour on his cheeks.

“Lando.” His name slips from your lips as nothing more than a whisp of air between you, so incredibly opposite to the tone you said it in minutes ago. The rose in his cheeks deepens half a shade before you begins to talk.

“Y/N, I’m sorry about the shitty weather, and the fact that it’s midnight and were awake because it’s -30 and we have no heating, and I’m sorry if you regret coming out here, but I’m not sorry for bringing you out here.”

Your eyes meet his and you’re so close to him you can see the small beads of moisture lining his bottom lashes.

“I’m not sorry because this is the only time I’ve got to be alone this winter, and of course I love our family Y/N, but I love you more. When I’m away and I’m stressed it’s you I call, it’s your good morning text I want, it’s your face I want to come home to every single night. I’m not sorry we ended up having to share this bed because every time I’ve touched you since we were about 13 Y/N, I’ve felt fireworks and I’m pretty sure you have to.”

Now fully formed tears on his dark eyelashes begin to drop, making their way down the planes of his face before slowly dampening yours.

“Im not sorry because the butterflies and anticipation and the way I crave your touch when you’re anywhere near me isn’t something you feel for a friend. And you can correct me if I’m wrong, but the eye contact we make across tables and rooms and through phones across continents is edging on something we don’t talk about.”

Your face is stinging in the cold, slick with both your tears as you watch Lando smear his accord his cheek with a long finger.

“But I am sorry if you don’t feel the same way. If you truly believe that the way our souls connect is nothing more than a good friendship. I’ll respect that, I promise, and Im sorry. I just,-“

Time air surrounding you feels suffocating, kicking you into Landos gaze as your blood boils and skin crackles alive with thousands of emotions.

“Kiss me?”

Every muscle in your body sparks to life and aches for more, more, as Landos lips brush yours with gentle pressure. His breath is hot on your face as your noses touch and he pulls away slightly, eyes searching yours for regret that he doesn’t find.

His hands slip down your body like silk, leaving a path of suddenly burning skin in their wake. You feel your soul vibrate with the need to be touching him, to be as close as you possibly can to the boy who stole your heart all those years ago. Who took all these years to confess to you the very ruing that ran through your kind every time his face popped up in your train of thoughts.

He emits a low groan as you tangle your hand through his curls, leaving a kiss on your lower stomach before allowing himself to be pulled back up to your lips. You kiss like you’re making up for years of lost time, and maybe you are, but as Landos tounge slips past your lips with ease you decide that you’ll have many, many more nights to catch up. The wet desire of your tongues slipping past each other draws a quiet moan from you, which sends Lando into a spiral as he tries to find the sweet spot that will bring you to make that sound again and again and again.

Helplessly you clutch at his body, hands running down his biceps and taught abs before pulling at his thigh until he gets the hint, pulling it up and beside your chest. Reaching under you, Lando grabs your ass, squeezing as he flips you around to lie on him, getting another breathless moan to slip past your lips against your will.

He clenches his eyes shut at the noise, opening them to find you looking at him like he’s the only thing in the world worth looking at. Dropping your head, you begin leaving a trail of short kisses up his collarbone and around his muscled neck. You allow your body to collapse onto his, giving up on trying to support yourself as Lando circles his fingertips over the swell of your ass.

You can feel him on your thigh. A surge of boldness taking you over, you push aside all the heady thoughts swirling around and shift to free you hand from their grasps on his body. Lando grunts lowly as he winds his fingers in your hair, a sound just short of pornographic as you cup him through his sweats. He pushes his hips up into yours as you start to tug at the waist of the sweatpants.

“Y/N.” He catches your wrist, stalling your movements as he tips your chin forward to see you face.

“Please.”

“We’re not having sex for the first time on the floor of a cabin, freezing to death in pitch black.”

“Why not? We’ve waited so long Lando.”

“You deserve the world. I’m not going to have our first time be any less than that.”

You whine, grinding down on him, desperate for any form of friction. He gasps and wraps a hand around your waist with a bruising grip.

“Y/N.” A feeble warning, one that only makes you smile as you watch Lando. He’s too far gone at this point to care, intoxicated by the feeling of your body and your heartbeat on his.

“I’m going to come in my pants like a teenager if you keep doing that.”

“I want you to feel good.” You whisper. At that his mind goes blank, hand moving to swiftly remove your shirt. He tips his head back and moans as he sees you’re not wearing a bra before pushing your chest to his lips with a single finger.

“Princess, I’m going to-“ he hisses against your chest, the warm breathe making your nipples peak. You grind down onto him one more time before he bucks his hips into yours and moans loud enough that the cabin is filled with the sound of his pleasure.

You both breathing heavily as he meets your eyes, small flecks of gold catching the moonlight as he smiles softly before pulling you to him.

His sculpted chest is warm against your bare breasts while you lie, completely covering every inch of his body with your own. You stay that way for what could have been hours, content in each other. After a while, Lando begins to suck hickeys into your neck, giving occasional soft noises of delight at his work.

Silence with him has always been comfortable, but this time wa sa different type of comfort. The air is cool, but heavy with the weight of the events that had just unfolded, leaving both of you wondering why you had ever doubted your feelings.

The arms around your middle tighten and you look down to see Landos eyes waiting for you.

“Hey princess.”

“Hey there pretty boy.” You trace the outline of his features, the drop of his nose and the lines of his jaw. The smile he gives you brings light into his eyes and a ruby blush to his cheeks.

He yawns, leaving into the small shakes you’re drawing on his head. “I’m tired Y/N.”

“Go to sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

He hums contentedly, nestling his face further into your lower stomach as his torso rests softly between your legs. There’s no noise for a few moments before he whispers softly, voice tickling the sensitive skin of your navel.

“Please don’t move. I’ve wanted this for longer than you can imagine.”

You respond by staying perfectly still, listening until his breaths steady and slow to a comforting rhythm. Resting your hands in his hair and wondering you how long he’ll sleep before waking up feeling sticky and gross, you fall asleep, cuddly and warm.

#lando norris x y/n #lando norris imagine #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #f1 x reader #lando norris smut

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tuiccim · 1 year

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Though I Have Never Read It

Pairing: Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Word Count: 2756

Warnings: Angst, smut, Only one bed

Summary: You had run away from all of your problems and found solitude in a cabin in the middle of nowhere. When a storm blows in, it drags a man with a metal arm through your door. You offer shelter to the handsome stranger.

A/N: Special thanks to my hype princess & beta reader @whisperlullaby.

Though I Have Never Read It Masterlist

You stoked the fire in your tiny cabin, well off the beaten path, in a sparsely populated corner of Estonia, you lived off the grid. Your home consisted of a fireplace, a tiny bathroom that used rainwater, a small bed, comfy chair, a table for two (though it was rarely used), and a shelf of canned and jarred food. You had chosen a solitary life after yours had turned to absolute shit. Escape had seemed to be your only option, and here you kept to yourself.

Glancing at the wood piled in one corner, you knew with this weather coming in, it would be best to bring in more logs to keep dry. Bundling up, you head out with a lantern and gather as many as you can carry. Back and forth you went in the frigid snow that had begun to fall. Kicking the door closed after your last load, you promised yourself a special treat from your stash.

You peel the layers off and head to lock the door before treating yourself. Just before you reach it, the door is kicked open and in stalks a tall man all in black. You back away quickly as he closes the door and locks it before recognizing your presence.

“Where am I?” He demands in Russian, removing his eye protection revealing incredibly blue eyes.

“Eesti,” you say in Estonian.

He nods and moves to crouch in front of the fire. You watch him warily. Where the hell did he come from? Why is he here? Who sent him? Had they found you? You couldn’t stand the silence and ask, still in Estonian, “What do you want?”

He turns his head to you slowly, studies you carefully, and surprisingly speaks in English, “Shelter.”

You take a few deep breaths, trying to calm your rapidly beating heart and attempt to come up with a plan. “Are you going to hurt me?”

He removes the mask from the lower half of his face, revealing a razor sharp jawline, but stays silent.

“Did you come here on purpose?”

“No.”

“Are you here for me?”

“No.”

“Do you want something from me?”

“No.”

“Then why are you here?”

He looks at the floor and sighs heavily, “Shelter.”

“Shelter. That’s it?”

“Yes.”

“Are you lost?”

“Yes.”

“Is someone after you?”

“Yes.”

“Are you hiding?”

“Yes.”

“There’s a blizzard coming in.”

“Yes.”

“You could be stuck here for days.”

He looks at you, surprisingly he seems unperturbed, just resigned. You take another breath and decide that compliance is probably your best bet here. You try a different tactic, “What’s your name?”

When he doesn’t speak, you give him yours and explain, “I’ve lived here for a few months.” When he still doesn’t engage, you continue, “I was going to make myself some dinner. I should have enough for you, too. I just need to get this pot.”

With slow movements, you pick up the pot from the hearth and put it on the hook, pushing it close to the fire. You continued slowly while he watched your every move. Grabbing a jar of soup from the shelf, you struggle to open it and when you still hadn’t managed it by the time you made it back to him, he held out his hand. You look at him in surprise. His eyes seem to soften, as if trying to convey his harmless intentions. You hold the jar out to him gingerly and he pops it open with little effort. Your fingers brush his gloved ones as he hands it back, making you shiver at the damp material. You pour the soup into the pot and push it over the fire to warm. Turning back, you study the man’s clothing and realize they’re wet from the snow. Grabbing towels and an extra blanket, you bring them to him.

“You need to get out of the wet clothes,” you say gently.

“I’m fine,” he says quietly. He hadn’t moved from the spot by the fire and was beginning to shiver despite being so close to the source of heat.

You decide not to push. You knew you should still be frightened at what he might do but he seemed less like a scary intruder and more like a lost little boy. You set out two bowls, spoons, and cups. Deciding it wouldn’t hurt, you pull a bottle of whiskey from the cabinet and pour him a stiff drink. When the soup was ready, you served and gently said, “Come to the table. You need to eat.”

He moved, watching you with each step. You sat across from him and motioned to the whiskey, “This’ll help warm you up.”

You ate, staring at your bowl with an occasional glance up at him. Working up your bravery, you try to get him to talk again. “If we’re going to be stuck in here together, it’d be nice to have something to call you.”

He glances away as if searching for something before saying quietly, “Soldat.”

“You’re a soldier? Well, even soldier’s have names,” you try again.

You jump when he thumps his fist on the table, “I don’t.”

“Okay, okay. Soldat.” You hold up a hand placatingly, but you just couldn’t stop yourself from pushing one more time. “You don’t remember ever being called something else?”

He looked out into the darkness that had fallen outside, seeming to search for something, anything to grab on to. He shook his head as if warding off bad thoughts but then he whispers,”Ja- James?”

“James,” you smile. “Okay, James. Is the soup okay?”

He nods but the expression on his face betrays confusion. You finished the rest of the meal quietly, not wanting to overwhelm him. As you cleared dishes away, he sat still shivering. You told yourself to leave it alone but you also sucked at listening to yourself. You dragged your small bed closer to the fire and pulled back the covers.

“James,” you say gently. Your heart beats faster as his intense blue gaze meets yours. “You have to get out of those wet clothes. You’re never going to get warm if you don’t. Here, take this towel, dry off your skin, and get in the bed. I’ll wait in the bathroom. Just let me know when you’re done.”

“I-” he halts whatever was about to exit his mouth and instead gives a curt nod.

You use the bathroom, brush your teeth, and wait. When you hear a halting “okay” from the other room, you emerge. Picking the clothes up from where he had laid them over a chair, you spread them over the rods next to the fireplace to dry more efficiently. Without a second thought, you walked over to him and added another layer of blankets. He watched you, eyes following each movement.

“Is there anything I can do for you?” you ask.

“No.”

“Okay,” you settled into your armchair, the only real luxury you gave yourself, and picked up your book. As you turned to your bookmarked page, he spoke.

“Aloud?”

“You want me to read out loud? Uh, sure,” you looked down at the well-worn copy, and turning back to the first page began reading, “This is my favorite book in all the world, though I have never read it.” You smiled as you glanced up to see his confused expression. “That’s the first line of the book. The Princess Bride by William Goldman.” You continue to read through Buttercup and Westley’s romance while occasionally looking to see James’ reaction. Most of the time there was none but occasionally a corner of his mouth would tip up or down as you went on. When he seemed to be drifting off and your eyes had begun to droop, you put the book to the side, threw another log on the fire, and turned out the oil lamp. Wrapping a blanket around yourself, you settle in to sleep in your chair.

“No.”

Your head snaps up at the word and you turn to see James trying to get out of the bed. It was obvious he was in some pain and as he sat up you could see the bruises criss crossing his torso, then the mass of scars on his left shoulder that led to a metal arm. Your mouth fell open for a second before you realized what he was trying to say. You jump up to stop him.

“Hey. It’s fine. You need the bed more than I do.”

“No,” he insists.

“James! Stop,” you put your hand on his right shoulder to keep him in place but pull back when he gasps. “Did I hurt you?”

“No,” he looks up with such pleading in his eyes it nearly breaks your heart. “Please.”

Gingerly, you reach out to him again and it’s as if his whole body relaxes at your touch. You sit on the side of the bed and stroke the long locks away from his forehead, allowing you a full view of his face. He was incredibly handsome. His eyes slipped closed as you continued to gently run your hands through his hair. When his breathing became even and you thought he had fallen asleep, you pulled your hands away.

He started awake and stared up at you with wide eyes, “Stay.”

After a momentary hesitation, you slide into the bed and pull the covers over both of you. Much later, after he had been out for a while, you fell asleep with a hand still tangled in his hair.

–

The warmth of the sun shining down on you was glorious. You looked over at James chopping wood shirtless and smiled at him. When he grinned back your thighs clenched. He was outright the most gorgeous man you’d ever seen. He chopped one last log and then laid the ax down. He made his way to you and, rather than shy away, you grinned as he wrapped his arms around you. Your breathing picked up feeling him pressed against you, his cock already hard and rubbing against your middle. James moans causing you to…

…wake up. You realize that your dream was mirroring what was happening in your bed. James' arms were wrapped tightly around you and his hips flexed in rhythm. His moans were making your panties flood as you debate what to do. He shifts and his hard cock rubs directly against your mound eliciting a gasp from you. He stops, his eyes flying open and staring into yours. It was the fear in them that broke you. He looked terrified. You weren’t sure if it was because he didn’t know where he was or at what he had been doing but the only thought in your head was to soothe him. Tightening your arms around him, you arch to bring your bodies together and run a hand through his hair.

His tension melted away. Staring into each other, time seemed to slow down. Your breathing matched and your body seemed to tingle where it touched him. And then, he moved so quickly it made your eyes fly wide open as his mouth took yours. You were keenly aware of his nakedness in contrast to your clothed body when he rolled on top of you and his hips flexed. After a moment, his lips trailed down your neck and a desperate whisper slipped past his lips, a single word, “Please.”

You knew exactly what he’s asking and it scared you and thrilled you at the same time. The thoughts that went through your head were telling you how stupid this whole thing was and, alternatively, to throw caution to the wind for once in your life. He put a hand under your shirt, just enough to feel your bare skin and whispered please again. That solitary word made any resistance, any reason, any thought of stopping him disappear. Instead, you reach for your waistband and push it down as far as you can. His hands take over and get them below your knees.

You expect him to go fast, to take you in the same rushed way he had kissed you, but he doesn’t. He’s gentle and slow. He slides a hand between your legs and lets out a moan as his fingers explore. You hold on to him tighter and open your legs. When he guides the head of his cock to your entrance, he kisses you again while he slowly presses in. He swallows the whimpers you release as he buries himself inside of you. When he’s fully seated, he pulls back to look you in the eyes as he begins to softly thrust. You let out little gasps and moans as the pleasure builds.

“So good,” James’ voice is strained as he grinds right against your clit, determined to make you come before he loses himself. Every thrust is taking you closer and when you can feel the spasms beginning, you pull his face back to your neck. He wastes no time, sucking that soft spot just below your ear. You let out a moan that’s foreign to your ears as your orgasm rips through you. You clench down and James’ strokes come a little faster until he grunts at his own release. You lay together until your breathing becomes normal again.

James rolls to one side to study you before he asks, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, of course,” you smile at him before awkwardly reaching down to pull your bottoms back up. When you succeed, you slip out of the bed to hand him his clothes. “I’ll, um, I’ll let you get dressed.”

He nods and watches as you scurry to the tiny bathroom. You stare at yourself in the mirror, surprised that you still look exactly the same except the small mark on your neck. You use the bathroom and wash up. Determined to act normally, you decide to make breakfast and walk back into the main cabin. Glancing out the window, you see the snow that had fallen wasn’t as deep as you had worried. Looking over, James is dressed but he stands over the bed, staring at it. He glances up at you and then back at the bed. You see the small bloodstain on the sheets and hurry to snatch the covers over it. With knots in your stomach, you go to stoke the fire.

James watches you, “You-” He cuts himself off and when you finally look at him, his eyes are trained on the window.

“What is it?” you ask, watching his face fill with fear. When you finally hear the sounds of vehicles approaching, “James?”

He stares at you before jumping into action, “Get in the bathroom. No matter what happens, do not come out.”

He hadn’t spoken that many words since he showed up the night before and it scared him, “James, what’s happening?”

“They’re coming for me. Go!” He ushers you into the room but before closing the door, he looks at you with sadness and whispers, “Thank you. Stay here. Stay, no matter what.”

It was the tensest ten minutes of your life. You heard the cabin door open and slam shut, some muffled shouting from outside, and then silence. You were just about to peek out when you heard the door again. The sound of furniture being thrown and glass shattering has your heart racing, then the quiet invaded again. A fire crackling was all you could hear and as smoke began to seep under the door, your worst nightmare was confirmed. You try the door and it’s obvious that it had been blocked off. You panic for just a moment before wetting a cloth and covering your face as a makeshift filter. Looking around, you realize the only way out is the door. Using a piece of loose wood from the wall, you manage to get it through the sliver you open in the door. Using it as a wedge, you manage to get the door open wide enough to slip through. Your oil lanterns are shattered and the fire was nearly across the entire room. You grab a blanket near you and manage to climb out of the kitchen window. Looking around, it seems that James is gone along with whoever came after him. You run to your old but serviceable truck.

Turning back for one last glance, your cabin is already engulfed in flames. Your escape was gone. It must be true, you can't run from your problems. Time to return to New York and see if you can pick up the pieces.

Part Two

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paintedpeeta · 8 months

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Peeta getting so tired of recleaning the floors after Katniss gets messy in the woods that he gets her old bucket tub from the seam house and makes her a bath in the living room when she comes home so not to track mud upstairs

ahhh i definitely headcanon that peeta is big on keeping their house clean, loves the order and mental clarity that it brings, loves everything having a place so that he can put his hand to it whenever he needs it. (and also, likes to periodically repaint the rooms and move furniture around to freshen things up, but that isn’t relevant here).

enter katniss, stage left.

she isn’t a dirty person. she just isn’t as fussy about it as him. like, she’ll pair odd socks together when she’s doing laundry and she’ll leave dishes on the rack overnight. and, of course, she trails in from the woods most days looking like she’s been dragged through the mud. if he’s lucky and is home, he’ll catch her and toss her over his shoulder in the hallway before she can track leaves and muck through the house. other days, she gets home before he does and he’s greeted by the sight of dirty boot-prints across his pristine floors.

truly, she riles him up something awful when it comes to it. no matter how many times he reminds her to take her boots off at the door, she almost always forgets. and of course, because she hates him being mad at her, she always comes up with an excuse to deflect. “but peeta, i was in a hurry to feed the cat! that’s why i forgot to take ‘em off.” murmured as she tries to situate herself across his lap, quite contrite. she will do it again the next day and he knows this. (other times, she takes a harder stance. “maybe you ought to be home earlier to remind me.” said in a very serves-you-right manner).

the idea of them having a big metal wash tub is pretty inspired though, especially if you personally headcanon that they go live off-grid in a cabin in the woods. warming the water for each other in kettles above the hearth. would you even need to draw the curtains closed, out there in the middle of nowhere? he’s a little too tall for the tub so it’s not as comfortable for him as it is for katniss, who can fully stretch her legs out and lay there to soak.

#everlark headcanons #asks #our sweet feral baby girl i wuv her #peeta is TIRED but would he change her for the world? no #she keeps him on his toes okay let’s say that

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anarchy-and-piglins · 1 year

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I got stuck in 2 hours of traffic and got an AU Idea.

Dark SBI because I'm nothing if not consistent.

TW: character death (he gets better, though. Or, well, he reincarnates. Techno is just temporarily dead.)

Anyways, the whole world knows one truth.

God is Dead.

Or, at least, the being people remember as god is dead.

They all argue on the how and the why and the when and the who. But every culture agrees that the only god that walked the earth is dead.

And he took magic with him.

Modern time, archeologists discover an ancient underwater temple, absolutely gorgeous and in its original state. Sending robots down, they discover this one room that MUST be important. It's locked up. And it has these strange markings on it that remind them of texts on magic. But magic is gone, so they aren't worried.

Turns out, they should've been worried.

Because god was not dead.

He was imprisoned.

Philza, the one revered as a god, had once ruled the world. Completely. Wholely. His magic and might prevented anyone from standing against him.

Of course, he didn't do it alone.

His best friend was human. A master swordsman who literally did not CARE about knowing magic. That could be Philza's thing. He was a strategist, a scholar, a warrior, and a god's best friend.

He was Technoblade.

Technoblade would refuse his friend's insistence that Technoblade become immortal, uninterested in playing life on easy mode. Besides, he already couldn't be beat. Technoblade never dies, he didn’t need magic.

A coup happens, unthinkable. But Techno is getting older. Slower. So he gets caught. And the conspirators use that against Philza. Technoblade will die or Philza will consent to being bound.

It's not a hard choice for Philza.

But, as they are shutting the doors on his tomb, one conspirator grins and slits Techno's throat, leaving Phil's final view of his friend being Techno dying.

When Philza is released, he is FURIOUS. Thousands of years have only made his wrath grow.

The death toll approaches millions, before someone who knows even a fraction of the ancient language is able to convince Philza to talk to them. But, the language is OLD. It is HARD to communicate in a LONG DEAD language.

Philza doesn't calm down, but he ceases his rampage. And then he notices the faint trace of his friend's soul, somewhere in the world. He can't tell where, but it's THERE. Techno has been reincarnated. He tells the interpreter that his revenge will only end when they bring him the person he needs.

The remains of the human government agree because what else can they do?

But, ancient language, you know. Unfortunately, somethings get lost in translation.

Translator thinks that Philza is mad at Technoblade and wants to murder him.

So all the governments think the same.

When Philza gives them a description of the person, the governments start a MANHUNT. When everyone promises Phil that they will find Techno, Philza is pleased and actually retreats to create a palace worthy of his friend. Somewhere he can keep him safe.

Technoblade is not feeling very safe when he sees his face on the TV, claiming that he is now WANTED. He literally has 1 semester left. Just One. And then he would graduate college. He already spent money on the GRE, applied to graduate programs.

What was he supposed to do with this?!?!?!?

It's a good thing he always liked camping.

Techno FLEES. Gets off the grid as soon as possible. He can't trust ANYONE. Finds an old abandoned cabin in the middle of nowhere and settles in. He is NOT going to get murked by an ancient god that's not going to happen.

Years pass, Techno is not found. Philza is getting antsy. The governments are getting nervous. Especially when cults start popping up, fanatics on every corner crying wolf about ever person VAGUELY looking like Techno.

It's some teenage campers that get him caught.

They had lost their way in the woods and stumbled across Techno and his cabin. Techno tries to hide his face, his hair, any identifying features. He thinks he's managed it.

He didn't. They turn him in the moment they get back.

Techno tries to fight back, but what exactly is he supposed to do when he's surrounded by swat teams?

They drag him back in chains to a government facility. Somehow the news gets informed of him being found. It's a media circus as Techno is dragged to the deific palace that Philza has crafted. He is yelled at, things thrown at him, disgruntled cops leaving bruises and scrapes all over him. He's exhausted, starving, dehydrated. He is in awful shape, everyone in the world blaming him for their suffering.

He can barely struggle when he is dragged in front of Philza, forced onto his knees before a throne with his hands cuffed behind his back.

The throne room is quiet.

Silent.

Philza slowly gets up. Approaches near silently as Techno's heartbeat is loud in his ears.

Philza kneels before him, gently tips his chin up to meet his eye.

And Philza grins, his smile brighter than the sun, and presses his forehead to Techno's. Techno flinches because Philza brushes against a sore spot, only then does Philza seem to realize what kind of state Techno is in.

Philza demands answers. The translator and Techno's captors struggle to give him a good answer. An argument starts, the tension thick and Technoblade has been through a lot.

He collapses, Philza catching him.

The steps of Philza's palace are covered in oceans of blood, it dripping down the sides and into the road. The bodies are left for hours, no one brave enough to collect them.

Philza stores Techno deep within his palace, somewhere no one can find him or hurt him. And starts the process of making Technoblade immortal.

Whether he likes it or not.

Anyways, hope you enjoy <3

Curses on you Lenn, you dropped this in my inbox several days ago and it's still all I can think about. The brainrot is real and the urge to write this is big. Vengeful God Philza who is horrific to anybody except his favorite mortal is so good, and combine it with 'has no clue what's going on' just a guy Techno... perfection.

So many fun questions left unanswered:

How does Phil feel about Techno not having his memories? Does it sadden him? Does he try his best to educate Techno about their shared history? Or does he not really care as long as Techno is safe, is his, and can never be taken from him again?

Can Techno even get his memories back? If yes, what happens when he does? How does he feel about them?

How does making somebody immortal work (and can I make Techno whump out of it?)

Once Techno does realize that Philza isn't meaning to kill him, how receptive is he to this new life of his? Is he still going to try and get away (maybe even after becoming immortal) or is he open to trying to befriend Phil? How does Phil react if Techno doesn't want to stay?

Does Phil chill the fuck out once he has Techno back or does the trauma of seeing his bestie die + many years of isolation mean he's kinda permanently in 'if you look at him I'll kill you' mode. Kinda hope it's the latter because then we can go so hard on the dark fluff and possessiveness/protectiveness.

#asks #thoughts #dark sbi #technoblade #philza #there's so much more brain is going brrrr #but I need to chill before I plan a longfic

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skylermadness · 6 months

Text

Hunter's Tales I: Bitten (Human TF/MC/AP/WG)

(Original Date of Upload: October 31, 2022)

Original Description:

Happy Halloween! I admittedly don't care a lot about this holiday. Personally I prefer the post-Halloween candy sales. But I do care enough to write something silly to commemorate the occasion! A few weeks ago someone asked if I liked werewolves or vampires more. Personally, I might like werewolves a bit more. I say this because I actually wrote this story out as part of a planned series I want to do featuring Argent and various monster hunting failures he endures. It likely won't be a very long series, nor a frequently updated one, but it's one I've been thinking of writing for a while now. Especially since I loved the idea of a werewolf TF but you're changing into the human form rather than the wolf one. Also just for everyone's information, fight scenes are fucking ass to write. I still don't think I did it that well, but I tried. Anyway, I hope people like this one! It is a bit different from my normal works.

Mission No° 479: October 31, 20XX

Target Name: Roland Forrester

Target Species: Lycanthrope

Hit Orderer: [REDACTED]

Reason for Hit: [REDACTED]

Agent On-Call: Agent No° 47 ~ Argent Chandler

Status of Mission: Unfulfilled

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

The night is moonless.

In the dead of this midnight a boot stamps on the ground of a muddy runway. Said runway is located within the bowels of a sprawling woodland. With the exception of the sounds of bootclad feet hitting mud, it is quiet.

Argent Chandler takes a deep breath as his eyes scan the site that lays in front of him. To a normal person they'd see a wooden cabin. Secluded and off the grid, in the middle of nature for none to disturb. With the exception of some creepy vibe to it, it seemed unsuspect.

Argent exhaled, nodding. This was the right place.

His trenchcoat swished behind him as he continued his trek down the runaway. Judging by the small pickup truck nearby he could tell his target was obviously located in this place. Although that wouldn't be very easy to tell by the fact that any lighting inside the cabin seemed inactive.

His trek easily shifted into a saunter once his now muddy boots reached the steps of the cabin. Each one creaked beneath his weight. Although at this point stealth was foregone a long time ago. Argent wasn't the kind of hunter that dealt in stealth, no. Especially since all his arsenal was silver. The creature within this dwelling likely smelled him before he was in a ten foot radius of this place.

It doesn't matter though. It never does. He always gets the job done and has been since employment. There's a reason he's considered the best hunter within his Guild.

Atop the stairs, he pulls out his gun and begins to twirl it in his hand. What would the number be now? Fourty? Forty five? At least half of those missions were probably some kind of therianthrope.

Wood continues to creak beneath him, Argent walking up to the door. The hunter stops carelessly twirling his weapon and extends his free hand to grasp the doorknob. After a cursory jiggle he finds it to be unlocked. With a nod, he confirms this to be a trap of some kind. Predictable.

Doesn't stop him from kicking the door open anyway, following it up by a gunshot to the ground in front of him.

"Let's see how your fragile ears handle that…" he whispers with a smirk on his face.

The cabin interior was dark, but was actually pretty nice looking. He presumed himself to be in the living room, considering the furnishment was a couch of some kind. His original perceptions of the place being off the grid was disregarded at the sight of an old-fashioned box TV cushioned in the corner of the room, but at this point he didn't really care. None of these creatures worked in covertness now, did they?

Another floorboard creaks, and mud begins to track into the place as he casually walks around. He holds an arm up, his gun in hand as he starts twirling it again. His other hand moves to the inside of his trenchcoat and slowly positions itself to one of his many daggers. There seems to be two major rooms he could enter. Left and right.

His gaze slowly moves rightward, and he is greeted with the sight of two beads of glowing yellow. No doubt the eyes of the very creature he came here to kill. But his ears then catch a sound. Wood creaking from the leftward room instead. Smiling, he turns around to locate the source. The place was small, there couldn't be any way for anything in here to hide efficiently.

He begins to walk to the room the sound was made in, his own steps being an obvious alert of his presence. "No use hiding, freak," he says aloud, voice filled with malice. Animosity. "We both know we're in here, so why don't you come out and…"

He stops twirling his gun right when it's upward and pulls the trigger, firing another bullet. He then finishes off his sentence with a smirk. "...play."

He doesn't get a response at first, silence filling the area in the seconds after he fired his second round. Face lacking all emotion now he continues to stand at the room's threshold. Cold, calculating.

Frontward attack, dagger thrust. Left arm disabled, forgo gun and try to utilize the other. Both arms disabled, go for a groin kick. Multiple plans fire off in his head as he awaits his prey.

What he didn't expect was the light in the room in front of him to turn on, revealing the room to be a kitchen. No one was visible within it for a couple moments, but then the sound of creaking wood pierced the air again.

"I really need to get these things replaced!" a second voice says casually, the person whom it belongs to walking into view on the other side of the threshold.

The being stood in front of Argent, smiling. The man looked to be in his mid thirties; rectangular face, scratchy beard, faint etchings of age beginning to crawl in his face. His hair was well kept with two lupine ears poking out of it. He also lacked a shirt, giving his musculature and hirsuteness visibility. Most of his hair, both head and body, was bordering between black and dark grey, although this was indubitably not because of age. The only clothing he wore was a baggy looking leather jacket and a torn pair of jeans. His tail swished behind his legs calmly. He was also barefoot as well.

Argent's first reaction was to reposition his gun to point at the man. Smirking, he's the first to engage. "I'm taking it you're Roland Forrester."

Roland nods, extending a hand and placing a finger on the bottom of the gun's barrel. "It seems you caught me red handed, Argent."

In an instant a simple finger quickly switches to the man's hand cupping the gun's barrel, Roland using his supernatural strength to squeeze it into uselessness. He grinned, baring his sharp teeth and growling. His irises began to glow a bright gold. "So, I heard you wanted to play."

Argent's mouth twists into a manic grin. He unhands the gun and begins to step back. "I see you're one of those kinds of fleabags…" He then moves the hand downwards and into his trenchcoat, grasping a second gun. "This'll be fun!"

And in that very instance, a fight breaks out between the two.

Argent is the first to break linearity as he repositions himself away from the front of the kitchen's threshold. Pouncing out the threshold was Roland, having shifted to wolf form in the past few seconds. Fangs bared, the creature turned its head to glare at Argent, its eyes filled with aggression.

It proceeds to pounce and Argent quickly moves out the way causing it to bang its head on the couch. As the wolf begins to reorientate itself, the hunter starts formulating a plan.

Six bullets, he needs to be sure he shoots to kill.

Room size is definitely an advantage. Perhaps he could… DAMN-

Caught off guard, Argent is pinned down by the lycanthrope. For a few seconds it growls, but Argent cuts it off by discharging his weapon. Its strength wavers for a moment as the noise of the firearm rings in its ears allowing Argent to give it a strong kick in the gut.

It unhands him and he rolls out from under it, quickly pushing himself upright. Stupid mistake, won't happen again.

The wolf quickly regains its bearings, although it's still noticeably in a daze. "Could've… gone for a finger there, hunter," it growls out.

"Could've gone for the neck as well, filth!" Argent dashes to the creature's side and pulls out a dagger from his trenchcoat, priming to hurl it into the abomination's leg. But just as he hurls it the wolf pounces out of the way and back into the kitchen, the dagger lodging itself into the floor instead. Positioning both hands on his gun, the hunter then moves back into the doorway's view and haphazardly fires into the room.

He misses.

Backing up a bit, Argent jumps over the couch beside him just as the werewolf pounces towards him again. The couch doesn't last very long though as the beast takes a moment to stand upright and hurl it to the other side of the room, which wasn't exactly very far.

Argent is quick to turn around, eyes widening as he realizes the chance he's given. He lifts the gun again and fires at the beast. Unfortunately, his trigger happy tendencies cause him to miss the chest and instead he hits the being in the shoulder.

It's still a win though as the creature backs away and forcibly deshifts back into its human form, holding a hand to where he was shot. The smell of blood and burning flesh begins to waft through the air as well.

"Nice aim." Roland seems to taunt Argent. In retaliation Argent fires another round, but Roland is quick to dodge. His dodge is sloppy though and he tramples into the adjacent room.

Argent's face shifts into one of annoyance and anger. He takes his other hand off the gun and rifles through his trenchcoat, pulling out a second (and his last) dagger. He then hurls it into the wall on a whim, hoping it'd be enough to perk up whatever instincts Roland had and force them to pounce prematurely.

It doesn't work.

At this point Argent is already tired of this bullshit. Usually his mission is complete by now and he's heading back home to clean off the stench of beast filth from his clothing. But no, for some reason he keeps missing his killing shots.

Two bullets. Two more chances.

…and why hasn't Roland left that room yet?

Argent slowly skulks into the open again, eyeing the room that Roland tripped into.

He can see Roland's glowing lupine eyes in the dark of the room. Cockiness overtakes Argent again as he presumed this would be his chance. Shooting the damned abomination square in the head!

Argent starts to walk towards the threshold quickly, arm outstretched and gun lined to fire directly at the werewolf's head. For once in his life he doesn't take the chance for a one-liner. He just pulls the trigger and…

…hears the sound of shattering glass.

"What the hell?"

Briskly, Argent walks into the room and investigates the scene. The very figure he shot at stands motionlessly, staring at him. Mocking him wordlessly. He goes to give it a good punch, but right as his hand meets its body he finds that it phases through the entity. The light of the room then turns on and Argent finds himself eye to eye with some kind of entity of shadows.

"...fuck," he mutters to himself. He's done for.

"You know…" Roland's voice begins to ring from behind him. The wolf man begins sauntering over to the hunter, prying the bullet out of his shoulder as he walks and disregarding it on the ground. "I'm going to have to reorganize this place again after this whole stunt. And blood is a bitch to clean…"

Argent turns around, but is barely given a chance to react as Roland seems to pin him in some kind of bear hug. The lycanthrope's superhuman strength constricts Argent.

The hunter tries one final measure. If he can at least escape, he won't have lost now. Would he? His finger twitches and one final bang blasts through the air, a bullet lodging into the ground beside him.

Roland didn't let go.

"That trick might have worked twice but I ain't one to get fooled more than that. Even if gunfire fuckin' hurts my ears."

Argent grunts. "Why not kill me already, bastard."

All he gets as a response is a smile from Roland before the older man instantly shifts into wolf form and picks the hunter up. The large beast lessens his constriction on Argent just enough to move him to a more comfortable position in his arm…

Then proceeds to throw Argent across the room.

Stings of pain run through Argent's body as the breath is knocked out of him, the man hurled straight into a wall. In contrast, his body collapses onto something soft.

A bed…

He shifts around, moaning out in pain as he forces his body to turn away from the wall. He tries to get himself upright, but can only shakily push himself up from the bed.

"I was hoping not to get any blood on the bed," Roland says, "but this will have to be how it's done unfortunately."

Argent is barely given any time to react. In the span of a single second he's pierced with a flash of pain as his right shoulder is given a single, gaping bite. His eyes roll upward as pain surges through his body, the only sight given to him being the visage of Roland's beastly form.

Roland is quick to disengage from the scene. Once Argent was adequately bit, the lycanthrope steps away and shifts back to his human form. "Good God the taste of blood is atrocious…"

Argent just huffs out a breath in pain as he rolls himself off the bed. It's a pitiful twenty seconds of pain and grunting, the hunter landing front first on the floor before he shakily stood up. "A-ahhh… but it's… not the full moon…"

"I know, but something a lot of hunters seem to neglect is how other moon phases seem to work." Roland walks towards Argent again, the hunter taking a step back. To Roland, he could smell fear from the once supposedly fearless hunter. "Magic isn't a very common practice in these parts, so I wouldn't say it's surprising your guild never taught you about it."

"It… it was a footnote- supposedly impossible to learn and function!"

"To the average human, yes. Most of what you call supernatural entities can learn it pretty well though. It's just not the most common practice." Roland snips his fingers and the shadow entity that stood at the adjacent wall of the room dispels revealing a shattered window.

Argent shakily tried to walk, but found the pain he was in a little too unbearable to move properly. He begins to tip over, but his fall is swiftly stopped by Roland.

"The wounds should shut pretty quickly."

"W… why are…"

"Don't think of this as some kind of 'I care about you' bullshit. Frankly, I'd have ripped you apart ages ago. But you hunters seem so easy to fool, and I was getting a little lonely out here."

Argent's mouth hung open. "E-excuse me?"

"Hey, magic can do a lot of shit! I thought 'why not use it and get myself a guy!' Admittedly, it took months of preparing and learning how to enact such a spell that'd be done through bitten transfer. And then there was…"

Argent pulled away. "What the hell are you talking about??"

Roland let out an exasperated sigh. "Yeah, I think I'm done with this." He walks away from Argent and leans on the opposing wall, golden eyes piercing into Argent's green ones. "I'm just going to forgo any explanation. You won't remember it anyway once the transformation starts."

At that very comment the pain in Argent's arm slowly begins to subside. Turning his head his eyes widened at the sight of his shoulder which was now visible through the rips in his clothing caused by Roland's bite. Blood was coagulating at a rapid pace, wounds quickly filling and scarring over.

"This… this can't be…"

It only took a few seconds before scars dispelled and healing on the surface finished. Pain continued to fade as the bones in his shoulder realigned and healed as well, the region quickly looking good as new. He then started feeling a warmth in both of his arms…

His hand trembles as he lifts it up into view, small spasms coursing through it. Watching fearfully, Argent witnesses his nails extend slightly into blunted points. They don't become claws, but there's a certain bestial tone to them. The back of his hand gains a similar tone as the smoothness of his skin begins to dissipate into a coarser look. Upon it sprouts deep brown hairs that trail across the back of his hand.

Flipping it over doesn't give him any respite either. The skin on his palms darken slightly, getting puffier and rougher. A hardness forms within them as well, caused by the formation of calluses. At the same time the size of his hand seems to increase as well. Fingers got thicker and fatter, the hand itself swelling in size as it got increasingly meatier.

His arms seemed to follow in an instant, Argent groaning as he started to feel his trenchcoat tighten around the limbs. "H-how-" he grunts out, feeling his muscle mass increase with each passing second. The rest of his clothing also felt like it was getting smaller as his entire body size seemed to fluctuate, although it was at a much slower rate than his sleeves.

"You wouldn't understand," Roland responds with a shake of his head. "All I will say is you aren't becoming a wolf yet. Just the man who contains it." Roland then smirks. "I also feel you'll grow to enjoy it~"

And Argent was indeed growing. His forearms thickened, bulk and muscle laying on them where such amounts of it wasn't there before. He could feel his bones creak and pressurize as they extended alongside them, shifting into a size better equipped to handle his inevitable new form. His biceps and triceps bloated as well, the ridges of their musculature steadily etching into the fabric of the sleeves of his hunting attire. His undershirt was growing uncomfortable at a rapid pace, and his trenchcoat was following that example.

Away from his eyesight beneath the stretching fabric came an additional swath of changes. Age creeping in his skin, hardening it and giving it an almost leathery texture to it. Arm hair grew plentiful on the back of his arms, starting off as a sparse growth before it blossomed into a thick forest of curly brown hairs. Grays also speckled these hairs, further showing his shift in age.

His muscles continue to balloon, rips beginning to form in his undershirt as things continue to process. He could hear a chorus of tears ring from the left half of his trenchcoat as well as his delts followed swiftly behind, broadening his shoulders to a thickness akin to that of his arms. The arm holes of his undercoat began to constrict as a result.

Aggression soon started to seep into Argent's emotions. He lifts up his head to look up at the creature that's done this to him. He shakily begins to try and walk over to Roland's position on the other side of the room, body trembling beneath its increasing weight both physically and emotionally. "Is this… vengeance?" he spits out, his breathing growing labored as the changes begin to enter his chest. The sound of one of the many belts surrounding his torso tightening, the metal creaking for a few seconds before snapping fills the air as Argent awaits a response.

"You could say that. It's less vengeance and more… vindication? Justice? The right words are so hard to find these days."

"Stop fucking dancing around the question and answer me you flearidden piece of-"

"See, there it is. You hunters seem to have this whole issue with us for… no good reason? I could never tell. Perhaps it's some underground war caused by predecessors long gone. I'm just trying to subdue that!" Roland stops leaning on the wall and takes a step forward. "Us so-called 'monsters' are people just like you. And yet, so many of you seem so… obsessed with wiping us out."

The sound of metal snapping as a second belt buckle on Argent's body breaks pierces the air.

"I hope that's not silver…" Roland says with a hint of concern.

Argent just growls as his balance finally destabilizes, the man stumbling sideways and banging his right arm on the wall. The meatiness of it mitigates whatever pain he would've gotten from it though. Even then, he's too focused on trying to breathe as he feels the belts and undercoat of his attire continue to constrict his body in what practically feels lethal.

The zipper of his undercoat begins to move downwards as his torso barrels forward. Thick muscle swelled it in size, mass filling them out as he was given hefty pectorals. However, their musculature seemed to fade almost instantaneously as a softness accumulated around them. A tear quickly formed in his undershirt as fat bubbled into existence in his torso. A thick bush of hair was also growing across the area as well, overtaking the skin as a coarse fluffiness sprouted across his chest.

The zipper of his undercoat continued to move downwards before it was stopped by his third belt, which was located on his abdominal. Both his third and his fourth belts were all that remained, stretching and attempting to contain his thickening form to the best of their ability. Argent began to slump, body sliding down the wall as his oxygen intake was beginning to seem insufficient to his body's needs.

Luckily, all of that was about to be alleviated.

The zipper was the first to break apart as his abdomen started swelling in size. Abdominal muscles were the first to form, rippling outsides and etching into the fabric and leather of his clothing. His frame even was broadened to accompany this, the fourth belt being the next to snap and fall away.

His belly then bubbled. Much like his torso, his stomach was gaining weight as well. Fat filled the area, his belly going from toned to pudgy in seconds, then pudgy to chubby. Fat continued to accumulate in the area, constantly filling his belly until it was given a sizable gut that shattered his third belt and completely broke the zipper of his undercoat. It continues to extend beyond that, his undershirt riding up his belly to reveal thick hair growing across it.

The button holding his pants together was the next to snap under the pressure of his belly. Argent, breathing heavily now as he looked down at it. He was trying to keep it together, but there was obviously fear in his eyes. He then noticed the floor starting to get further away from him, a chill entering his legs as his height seemed to begin to shift. This was accompanied by the feeling of pressure in his back and legs.

That feeling in his back only seemed to build up more and more. Constantly and feverishly, it felt like something was trying to bust out of the base of his spine.

"A tail…" he whispers, the pieces falling into place.

"Yup. I do suggest you lower the seat of your pants a little just to let the little thing flow out more freely." Roland nonchalantly advised, as if he's trying to help.

Argent begrudgingly accepts, shakily moving a hand to his behind and lowering his pants a little. The building pressure seems to subside as he feels a more slithery feeling then come from the base of his spine. He didn't want to watch, but he knew what it was. The tail extended from his rump, growing and expanding as short fluff and fuzz sprouted from the flesh. It continues to extend until it reaches the length to brush the crus of his leg. Shortly after that the fur bushes out, thick in fluffiness and dusty brown in color. A proper wolf's tail.

Argent's breathing slows, getting heavier and deeper. It was almost guttural. "What will you… gain from this…" he says between breaths. "Once this is over I could still kill you where you stand!"

"Could, but not would." Roland says coyly, laying back on the wall he stood in front of. "There's a few things that still need to be put in still, but I think you'll be reconsidering those thoughts."

"Shut up!" Argent yells, his voice noticeably deeper and more bestial. He momentarily regains the strength to heave himself from the wall and move forward a few steps, but his new weight throws him off balance again and he quickly stumbles to the other end of the room. He's prompted to hold the sill of the window he shot through.

The sleeves of his trenchcoat finally break apart as his skin begins to show, and his chest continues to gain visibility as his body continues to bloat and fatten. It seems to slow, though, as if it were finally reaching its apex. Thick hair carpets his chest even more, an almost furry look seeming to envelope it as brown and grays spiral around the region. It looked to be even thicker than what Roland possessed.

He tries to readjust his legs, his pants tightening even more as the muscles within that area begin to bulk up as well. The seat of his pants filled out more and more, his rump plumping as fat filled it out. It was becoming big, round, and squishy. The expansion of his rear got to a point that the seat of his pants split rather quickly, his underwear struggling to stretch themselves over his buttocks.

At the same time the seams of the sides of his pants started to tear apart, his thigh muscles swelling in size. Quads and hamstrings working out in tandem, thickening and bloating with increasing muscle mass. A softness rounded out the ridges as fat accumulation soon followed. And much like his arms, the bones in his legs shifted structure, lengthening and strengthening in order to support his weight better.

Similar changes were being mirrored beneath his knees, his calves growing larger and pushing up against the leather of his boots. Their swelling pulled against the strings of his footwear, pulling at them and effortlessly snapping them. Thick hairs also grew plentiful around his legs as well.

His boots were already pretty tight but as the final swath of changes reached his feet his footwear was pushed to its limit. The toecaps bulged, his toes pushing up to them as his feet grew even larger. He could feel pressure in his nails, no doubt them gaining the same dull claw feature as his fingernails. His soles itched, hardening with calluses and etching with scars. It wasn't long before his boots finally gave way, feet bursting out of them, crawling out the fractured brown leather and feeling the chill of the air. Dense, curly hairs grew upon the back of his feet as well.

The remains of his boots easily slipped off as Argent started stumbling around again. He wasn't acclimated to this weight, this size. His pants tore against his moving legs, the sleeves of his shirt tearing apart as well. His uniform was in tatters at this point.

His footsteps are heavy on the wooden floorboards of the bedroom. His mind races as he begins to realize only one part of his body is left unchanged. His head…

"Here…" Roland says as he walks towards the worried hunter. Sharpening his claws, he grips onto Argent's undershirt and tears off a large chunk of it. He does the same to the hunter's overcoat, but leaves the trenchcoat on. "Consider this an exoneration of your sins, best hunter of the guild."

Now Argent's newly formed, hairy chest and belly were mostly visible to the world. "That's a body I like…" Roland whispers lustfully.

Argent lets out a shuddered breath, but tries to put up a front. "B… big mistake…"

"I think the only one who's made a mistake here is you." Now Roland is the one with the cocky smile. Despite Argent's new height, towering over Roland by a little less than a foot, Roland doesn't seem to care. He doesn't seem to care that Argent could go toe to toe with him on equal footing. He doesn't care about anything at all. Instead, he embraces Argent in a hug, nestling his head into the hunter's burly chest.

"Wh- what the fuck are you doing-" Argent says with a literal growl escaping his throat.

Roland only gives him a single response. "Your voice is so deep. So sexy…"

Argent's chest warmed at the… the compliment? What the…

One of Roland's hands starts to slip downward, trailing down the larger man's spine. It's soft. It's sensual. It's…

"Your heart is beating faster," Roland starts. "I can smell it off you as well. You can sense it too, yeah?"

Argent just swallowed a lump in his throat. "I… I…"

Roland's hand then dashes upwards and onto Argent's head. He begins to ruffle the man's hair. "Why don't we speed this up. Go on, hunter. Give in. Well, you won't be a hunter anymore after this…"

Argent shuddered, but he was finding it hard to be afraid. He doesn't want to admit it, but he's… enjoying it. "Nngh, must… resist…"

It became hard to do so, though. Argent's ears started to sharpen to a point, shifting in structure to become more triangular. Lupine. They pulled upwards and after a few seconds sat atop his head. Brown fur practically covered them in an instant after that. Roland then repositioned his hand and… started scratching behind one.

"You love this, don't you Bertie…"

"Mmph… yeah…" Argent's cheeks flushed. "W-wait, no… can't… nngh…"

"Stop resisting," Roland uses his strength to grip Argent's body closer. His head positions itself to look at Argent's face. "Don't you feel it? Everything finally kicking into gear?"

Argent's face itched, and from this itch came longer stubble. His previously light stubble grew longer, curling in on itself and getting denser. Thick hairs grew into a mustache above his lip. Thicker hairs conglomerated into a beard. Even after forming a beard it seemed to get thicker, denser, longer and fluffier. It has the same fur-like density as his chest hair, it had the same coloration and scale of grayness to it. It was a beard that felt so… so fluffy…

"My… head's hurtin'..." Argent says. His voice seems to lower more, a husky tone gaining prominence than it did before. Roland then stops scratching his ear in order to reposition the hand under his chin and scratches that instead, stimulating the beard fur and his mind.

"A good scratch always makes you feel better, Bertie." Roland's voice seems so filled with fondness.

"That's not my…"

"Oh but it is," Roland interrupts. "Bertolf Forrester."

Argent's head slumps at the sound of the name. It sounds so… good. Proper. Correct.

His head starts to restructure, face growing wider and rounder, cheeks filling with fat as it becomes squishier. His nostrils flare up as his nose expands, rounding out. His youthfulness also starts draining, skin gaining age as it gets rougher and older. Signs of aging crept besides his eyes and mouth, circulating around his face. His eyebrows become thicker. His eyes become a little wider. He goes from looking like a cocky young adult to a friendly older man.

His age has been shot up; twenties, thirties, fourties. His face, his body, settles at being in his early fifties with small amounts of gray etching into the hair on his head. As for the remainder of the hair on his head; the dirty blonde changes shade into a deep brown. The fringe style of it shortens, follicles twisting as it becomes a shorter, curlier style.

"K…keep goin'..." the now older man whispers, almost pleasured by this.

"Feeling any better, Bertie?"

"I…" Argent squeezes his eyes. "I can't… I need to…"

In a second the positions of Roland's hands switch. One remains around the body of Argent, but the other switches back to behind him and moves downwards to his butt. Roland then gives it a firm squeeze. "Let. It. All. Go."

Argent begins to slump, something possessing him as his back arches and his face grows closer to Roland's. Resistance is getting harder. That urge to give in increases with each act Roland does to him. He wants to hate the werewolf but something in his mind was preventing him. He's getting filled with affection for Roland. To…

A part of him tries to escape one final time. A futile attempt to pull away, but he finds himself confused. He finds his entire sense of self confused. Why is he… why is he so afraid? Why doesn't he want to give in? What stops him from giving in?

Something shifts within him. He begins to move closer, his fears subsiding rapidly. Technically, his whole identity subsides. Years of hunting and killing unjustly. Years of satisfaction at the sight of bloodshed. They are washed out of his mind in an instant. The only hunting he seems to care about is going out into the forest and looking for a good deer to slay.

His eyes snap away from Roland's, he looks to where his… weapon was meant to be. He doesn't know what to expect, but he finds a weird conglomeration of wood and metal that seems to be growing larger. It looked less like whatever it used to be. It looked like an axe.

Something on his body shifts as well. Tightness alleviating, material getting slightly more comfortable. He doesn't look, but part of him knows what's happening.

The bottom of his trenchcoat slinked upwards until it nestled at his hips. The buttons of it shifted from metal to plastic, growing slightly smaller. The material softens, thinning out into something more cottony and casual. Then there's the coloration, dull brown becoming a red, gaining a pattern as bold red lines of various shades criss-crossed around the new material giving it a plaid look. The trenchcoat's collar shrinks as it's lapel dissipates, and the collar itself folds downwards into a different kind of collar. He can feel shreds of clothing slink away from his arms as well, his new flannel being given a torn sleeve look.

His pants are the only other article of clothing that shifts. Size altering to fit his new meaty legs, deep brown shifting into a dark blue. The material hardened as it altered, becoming denim as multiple pockets seemed to fade into the material with only two front pockets and two back ones staying. The bottoms of the new jeans wear and shred, the denim clearly having gone through many arduous experiences. All that remains is a belt, one of the only ones that remained on his body slithering around it and nestling around the loops of his jeans. It remains unbuckled, and the jeans unbuttoned.

Shreds of his former clothing still do remain, though, but all of the significance of them fades. All Argent can think of is Roland, love welling up within the man.

Roland uncups the man's butt and lifts his hand to the back of Argent's head. "Let's finish this…" he says with a smirk as he begins to lower Argent's head to his own. After a few seconds of leaning in…

Their lips finally touch.

Bertolf's eyes flitter as his head is filled with memories. New information was given to him at a rapid, near instantaneous pace. His life as a lycanthrope, his job as a lumberjack. Everything associated with that as fifty two years of information was shoved into his mind. His personality was altered, his emotions were altered. Everything was becoming this new being, the former monster hunter being erased completely from the mind of this man. This continues for a minute. And in that minute, everything is set in stone within Bertolf.

They then break away, both participants breathing heavily.

Bertolf takes a few moments to take everything in, but once he comes to his senses he speaks. "Wh… what was I talkin' 'bout again?"

Roland shrugs. "I don't think it'll matter."

Bertolf tilts his head, a brow raising, but doesn't question it. With a deep laugh he says, "Can't even remember what we were doing!"

He then takes a few steps back and looks around. "The heck happen to the window? And why do I smell… silver…"

Roland just walks closer to him. "While you were out I had a little skirmish with an intruder. They were dealt with rather quickly, though…"

Bertolf eyes Roland. "Rolly, please don' tell me ya' killed 'em."

Roland rolled his eyes. "No, no! Just gave him a good bite. You know I hate the taste of human blood anyway."

"Yuh, yuh, you always say that. Good thing it ain't a full moon or you woulda made a powerful new enemy, heh."

Roland just nods before his stomach growls. One of Bertolf's ears flick at the sound, the man smiling. "Ough, guess someone's hungry!"

"Yup."

"Then I'll start preppin' dinner! Should have some leftover deer meat in the freezer."

"Heh, you always make the best deer, Bertie."

"Awh, thank ya!"

Bertolf takes a few steps, but stops when he notices his trusty axe on the ground. He picks it up and eyes it, sniffing an unfamiliar smell from it. "That guy who snuck in here tried to use this as well, huh?"

Roland took a few seconds to come up with a response. "Yyyep. Shot- I mean, sliced my arm pretty good."

Bertolf questions the legitimacy for a moment, noticing the lack of blood on the axe's blade, but chooses to ignore it. Turning around he heaves the axe onto his shoulder and smiles. "I'll find a better place to put this then. For now though: deer!"

The older man then leaves the bedroom, ideas running around for how to prep dinner. Roland can hear an exasperated sigh as his husband enters the living room, presumably noticing the mess he made in there earlier. With a soft chuckle he says something before Bertolf could comment. "Sorry about the living room by the way! Things got feisty."

"And I thought it was only us who got feisty in here!" Bertolf yells back, then follows up his comment with a deep laugh. It fills Roland with warmth. Amorous warmth.

Tenseness drains from him as he truly calms down. He looks around at the bedroom. Glass shards strewn across the floor, blood pooling near and on the bed. Both are going to be bitches to clean.

He then eyes a single hole on the floor, nose scrunching up as he smells the atrocious odor of silver. He walks over it and bends down, unsheathing his claws and digging them into the hole. He pulls out a single silver bullet.

"We both took a gamble here. Seems like you were the one that lost."

He stands back up and begins to saunter towards the door threshold. He deposits the bullet in one of the few things that remained upright in the room, a small trash can beside the doorway, and then walks out.

His plan was successful. It likely won't be one that would be repeatable, but it was successful nonetheless. He managed to take down one of the most prolific hunters in the guild. The very thought made him shiver with pride. Spells like the one he used were always unpredictable, and that was if they even worked. He's not sure what he expected as a result, but a new husband was at the very least a desirable option.

He peers into the kitchen, his golden eyes watching Bertolf pull a slab of deer meat out the freezer and stare at it in thought. The man was ignorant of who he was. Who his ideals used to be. Who his allegiance used to be to.

Was this result too much of a reward for the acts he committed? Maybe it was. But does it matter? Argent Chandler is just a faded entity now. Gone from this world. In his stead was someone better. Someone loving, someone caring.

Roland inhales, then exhales. Then smiles. Loneliness is long forgotten now. He has someone he loves, and someone who loves him back, and…

And there was no taking that from him now.

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

Mission No° 479: October 31, 20XX

Target Name: Roland Forrester

Agent On-Call: Agent No° 47 ~ Argent Chandler

Status of Mission: Unfulfilled [ICED]

Date of Icing: December 1, 20XX

Reason of Icing: Agent No° 47 (Argent Chandler) was dispatched to take out the target at roughly 11pm on the date shown. His last message to any other agent was at 11:32pm. Since then he has gone missing for roughly a month. Agent No° 52 (Mariana Gigan) was dispatched to the location fifteen days after Agent No° 47's disappearance with the intent to locate a possible body. All she found was a cabin with two noticeable lycanthrope members. She did not engage and instead left unnoticed.

It should be noted that the cabin was stated to only have one inhabitant until fairly recently. We theorize that the original lycanthrope in question (Roland Forrester) managed to conduct a turning that seemed to shift Agent No° 47 in a different manner than usual. We are unsure how such an occurrence could happen, nor do we wish to investigate it unless we are prompted to by an orderer. As a result this case is now iced and will not be reopened further_

#character tf #transformation #human tf #bara tf #weight gain tf #male transformation #tf

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agentfaust · 9 months

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MOON!! Can I pick your brain for more Ilsaethan headcanons/thoughts.......... particularly anything that's set immediately post-fallout sorry I'm in my "mi7 doesn't exist" arc

post-fallout — soft ilsaethan headcanons pt. 5

(because we are *all* in our mi7 doesn’t exist state of mind; so for the sake of these headcanons pretend it never happened)

ethan finds it really hard to sleep after missions. the adrenaline wears off but it leaves him twitchy and unable to stop thinking about the ‘what-if’s’ and the things he could’ve done differently. this mission was no exception. it’s even worse now that he’s stuck in a hospital bed. ilsa stays by his side and soothes him. unlike the imf in house therapist, she actually takes the time to listen to all his worries and acknowledge them.

a thing about ethan is that he gets very stressed when he sees his team injured. ilsa tells him what went down while he was in the air, but she skips over the part where lane knocked her out and tied her up. he keeps trying to get an explanation for her injuries, but she doesn’t tell him anything. when they finally let ethan read the mission reports, he’s absolutely crushed that ilsa didn’t tell him about that, and when he asks her why she kept that from him, she says she didn’t want to worry him.

julia keeps ethan in the tent for exactly a week before she releases him to go on a flight back to virginia. she gives him orders to be on strict bed rest and basically enlists ilsa to enforce it. for almost another two weeks, she basically lives in his apartment — cooking whatever he feels like eating, making sure he takes all his meds regularly and on time. the first time she offers to help him change clothes, he almost melts. it becomes a routine of theirs: she helps him change into his pajamas at night, into something more casual in the mornings. they take turns initiating the way it ends — in a long hug. it’s after one of these moments that she tells him she’s leaving, and it’s the same moment he realizes he wants her to stay.

when they finally get together, they end up retiring from fieldwork and make the very, very, impulsive decision to buy a bigger house and move in together. they spend the next few weeks driving around looking for a place, and end up signing the papers on an empty lot in the middle of the woods. together (and with the help of some professionals, of course), they build their dream house: a little cabin in the middle of the woods, remote enough so that they can go on walks and won’t be found, but not too far from civilization. it’s completely off the grid, independent, and perfect for their happy retirement together.

i forgot the format for these so i’ll just say drop a note if you enjoyed (which i really hope you did, lol) <3

#ilsa x ethan #domestic headcanons #mission impossible #headcanons #mine #ETHAN!! i’m so sorry i left this in my inbox for so long

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callivich · 11 months

Text

Gallavich Nature & Wilderness Prompts 🌿

Prompts for fics, headcanons, or discussion, art, etc. Interpret these however you like and feel free to use them as just a jumping off point, you don’t have to stick to the exact prompt! If any fics like any of these have already been written, please feel free to recommend them to me!

Mickey’s on the run from the cops. He needs a place to stay until the heat dies down. A small logging town seems his best bet. Even better, the logging company needs workers - cash in hand and no questions asked. How hard can logging be? Turns out - very and his hot boss, Ian, with his flannel shirts and rugged beard, doesn’t help matters.

The lighthouse stands on an isolated, dangerous point. Mickey’s worked there ten years and he’s scared off every single guy who’s come to work there. He prefers to run the lighthouse in solitude. His boss disagrees and keeps sending people. Ian’s the latest one and he doesn’t find Mickey scary in the slightest. In fact, he finds him kind of funny and this is definitely not the image Mickey is trying to project.

Ian and Mickey barely know each other but they’re paired up for their company’s nature retreat. That means sharing a tent in the middle of a forest for a long weekend. Each pair is given a different set of coordinates and they have to camp there for four days in isolation. Mickey doesn’t see why they can’t just pretend they went and stay at home, Ian wants to use his ROTC training and do everything by the book. It’s going to be a long few days.

Best friends for as long as they can remember, Ian and Mickey are about to leave middle school and enter high school. But when things at home get bad for both of them, they decide to run away. Should be simple, right? And how hard can it be to survive on their own? Turns out living off the grid in the nearest forest is pretty tricky and two city kids are not cut out for it.

Mickey’s stolen a bunch of cash and he needs somewhere to hide it. Deciding that a state forest is a good place, he digs a hole and buries the money. Ian is a park ranger who keeps seeing a suspicious man entering the forest late at night. He watches the man for a few weeks, curious as to what he’s doing. By the time he realises the man is hiding (probably) stolen money it’s too late because he’s got a crush.

Ian doesn’t end up going to jail for arson, which is a good thing because Mickey ends up in witness protection rather than prison. He finds himself under an assumed name, working at a hotel in the depths of a national park. When the hotel offers a raffle to win a weekend stay for people who leave their business cards, he can’t help but rig it so Ian wins. Meanwhile, Ian is confused about how and why he’s won a weekend away at a hotel he’s never been to, in an area he’s never visited. Still….it’s free so he goes and is greeted by a very familiar face.

Mickey has always been able to grow things. It comes naturally but it’s a rare talent. Because of this, he hides it. Ian has always dreamt of growing vegetables and flowers and has spent his life trying to cultivate them. He’s not had much luck on his allotment so far, until one day he does. Mickey has always been drawn to new growth and unfortunately he lives next to a communal garden. He’s done a good job of suppressing his powers but he can’t help but encourage the redhead’s plants.

It’s supposed to be a fun weekend camping in the woods, celebrating their second wedding anniversary, but a wrong turn and bad cell signal leads them to get lost. Then things get worse - the weather changes, one of them gets sick/injured, and they wonder if they’re gonna make it to their third year of marriage.

Ian has a new job for the parks department and his first task is a month long stay at an isolated lakeside cabin to monitor the wildlife. He’s looking forward to the peace and quiet. What he’s not expecting is that there is a guy squatting in the cabin. Mickey’s illegally hooked up to cable and wifi and has a massive store of food and booze. Oh and he’s not leaving just because some parks department dork has shown up.

Mickey is stranded and injured in the woods after his dog ran off. Ian is the search and rescue guy that finds him. But Mickey isn’t leaving without his beloved dog and if that means going deeper into the woods, then that’s what he’ll do. Ian tries to promise him that the rest of the team will find Mickey’s pet, but Mickey just will not let himself be rescued. Looks like Ian is going to have to stick with him.

Ian’s been training for the ROTC survival weekend but when he and his siblings get taken by the DCFS, he’s not allowed to go. Mickey knows how much this retreat means to Ian, it’s all he talks about, so he decides to surprise Ian. He promises him a weekend at his place, but when he shows up to get Ian, he drives him to the forest. Their weekend turns out less survival based and more romantic than either of them could imagine.

The desert is comfortable, a place where people can disappear. And that’s what Mickey likes. He can run from his life in Chicago and enjoy the anonymity of being a bartender in the middle of nowhere. He likes the quiet nights where he can smoke outside and there’s no one and nothing around for miles except stars. But then a guy from Chicago starts to frequent the bar and this guy, Ian, despite being a stranger, is bringing up far too many memories of city life. Memories that he thought he’d blocked out….

Mickey is the groundskeeper for a summer camp. He’s looking forward to the two weeks of quiet before the chaos of summer. He’s planning on doing his final bits of work all by himself. Ian is the overeager camp counsellor who shows up early by accident. Mickey is pissed but there’s nothing he can do. As things are not completely set up yet, Ian has to share Mickey’s cabin.

When their school offers a field trip for low-income students, Ian jumps at the chance and manages to convince Mickey to go along too. It’s an overnight trip to an island on Lake Michigan. Everything goes fine until the morning they’re supposed to leave. Ian and Mickey wander off to have some alone time and end up being left on the island. By the time their teacher realises, it’s too late to go back so they’ll have to spend a night in the wilderness.

Ian’s never heard of equine assisted therapy and it sounds expensive and daunting. But his therapist thinks it will be good for him and they’ve found a charity that offers extremely discounted lessons. Besides, they say it’s just learning to ride a horse, not any sort of special training, so how hard can it be? Mickey’s worked at a stables on the outskirts of the city for several years after his juvie parole officer gave him the choice between that and working in a factory. He’s never taught anyone to ride but when the instructor for the specialist program leaves abruptly, Mickey finds himself teaching a handsome redhead everything there is to know about horses….

Mickey’s a tattoo artist who has lost his inspiration. When a city-wide competition offers a cash prize that could save his studio, he enters despite not having done a good tattoo in awhile. He wanders the city looking for anything to inspire him and comes across an exotic plant centre. Ian is curious about the new customer who begins to come in regularly - not buying anything, just looking closely at the plants and rudely telling Ian he doesn’t need any help. When he eventually does share his story, Ian is intrigued and decides to find Mickey the perfect flower to inspire him.

#gallavich #mickey milkovich #ian gallagher #ian x mickey #mickey x ian

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dirtybitfic · 5 months

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Neon red ( Matt sturniolo fan fiction)

⚠️-chasing, woods, making fantasies a reality,smutty smut smutttttt coming in part two( don’t read if it ain’t your vibe 💋)

( play this song once it gets to the woods scene 🫡 trust and believe it makes it 100 times better)

Y/n pov-

Me and Matt have been best friends for so long we just understand each other on a level no one else does .

We had a whole trip to a cabin in Oregon planned with me , Matt , Chris, Nick and a couple other friends but they all had to cancel since Chris got invited to a music event he’s wanted to go to for years and Nick and everyone else just weren’t feeling it anymore.

It’s not a big deal that you and Matt were going alone but you were nervous since you haven’t gone on a trip just the two of you let alone to a remote cabin in the middle of !NO WHERE! but none the less Matt was excited to get off the grid for a couple days and relax.

You packed a good amount of warm clothes since the trip was for a week and a half and it was gonna be a little cold since it was fall . You packed a couple bikinis too since the place had a hot tub which was Chris’s request but you weren’t mad about it.

You finished packing and called matt to tell him your packed and ready for your 3 am flight and he can come pick you up when he is ready.

Matts pov-

Text to y/n

Matt-Hey I’m otw be there in about 10 y/n- kk sounds good

I’m excited for this trip me and y/n have always talked about wanting to go to Oregon in fall since we absolutely love fall and Oregon is so pretty during fall.

I turned on some music otw to pick y/n up . As I was driving I started to get a little nervous thinking about how it’s just gonna be me and her on the trip but I’m not upset about it since she’s one of the only people I can be authentically myself around without any judgment. I love having her in my life and I wouldn’t have it any other way. I also have something to talk to her about that might make shit very awkward but ig we’ll find out

I texted her that I was outside as I pulled up and hopped out and popped the trunk so I could put her suitcase in the back

She came out and smiled at me while she locked the door .I took her suitcase from her and gave her a hug and put it in the trunk while she hopped into the car

Y/n pov- god Matt I’m so exited you don’t even know and best believe I’m going to force you to take insta pics for me

Mat just laughed and rolled him eyes a little bit knowing you’d say that . About 30 minutes later you got to the lax airport, parked the car and got onto the shuttle that took you to the south west terminal. You guys got through security quickly given you both have tsa precheck

You made it to your boarding spot and sat for about 20 minutes before you guys boarded the plane

After a 2 and a half hour flight you landed in Oregon you went to baggage claim and grabbed your bags and then picked up the car Matt had rented it was an all black jeep with red interior. You threw your bags into the trunk and got on the road . It was about an hour drive to sandy which is where the cabin was .

You drifted off to sleep since you had pulled an all nighter .

Matt shook you awake softly as you opened your eyes you saw nothing but the woods and cabin . you smiled him still a little groggy and he told you to go inside and he’d bring in y’all’s bags . You gladly obliged and went to unlock the door with the key the owners left under the doormat and walked in . it was so cozy and dark in the cabin which is exactly why you picked it. You went up to find the master bedroom since you had to pee really bad and after the long flight and ride.

Matt’s pov-

I brought in the bags and walked up the stairs to the master bedroom setting our bags down I went into the closet to start hanging up some stuff as y/n walked out and grabbed her bag to start doing the same . After I finished hanging my stuff I turned to hug her from the back and she giggled a little as she rapped her arms over mine and leaned back a little into my chest my heart fluttered and I don’t know why but she makes my heart flutter from small sweet things she does.

We walked out of the closet and I decided to order some pizza and start a fire since y/n said she was gonna take a shower and boy does she love her hour long showers .

The pizza just got here and I payed the driver and went to set it on the dark green and marble island as I heard y/n walk down the stairs. I saw she had taken one of my big fluffy sweatshirts I had brought and was wearing it with thigh high fluffy socks . She loves to take my sweatshirts since their so big on her and I don’t mind cause she looks so cute in them.

Y/n pov-

Hey sorry I took your sweatshirt I just felt like wearing it it’s so big and comfy you said to Matt as you saw him starring at you .

Oh no I don’t mind Matt said it looks good on you . You blushed from the compliment and sat down at the island to start eating after you guys finished Matt put y’all’s plates in the sink and said you should go sit in the living room and pick a movie to watch .

You sat right in front of the fire Matt had started and zoned out staring into the flames.

Matt came in and sat next to you and rapped his arm around your back rubbing softly bringing you out of your trance you leaned into his shoulder

Something on your mind he asked

Oh no, was just watching the fire the flames are so pretty to me you said laughing a little he looked down at you and took a breathe before speaking

Matt’s pov-

I’ve been wanting to bring something up to y/n but I’m feeling a bit nervous since it’s a little weird

Y/n I spoke kind of nervously

She looked up at me hearing my nervous voice yeah she said

I looked deeply in her eyes I have this fantasy I’ve been thinking about and your always the person that comes to mind I said

Alright well you know you can tell me anything Matt so spill she said with a little smirk

Okay well… I kinda wanna I paused to rub my neck with my hand nervously I wanna chase you through the woods and if I catch you I fuck you right in the woods with nothing but darkness surrounding us

Y/n fully turned to face me shocked by what I said she had a deep red flush across her face as she took a shaky breathe before she spoke you’ve fantasied about this a lot ? She questions with a small smirk

Yes so many times I say

She looked so deep in my eyes and said okay I’ll do it

I was taken back from her words you … you will I said still shocked

Absolutely 100 percent I’ve fantasized about something exactly like this after reading my favorite book haunting Adeline she says smiling wider I took her hand and brought us both to our feet I leaned down and kissed her deep and sweetly I told her to go put on some shoes she ran up to the room and I watched as she giggled .

God I can’t wait to catch her I thought as I felt myself grow harder from the thoughts of what I’m going to do to her

Y/n pov-

I cant believe this is happening and I never thought Matt would be into this kinda thing that’s why I never brought up my fantasy with him but fuck me I am already wet from the thoughts I practically flew back down the stairs to meet him in the living room

I’m gonna give you a 15 second start and your gonna run as fast as you can and just know that when I catch you I’m not gonna be sweet and calm Matt says

I hope you wouldn’t be after all im the prey and predators don’t play nicely you say Matt walks to open the door and looks at you with darkened eyes better start running slut he says he starts counting you take no time to start sprinting down the stairs into the dark woods you realized after you were getting deeper in the woods you have no light illuminating your way other than the moon which was partly covered by the dark clouds . Usually cloudy nights are your favorite but you started to get a little scared from how dark your surroundings were

You heard Matt calling your name in a very predatorial way causing chills to run up your body you start running faster getting smacked by branches left and right of you definitely leaving scratches on your exposed legs but you didn’t care you were just running you started to get out of breathe so you hid behind a tree waiting to hear any sign of Matt getting closer

The silence deafening as you started to get even more turned on knowing he would catch you sooner or later

You heard Matt calling out y/nnnn he called in a haunting way causing you to shiver from fear and arousal he was definitely closer than before you put your hand up to your mouth to try and silence your breathing you started hearing twigs snap to your left causing you to spring up and run in the opposite direction you tripped over a fallen tree and screamed out from your hard landing onto the rough ground you groaned from the pain and in seconds Matt was right above you breathing so hard you could see his breathe in the cold air

He laughing so sadistically causing your breathe to hitch and you to shiver

Caught you… Matt says so deep and dark you let out a moan from the possessive tone in his voice

…. Pt.2 coming right after this since this part is getting long asf

Be ready bitches shits boutta get nastyyyyy😈🫡

#woods #fantasy #dirty nasty #matt sturniolo #smut #part 1/2 #Spotify

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yeyinde · 1 year

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Graying, older Price tho 👀

ohhhhhhhhh, god yes.

So. One of my all-time favourite tropes is finding love in the middle of the wilderness. Like, you move to some super rural remote town totally off the grid, and end up meeting the unkempt grizzled man who lives in a cabin in the woods. He's surly and standoffish and kinda rough and gritty with baggage and history, but a total softie on the inside. Doesn't think he's worth loving but you know he is.

And it's this huge emotional upheaval of connectedness with nature in its most raw form. It's also chipping away the exterior of another person you're so desperate to know, and love. It's breaking down walls and rebuilding them with a better, stronger foundation. Basically, just pure angst and fluff, and bonus points if they get snowed in together.

And so, that but with Price.

#I might also just be stupidly idealistic for rural extremely northern Canada and the isolated interior of the Welsh countryside #but #its such a dream

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wri0thesley · 9 months

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please tell me who lucas is i am so curious! is he a character from a dating sim?

fgnjbbfgnk if you have NOT heard me talk about lucas before, that's probably because he mostly resided on my other blog (@needleanddead) until a couple of events in horrorsim/murder-sim/etc fandom made me want to separate my writing and my art more cleanly.

cw: yandere, war crimes, military stuff, cannibalism, murder

in short: lucas is one of my yandere ocs. he is a late 40s former military man who, after witnessing some truly horrifying things, became a recluse who lives in the middle of the woods off-the-grid in a cosy little cabin and who cannibalises people who trespass/get in his way/discover him. his yandere tendencies usually begin when he comes across somebody helpless and sweet and in need of coddling in his woods and takes them home . . . because, well. he really wants to love them.

also take a couple of copy-pasted bits and pieces from his refsheet;

Lucas had an idyllic childhood; a wholesome farm boy with the kind of religious parents who preached love and tolerance above all else, a high school experience that he's able to look back on fondly, a childhood sweetheart who he envisaged one day having a little cottage with a white picket fence before he eventually inherited his family's farm, raising children, playing his guitar to them and dying happily surrounded by only those who he loved-- But at eighteen, he joined the military, and things were not quite so simple. Lucas does not talk very much about the well over a decade he spent in the military. He wears his dog tags as a reminder, and he's scarred and broken all over from various things that occurred; it's worth noting that, whatever he did, when he eventually left his career he received a large payout that the powers that be had no qualms about depositing into a bank account with a fake name. In fact, they practically encouraged Lucas to never go back to who he once was. Now, he lives in the middle of the woods in a cabin he built and repaired himself, as off-the-grid as it's possible to be when one still has some interest in their creature comforts. He developed a rather unusual taste when starving hungry on a mission, once, and it has not yet left him - animals do not hurt him, but Lucas is well aware of the horrors that mortal man can commit. He's committed far too many of them himself, after all. He hates people encroaching on his territory; he hates hunters and fools who have never learnt how to survive in the woods. What Lucas wants is someone who will let him take care of them; someone soft and sweet and domestic, who can make him feel like he's more man than monster. He's sweet, adoring, obsessive, delusional - and the meat that he feeds you has a strange aftertaste that it's best not to dwell too hard on. The world is a food chain, and Lucas is at the top of it.

#nat.txt #oc posting #will just link to this post when i answer asks abt lucas from now on fgnbjkgnfk #he was definitely one of the Most Popular Guys over on my other blog i hope u guys will also like him!#cannibalism cw #yandere cw #lucas [oc]#yandere oc

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cypressnmarigolds · 2 years

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Lesson Learned (Jason Voorhees) xGN! Reader

Minors, feel free to leave

Wow, here I am! My first ever fanfiction. Well, if you can call it that, it’s really more a self indulgent smut scenario with only enough plot to drive what happens. Regardless, I am excited. I had a great time writing this and will definitely be doing this scenario with other slashers.

Keep in mind that though I did my best to write the reader as gender neutral and racially ambiguous, I am an AFAB white person, so the reader may read as AFAB and white. If you see anything that could be corrected to make this more inclusive for everyone, please reach out in the comments or via direct messaging, and be civil and polite about it.

TW for: self deprecation from the reader.

Contains: Consensual spanking. Fingering. A loving, confident, yet bashful Jason. Jason using ASL.

@slutforguts @sinfulwrites Thank you for your help in fleshing out my headcanons so I could get comfortable writing for Jason!

@slasherlouvre @frenziedslashers @moon-of-desire @early20sfailingplenty I don’t know if any of you are even interested in reading this, but I think you’re all cool so I wanted to share this with you. Don’t feel any pressure to read if this isn’t your thing.

❂❂❂❂❂❂❂❂❂❂❂❂❂❂❂❂

You sat in the living area of the old cabin. It wasn’t much, but it was enough for you by far. You used to dream about this life on occasion. A little cabin out in the woods, off the grid for the most part, able to really see the blanket of the galaxy around you on a clear night. It was hard work to make things comfortable for yourself, but it felt right, it felt like home. Of course it wouldn’t quite be home without your partner. You hadn’t imagined upon meeting the Jason Voorhees you’d heard rumor about in Crystal Lake Township that you’d end up loving him, and him you in return, but you were so glad you did, you couldn’t be happier. Well, for the most part anyhow. “Oh for God’s sake.” You muttered aloud.

You were in the middle of attempting to mend one of your favorite shirts, only you just couldn’t seem to get it right enough to make any progress. Jason was out checking traps around the camp property, he’d been gone since before you’d woken a little over an hour ago and you didn’t know when you could expect him back; you were grateful for it as your frustration mounted. You’d made a trip into the township yesterday and Jason always seemed anxious in the days before after you’d made the monthly trips. You just didn’t want him to see you struggling and cause him further distress. It was going to be an off day for you, you could tell as soon as you’d woken, before you’d even opened your eyes. The timing wasn’t great, but you’d manage to work through it somehow, you always had and today would be no different. It would be nice if your brain didn’t make things hard for you for no good reason though.

Setting the shirt down on the coffee table in front of you, you groaned as you stretched. You sighed deeply to yourself in an attempt to ease the mounting tension in your mind and body. “That’s enough of that for now.” You made your way over to the small kitchenette to prepare a hot drink to sip while sitting in one of the chairs outside the front door to enjoy the late spring air and settle yourself before Jason returned. You reached for a tattered ASL book on the counter to occupy yourself while waiting for the water to heat in the kettle perched on the old gas stove. Jason had found it in the belongings of an intruder a while back and was studying it to make communication between you easier.

The kettle began to whistle, and you set the book down. As you turned back toward the stove, your elbow caught the handle of the kettle and sent it crashing to the floor, lid flying off and spilling hot water everywhere. You stared a moment, watching as steaming water began to seep into the rug in front of the sink and made its way under the stove. All desire to try and rectify the day vanished as a numbing weariness settled over you and your eyes and nose grew hot. You slapped a hand over your eyes and the self berating began.

“God, you idiot. What is wrong with you? You can’t mend a shirt and you can’t boil water without destroying the kitchen, you absolute idiot!.” You knew better than to talk to yourself like that, really. Foolishly however, in your moment of weakness, you decided that allowing yourself this indulgence in a bad habit would release the building pressure of your dejected mood. To the surprise of nobody, it did the exact opposite. Tears welled hot in your eyes and you didn’t bother trying to hold them back. You grabbed some towels from under the sink and got down to begin soaking up the water. “Stupid, stupid, stupid. Idiot!” You allowed the self berating to continue, no longer caring of the consequences. That was, you heard the main door to the cabin open. The intensity of your small breakdown drained from you as Jason’s boots came tear-blurred into your vision and you cursed yourself in your head at having been caught in the middle of your little moment. The last thing you’d wanted was to worry him, and here you were on the floor crying in front of him immediately upon his return home.

Deciding not to dwell on the matter, you looked up at Jason to begin explaining the situation. Wiping at your eyes and blinking, you felt confused as you noticed his posture. He looked upset, but not worried, more… annoyed, disappointed? As you faced him fully he drew himself up, his posture projecting authority and anger. You knew he wasn’t trying to intimidate you or come across as threatening, he often projected his mood and thoughts through body language as a form of communication to supplement the considerably small amount of ASL he knew, as his facial expressions were unreadable due to him rarely taking off his mask. “Hi Jay, I just knocked over the kettle and made a mess. Is something wrong?” He huffed and lifted his right hand to his head and brought it away as he began to sign. “Why were you talking like that?” After a second, you felt heat flare in your face and tension rise in your neck and shoulders at his question. How had he heard you? Your eyes shifted to the open window above the sink, near where you were currently seated. Realization set in, and you felt your heart drop even further. It seemed the day would get harder before it got easier.

It wasn’t the first time Jason had approached you over how you spoke to and of yourself, but he had quickly made it clear he didn’t want it to continue. The first time he had chastised you for your bad habit, you learned through his choppy signing and your yes/no questions that he knew firsthand how much worse the habit made things when you were already feeling like dirt. It was then, too, that you had learned the truth about his childhood and what had happened to him.

Gaze turning back towards Jason, your eyes met his, and you knew it would only make you both feel worse if you played dumb. “I… I don’t know.” You said, gaze fixed on the floor as shame flooded your system and curled your shoulders inwards. “Today’s just been… hard I guess. I woke up feeling off and it just feels like I can’t do anything right. I’m so frustrated with myself!” Your voice raised at the end of your explanation as frustration flooded you once more, then vanished like smoke as you breathed a deep sigh that betrayed your bone-deep weariness to Jason. “I’m sorry, I know we’ve talked about this. I know it bothers you, and I know why. I’m trying. It’s just so hard to stop myself sometimes.” You felt yourself tearing up again and wiped at your eyes as you got up from the floor and looked back at him. He seemed to deflate slightly in understanding, and you heard a small sigh wisp through the holes in his mask. As you stepped towards him, his arms opened up; you stepped into them and brought your arms around him in turn, beginning to cry once more.

As you stood there, time seemed to pause as you allowed yourself to lean into him and release everything that had been building up over the last few hours. After a while your crying subsided and your breathing slowed as you calmed. After another minute you felt Jason grasp your shoulders softly as he stepped back and looked at you. He seemed lost in thought for a few moments, as if trying to figure out what to do next. “I want to help you.” He said, tilting his head in question. “Let me?” “How?” you asked, unsure what he could possibly do to help you with the matter. He reached for your hand and you placed yours into his gloved one; leading you towards the couch, he sat down. Tilting his head again he brought his hands up and asked “You trust me?” Lips curling in a small smile, you felt yourself soften, melt. “Of course I do, sweetheart. Always.”

Jason then reached for you and pulled you sideways into his lap. He pressed the mouth of his mask against your temple in a sweet kiss that had you glowing instantly. He grabbed a worn pillow resting against the arm of the couch and brought it to lay flat on the cushion next to him. Then, confusion formed, quickly joined by shock as he gently shifted you to lay face-down across his lap. Head turning to look at him wide-eyed, you brought your arms to the side of the pillow and gripped it as anxiety began to bloom. “Jason?” He was looking back at you, one of his hands resting on the back of your thigh, and he tilted his head once more. “Trust me?” You had a hard time getting your mouth to cooperate with your mind. “Y-yeah? Yes. But…” Looking away, you felt your face heat and you pressed your knees together nervously. Somehow you managed to look back at him as you asked, “Are… are you going to spank me?” Jason nodded, and brought his other hand from his side to ask “OK?” “Okay…” you breathed.

Jason brought one hand to your back and stroked up and down soothingly as his other hand began to move your bottoms out of the way, leaving your underwear in place. Internally, you were freaking out. You had a thing for being spanked, and from the conversations you’d had with Jason, and your very slow exploration of physical intimacy, you knew he had no idea the effect he was about to have on you. You just hoped you’d be able to make it through without letting on how turned on you’d inevitably become. You were surprised he even felt comfortable with the idea of spanking you, even though you knew he came from a time where it was strictly used as a means to punish or teach a lesson.

He kept one hand on your back as he brought the other to rest on your rear, and you felt your heart jump to your throat as you felt it leave you. *CRACK* You jumped, gasping loudly as his hand came flying across your right cheek. You knew he wasn’t using his full strength, but he wasn’t holding back as much as you thought he would either. Biting your lip, you squeezed your eyes shut. It stung so good. So lost in thought and sensation were you that you’d only just registered that his hand had retreated again just as he’d brought it back, this time on your left cheek. *CRACK* You groaned in the back of your throat. You could feel heat rising between your legs, arousal seeming to pulse there like a heartbeat. Jason paused and your heart seemed to skip a beat.

Looking back at him, he was leaning towards your face, head tilted as though checking in with you. “I’m-” You had to swallow. “I’m okay”. He looked more pointedly at you and asked “Why?” “W-why? Why what?” *CRACK* Back to the right. Another gasp left your mouth, he was still staring at you, expecting an answer of some sort. You rattled your brain, trying to figure out what he wanted. “Why… am I being spanked?” You asked hopefully. Jason nodded. You looked away, fearing your face would start to betray your arousal. “Be-because… Ah~!” The left again. “Because I was being mean to myself. I was talking bad to myself.” Looking back at Jason, he nodded. He tilted his head in question as he raised his hand again, he must have wanted you to continue. “And– Ah~! I know I shouldn’t, I know– oh~ you don’t like it, and I know it hu-urts me!”

It was starting to move beyond a pleasant sting, into steady burn, but still you could feel wetness seeping into your underwear, you hoped he’d be done soon; you didn’t know how long you’d be able to hide your state. You were surprised your gasps and moans hadn’t already given you away. *CRACK* Your head dropped to the pillow, and you felt Jason soothing his hands over your rear again. As heat continued to grow and pulse between your legs, it began blooming in your chest as well. Something about the situation, how he was caring for you both in spite of and with his punishment, was making you feel so loved, and the thought brought tears to your eyes. His hand on your back began stroking again, and you lifted your head back up to meet his gaze. He gave pause at the sight of your teary eyes and you were quick to reassure him. “I’m alright, thank you Jay.” You smiled at him, and he nodded. He went back to work, laying smack after smack on your backside, alternating cheeks. Your head dropped again. Oh God… you thought. He’s so good at this. So strong and confident… You weren't helping your predicament.

You were really beginning to struggle now, having to fight the urge to grind and wiggle on his lap on instinct, having to fight to keep your sounds from becoming too lewd and giving you away. Luckily, after a few more strikes he stopped and after a couple more soothing strokes to your (now admittedly sore) ass, he pulled your bottoms back up and moved the hand on your back to your face, turning it so you were facing him. He began to sign. “Done. Promise me you’ll stop.” Taking a deep breath to try to steady your voice, you nodded. “I promise Jason, I won’t do it again.” He brought the mouth of his mask to your temple again and held it there for a moment. Your eyes closed and you sighed, feeling so worked up and yet so content and relaxed. He pulled away and helped you to sit straddling his lap. You draped your arms over his shoulders and tucked your face into his neck, sighing deeply and breathing in his scent. He wrapped his arms around you and cupped a hand to the back of your head, resting his against your own. Both of you remained leaning into one another for a bit, basking in the moment.

You were broken out of your bubble of contentment by the wetness between your legs. Groaning, you pushed your face more forcefully into Jason’s neck, squeezing your legs and arms around him tighter as you clenched involuntarily. Jason pulled back at the sound and tilted his head. “Uh… yeah I‘m okay. It’s just… uh…” You looked away, embarrassed. You had no idea how to explain to him that his spanking had turned you on, or how he’d react. But you were so worked up, it felt like almost all your focus was on the heat and tingling between your legs. You felt it was best to just bite the bullet and be honest with him.

“I have to tell you something.” He stared, waiting for you to continue. “Um… I-I like getting spanked.” His head tilted to the side, you saw his eyelids shift as he furrowed his brow behind the mask. He didn’t understand. You liked it? Did you think it was fun, like a game? Sensing his confusion, you continued. “When I say that, I mean I really like it. It… it gets me worked up.” You shifted further into his lap squeezing your thighs around his as you ground your crotches together to try and get your point across. A few seconds passed, then his eyes widened behind the mask and his head jerked back slightly as understanding dawned on him. It was his turn to be bashful, he looked away and you felt his hands clenching and unclenching anxiously against your head. “I hope that doesn’t make you uncomfortable, I didn’t want to stop you. I know you were trying to help, and I think you did. I don’t think I’ll ever forget this. I felt so loved and cared for, knowing you wanted to help me so much, I just… get excited too. Something about it just feels good, even though it hurts a bit, especially because I felt so safe with you. Does that make sense?” He didn’t respond for a bit, then slowly nodded. He understood what you were saying, he just didn’t quite get how someone could find getting a spanking enjoyable. Knowing you felt good and that he’d succeeded in getting his point across though, he was happy, if flustered. Leaning into him you quietly muttered “I love you Jason, thank you so much.” and kissed him. He brought both of his hands up to cup your head, petting your hair and leaning into your kiss.

Pulling away, you looked him in the eyes, smiling and ground into him again. “Will you touch me please? I feel so needy for you.” He fidgeted slightly and looked anywhere but at you. “If not, that’s okay Jason I can take care of it myself if you don’t feel comfortable right now.” You assured him. You were sure he wasn’t expecting this when he’d thought of his little lesson; he seemed to be very worked up over the idea that he’d done something that had turned you on so much. Usually when you two would come together, it was just timing, you both feeling sentimental and affectionate and in the mood to express it physically. Now though? He’d inadvertently aroused you and turned you into a squirming needy mess. Your suggestion to take matters into your own hands, however, was apparently unacceptable; his head shot back to you and he made eye contact as he shook his head somewhat frantically, hands squeezing your arms and looking at you with some determination.

The next thing you knew, you were being turned around with your back to him. He used his thick, strong thighs to open your own, situating them outside his, it was a bit of a stretch on your hips, but it felt so good, so right for him to open you like this on his lap. You leaned back against him and put your head on his shoulder, turning your head to place a kiss on his jaw, just on the edge of his mask. “Thank you…” you breathed in his ear, and you felt a shiver pass through him. Now that he had you where he wanted you, he seemed to grow bashful again, you’d always touched each other late at night, under the covers of both darkness and the sheets of your shared bed. Now though, you were in the middle of the living area, on the couch, with light streaming in through the few windows in the room. Even though there was nobody to see you but yourselves, it felt different, exposed. It excited you, but Jason seemed to need encouragement to continue.

Taking his hands in yours, you brought one to wrap around you, and the other to the pulsing warmth between your legs. “It’s okay Jason, it’s just us. You know what I like. You always take good care of me, in every way.” At that, he seemed to come back into the moment and he turned to face you and pressed his forehead against yours as he began to move the hand between your thighs.

He started slow, with a gentle but firm pressure, letting you get warmed up to his touch through your clothes. Up and down at a languid pace, he rubbed the length of you, alternating between his fingertips and the heel of his palm and you couldn’t help but to slowly start rolling your hips to meet his pace. “Please.” You murmured after a minute “I need more. Please?” You knew you didn’t have to beg, but you were needy, and you wanted Jason to know how much he affected you. He leaned his head against yours, and began undoing your bottoms. Once everything was out of the way, he got to work.

Bringing just his fingertips to you, he began stroking up and down again, using some of the wetness you'd leaked to help his fingers along. His touch was so light, reverent, and if you didn’t know better, you think he was teasing. You let a small whine leave you, bucking your hips to try to get more pressure. An arm came up and clamped around your hips, holding you still. You dropped your head back onto his shoulder and let out a breathy sigh towards the ceiling and you felt his head nuzzle into your neck as he began to gently stroke over your entrance. You reached out a hand to pause him. “Hold on.”

Reaching towards a small drawer built into the coffee table in front of you, you retrieved a small packet of lube. You’d picked a box up on one of your trips into town and feeling giddy and a bit silly, you’d put a few in the small drawer. ‘Just in case’ you’d told yourself, and you were glad you did. Jason looked nothing short of gobsmacked to see what you were holding, you giggled and settled back into him. “All of you is so big, I can’t be too careful.” He ducked his face into your neck and you imagined you could feel his face heat through the mask.

While he was busy hiding, you opened the packet and coated your fingertips, then brought your hand between your thighs and began to touch yourself. Your gasp turned to a moan as the cool lube made contact with your warm hole, and you began circling it and dipping your fingers inside. Upon hearing this, Jason raised his head a bit and watched you. He had never seen you touch yourself other than to bring yourself to completion while he was inside you. He was transfixed. Slowly, as if dazed, he reached to gently pull your fingers from you and you whined again. He soothed you with another press of his mask to your cheek.

Finally, he began to ease a finger into you and you sighed, eyes closed and the corners of your mouth curved up in satisfaction at finally having something thicker in you. He circled his finger in you, stretching you out and spreading the lube. You clenched, mouth dropping open soundlessly as he brushed against your sensitive spot. Again and again he pressed into it in slow, sweeping passes until your hips began to rock again. As he pulled his finger out, you groaned at the loss but were quick to plant a grateful kiss to his masked cheek , murmuring to him how good he was doing. Spurred on further by your encouragement, he then brought two fingers to your entrance and slowly seated them inside. Once you’d had a moment to adjust, he crooked his fingers upwards, and you moaned loudly. “Oh, right there, there you go!” You felt tension building up inside your abdomen as he repeatedly stroked and pressed into that spot. You grabbed his other hand and brought it just above the other and looked at him through pleasure-lidded eyes. “Touch me, please, make me cum.”

As his other hand began to move, rubbing and stroking over you, you began to outright pant. It always felt so much more intense to cum without laying a hand on yourself, the fingers of one of his hands or his cock working inside you while the other one stroked and rubbed the rest of you. You kept grabbing at anything and everything in reach as you felt your pleasure mounting, unsure what you wanted or needed to ground yourself to prepare for what was surely going to be an earth-shattering orgasm. Whipping your head to look at him, you barely managed to form the words to ask “Jason, will you… hah… please kiss me? For re-real?” You began to shake as he nodded and you brought a hand to his mask, sliding it up just enough to expose his mouth. You nearly slammed your mouths together and practically wailed into him as your orgasm crashed over you, coating his hand in your release. He kept thrusting his fingers in and out for a few moments to ease you through it, and when you finally went limp against him he stopped and slowly brought his hands away. After wiping them on a tissue from the coffee table, he grabbed another one and cleaned you up as well.

Cleanup done, he shifted your legs closed and opened his own to allow you to sink between them and give your sore hips and ass a break from his thick legs and rough pants. He massaged your thighs as your breathing evened out. Your eyes met his and you placed a quick, sweet kiss to his masked mouth. “Thank you Jason, so much. You’re so good to me.” Shifting your ass a bit, you felt he was half hard. “Do you want help with this sweetie?” He shook his head no and you nodded “Alright.” and kissed him again. He didn’t always want to be touched himself when you two got physical, you two had talked as much as you could manage about it and you understood. He just didn’t have the highest libido, he was always willing and happy to bring you pleasure though. You stretched your arms and stood to grab your bottoms from the floor. After quickly redressing, you settled back into his lap and sighed contentedly. Today would be okay.

#slasher x reader #slasher x you #slasher fanfiction #slasher smut #nsft #minors dni #jason voorhees x reader #jason voorhees x you #gn reader #Crook's Writing

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dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night · 1 year

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I found a short story about a modern day vampire hunter arrested for desecration of a corpse I wrote in middle school.

It is fucking hysterical so I'm posting it here for you guys. I haven't edited it at all, aside from changing a few paragraph breaks to make reading it on a phone easier.

Honestly, reading this will help you understand how I got to the point with my writing I'm doing now. Svetlana de Cabreras is Flint's comedic spiritual predecessor.

I was *that kid* and decided, after reading Dracula, that van Helsing descendents were cliche, boring, and inaccurate.

I, reasonably, did research on historical vampire hunting cases and gave Captain de Cabreras (a man from the 1730s who exhumed and "killed" a suspected vampire) a great great (etc) grand daughter who hunts supposed vampire in the real world where they very much don't exist.

Which is honestly worse than any van Helsing descendant plotline.

I was doing this as a joint project with a friend of mine. He contributed nothing but the character of Mike Phillip and I was the only person actually writing it. But I still appreciate his oc, who is a great addition to the story and adds a great deal of comedy.

Story under the cut. It's fabulous.

There was a cabin deep in the woods of Montana. Its inhabitant was a reclusive woman whom the neighbors considered quite mad. They all stayed away. Even the Jehova's Witnesses wouldn't set foot on her property.

Most of her neighbors were over prepared doomsday preppers who prided themselveson their self-suficiency living off the grid. So, coming from them, the accusations of insanity were quite telling. She deserved them in their entirety.

Her name was Svetlana de Cabreras and she fancied herself a cryptozoologist and avampire hunter. That was enough to ward off twenty-first-century neighbors. People had also been wary of her during the twentieth century, on account of her being a second-generation Russian immigrant.

She took her supposed careers in cryptozoology and vampire hunting seriously. She grew garlic in the garden beds surrounding her cabin and owned more crucifixes than a Catholic Church. Her doorknobs and rings were made of iron to ward off faeries. She kept a silver crucifix around her neck while she slept.

Her careers were not without their risks. Her skills would have been respected in the eighteenth century, but the local authorities were not overly fond of her desecrating corpses.

Her raving about vampires never managed to gain her much favor with the jury. Nor did her story of how in 1730 one of her ancestors, Captain de Cabreras, slew a vampire after it was responsible for the death of a military officer.

She was considered the stuff of local legends. Teenagers would dare each other to knock on her door. Parents strongly disapproved of their children sneaking out into the woods to visit the local madwoman but, despite their best efforts, they could never manage to prevent it.

Parents throughout history have never managed to convince their offspring to obey simple instructions but, somehow, they always kept trying.

She never minded the intrusions, in fact, she enjoyed the company. She would sit the high schoolers down in her garishly decorated living room, pour them a cup of tea, and tell them insane stories about the supernatural.

The subjects of her stories ranged from Slavic folklore to bizarre pieces of Catholic doctrine. A few of the cleverer students realized that they could use her to get good grades for history assignments. She seemed to know everything there was to know about folklore, not to mention her extensive knowledge of Russian history.

Despite her queer habit of treating folklore as inseparable from reality, she was an amazing tutor.

But not everyone considered Svetlana a madwoman. She still managed to attract wealthy clients seeking her expertise in hunting supernatural entities.

Vampires were her most frequent targets, but she also marketed herself as an exorcist, despite having no formal training in the Catholic Church.

She would also investigate properties for cryptids and was even once featured on an episode of Finding Bigfoot. She was never invited back, due to her criticisms of their competency that were, of course, cut from the official episode.

Our story starts on a cold day in July when Svetlana heard a sharp knock on her front door.

She put down the stick she was whitling a sharp point onto. She could have bought afew garden stakes at Home Depot, but they did not carry any made from hawthorn, so she made them herself.

She walked over and threw the front door open to see a man was standing on her front porch. His personal style fit into the punk subculture. A leather jacket, motorcycle boots, ripped jeans, really bad eyeliner, and choppy black hair. He had an untreated cut on one of his cheeks.

"Hi," he said. "Are you Svetlana de Cabreras?"

"Yes, what can I help you with?"

"I heard about you from a friend. He was a client of yours. John Andrew, if you remember. I need your help with some vampires."

"I would be happy to help. I don't think I caught your name."

"Mike," he said. "Mike Philip. I was wondering if you were up to going down to Idaho."

"I would be. What sort of an issue are you dealing with?"

"Well, a graveyard near my house has a couple living in it. There have been a lot of unexplained deaths and it's hard to find tried and true vampire hunters in this day and age."

"It runs in the family," Svetlana explained. "Where in Idaho did you say you were from?"

"Post Falls."

The drive from Montana to Post Falls should have taken less than an hour. But, because of how broken down both of their pickup trucks were, it ended up taking more than two.

Svetlana already kept a great deal of vampire hunting equipment in her truck bed. Stakes, crucifixes, knives, sickles, garlic, holy water, and the likes.

Also, several packs of energy drinks. Those weren't actually for killing vampires, she just had an addiction.

They finally came to a stop in front of a graveyard in Post Falls, Idaho. It was only ten in the morning, so they had plenty of time.

They walked through the front gate. The graveyard was fortunately vacant.

"Do you have any idea which of them are turned?" Svetlana asked. "I need to kow which graves to dig up."

"Nora Pierce." Mike gestured at a grave. It was marked by a small, weathered headstone.

Svetlana pulled a small shovel out of her dufle bag and handed it to Mike. She pulled out another and began digging. Mike followed suit.

Digging a large hole is harder than you would expect. It took more than half an hour to completely uncover the casket Nora Pierce had been buried in.

Svetlana and Mike were both exhausted by the end of it. They sat on the edge of the hole they had dug, regaining their strength.

Svetlana handed Mike an energy drink and opened her own. After taking a few minutes to finish drinking, they went back to work. Svetlana opened the casket.

A woman was laid to rest in it. She had ashy gray skin, typical of a dead body. Despite this, she still looked youthful, like she had experienced a premature death only hours prior. More damning still was the dried blood around her mouth. It could have gotten there via normal decomposition, but Svetlana doubted that.

Svetlana opened Nora's mouth to reveal the drawn-back gums that gave her the distinct appearance of having fangs. Again, this could be natural, but it still was creepy.

"Why hasn't she woken up?" Mike whispered.

"She's dead. She'll only wake up after noon. We have time."

Svetlana went through her duffle bag. She pulled out a hawthorn stake and a mallet.

"Are you going to do it here?" Mike asked. "What if someone shows up?"

"It wouldn't be the first time," Svetlana said. "Oh, damn."

"What is it?" Mike asked, looking concerned.

"I would prefer not to deal with the authorities. I know most of the cops in Montana and can easily bribe them. I've done it many times, But I have no idea how strict the police force in Post Falls is."

"I have never been arrested," Mike said. "The only legal trouble I've ever been in was getting a speeding ticket, and I didn't see the point in bribing my way out of it. Money either way."

"I need you to keep a lookout and tell me if you see anyone. I don't want to get thrown in an American prison."

"What other sort of prison do you want to get thrown into?"

"Actually, no prison is preferable. Just keep a lookout."

Mike stood over Svetlana while she went to work. He tried to look important, somehow.

He was very grossed out by the noises of Svetlana pounding a stake into Nora Pierce's heart. They were squelching and the cracking sound of her ribcage breaking was particularly disturbing.

Svetlana beheaded Nora Pierce for good measure. That was, somehow, even more disgusting. Nora Pierce was not still alive, so she could not feel herself choking on her blood. But Mike, being still very much alive, could feel himself growing sick.

"Um, that's a cop," Mike said. "He might walk by, I don't know. But you may want to wrap things up."

Svetlana hurriedly dumped a bottle of holy water on the body. She laid a crucifx down with the chain wrapped around the stake.

She decided that staying to rebury the body was not the risk. She grabbed all of her things and speed walked to her pickup truck. Mike followed. Rather than getting into his own pickup truck, which would have made more sense, he sat down in Svetlana's passenger seat.

He did this because he was not thinking clearly due to his panic and anxiety. The engine wouldn't start. The cop thought they seemed very suspicious and had them arrested.

Svetlana was ticked off, to say the least, and started cursing out the cop in a mix of Russian, Ukrainian, and English.

Mike sat there nervously, hoping that good behavior would help him out. He was biting his nails and tugging at his hair, glancing around nervously.

The next time anyone heard from them was on the local news:

In shocking news, two people have been caught exhuming and desecrating a body in a Post Falls cemetery.

The two in question are Mike Phillip, who pleads innocent and claims that he just happened to be in the graveyard and that he was only in his cohort's truck due to panic atthe circumstances, and Svetlana de Cabreras, a woman from Montana who claimed she was slaying a vampire

.The body in question belonged to a woman named Nora Pierce. She had tragically died two few months prior from a bad case of pneumonia. She is still being grieved by her family and this case has been a dreadful shock to them.

Security footage revealed De Cabreras and Phillip to both be working together, despite Phillip's claim of innocence.

De cabreras plead guilty to both the desecration of Pierce's body and to three counts of trying to bribe police officers, only one of which was successful.

De Cabreras' testimony in court was flimsy, at best. She claimed to have been hired by Phillip to kill a vampire, being supposedly Pierce. No money was actually exchanged, and she seemed to have been doing to out of some perverse joy for this macabre hobby.

Pierce's body was found fully decapitated and with a wood stake through her heart. A crucifix was also found in the grave.

Both Svetlana de Cabreras and Mike Phillip have been sentenced to twenty years in prison and will be released in twenty-forty-four.

A friendly reminder to concerned American citizens that vampires are not real. The supposed symptoms of vampirism are all easily explainable with modern science. The belief in vampires stemmed from ignorant superstition.

Receding gumlines giving the appearance of fangs, bloated body, blood around themouth, and other symptoms are simply a part of normal human decomposition.

We will deliver more on this story if any more develops. Svetlana de Cabreras' Montana home is currently being searched by the police.

Yeah that was a ride. I've been cracking up the entire time I've been copying this down for you guys. The nostalgia is intense with this one.

Tagging @anomalys-taxonomy @elijah-beth @elim-flower @whumpsday @heavenly-whumper @devourerofcheesecake

Just if any of you are interested.

-Abraham ♡♡♡

#Writing #Writblr #Vampires #Abraham original: Hot off the press

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artemiseamoon · 2 years

Text

Wisteria & Moonlight 4

Ajani x Will | ft Miller family, Zola

Chapter 4: Unearthed pt 2

Words: 3,917

Warnings: hallucinogenic plant, grieving, mention of parents passing, a fight seen briefly.

An: Ajani deepens her connection to the ancestors and helps Zola seek missing ingredients to break the curse. Tracking down the ingredients leads to a new discovery for Ajani.

Fic info | previous | next (preview & a03 link)

The next day, afternoon

Rays of sunlight stream through the trees, cascading light onto the moving water. Ajani closes her eyes once more, savoring the sacred visions she continues to see.

Thanks to the special plant Zola gave her to chew on early this morning, Ajani continues to explore the ancestral and spiritual realms.

Ajani was just a kid when the first signs of psychic gifts started to show. She mainly received information through dreams, feelings, sometimes visions. Nothing more than that.

With the aid of spellwork, Ajani tried to connect with her ancestors before. Never having names, places or origins made it hard to decipher any visuals and information she received.

During the spells, she would see two figures in the distance, Ajani always assumed they were her parents. Sometimes, she could see more people in the background but their faces were never clear. Until now.

As one vision fades, another unfolds before her eyes. This time Ajani stands in the middle of clearing; before her a small rustic cabin surrounded by woods, she can hear the sound of water in the background.

The luscious vibrant landscape soothes her senses. Ajani lowers her gaze to the ground and wiggles her toes, feeling blades of grass beneath her feet. Her eyes return to the house, two birds fly over, chirping their songs.

The sweet scent of white pine dances on the breeze, Ajani takes note of trees she can identify; Holly, Red Cedar, Chestnut, Ash. In the back of her mind, she tries to figure out where she is. Ajani kneels down to pick a wild flower and rubs the petals between her fingertips.

The sound of a door opening brings her eyes back to the cabin. Two figures emerge, a man and a woman, both holding a small child. The same man and woman she dreamed of last night.

Ajani moves closer, watching with soft eyes as her parents smile and talk among themselves. Her mother moves with grace and sits on the ground, her father is right behind her.

Ajani comes even closer, smiling as she takes in the scene before her. Deep gratitude washes over her, Ajani savors every detail of this moment. With the help of Zola and the Ancestors, she can see this, she can finally see it.

Because Ajani’s parents lived off the grid, Zola’s been having a hard time locating any photos or locations they stayed at. But she did find the most important thing by tracking the I’ah S’a family tree, their names; Sela Kaara and Darius Kaara.

Ajani sits before them in her vision, memorizing every single detail of their faces, their voices, their mannerisms. Ajani’s eyes shift to a very young Adrian, he must have been about two years old here. Making Ajani almost a year old herself.

As tears return to her eyes again, she turns her head slightly and observes her younger self. A version of herself she would have never be able to see aside from photographs, or a vision like this. Briefly, Ajani feels a little sadness as the vision fades, she wants to stay here forever, to stay with them forever.

In the new vision, she sees flashes of her parents' lives. The moment they met, them as wolves, a scene of her mother snapping photographs with an old camera, her father sitting outside painting her.

As the effects of the plant begin to fade, the visions become less clear. Ajani thinks of her brother, and how much it would mean to him to see all of this. “Adrian, I wish you were here. I wish you were here for this.” She whispers to herself.

Ajani becomes increasingly aware of her current surroundings, floating closer to reality and further from her altered state. She closes her eyes, thinking of Adrian again.

“Let me see you.”

Behind her closed lids, a scene unfolds. A rowdy bar. Loud music. The smell of liquor, fried food, sweaty humans and Weres. Ajani enters the scene, no one is aware of her presence.

Moving through the bar, she finds a gathering of wolves in the back, taking over half the bar. As her eyes lay on Adrian, everything else fades. Focused on her brother, she reads his face, his body language, his energy.

As he converses with the Were next to him, she can see past his act. He feels stuck. He’s thinking of ways to get out. Ajani feels Adrian's emotion and thoughts. Her body feels heavy, weighted down; Adrian is holding in a lot.

“I’m sorry it's taking so long. I’m coming. I promise.” Ajani rests her hands on his shoulders. Just as she lifts her hands, Adrian wrinkles his nose, his eyes searching the bar. She can hear her name in his mind. He sensed her.

A loud sound in the background grabs her attention. Ajani follows her brother's gaze and finds a fight breaking out. Some of the wolves with Adrian jump up and join the brawl. One of them grabs Adrian, egging him on to join. Adrian declines.

“I’ll get you out of this. I promise. Listen for signs. Trust this. This is me speaking to you. It’s real.”

Ajani touches his face once more before being pulled back to her parents. In this new scene, she sees her mother working in the herb garden. In the background stands a wolf with green eyes. Its fur is a mix of black, brown, white and some reddish undertones.

Suddenly in her mind, she sees a flash of yesterday. Zola gathered all but two ingredients needed for the spell. She was still having a hard time locating the final two. Even with her witch and practitioner friends, Zola learned the mushroom was rare and the root was believed to be extinct.

In the vision, Ajani approaches her mother as she sings and gardens. Ajani kneels beside her and takes a moment to observe before asking,

“Mom, I need your help. We found the cure for the curse. But we don’t have all the ingredients. I trust all this, I know they are out there. I just don’t know where to look.” Ajani takes a breath. “Violet Armillaria mellea, and Luna root.”

As the words leave Ajani’s lips, her mother turns to face her. Clear brown eyes land on her own.

“You can see me?” Ajani inches closer to her mother, her voice shaking with emotion, “mom?”

Before Ajani can touch her, the vision is gone. Another quickly flashes before her eyes, a road, road signs, a small house with a larger house in the background. A large wisteria tree. A sign etched in wood that said ‘IAH’.

Ajani gasps and jumps to her feet. She rushes back to the house, running past Zola and Izara as the old friends talk and finds some paper. Leaning over the desk, Ajani scribbles down what she saw, even sketching the house and the sign.

Straightening up, she looks over the two sheets of paper. She can hear Zola and Izara asking questions behind her.

“This is what I saw. This is where we’ll find the ingredients.”

Zola stands to her left, “this is the I-10 W…I- 49…sweetie, this place here, in Louisiana.”

Izara returns with her phone, “ nothing comes up for the name…could be a local shop, something that's been in the family for generations. The word Iah, it's the moon remember.”

“Alright ladies, we’re taking a road trip. Let’s hope they are open.” Zola heads for the living room then stops, “Ajani, do a locator spell. I’m pretty sure we’re heading to Shreveport.”

…

The drive North to Shreveport, Louisiana, from Zola's home in New Orleans, takes almost 5 hours. The sun set by the time they reached the tree lined land outside of town.

This place is just as Ajani saw. A faded white house with gardens on either side, a wooden sign over the door. Farther back, a two story home with a Wisteria tree to the left. This place feels familiar. A sweet mix of scents lingers in the air; verbena, jasmine, wisteria. As the wind blows, Ajani can hear whispers of the ancestors on the wind.

The front door of the small shop opens, a small framed older woman steps out with flowing silver hair and wise dark brown eyes. “We closed shop for the day, you folks-” the woman trails off as her eyes meet Ajani’s.

Ajani steps forward and shows the drawings. “I’m sorry to bother you, we just drove 5 hours and - this may sound crazy but I need to unlock a curse. I was guided here, by my parents.”

The woman steps closer, observing Ajani. “I’ve seen you before, your face…you look so familiar… What is your name?”

“Ajani, Ajani Bennett,” she takes a breath, only realizing now she’s been holding it, “Kaara. Ajani Kaara.” She feels an immense energy move through her.

The silver haired woman covers her mouth in surprise. “Heavens, you lived? You lived.”

The woman throws herself around Ajaini and hugs her tight. “I didn’t think you made it, I looked all over. I looked for years, and didn't pick up a scent or clue on you or your brother. Even with magic.”

Overwhelmed, it takes Ajani a moment to catch up, “Wait, you…you know how I am?”

Zola and Izara observe, staying in the background.

“I’m your great aunt sugar, Dessi Kaara.”

The two share an emotional hug before she invites them inside. Introductions are made, emotions and gratitude are high.

Dessi makes a pot of tea as they sit in the waiting room, it’s a warm room full of plants, crystals, and soft couches. Ajani and Dessi sit together on one couch, Zola and Izara on the other. Ajani fills Dessi in and tells her about Adrian.

“Are you I’ah -Sa?” Ajani asks after a while. Dessi takes her hands in her own and smiles softly.

“Yes, same as you. And your teacher over there. When I caught the scent, I thought I imagined it. I haven’t seen or crossed paths with any since your mother. Once we do the spell tonight, you’ll be one of three I’ah Sa’s in the world.” Dessi squeezed her hand. “I can’t believe it, one was just hours away and you, you’ve been alive this whole time, you and Adrian. Come.”

Dessi stands, guiding the women out of the shop, and toward the gazebo.

“You’re looking for Violet Armillaria mellea, and Luna root. I know this spell. I was hoping to help your mother break the curse. I was too late and didn't get there in time. I was looking for these ingredients, they were such a pain to find.”

They reach the gazebo and Dessi opens the door for them. “I don’t know why, but, once I had them, I studied them. Grew them. In case I needed it again. I hoped, in my heart, that you and Adrian were out there somewhere. I couldn’t help your mother, “she turns to Ajani, “but finally, I can help you.” Ajani embraces Dessi, her heart feels full.

The door opened again, revealing a man about her age with green eyes. “The shop was open…” he trails off.

Dessi goes to him, “this is my son, Jaycen.” She grabs his shoulder. “I left it open, it’s okay. I’ll be in soon.” Jaycen smiles and leaves the women to continue their conversation.

“Over here.” Dessi guides them to the very back. “Here they are,” she glances at all their faces, “the ritual is best done when the full moon peeks. That’s tonight. We need to do it here. Otherwise, you’ll have to wait until the next full moon.”

They didn’t see anything about moon phases in the spell. Dessi’s studies are already proving useful. “We’ll do it here,” Ajani confirms, “if you’ll have me.”

Dessi replies. “You are a family baby, of course. Welcome home.”

With the assistance of Zola, Izara and Jaycen, Dessi preps for the ritual. Dessi’s son carries the wolf gene, just like Adrian but isn’t a witch. Ajani’s only task was to sit, relax, and finish the special tea Dessi brewed for her.

While waiting, Ajani texts with Will a little. He fills her in about the pack's recent findings. Though they’ve barely spent anytime together, she misses him, and looks forward to seeing him again.

…

The moon hangs low in the sky, full and luminous. The night is clear, the stars visible. As nervous jitters take over, Ajani focuses her gaze on the trees. It’s quiet out here, peaceful, isolated.

Looking to her left, she gazes at the Wisteria tree, its sweet powdery scent delights her senses. The purple and lavender petals sway gently in the wind along with the scents of sandalwood and rose from the incense burners.

The moon has always captured Ajani’s attention, tonight even more so. As her eyes fix on the moon, its silvery light washes over her, increasing her heart rate and heightening her senses.

It’s been 5 days since she walked into the bar by the train tracks. 5 days since her old life died and she stands on the threshold of a new one.

“It’s almost time.” Dessi spoke softly from outside the circle.

“On a scale of 1 to 10,” Ajani asks nervously, “how much is this going to hurt?”

Dessi replies, “I’ah Sa’s experience less pain. Once you do it enough, the transition becomes easy, painless. But, tonight is your first time, it won’t be pleasant. Think of something peaceful, best you can.” Dessi looks back at Zola, seeing if she wanted to add anything.

“Couldn’t have said it better myself. Create a place, go there when you turn. Or imagine something that brings you peace. It helps.”

Ajani nods, her eyes float to Izara who smiles at her. “You got this.”

Ajani takes a quick breath. “I hope so.”

Dessi and Zola take position around the circle, becoming anchors for Ajani. The two women start chanting. A breeze moves through the clearing.

Suddenly her muscles tighten, a dry coppery taste lingers on her tongue. Ajani curls over, gripping her stomach.

With clenced teeth, Ajani squeezes her eyes shut as the searing pain shoots through her body, firing off in all directions. A thick layer of sweat coats her skin.

Ajani kneels on the ground. Her repressed cries push past her lips, finally escaping in a pained scream as tears roll down her cheeks.

Freezing in place, on her hands and knees, her eyes shoot up to the moon. Everything inside of her is expanding, growing too big for her frame to hold, her bones, her muscles, her limbs.

Ajani raises to her feet with some effort, tearing her dress away from her body. The cool night air provides no relief. Her body is on fire.

Raising her right hand in front of her face, Ajani’s eyes grow wide. Her fingers elongate before her eyes, she can feel her spine curving and tiny hair particles sprouting from her skin.

“Don’t fight it. It’s easier if you don’t.” Izara calls out.

The pained screams calm briefly, leading to shuddered breathing and excessive shaking. Another jolt of pain brings Ajani to the ground, as she contorts, her body continues to stretch and grow. She digs her claws deep into the ground, pulling up grass and soil.

As her body continues to change, and the chanting fades in the background, Ajani shuts her eyes, the pain is unbearable. Everything goes black for a moment, she almost faints. Upon opening her eyes again, two figures appear in the distance, in front of the Wisteria tree.

Blinking through tears, Ajani watches as her parents observe her with loving eyes. Ajani fights through the pain and keeps her eyes focused on her parents. The longer she watches them, the more the pain lessens. Ajani closes her eyes, submitting to the calm.

When Ajani opens them again, she’s standing. Her humanoid wolf form is fully complete. Catching her breath, Ajani glanced down at herself, taking in her new form. A deep sense of satisfaction stirs inside of her.

“Almost there sweetheart, “Dessi nods, watching her with pride, “your final form. You know how to do it, trust yourself.”

Ajani closes her eyes, imagining a ray of purple light, the same light that always guides her to her center, to her truth, to her intuition. The light expands quickly, quieting the hushed doubts in the back of her mind.

Ajanii becomes engulfed in the violet light. Her body shrink quickly from her enlarged form to something much smaller. On all fours now, the breeze dances sweetly against her fur, Ajani howls at the moon.

Immense love and support radiates from the outer circle, filling Ajani’s heart. It’s always been her and Adrian against the world. Now, she feels full, nourished; the most supported she’s ever been in her life.

Moved by the experience, Zola and Dessi take a second to gather themselves and conclude the ritual. They thank the spirits, the ancestors, and the land. Once closing prayers are done, they set the final offerings.

Dessi enters the circle and caresses Ajani’s ears. Ajani’s wolf eyes are the same color as Sela’s wolf eyes. Dessi wipes her tears. She sees Sela in Ajani. “It’s done Ajani. Go, run, be with the moon.”

Without a thought, her wolf body leading the way, Ajani takes off running toward the woods.

The next evening

After a heart warming morning with everyone, Ajani, Zola and Izara take the long drive back home. The few things Ajani left at Zola’s they decide to get later. The first priority is getting back, getting everyone on the same page and acting on the plan to find Adrian.

The Miller pack gathered good intel while Ajani was away, they even narrowed down the site of 2 possible Maverick camps. But getting any closer too soon could blow their cover and tip the Maverick pack off to their presence. With Ajani’s wolf side free, she could track down her brother's scent with ease and narrow in on his location.

During the drive, Ajani dozes off. Last night was amazing, she can’t compare the feeling of running wild in the woods as a wolf to any single thing she’s ever experienced in her life. Now she understood why Adrian loved being in wolf form as much as he could, it’s a freedom the human body alone could never know.

Ajani never imagined, in a million years her hunt for Adrian could lead to all this; finally seeing her parents with her own eyes, unlocking her true full essence and being one of three I’ah Sa’s in the world. Now, only one thing is missing, Adrian.

“We’ll find him.” Izara soothes her, glancing at her briefly through the rear view mirror.

Ajani sits up. Her connection and draw to Izara was instant. Ajani is grateful for her guidance, her help, to have her here for one of the single most important moments of her life.

All three of them, with Dessi’s input, came up with the plan they think is best. It was possible the Maverick pack employed a witch to hide their movements, it would explain why Ajani's tracking spells aren't working before.

“Ajani, once we present the plan to the pack, that’s it, no going back. Are you sure about this?” Izara asked.

“Yes. I’ve always been willing to do anything to find my brother. Now I feel the most capable I’m ever going to be to do it.”

“We may not get to you the first night, depending on how far they’ve moved.” Zola adds.

“I can handle it. One night in a Maverick camp? Easy.” Ajani shrugs playfully.

Zola grins, “if anyone can handle it, it’s you. You have just become twice as powerful as you were before the ritual. Our telepathic communication will be the only way for us to communicate without blowing your cover.”

Ajani agrees. “For sure. It helps the pack maintain the element of surprise.” She gazes out the window. “Once I’m inside, I’ll send all the intel to Zola. Set the barrier, weaken them, and remove the barrier when you guys move in. As for the magic, whenever I weaken, Dessi and Zola can help power me back up.”

“One more thing,” Ajani turns from the window and meet’s Izara’s eyes through the rear view mirror, “whatever you do, when you get back, you cannot get marked. The Mavericks won’t take you in. Just saying.”

Ajani chuckles, feeling slightly embarrassed. She loved Izara’s bluntness, and sometimes it made her feel like a teen girl talking to her mom. Still, she knew exactly what Izara was referring to.

A million thoughts and feelings run through her body and mind, including thoughts of Will. She was ready to pounce on him before, now, the carnival desire inside of her is like a wildfire. Ajani had a lot to do, they were far from done, but she really needed to relieve herself.

Ajani’s face heats up. The new line of thoughts in her mind make her breath hitch. On her next inhale, she could smell Will’s scent; earthy, woody, clean with a hint of spice. Ajani's thoughts overpower her mind as she breathes in his phantom scent.

Izara askes her a question, it pulls her back to the present. “Yes mom?” She asks in a silly voice. Both women laugh in response.

“Zola, Dessi and myself were talking. You need to ensure you do not smell like any of us before heading to Maverick territory. We’ve strengthened the protective barrier around Adrian, he’ll be fine. Tonight will be your last night with us.”

Zola continues where Izara left off, “You need to spend sunrise to sunset tomorrow alone, as deep in the woods as you can. Far away from Miller territory and any other wolves. Emerge from the woods at sunset, and follow your brother's scent. You wont need to do much, your nose will lead you to them. Just, make yourself seen. They will approach you.”

Ajani takes a deep breath and nods, “okay.”

Izara leads next, “I have some human friends setting up a go car for you as we speak. No wolves have been near anything in the car. Water, food, clothes. Enough for three days, but you don't need that much time.”

Ajani places a hand over her heart and breathes into it. Finally, the time has come. A second wave of tiredness moves through her body. Ajani lays on the back seat again, and closes her eyes.

Next - preview and A03 link

…

Meet the Kaara Family 💕

Ajani & her wolf 💕

Tags (those who showed interest. If you want to be added, ask below) @clydesducktape @princessxkenobi @kalondarling @aria725 @hopeamarsu @gallowsjoker @rayslittlekitten @youflickedtooharddamnit

#fic: wisteria and moonlight #Will miller #werewolf Will miller #magical stories with black leads #arte original

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