#shifters au

[auroramoon-draws16]

Alright fellas, not a crossover, but I got the goods

Assassin’s Creed Shifters AU

Eagle vision? Nah, full Eagle at will.

I mean, duh, they still have Eagle Vision, they get all the good shit, but they can also turn into a bird at will. It’s not always an eagle, but most of the time it’s raptors. Unless you’re the Frye twins, because Corvids, caw caw bitch.

Desmond freaked the fuck out the first time he shifted, he knew about it, sure, but hell if turning into a goddamn bird wasn’t something to lose your shit about.

Assassins through history could turn into birds at will to help scope their prey- I mean targets- fuck with the Templar’s plans, and get to places faster. (Leonardo would have loved that shit, Ezio, go help your homie learn to fly)

Although that means it’s anyone who have Eagle Vision strong enough can Shift.That means arial fights, claw each other to death bitch.

Also getting kidnapped while shifted and shoved into a cage, look, it’s hard to shift back to human form in small spaces without horrific consequences. Luckily, Assassins keep their human minds while shifted. Oh you wanna keep me hostage? Bitch, I’ll be a fucking problem.

On a lighter note: bird instincts. The best Assassins have them and it can be hilarious.

Have fun fellas!

[f1-disaster-bi]

Oh please put the little fox in a jumper 🥺🥺🥺

Oh I so want to anon!

Just Pierre getting Lando a little sweater when it's coming into the colder months and races because he can sometimes see Lando shivering in his little fox form. He knows Lando can be cuddled or make a den out of blankets but then he sees a little Christmas sweater for small animals and Pierre can't resist.

He catches Lando when he's sleepy and Lando just thinks Pierre is moving him about until he realises that it was a TRICK and he's wearing a JUMPER.

Little fox Lando would be so offended. He'd just stand stock still, showing a tooth and not moving a muscle because he does not like it. He'd be the one that takes one step and falls over and glares at Pierre who is going "but you look so cute!"

[ktwritesstuff]

Nothing Else Matters (a Triple Frontier shifters AU)

Title: Nothing Else Matters Fandom: Triple Frontier Rating: Explicit Characters & Pairings: Reader x Triple Frontier Boys reverse harem style Word Count: ~2,000 Summary: Your faves are werewolves and you get to pork them. And you are also a werewolf. Yeah. That's pretty much it. Beta-read by the incomparable @bs-fangirl. Additional content notes below the cut.

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six

Content Notes: No sexy times in this chapter, but issuing a content warning for some medical drama, my total lack of understanding of the Spanish language, and completely made up shifter nonsense.

Chapter One

Three weeks ago you were convinced Santiago was dead.  And now you were holed up in his safehouse in St. John while he led the rest of your pack on a suicide mission through the Columbian jungle.  You hadn’t been keen on being left alone with the baby in unfamiliar territory, but you didn’t dare complain.  You might have been able to convince Frankie to sit this one out–he had a good heart and he was fiercely protective of baby Luna–but you couldn’t ask that of him.  Not after landing the both of you in hot water for getting pregnant against your Alpha’s wishes.  

You tried not to wonder why the trip that was supposed to last 5 days had stretched out to two weeks, but it was hard not to imagine all the things that could have gone wrong.  Some nights you woke alone in a strange bed so frightened it was all you could do to wake Luna and encourage her to nurse until you could barely keep your eyes open.  

You were relieved when the boys’ boat finally pulled into the dock, until you saw the state that Will was in–bleeding from his stomach, barely able to stand on his own.

You searched their faces for clues to what had happened: Will pale and in pain, Benny agitated and fretting over his brother, Santiago was stern, nearly impossible to read, and Frankie just seemed sad.  You counted them again: four.

“Where’s Tom?”

Santiago pointed to a human-sized bundle of canvas tied with rope at the back of the boat.  A wave of dizziness and nausea washed over you as the realization set in.  You leaned on one of the dock’s pylons to support yourself.     

You felt your wolf, Ginger, raging inside you.  You took deep breaths to calm her, knowing that Ironhead was more than likely scratching at Will’s nervous system, eager to be free.  Seeing Ginger, smelling her, feeling her anguish would certainly push him over the edge.  But letting Ironhead out now would do more harm than good.

“Get him up to the house and get my kit,” you instructed.  Your anxiety dissipated as your whole world narrowed to a single purpose: taking care of your pack.

Benny set Will down on the chair in the main room and helped to remove his shirt.  You grimaced, peeling back the hemostatic dressing to find a bullet hole still seeping blood and pus.  You poured wound wash over the damaged skin and pressed fresh gauze against the wound.  Ironhead growled and snapped at you–fangs and claws bared–before Will could get him back under control.

“I know,” you said as calmly as you could manage.  “I know it hurts.  Stay with me.”  

In the tiny nursery–the outdated butler’s pantry, just big enough for a bassinet and your nursing chair–Luna woke and began to cry.  The sound made Will lurch with the effort of keeping Ironhead contained.

“Frankie,” you called.  “Get the baby.  Frankie, the baby!”

From across the room, Frankie stared at you blankly, still deep in shock.  You instructed Benny to keep the pressure on the wound and went to the nursery to fetch Luna.  Seeing you, she stopped crying in earnest, but still fussed for comfort and attention.  

“Francisco!” you snapped, carrying the baby out to her father.  “Escúchame!”

Frankie’s eyes finally focused on you as you handed Luna off to him.  He clutched her to his chest, cradling her head in his hand and breathing in the familiar smell of her–like fresh powder and breast milk.  His breathing and pulse began to slow.  Catfish grounded and soothed by being reunited with his beloved pup.  

“Take her,” you instructed.  “I need to stitch Will up and get him regulated.  If he shifts now, he will tear that wound wide open. You understand?”

“No,” Frankie protested, trying to hand her back to you.  “I can’t.”

“Yes you can,” you said.  “You are her father.  I need you to do this.”

Frankie nodded, rallying himself to take Luna to the kitchen so you could stitch Will’s wound.  

Stomach wounds were so complex, without imaging or exploratory surgery it was impossible to know the full extent of the damage.  But the truth was, even with a shifter’s regenerative capabilities, if the kidneys or bladder were involved Will would be dead already. He was feverish, so you gave him an injection of acetaminophen to try to bring down his temperature and help with the pain.  An IV would be better, but you weren’t set up for that here.

“Can you swallow?” you asked, opening a bottle of antibiotics to show him the size of the pills.

“Don’t worry, man,” Benny said, trying to soothe himself with humor.  “If you can't, we'll give you the suppository.”

Will rolled his eyes, accepting the pills with a glass of water.  “I can swallow.”   

“Benny, can you get him out of these wet clothes and into bed?” you asked.  “I’ll be right in, I’m just going to put on a pot of tea.”

“You got it,” Benny agreed, snapping to attention, happy to be given a task.

As the youngest member of your pack–before Luna came along–he could be irresponsible, impulsive, and self-indulgent, but he always knew when to buckle down and get things done.   

“Come here,” you urged.  “Give me a kiss.  You’re doing a good job.  You’re a good brother.  I’m proud of you.”  

Benny stooped to place a kiss at the corner of your mouth and you helped him lift Will out of the chair.  As they hobbled to the bedroom you went to the kitchen to put on the kettle.

“How is he?” Frankie asked, bouncing Luna on his knee as she fussed and reached for you.  

A shifter’s wolf was a natural part of their sympathetic nervous system, but like an elevated heartbeat or increased blood pressure, it could also be maladaptive.  The change took years to master without losing yourself to the animal and even then required an incredible amount of energy, energy that Will needed to heal.   

“Bleeding’s stopped,” you explained.  “But he’s not out of the woods yet.  Fighting one hell of an infection.  May need stronger antibiotics than what I have to give him.  If it goes septic we’ll have a feverish, pissed off Ironhead on our hands.”

“Tell me what you need,” Santiago said–the first words he had spoken to you in over three years.  “I’ll get it.”  

You turned away from him, returning your attention to warming up a bottle for Luna as you waited for the kettle.  You would be the first to admit, you hadn’t gone out of your way to bridge the gap between you after he had essentially waltzed back into your lives with a hand grenade after years off the grid.  But if this was his feeble attempt at repairing what he had broken, he would have to do better than that.

“I’m going to stay with Will tonight,” you explained.  “I need you to look after Luna.”

“Can’t Benny watch him?” Frankie pleaded, rising from the table as he shushed Luna anxiously.  “She wants you.”

“Benny has never calmed anyone in his life,” you said.  “And we need Will calm, Frankie.  You will be fine.  She’s just hungry.  Give her a bottle and rock her, play with her for a bit and put her to bed.  There’s toys and clean nappies in the nursery.  It will be good for you both.” 

You went to Frankie, holding Luna between you, wondering what the hell had gone on out there that had him so on edge.

“I love you.  I trust you.”  You held Frankie’s scruffy, bearded face and kissed him.  His lips tasted like salt and copper pennies.

You poured the tea and checked the temperature of Luna’s bottle before handing it off to Frankie.  You went back to the bedroom, thankful you had missed the ordeal of getting Will undressed and settled into bed.

“Thank you, Benny,” you said.  “I can take over; you need your rest.”

“Are you sure?” Benny asked, adding soto voce, “He’s pretty agitated.”

“I can still hear you, Benny,” Will snapped.

“I can handle your brother,” you assured him, giving the taut muscle of his arm as squeeze with your free hand.  “Eat something, try to get some sleep.”

Will growled and shifted uncomfortably in bed as his brother left.

“Where’s Luna?”

“She’s with her father,” you said, taking a careful seat beside him on the bed, holding the back of your hand against his face.

“Frankie doesn’t know shit about taking care of a kid,” Will protested.

"He'll be fine,” you insisted, taking a cold compress from your bag and holding it to the pulse point on his throat.  “You're the one I'm worried about.  You want something else for the pain?" 

Will shook his head.  ""M fine."

You sighed in frustration at Will’s pigheadedness.  Toughing out the pain made Ironhead that much harder to soothe.  You undressed and slid under the covers beside him, pressing yourself against his side.  His bare skin was hot and clammy.

"How's that?"

"Better," he nodded, putting an arm around you.

"I should put you on NPO," you warned, handing him the cup of tea from the bedside table.  "But as it stands you need the fluids. You lost quite a bit of blood."

"I'll make more," Will said, sipping the bitter tea.

"At least you haven't lost your sense of humor,” you said.  “Tell me what happened.”

Will related the whole mess to you: how they all got greedy at the sight of all that money, but Redfly most of all.  That Frankie blamed himself for the helicopter crash, for the deaths of the cocaine farmers, for not putting his foot down when the load was too heavy for the chopper.  That the son of one of the murdered farmers had followed them to seek revenge against Tom.  That they had to cross the Andes on foot and fight their way through an army of child soldiers to get to their boat.  That at the time, being shot in the altercation with Lorea was the least of their worries. 

“Is that so,” you sighed.  Having gone through all that it was a wonder he hadn’t thrown a clot, or worse.  “Any other symptoms? Headache?  Chest Pain? Nausea?”

Will shook his head, taking another gulp of tea.

“Dare I ask when was the last time you took a shit?” 

Will chuckled, just a little.  "You don't want to know."

“You have to tell me if the pain gets worse,” you warned.  “You understand?”

The bullet had gone straight through him, so at least it wasn’t tearing him apart on the inside while they were traipsing through the Andes.  

“All those speeches you give to new recruits, do you ever tell them about this part?”

Of course everyone loved hearing the story about assaulting a man into pissing himself at the Piggly Wiggly.  It made them feel powerful, cool even, paradoxically in control.  They were far less interested in the very real possibility of watching their friends die.

“About beautiful women asking about their bowel movements?” Will scoffed.  “No.  Definitely not.”

“I thought the whole point was to keep it real,” you carefully leaned your head on his chest.  You could feel his heart pounding

“Nobody wants it kept that real.”  

"Here," you said, taking his hand and placing it on your chest so he could feel your heartbeat.  "Does that feel like the heartbeat of someone in danger?  We're safe now; you can rest.  You brought them home."

"Not all of them," Will said with a pained grimace.

"I know.  I could kill Santiago for putting you through that."  

"Go easy on him," Will pleaded.  "He's hard enough on himself for all of us."  

"Well it certainly doesn't show," you said.  "He's cold to me.  Won’t even look me in the eye."

"Don't take it personal.  It's just--"  Will’s eyes flitted away from you like he didn't want to say.

"Spit it out."

"There was a woman.  In Columbia--"

"He can fuck who he wants," you scoffed.  “You know I don’t care about that.”

"A human woman."

A growl formed deep in your chest, but you swallowed it down, mindful of controlling your temper, but you were sure the momentary lapse in judgment wasn’t lost on Will or Ironhead.  

"He said it was nothing,” Will said.  “But he cared for her.  He had to send her away to keep her safe."

“Then it doesn’t matter anyway,” you said in a careful, measured tone as you took the empty mug from Will’s hands.

You both knew that with Tom gone the pack was vulnerable.  You needed Santiago now, as much as you hated to admit it.  If his loyalties were divided it would be disastrous for all of you.

You laid your head on Will’s chest, carefully snaking your arms around him to soothe yourself with his solidness.    

“Close your eyes now,” you said.  “You need sleep.” 

[anonbaph]

Byebye, Tiger Year~  Based on @vrishchikawrites‘s prompts of happy tiny Wifi enjoys time with his mother. I forgot to post these drawings before...

1. [Wifi] Dangling from the back of his robes, giggling up a storm as his huge tiger mom carries him around 2. Mommy tiger CSSR carrying a grinning toddler WWX

Mom is a siberian tiger, Wei is a mix golden tabby.

This is a prequel of last year’s Evil Farm’s tiger!Shifter AU, where tiny Wifi is found by Lans and discovered as a tiger too, and ; from a big combo with Evils on Discordia.

This drawing on Twitter. Want to support my art? Ko-hi ko-fi cohín | Currently taking 25 or 30usd commissions.

[f1-birb]

another little shifters fic for @f1-disaster-bi in the shifters au

Lando's response is immediate, little pink tongue poking out as the most human-like expression of disgust twists his face. He turns around, almost offended, flicking his tail as he turns to find someone else with gelato to ‘share’.

or Lando is on the hunt for ice cream

[voidstappen]

If I ever write another shifter story, @hornwolff might be the person that feeds me all the angst and gore ideas (I'm almost crying because of our poor Di 🥺😭)

[halfbakedideas]

i don’t know if shifter fics/AUs are really a thing in this fandom but i’ve got plans for one. so i have a question:

in a shifters AU, what animal would the 14th doctor be?

(asking because i’m indecisive and couldn’t decide.)

[silverhallow]

Chapter 23 of

🐺The Chief of All Muses🐺

Is now on ao3

[ghostlynimbus]

I want to write or do art

[i-love-you-just-the-same]

bear hybrid! price who stalks around your house at night, protecting you from whatever else might be lurking in the woods. you don't know that he is of course, but you should be more thankful when he shuts and locks your windows when you're asleep. occasionally you see him lumber on the edge of the forest, minding his own. he doesn't want to scare you, but he wants you to admire him, too.

wolf hybrid! simon that follows you everywhere (from a distance and he rarely lets you touch him). you were frightened at first of the big bad wolf, but when he takes you away from snakes and other dangers in the woods you learn to leave out some scraps for him. (he sleeps on your front step. won't enter the house yet.)

fox hybrid! johnny who regularly sneaks into your house to play in your blankets. the wildlife here is so friendly you're shocked, shouldn't they be frightened of you? however he sleeps under your bed and he's fine unless you try to kick him out. red fur is on everything, he seems unusually close to the wolf that looms around. loves scratches to the ears!

falcon hybrid! kyle who hovers in air around your house. he finds little trinkets for you and leaves them on your porch. he mostly hangs around price, but he will chirp greetings and steal bird feed from your feeders.

they protect you in different ways, trying to worm their way to your affections before they bed down in your abode for winter.

[tame-the-lion-writes]

reader x dog shifter 141 [pt.2]

(If you haven't seen it yet, here's part one.)

It’s been a couple weeks, and you’re starting to catch on to just how smart your dogs are.

Not that you know what they actually are—but they’ve got this weirdly human intelligence behind their eyes, and weirdly human personalities. The Great Dane likes to sit on the recliner in your living room, regal and commanding, often watching your front yard whenever the gardener would come over. The gardener’s son replaced him once for a job, leaving grass cuttings in the driveway, and he was all huffy about it. It amused you at first, but then you realized his judgement wasn’t reserved for strangers. He was even more huffy the time you accidentally burned a steak. (Jeez, since when was he a dad?) Not to mention the empty whiskey glasses he likes to keep around, but that's not right—dogs can't have alcohol, can they?

The German Shepherd, on the other hand, is surprisingly clingy—but not in a bump-into-your-leg or overtly cuddly kind of way. Instead, he follows you while never begging for attention, attentive and patient as though a soldier awaiting orders. You’ve been jump-scared one too many times by his presence, when you think you’re alone and he appears out of thing air. A massive giant of a dog, with paws as silent as a shadow. And he’s stubborn—doesn’t initiate contact, but you swear you’ve caught a subtle bashful glance. Especially when you scratch behind his ears and along the scar of his cheek and chin.

But what the Shepherd lacks in open affection, the Labrador makes up tenfold. He doesn't pester about it, though, simply hopping up to your side on the couch to curl up or placing his muzzle on top of your knees. Still, while probably the most obedient out of the four, you’ve seen him get roped into food heists with the Foxhound, or stalking as closely and silently as the Shepherd. Very much the little brother who tags along with whatever. But you can't stay mad at him for long, either—not when he knows how to apologize—bringing you a freshly chomped-off flower from the backyard whenever you get mad. Then he'll sit at your heels with a faint tail wag, whining 'til you're settled and appeased.

The Foxhound is perhaps the most talkative, in both a noisy and conversational way. His joy is unrelenting around you, and he greats you like you’d expect any other dog. Still, he’s awfully communicative. It’s how you’ve learned their names—with you wandering aloud what to call them, and him making faces at every suggestion. He eventually settled for playing retriever: playing charades by bringing you back bottles and bars of soap. For the Great Dane, he grabbed an old receipt from the trash. For the Shepherd, he threw on a sheet. He seemed awfully confused on what to do for the Labrador, though, and just kept whining as if in apology.

“So Soap, Price, Ghost, and…,” you trail off, glancing at the Labrador with a slight pout. “Oh, I’m sorry, boy. I really don’t know what to call you. And Soap here seems like he’s run out of braincells.”

Ghost snorts in amusement, which is returned by Soap’s unfettered glare.

The next morning, though, there really is no explanation as to how Soap learned the alphabet, how to write, or to arrange your bedsheets in the following name: GAZ.

_

Bonus Thoughts:

"Aha... what the fuck."

Price has face-palmed (face-pawed?) and Ghost just walks over and calmly almost slapstick-esque baps Soap on the head. Meanwhile, Gaz looks dejected, pressing his forehead to the front door, like he's expecting you to kick them out in the next five seconds.

Not that you would, of course—but we can queue the mild horror and existential questioning of what the hell these dogs actually are. You call your friend to rant about your theory—that they could be escapees from a top secret government laboratory, or spies from another country. She just says to enter them into a dog show, or make ‘em celebrities on social media.

[screamingviridianforest]

Smth smth thinking about reader being an escaped shifter experiment, escaped from the US to hide in Britain

You try to act like a normal civilian, but the urge to shift is building to be intolerable. So why fight it? It's easier to live as a cat anyway, maybe someone could take you in.

What you didn't expect was for 4 giant, bulky, military men to find you. They'd found you in an alleyway near a fish restaurant, searching for scraps. The one wearing the weird mask had been the one to pick you up.

Then, the other 3 rushed over after hearing your yowling. The damn masked bastard had you scruffed!

"I found a cat."

Wow. Brilliant observation.

"Simon, it's a stray."

"I was a stray."

There was a snort, "C'mon Cap, it's kinda cute, isn't it?"

You hiss indignantly, you were not an it! The one with a mohawk reaches out to you, letting you sniff his fingers.

"We do not need a cat, Soap don't touch it. Who knows what it has."

"It's too clean to be a stray, ah doubt it's a stray. Give 'er here, LT."

The masked man hands you over, and you're quick to scramble onto the mohawk man's shoulder, wrapping around his neck. You growl a little in your displeasure, but don't swat.

"See! Docile, little thing, aren't ya!"

[f1-disaster-bi]

https://www.instagram.com/reel/DBEi-U7isSF/?igsh=MTRvbzVwdGQ2NTk3cA==

I have never seen that 🥹🥹🥹 pierres dad seems lovely 🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷 that made me think of shifters au and him with litlle tiny fox lando 😍😍😍 he looks like a really warm hearted person so i guess he would absolutly love lando and lando loves him ❤️❤️❤️❤️

Stop that video is so cute!!!!

Pierre's dad seems so nice and friendly. His laugh is amazing. I bet he gives good hugs too 😂💖

Okay but Lando being so nervous to meet Pierre's family because he doesn't speak much French and he knows they don't speak much English. Pierre keeps reassuring him that it'll be okay, that he and his brothers are happy ro translate and fill any gaps but Lando is so nervous.

And then the moment they're introduced, Pierre's dad is just grinning and pulls Lando into a hug with a cheerful "my son" because he knows how happy Lando makes Pierre and that's all that matters to him. He just cares that his kids are happy 🥹

They chat in broken French and English, and it's just sweet and Pierre looks so happy to see them getting along and Lando's nerves just melt away because of how welcoming they are 🥹

[ktwritesstuff]

Nothing Else Matters (a Triple Frontier shifters AU) Chapter 4

Title: Nothing Else Matters Fandom: Triple Frontier Rating: Explicit Characters & Pairings: Reader x Triple Frontier Boys reverse harem style Word Count: ~2,000 Summary: Sexy times in the woods...

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 (below cut) | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6

Chapter Four

Back in the day, whenever the boys were home from deployment you would spend full moons at the Miller family cabin in South Carolina. It was your favorite place in the world, so lush and green, no one else around for miles. Just you and your pack, running, hunting, with nothing to do but follow your instincts and appetites. Those happy days were few and far between now, so when Tom let you get away, you were sure to take full advantage.

While the boys drank around the bonfire, you ran. Ginger caught the scent of a stag about a mile from the cabin and you followed it across the mountain. You felt so strong and free, you wished it could be like this always.

You finally caught up to the deer, a young eight-point buck, fat and healthy. You stalked it silently on velvety paws, waiting in the shadows. At just the right moment you leapt, teeth sinking into the stag’s throat, warm blood filling your mouth, tearing with fangs and claws until you lost yourself to the animal inside.

You woke to the sensation of a cold, wet nose proding between your thighs. You opened your eyes to find a compact, gray wolf snuffling against your bare skin. Your mouth and hands were stained with blood from the deer carcass torn open beside you, Ginger already having dug out the best bits from her kill.

Ironhead lapped at your belly and pressed his snout into your groin.

“Knock it off,” you said, pushing him away. Ironhead huffed, shaking his large head.

“You shouldn’t be out here alone,” Will warned, shifting back as you stretched your limbs, painfully stiff from spending the night on the ground.

“I’m not alone,” you teased, taking one of the deer’s forelegs in your hand and waving it at Will.

“You disgust me,” Will said, sinking to his knees beside you.

“You like it,” you said, placing a hand on his head, drawing him into a lazy kiss.

Will moaned against your mouth, holding your face in his hands as he climbed over you. You snarled and snapped at him, digging your nails into the muscles of his arms. Will growled back fiercely, moving his hands to grip your thighs, pressing his body against yours as you scratched across his shoulders and down his arms.

Will pushed you back onto the moss-covered earth, panting and gasping between hard, hungry kisses. He took your throat in one hand, thumb tucked against the hinge of your jaw, forcing your teeth apart as his tongue delved toward your throat.

The morning air turned your damp skin to goose flesh. You braced your legs against his sides and pushed with all your strength to roll on top of him, pinning him to the earth.

Will grabbed your ass with both hands, hoisting you up and impaling you on his cock in one precise movement. You moaned at the sudden intrusion, pussy stretched so tight you could feel every pulse of his hard shaft. You rolled your hips against him instinctively, bracing your hands against his chest.

With a growl, Will flipped you onto your back, thrusting into you hard and fast. You bared your teeth, pulling his face toward yours, close enough that you were breathing the same air. Your muscles–already primed from the exhilaration of the hunt–coiled tighter, nerve endings on fire.

Your eyes rolled wildly, mouth hanging open, practically drooling with your orgasm. You sank your teeth into his shoulder in a firm love-bite to keep from crying out loud enough to scare all the game for miles.

Will pulled out of you, shuddering with his release, ribbons of cum coating your stomach and thighs. He rolled onto the grass beside you, draping an arm over you and burying his nose against your hair.

“You smell different,” Will said.

“Hmm?” you moaned, tracing the ridges of his muscles lazily.

“You smell different,” Will repeated. “Like booze. Not beer; sweeter…like whiskey.”

The boys had reached a consensus that you smelled like sex; at first it made you self-conscious, but they assured you it was pleasant. Animalic musk and warm floral, although they each described it a little differently. Will said it was like roses, Benny thought it was magnolias, and it reminded Frankie of marigolds.

To you each of the boys had a distinct smell as well. Tom smelled like stress, sour sweat and hops. Benny had a skin-like smell as well, but cleaner, one that reminded you of summer, like sunscreen and salt. Will smelled like old leather and dark earth, grounded and stable. Frankie smelled like Christmas, cardamom, nutmeg, and amber bourbon.

“You’re pregnant.” Will put the pieces together even before you did.

“What? How could you possibly know that? It’s barely been a week; I haven’t even missed a period.”

You laughed, even as you realized he must be right. Ironhead knew your body as well as you did, even better perhaps. Every curve, every freckle, every sweet spot cataloged in his fastidious mental map.

“I can smell it,” Will said, sniffing the crook of his own elbow and grimacing. “Ugh, it’s on me.”

“You can’t say anything,” you said. “Not yet.”

“What do you think is going to happen when I get back to the cabin smelling like I fucked Catfish,” Will said.

“It’s not that bad,” you said, tipping your nose toward your armpit.

“Speak for yourself,” Will said, scrubbing his chest with a handful of long grass. “I need a shower.”

“You can take that back with you,” you said, nodding to the deer.

“What’s left of it.” Will rolled his eyes, shouldering the carcass, setting off through the woods still buck-ass naked.

“Put on some pants!” You laughed, calling after him. “Before you get poison ivy on your dick.”

Ironhead’s pronouncement had set something off inside you, something you had tried to keep at bay until now. Hope that something you had wanted for so long was finally coming to fruition. But you knew the odds better than anyone, something like a third of all pregnancies ended in miscarriage within the first weeks. You didn’t feel pregnant–no nausea or fatigue or unusual sensitivity–you worried that might mean something was amiss, but there was nothing you could do. You took your time getting up, surveying your body for any strange, new sensations. You set off yourself for where your clothes were stashed before returning to the house for a shower and a long nap in a proper bed.

You were woken by the sound of fighting, growls and snarls and pained whimpers, and ran out to the porch to see what was the matter.

Redfly had his teeth in Catfish’s haunches, fangs tearing through flesh as Catfish whimpered in pain, he squirmed and broke free, rolling over to show his belly in submission only for Redfly to pounce on him again. You ran to stop the fighting, but Will caught you by the waist to hold you back.

“Let it happen,” he warned, holding you in his vice-like grip.

“What did you do?” you screamed, trying to push him away. “Let me go!”

You beat your fists against Will’s chest futilely as the fighting went on. Enraged that he had gone to Tom after you had explicitly asked him not to, even before you had a chance to talk to Frankie. But there was no other explanation; Tom was too oblivious to your needs and desires to have figured it out on his own.

You figured that Will was jealous–jealous that you had gotten the child you wanted without him and he wanted to punish you for it. And poor Frankie was caught in the crossfire.

Benny’s huge gray wolf bounded out of the woods to see what was the matter, inadvertently charging headlong into the scuffle. As Redfly snapped at Benny, warning him to back off, Frankie managed to get far enough away to shift back, holding his hands out, still bleeding, lying naked in the dirt.

“I’m sorry,” he said frantically. “I’m sorry. Jesus. Just tell me what I did.”

Will let you go and you ran to Frankie, falling on your knees beside him, using the end of your nightgown to put pressure on the deepest wounds.

Tom shifted back, his eyes just as sharp and dangerous as his wolf’s. You returned his gaze in kind, refusing to look away first.

“She’s fucking pregnant,” Tom said, wiping the sweat from his face with the back of his arm. “You stupid asshole.”

Frankie’s face softened, his mouth falling open as he turned to you.

“Oh.”

Benny pulled himself up on the porch steps, still recovering from the effort of the shift, both hands knotted through his hair, eyes wide at the realization.

“I’m an uncle.”

“Dumbass,” Will rolled his eyes, smacking his brother lightly on the back of the head

You sighed, looking down as Frankie watched you with concern.

“It wasn’t supposed to be like this,” you said.

“Oh,” Frankie gasped again, eyes wide as the news finally sank in.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” you said, helping Frankie to his feet, supporting him on the way up to the house. You took him to your bedroom and made him lie down so you could examine him.

Most of the wounds were superficial, scratches and nips, but there were some deep punctures on the backs of his legs and hip that would need stitches. You cleaned the wounds and got most of the bleeding stopped.

“Hold still,” you instructed.

Frankie was laying on his stomach while you did your best to stitch up the ragged wounds on the back of his legs. It had been a while since you had to break out your suture kit, which was surprising given Benny’s penchant for letting his MMA opponents tire themselves out by using him as a punching bag before overtaking them.

“This is ridiculous,” Frankie moaned. “I should be taking care of you, not the other way around.”

“Don’t worry about that now,” you said.

“So what happens next?” he asked, the anguish apparent in his voice as much as he tried to hide it.

“We get you wrapped up and put you to bed,” you warned. “You’re going to be feeling this for a few days.”

You tied off the last set of stitches and did your best to cover the area with gauze and medical tape.

“I mean with the baby,” Frankie said. “Are you going to keep it?”

“Of course I’m going to keep it,” you said, ripping a piece of tape with a little more force than necessary. “What kind of question is that?”

“Oh,” Frankie sighed, and despite the obvious pain he was in, you felt his whole body relax under your hands. “Thank you.”

“Thank you,” you teased, slapping his bottom gently. “You think I would have fucked you if I wasn’t willing to have your baby?”

“You could have had anyone,” he said. “You picked me. I won’t let you down. I promise.”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” you said, retrieving an ice pack to keep down the swelling. “It’s only been a few days. A lot can happen in the coming weeks; there’s no sense making plans until things are more stable.”

You covered him with a blanket, carefully sitting down beside him, combing your fingers through his dark hair.

“I mean it,” Frankie said. “I’m going to make this right. I’ll take care of you.”

Frankie turned onto his side, laying a protective hand on your belly. Your first instinct was to admonish him, but looking down at his big, brown eyes you realized you didn’t have the heart to tell him no.

“I know you will,” you agreed, placing one hand over his. “But not alone. We have our pack. And so will she.”

“She?” Frankie grinned up at you. “Like you said, it’s only been a few days.”

“I have a feeling.”

[the-east-art]

Grandparents say the most out of pocket shit about their past like it’s no big deal

[f1-birb]

Have a little drabble my dear to make you smile into the carpet instead;

"Lando, what did you do?"

Two little mischievous eyes stare up at Pierre, blinking innocently. His head is tilted as if the little fox is trying to say "me? Do something? I would never!", but the little blue paw prints across the kitchen floor are all the evidence Pierre needs.

Never mind the fact that Lando himself is dyed a weird shade of blue from whatever it is mixing with his furs natural colour.

There's a little broken bottle of blue food colouring from when they had tried to bake a cake for Pierre’s nephews birthday on the floor, and a cupboard door is pried open.

"What were you doing in there?", Pierre laughed, crouching down to scratch between Lando's ears, earning him a little pleased chuff, "You're so cute"

Lando nips at his fingers in disagreement before trailing blue paw prints to the other side of the counter where there's a ripped apart bag of flour.

He looks so proud as he rolls in it despite the way Pierre knows his eye is twitching, torn between amusement, surprise and despair at knowing he'd have to clean up both this and his now blue and flour covered boyfriend.

thank you Emmy 🥺🫶