As outlined in this post right here, this is more of a WIP list than a true Masterlist. I do have links to my finished works as well as the 1 on-going. I removed the Keep Reading because the length has been significantly cut down, but if it gets up there again, I'll add it back.
Link to my AO3 for those that prefer that.
I tend to forget I have an account on there until someone comments on something I have posted, then I remember to update.
Completed Works
Null Pairing Incubus!Charles Brandon x Asexual OFC Anna Williams.
20 Chapters
Chimera Captain Syverson x Mercenary Captain OFC Amelia Jones
13 Chapters
Feral Instincts Werewolf Reverse Harem with "The Rogues Gallery" Syverson, Mike, Walter Marshall, August Walker, Geralt of Rivia x OFC Stephanie Daniels
32 Chapters
Alternate Instincts A "What-if" of Feral Instincts. Not a direct sequel, you can read one separately from the other and still know what's going on.
Werewolf Reverse Harem with "The Rogues Gallery" Syverson, Mike, Walter Marshall, August Walker, Geralt of Rivia x OFC Stephanie Daniels
33 Chapters
Blood Moon Werewolf!Syverson x Vampire!OFC Annalisa Caulfield
29 Chapters
On-Going Works
Once in a Blue Moon Werewolf Reverse Harem with "The Rogues Gallery" Syverson, Mike, Walter Marshall, August Walker, Geralt of Rivia x OFC Samantha Graves
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She was awake, staring up at the ceiling. Samantha knew she should be sleeping, but with the interro—interview in the morning, nerves were keeping her awake. She didn’t know what exactly would be asked, but she could guess that the questions would be aggressive bordering on offensive. They would try to anger them, to reveal their “true faces”, the “demons” they believed wolves to be. She wouldn’t give them that satisfaction, and she knew the others wouldn’t as well. Their resolve, their strength, was so much more than her own.
There was a slight shift next to her and Napoleon moved closer, his lips pressing to her shoulder bared by the nightgown she wore.
“You should get some rest.” He pointed out.
“Says the person also still awake.”
“I can run on little sleep with no issue.” He said, “You will be their focus, so you should be rested for it.”
“I never liked doing interviews.” She admitted, “Never liked being on camera. Jonathan always did most of the talking with these things. I was instructed to only speak when spoken to, and they almost never cared what I had to say.”
“I’ll be there to steer the conversation should it start making you uncomfortable or take a turn for the worst.”
“I know.” She said with a sigh, reaching for him under the blanket and finding his hand with her own, his fingers tightening around hers. Taking his hand from hers, he reached up, holding the side of her jaw and turning her face towards him so he could kiss her, her eyes closing at the slide of his lips against hers. She held his wrist gently as she returned his affections.
Sy walked to the front door the next day as the doorbell tone rang through the house, tugging his sleeves straight before opening it. He already knew the jacket would probably get ditched before the day was out and the sleeves rolled up his forearms, Napoleon would just have to deal.
“Mornin’.” He said, looking at the camera crew outside. “Why don’t y’all come in and we’ll get this kicked off.”
“And you are?” The woman in front asked as he stepped aside to let them in.
“Bryan Syverson.” He said, “Call me Sy, everyone does.”
“Where is Mrs. Graves?” She asked, looking around cautiously.
“Out back.” He said, leading them through the house towards the kitchen, “She was feelin’ a bit restless, so she and Mikey are throwin’ a ball around.” They emerged from the kitchen and out into the expansive backyard. Samantha was on the patio by the pool, a lever in her hand that she raised over her head, flinging it forward, a bright tennis ball flying a considerable distance through the air. A sleek black wolf took off full speed after it, kicking up grass and skidding slightly as he came to a stop, grabbing the ball in his mouth and running back.
“I didn’t know she had a dog.”
“Oh, no.” Sy said with a snort, “That’s my brother, Mike.”
“That’s your...brother.” A cameraman said, his small camera already out and filming and Sy nodded.
“My baby brother, yeah.” He said and gave a shrill whistle through his teeth. “Company’s here! Wrap it up!” He saw Samantha’s eyes move to the crew, her smile faltering slightly before coming back, but far more controlled this time instead of genuine. Mike ran past her at a decent pace before jumping into the pool with a splash, disappearing under the water before emerging again at the edge, pushing himself up out of the pool and shaking his head to get water out of his hair, having shifted back while under the water.
“Wish you wouldn’t do that.” Samantha said, “You got grass and sticks in the pool.”
“I’ll run the skimmer later.” He said, wrapping the towel that had been on a lounge chair around his hips.
“Go get dressed, Fido.” Sy said and Mike stuck his tongue out at him as he jogged past them into the house after pressing a kiss to Samantha’s cheek.
“I didn’t know wolves played fetch.” The cameraman said.
“Oh, we don’t.” Sy said, “I keep tellin’ him it ain’t dignified, but fuck it if that boy listens to a damn thing I say.”
“How old is he?”
“He’ll be twenty-five in the summer.”
“How old are you?”
“Thirty-six in the fall.” Sy said and Samantha stepped into her shoes after putting away the ball and toy. Going over to him, her arm slid over his waist and he looked down at her fondly as he held her shoulder. “Feel a bit better?”
“A bit.” She admitted. “Should we get started? We can do this out here or inside. I don’t mind either way.”
“We’re setting up in the living room.” The cameraman said and she nodded before looking back at Sy.
“Are the others ready?” She asked.
“August, Walt, and Napoleon should be and —here’s Geralt.” They looked over as he emerged from the pool house, straightening his tie, Samantha going to him and running her hands over his suit jacket.
“You look handsome.” She said and he gave her a soft smile.
“What about me?” Sy asked and she gave him a look that made him snort in amusement.
“And this is?” The woman asked.
“Geralt Rivian.” He said simply. “You’re Olivia Rogers?”
“Yes, how—”
“Solo told us you’d be conducting the interview.” He said, “Let’s go inside.”
“What do you do, Mr. Rivian?” Olivia asked as they walked back into the house and Geralt blinked at her.
“I kill things.” He said with about as much tact as a brick.
“Geralt is a Tracker with the Pack Council.” Samantha clarified, “He works with law enforcement to hunt down Feral wolves.”
“I—I see.” Olivia said, having gone a bit pale under Geralt’s steady amber gaze. “Sounds like dangerous work.”
“It is.” He said, “But that’s not why you’re here.”
“You kill your own kind?” A cameraman asked.
“Ferals are not “my own kind”. They’re dangerous and should be dealt with quickly.” Geralt said.
“Again, Geralt works with law enforcement, both local and federal to hunt down these wolves and make sure they can’t hurt anyone else, human or wolf.” Samantha said. “He protects people.”
“He just said he kills other wolves for a living.” Olivia said, “A wolf is a wolf.”
“They’re not—” He stopped as Samantha’s hand curled around his fingers, his jaw clenching.
“Geralt isn’t why you’re here.” She said, “I am. You will direct any and all questions towards me. It was already agreed upon that the questions would only pertain to my impending divorce from Pastor Graves.”
She was awake, staring up at the ceiling. Samantha knew she should be sleeping, but with the interro—interview in the morning, nerves were keeping her awake. She didn’t know what exactly would be asked, but she could guess that the questions would be aggressive bordering on offensive. They would try to anger them, to reveal their “true faces”, the “demons” they believed wolves to be. She wouldn’t give them that satisfaction, and she knew the others wouldn’t as well. Their resolve, their strength, was so much more than her own.
There was a slight shift next to her and Napoleon moved closer, his lips pressing to her shoulder bared by the nightgown she wore.
“You should get some rest.” He pointed out.
“Says the person also still awake.”
“I can run on little sleep with no issue.” He said, “You will be their focus, so you should be rested for it.”
“I never liked doing interviews.” She admitted, “Never liked being on camera. Jonathan always did most of the talking with these things. I was instructed to only speak when spoken to, and they almost never cared what I had to say.”
“I’ll be there to steer the conversation should it start making you uncomfortable or take a turn for the worst.”
“I know.” She said with a sigh, reaching for him under the blanket and finding his hand with her own, his fingers tightening around hers. Taking his hand from hers, he reached up, holding the side of her jaw and turning her face towards him so he could kiss her, her eyes closing at the slide of his lips against hers. She held his wrist gently as she returned his affections.
Sy walked to the front door the next day as the doorbell tone rang through the house, tugging his sleeves straight before opening it. He already knew the jacket would probably get ditched before the day was out and the sleeves rolled up his forearms, Napoleon would just have to deal.
“Mornin’.” He said, looking at the camera crew outside. “Why don’t y’all come in and we’ll get this kicked off.”
“And you are?” The woman in front asked as he stepped aside to let them in.
“Bryan Syverson.” He said, “Call me Sy, everyone does.”
“Where is Mrs. Graves?” She asked, looking around cautiously.
“Out back.” He said, leading them through the house towards the kitchen, “She was feelin’ a bit restless, so she and Mikey are throwin’ a ball around.” They emerged from the kitchen and out into the expansive backyard. Samantha was on the patio by the pool, a lever in her hand that she raised over her head, flinging it forward, a bright tennis ball flying a considerable distance through the air. A sleek black wolf took off full speed after it, kicking up grass and skidding slightly as he came to a stop, grabbing the ball in his mouth and running back.
“I didn’t know she had a dog.”
“Oh, no.” Sy said with a snort, “That’s my brother, Mike.”
“That’s your...brother.” A cameraman said, his small camera already out and filming and Sy nodded.
“My baby brother, yeah.” He said and gave a shrill whistle through his teeth. “Company’s here! Wrap it up!” He saw Samantha’s eyes move to the crew, her smile faltering slightly before coming back, but far more controlled this time instead of genuine. Mike ran past her at a decent pace before jumping into the pool with a splash, disappearing under the water before emerging again at the edge, pushing himself up out of the pool and shaking his head to get water out of his hair, having shifted back while under the water.
“Wish you wouldn’t do that.” Samantha said, “You got grass and sticks in the pool.”
“I’ll run the skimmer later.” He said, wrapping the towel that had been on a lounge chair around his hips.
“Go get dressed, Fido.” Sy said and Mike stuck his tongue out at him as he jogged past them into the house after pressing a kiss to Samantha’s cheek.
“I didn’t know wolves played fetch.” The cameraman said.
“Oh, we don’t.” Sy said, “I keep tellin’ him it ain’t dignified, but fuck it if that boy listens to a damn thing I say.”
“How old is he?”
“He’ll be twenty-five in the summer.”
“How old are you?”
“Thirty-six in the fall.” Sy said and Samantha stepped into her shoes after putting away the ball and toy. Going over to him, her arm slid over his waist and he looked down at her fondly as he held her shoulder. “Feel a bit better?”
“A bit.” She admitted. “Should we get started? We can do this out here or inside. I don’t mind either way.”
“We’re setting up in the living room.” The cameraman said and she nodded before looking back at Sy.
“Are the others ready?” She asked.
“August, Walt, and Napoleon should be and —here’s Geralt.” They looked over as he emerged from the pool house, straightening his tie, Samantha going to him and running her hands over his suit jacket.
“You look handsome.” She said and he gave her a soft smile.
“What about me?” Sy asked and she gave him a look that made him snort in amusement.
“And this is?” The woman asked.
“Geralt Rivian.” He said simply. “You’re Olivia Rogers?”
“Yes, how—”
“Solo told us you’d be conducting the interview.” He said, “Let’s go inside.”
“What do you do, Mr. Rivian?” Olivia asked as they walked back into the house and Geralt blinked at her.
“I kill things.” He said with about as much tact as a brick.
“Geralt is a Tracker with the Pack Council.” Samantha clarified, “He works with law enforcement to hunt down Feral wolves.”
“I—I see.” Olivia said, having gone a bit pale under Geralt’s steady amber gaze. “Sounds like dangerous work.”
“It is.” He said, “But that’s not why you’re here.”
“You kill your own kind?” A cameraman asked.
“Ferals are not “my own kind”. They’re dangerous and should be dealt with quickly.” Geralt said.
“Again, Geralt works with law enforcement, both local and federal to hunt down these wolves and make sure they can’t hurt anyone else, human or wolf.” Samantha said. “He protects people.”
“He just said he kills other wolves for a living.” Olivia said, “A wolf is a wolf.”
“They’re not—” He stopped as Samantha’s hand curled around his fingers, his jaw clenching.
“Geralt isn’t why you’re here.” She said, “I am. You will direct any and all questions towards me. It was already agreed upon that the questions would only pertain to my impending divorce from Pastor Graves.”
you could always add a Kardashian sized pantry and guest toilet or a big ass outdoor storage for all Sys tools 10 different axes 5 limited editions!? 🤣
with a special super secret hidden compartment ala Mr. and Mrs. Smith where August and Geralt keep all their guns
"Sy, why do you have a Zweihander?"
"For choppin' wood."
"Why would you use a two-handed--you know what? Never mind, I don't want to know."
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My tiktok fyp "cabin,cabin,cabin" then my search was "cabin" and those are big and smal and cossy!! Are SYs cabin in each story same cabin Or are they all different?
they're all basically the same but the layout would make an architect start drinking (how is there just a living room and kitchen downstairs, but five bedrooms and a bathroom upstairs? idfk)
Despite being turned away at the door, an interview was arranged in almost record time. Geralt and August were immediately against the idea, but Napoleon made the point that the longer they put it off or refused entirely, the more rumors would continue to spread and would grow into the realm of preposterous. As Jonathan was a public figure, rumors could potentially turn into a criminal investigation. They wouldn’t find anything, of course, but it would make their lives unnecessarily difficult. Sy made the suggestion that they move back to the cabin, but with the rumor already spreading that they were holding her captive, moving her to a secluded location in the mountains would only fan the flames.
According to Napoleon, her current wardrobe for media appearances was woefully inadequate and his tailor showed up one morning to get her measurements and speak to Napoleon about fabrics and styles. After a point made by Samantha about public appearances, the tailor took the measurements of the others as well. Can’t have her and Napoleon looking like a power couple during the sure to be live streamed interview while the others looked shabby and disorganized. If Jonathan wanted to wage a PR war on them, then they would arm themselves appropriately.
The tailor came back a couple days before the interview was scheduled with their clothes, all of them getting changed into them for the final fitting. Sy even said he would neaten his beard the day of.
“I look dapper as fuck.” Mike said, turning to look at himself in the full length mirror, the crisp white shirt tucked into black slacks. A simple waistcoat sans jacket would go over it and Napoleon already agreed to let him roll the sleeves up his forearms as a more relaxed appearance would fit his youthful looks.
“How do the shoulders feel?” The tailor asked as he was working on Sy and he shrugged, rolling his shoulders.
“Feels great. Don’t feel like I’m gonna pop a seam like I usually do in this type of getup.” Looking over, he gave a low whistle as Samantha emerged in her outfit, a black dress shirt and black pencil skirt that hugged her hips and thighs. “God damn.”
“You look amazing.” Napoleon said, going over to her, “Much better than those formless clothes you had already.”
“A Pastors wife has to look a certain way. Demure and plain.” She said with a shrug, not looking at him. “You all clean up very nice, by the way.”
“Right?” Mike said, still admiring himself in the mirror but stopped when he saw her in the reflection, turning around to look at her. “Uh, sweetcheeks? Do you have black framed glasses?”
“I’ve never needed glasses.” She responded, more than a little confused. “Why do you ask?”
“Because I’m getting naughty CEO vibes from you right now and I wanna be your intern who’s shit at his job and needs a performance review.” He said and Walter snorted so hard it sounded painful. Samantha just gave a small amused huff, her cheeks tinting slightly.
“Geralt, do you want me to braid your hair for it?” She asked, looking over at him as he adjusted the sleeves of the black suit coat with delicate silver pin-striping.
“I was going to keep it down.” He said simply but then seemed to think it over. “Can you trim the undercut?”
“Absolutely.” She said and went to him, running her fingers through the growth at the back of his head. “It is getting a bit long and you should look your intimidating best.” Going up on her toes, she pressed a kiss to his cheek, making a corner of his lips perk up slightly.
“August, you should—”
“I’m not getting rid of the mustache.” August said, cutting Napoleon off, “And I’m not shaving the beard.”
“You’re impossible.” Napoleon said, rolling his eyes.
“You’ve been trying to get me to get rid of the mustache since we met.” August said, “It’s not happening.”
“If you want to keep looking like a 1970’s adult film actor, that’s your prerogative.” Napoleon said.
“Said the James Bond wannabe.” August retorted.
“Boys,” Samantha said, “Behave.”
“He—” Napoleon started but she cut him off.
“Behave.” She said again, her voice taking a slightly deeper timbre and Geralt shuddered, Sy blinking heavily and shaking his head quickly. Napoleon’s brows raised slightly as he looked at her and she just stared right back until his eyes slid away.
“It’s been a while. I forgot how...strong female Alphas are.” He remarked and looked up at her when she approached him, that edge gone from her eyes and warmth bloomed in his chest, the urge to pull her into his arms taking him over quickly and he gave in, pulling her against his chest. He didn’t fail to notice how Augusts’ jaw tightened slightly, the other man stretching his neck with a tilt of his head.
“Shall I charge this to your account, Mr. Solo?” The tailor asked and Napoleon looked at him with a nod.
“Amazing work, as always.” He said, “I’ll contact you should any mishaps happen.” The tailor packed up and left after making closing pleasantries, Samantha thanking him as well on his way out the door, closing and locking it behind him.
“August, we need to talk.” She said, turning on him and he arched a brow at her.
“About?” He asked.
“Your...tenseness about Napoleon and I.” She said but he didn’t say anything.
“You’ve been broody.” Sy pointed out and August leveled a look at him that would have made a lesser wolf back up a step. Sy just stared right back unflinchingly.
“August, it was your pushing that made Napoleon tell me that I was his Mate,” Samantha pointed out, “So this...undercurrent of jealousy makes no sense. He told me that if you hadn’t pushed him to tell me, he wouldn’t have, so he’s only here because of you.”
“I didn’t want you to get hurt.” August said, “If you had realized that he was your Mate, but he never acknowledged it, it would have hurt you in the long run. Seeing him, knowing what he was to you, but him acting indifferent about it. Leon has...history when it comes to women, and I see him doing with you what he did with them.”
“Explain.” Samantha said.
“I wasn’t the best partner.” Napoleon admitted, “While infidelity has nothing to do with being a wolf, the fact that my previous lovers weren’t my Mate made it easier to go elsewhere. Sometimes those women were already with others when I did.”
“I see.” Samantha said, her eyes going to the floor.
“But you are my Mate, Samantha.” Napoleon said, going to her and holding her arms gently, “The thought of being with any woman but you disgusts me. It’s a repulsive idea that I will spare no energy entertaining. I wasn’t the best with them, but I will be with you.”
“Because I’m your Mate.”
“Exactly.”
“So if I wasn’t your Mate, would you have tried to—”
“No.” Napoleon said, cutting off that train of thought. “Because you are Augusts’ and the others. You are a beautiful woman, Samantha, but I would not have tried to seduce you away from them. It would have been futile anyway. You have your Mates, you won’t need or want anyone else. Besides, two of your Mates hunt and kill wolves for the Council and the other two were Special Forces for their respective militaries. Not only would it not look like murder, but I doubt my body would have even been found.”
“You ain’t wrong.” Sy said with a shrug.
“I just didn’t want you in pain, Sam.” August said, “I didn’t want him to hurt you.”
“And I won’t.” Napoleon said, “Ever.”
“This will probably come as no surprise to anyone, but Jonathan wasn’t faithful to me.” Samantha said, “He stopped hiding it from me after my second miscarriage, not that he really tried to begin with. I knew. When I asked him about it, he said that if I refused to fulfill my wifely duties and give him children, he would find someone who would, but divorce is still a sin, so...”
“But murder ain’t?” Sy asked, an edge to his voice.
“Murder?” Napoleon asked and with a nod from Samantha, Sy told him what Jonathan had done when she had tried to file for divorce the first time. “That bastard.”
“I can’t prove it.” She said, “But I know he did it. Or had it done.”
“Yeah I don’t see’im gettin’ his hands dirty.” Sy said, clicking his tongue against his teeth. “Probably hired someone.”
“Now I have even more incentive to crack the encryption on those files.” Napoleon said, “If he kept records, which I have a feeling he did as the man is too arrogant to believe he’d ever get caught, then I’ll have something to bury him with. The murder of an entire family will get him the needle.”
“I wonder if they’ll let one of us do it.” August mused.
Despite being turned away at the door, an interview was arranged in almost record time. Geralt and August were immediately against the idea, but Napoleon made the point that the longer they put it off or refused entirely, the more rumors would continue to spread and would grow into the realm of preposterous. As Jonathan was a public figure, rumors could potentially turn into a criminal investigation. They wouldn’t find anything, of course, but it would make their lives unnecessarily difficult. Sy made the suggestion that they move back to the cabin, but with the rumor already spreading that they were holding her captive, moving her to a secluded location in the mountains would only fan the flames.
According to Napoleon, her current wardrobe for media appearances was woefully inadequate and his tailor showed up one morning to get her measurements and speak to Napoleon about fabrics and styles. After a point made by Samantha about public appearances, the tailor took the measurements of the others as well. Can’t have her and Napoleon looking like a power couple during the sure to be live streamed interview while the others looked shabby and disorganized. If Jonathan wanted to wage a PR war on them, then they would arm themselves appropriately.
The tailor came back a couple days before the interview was scheduled with their clothes, all of them getting changed into them for the final fitting. Sy even said he would neaten his beard the day of.
“I look dapper as fuck.” Mike said, turning to look at himself in the full length mirror, the crisp white shirt tucked into black slacks. A simple waistcoat sans jacket would go over it and Napoleon already agreed to let him roll the sleeves up his forearms as a more relaxed appearance would fit his youthful looks.
“How do the shoulders feel?” The tailor asked as he was working on Sy and he shrugged, rolling his shoulders.
“Feels great. Don’t feel like I’m gonna pop a seam like I usually do in this type of getup.” Looking over, he gave a low whistle as Samantha emerged in her outfit, a black dress shirt and black pencil skirt that hugged her hips and thighs. “God damn.”
“You look amazing.” Napoleon said, going over to her, “Much better than those formless clothes you had already.”
“A Pastors wife has to look a certain way. Demure and plain.” She said with a shrug, not looking at him. “You all clean up very nice, by the way.”
“Right?” Mike said, still admiring himself in the mirror but stopped when he saw her in the reflection, turning around to look at her. “Uh, sweetcheeks? Do you have black framed glasses?”
“I’ve never needed glasses.” She responded, more than a little confused. “Why do you ask?”
“Because I’m getting naughty CEO vibes from you right now and I wanna be your intern who’s shit at his job and needs a performance review.” He said and Walter snorted so hard it sounded painful. Samantha just gave a small amused huff, her cheeks tinting slightly.
“Geralt, do you want me to braid your hair for it?” She asked, looking over at him as he adjusted the sleeves of the black suit coat with delicate silver pin-striping.
“I was going to keep it down.” He said simply but then seemed to think it over. “Can you trim the undercut?”
“Absolutely.” She said and went to him, running her fingers through the growth at the back of his head. “It is getting a bit long and you should look your intimidating best.” Going up on her toes, she pressed a kiss to his cheek, making a corner of his lips perk up slightly.
“August, you should—”
“I’m not getting rid of the mustache.” August said, cutting Napoleon off, “And I’m not shaving the beard.”
“You’re impossible.” Napoleon said, rolling his eyes.
“You’ve been trying to get me to get rid of the mustache since we met.” August said, “It’s not happening.”
“If you want to keep looking like a 1970’s adult film actor, that’s your prerogative.” Napoleon said.
“Said the James Bond wannabe.” August retorted.
“Boys,” Samantha said, “Behave.”
“He—” Napoleon started but she cut him off.
“Behave.” She said again, her voice taking a slightly deeper timbre and Geralt shuddered, Sy blinking heavily and shaking his head quickly. Napoleon’s brows raised slightly as he looked at her and she just stared right back until his eyes slid away.
“It’s been a while. I forgot how...strong female Alphas are.” He remarked and looked up at her when she approached him, that edge gone from her eyes and warmth bloomed in his chest, the urge to pull her into his arms taking him over quickly and he gave in, pulling her against his chest. He didn’t fail to notice how Augusts’ jaw tightened slightly, the other man stretching his neck with a tilt of his head.
“Shall I charge this to your account, Mr. Solo?” The tailor asked and Napoleon looked at him with a nod.
“Amazing work, as always.” He said, “I’ll contact you should any mishaps happen.” The tailor packed up and left after making closing pleasantries, Samantha thanking him as well on his way out the door, closing and locking it behind him.
“August, we need to talk.” She said, turning on him and he arched a brow at her.
“About?” He asked.
“Your...tenseness about Napoleon and I.” She said but he didn’t say anything.
“You’ve been broody.” Sy pointed out and August leveled a look at him that would have made a lesser wolf back up a step. Sy just stared right back unflinchingly.
“August, it was your pushing that made Napoleon tell me that I was his Mate,” Samantha pointed out, “So this...undercurrent of jealousy makes no sense. He told me that if you hadn’t pushed him to tell me, he wouldn’t have, so he’s only here because of you.”
“I didn’t want you to get hurt.” August said, “If you had realized that he was your Mate, but he never acknowledged it, it would have hurt you in the long run. Seeing him, knowing what he was to you, but him acting indifferent about it. Leon has...history when it comes to women, and I see him doing with you what he did with them.”
“Explain.” Samantha said.
“I wasn’t the best partner.” Napoleon admitted, “While infidelity has nothing to do with being a wolf, the fact that my previous lovers weren’t my Mate made it easier to go elsewhere. Sometimes those women were already with others when I did.”
“I see.” Samantha said, her eyes going to the floor.
“But you are my Mate, Samantha.” Napoleon said, going to her and holding her arms gently, “The thought of being with any woman but you disgusts me. It’s a repulsive idea that I will spare no energy entertaining. I wasn’t the best with them, but I will be with you.”
“Because I’m your Mate.”
“Exactly.”
“So if I wasn’t your Mate, would you have tried to—”
“No.” Napoleon said, cutting off that train of thought. “Because you are Augusts’ and the others. You are a beautiful woman, Samantha, but I would not have tried to seduce you away from them. It would have been futile anyway. You have your Mates, you won’t need or want anyone else. Besides, two of your Mates hunt and kill wolves for the Council and the other two were Special Forces for their respective militaries. Not only would it not look like murder, but I doubt my body would have even been found.”
“You ain’t wrong.” Sy said with a shrug.
“I just didn’t want you in pain, Sam.” August said, “I didn’t want him to hurt you.”
“And I won’t.” Napoleon said, “Ever.”
“This will probably come as no surprise to anyone, but Jonathan wasn’t faithful to me.” Samantha said, “He stopped hiding it from me after my second miscarriage, not that he really tried to begin with. I knew. When I asked him about it, he said that if I refused to fulfill my wifely duties and give him children, he would find someone who would, but divorce is still a sin, so...”
“But murder ain’t?” Sy asked, an edge to his voice.
“Murder?” Napoleon asked and with a nod from Samantha, Sy told him what Jonathan had done when she had tried to file for divorce the first time. “That bastard.”
“I can’t prove it.” She said, “But I know he did it. Or had it done.”
“Yeah I don’t see’im gettin’ his hands dirty.” Sy said, clicking his tongue against his teeth. “Probably hired someone.”
“Now I have even more incentive to crack the encryption on those files.” Napoleon said, “If he kept records, which I have a feeling he did as the man is too arrogant to believe he’d ever get caught, then I’ll have something to bury him with. The murder of an entire family will get him the needle.”
“I wonder if they’ll let one of us do it.” August mused.
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on tiktok "people with mustaches has to put on glitter mascara"😈 imagine runing after august with a glitter mascara🤣 or walter and sy with they beards 🤣🥰 geralt would probeblie let you do it or put it somewhere high up.
Sy would absolutely let you do it, especially around the holidays. Shit, he would even help and suggest different colors.
Walter would grumble but would be amused at the idea (as long as it washed out easily).
August would absolutely be against the idea and would dodge your every attempt. Couldn't even do it while he was sleeping, either, he would wake up immediately (damn those light sleepers).
You'd have to do Geralt's eyebrows as he doesn't really have a beard or mustache (at least not in the show, I know he does in the video games at times). He would glower but sit there in silence as you did it because it made you happy.
I had to move my house in Fallout 76 because the place where I had it (down the hill from the Aaronholdt Farmstead), it started spawning Protectrons and Feral Ghouls Tell-Tale Heart style (under the floorboards) and they kept breaking my shit.
Moved it like I dunno East-ish of Point Pleasant? Up route 88, west of the Gillman Lumber mill and just past the cabins where 88 curves north.
Do you have a favorite vault from fallout? From normal to horror point of view?
Thoughts on the tv show?
Favorite Vault?
"Gaaarrryyyyyy....."
I didn't like the TV show. I tried to watch it in Season One, I really did, but I found Lucy infinitely irritating and their depiction of the Brotherhood of Steel horrible. Like, what is this? Warhammer 40k? You are not the Adeptus Mechanicus, there are not Machine Spirits to pray to in the power armor suits and vertibirds, and that it most definitely not the Omnissiah. Also, "Fuck Vault Dwellers." I'm sorry what? Vault Dwellers were not treated with animosity by the people of the Wasteland. It was less "You're a Vault Dweller? (derogatory)" and more "Holy shit! You're a Vault Dweller!?" like they just met a damn unicorn.
I've only seen bits and pieces of Season Two, but enough to where I know I have no interest in it.
Edit: That being said. I did like that they used practical effects for the Deathclaw, made it absolutely terrifying (as it should be) and Walton Goggins carries that show. Cooper Howard/The Ghoul is a great character of a good man putting on the face of a villain in order to survive.
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Final Fantasy XIV
World of Warcraft
Fallout 76 (it's not the shitshow it was at launch, okay? it's not perfect, but it's not ass anymore for the most part)
1 New (for me)
Warhammer 40,000: Inquisitor - Martyr (very Diablo 3-esque dungeon crawler, so I dig it. and of course I bought the Adepta Sororitas class)
August became almost overbearing since she and Napoleon mated, even though he had pushed Napoleon towards admitting what she was to him to begin with. Well...more overbearing than usual. She knew it wasn't jealousy, at least she thought it wasn't, but he was...needier than usual. Stopping her in rooms or pulling her into his to kiss her breathless, his large, strong hands grabbing at her, pulling her against him, almost tearing her clothes from her body in his rush to get her under him. Not that she was complaining, mind you. She never refused him, never rebuked his advances, always met him in his desperation. Clinging to him as he drove her to the peaks of pleasure and over, tangling her fingers with his when he held her hands above her head.
It was...intense.
Her phone chimed at her early one morning, August grumbling behind her, and she reached for it, bringing up the app for the front door camera and seeing a few people she only vaguely recognize on the doorstep. Squinting, she saw the media van from the company Jonathan liked to use in the driveway.
“Why are they here?” She asked.
“Princess?” August asked and looked over her shoulder at her phone, his hand sliding over her stomach. The door chime came through her phone again right before the notification banner appeared on the screen.
Leon: I’ll handle it.
They watched through the security camera in the entryway as Napoleon went down the stairs at a decent speed while buttoning his suit jacket closed and fixing the cuffs, running his fingers through his hair briefly before opening the door.
The smile on his face was pleasant, but controlled, as he looked out at the media team that had taken them by surprise.
“Olivia Rogers, yes? With Dayglow Media?” He already knew the answer, but inwardly delighted in the surprised look he received.
“Um...yes.” She said, “Mister...”
“Napoleon Solo,” He said, extending a hand, “Head of Public and Media Relations for the Pack Council. We’ve never met professionally or personally, but I figured it was only a matter of time.” She hesitated, but reached out to shake his hand. He didn’t fail to notice the way she wiped it against her pant leg when it fell back to her side. “How may I help you this morning, Ms. Rogers?”
“We were hoping to speak with Mrs. Graves.” She said, “Her husband arranged for an interview to assuage the concerns of the congregation. There have been rumors circulating about a possible divorce and the affliction she’s been struck with.”
“I bet he did.” Napoleon said, “However, he failed to notify her of that arrangement so she is, unfortunately, unprepared. Also unavailable. I would be happy to schedule something at a later date, however.”
“I mean, we’re here now, and—”
“As I said, she’s unavailable.” The small smile never left his face.
“Mister...Solo, was it?” She asked and he gave a nod, “Is there a reason why you’re keeping us from talking to her? Among others, there have been rumors that she’s being held captive by multiple wolves. That they evicted the Pastor from his home in order to control her.” His eyes went to the small camera trained on him and his smile widened a touch.
“Ms. Rogers, if you had done your due diligence as reporter, you would found that legally, the house belongs entirely to Samantha—pardon, Mrs. Graves. Jonathan Graves was not unceremoniously booted onto the street with nothing but the clothes on his back; he was given ample opportunity to grab essentials before leaving. Divorces are messy. Or, they can be, and Mrs. Graves had every legal right to ask Pastor Graves to leave the marital home until the divorce was finalized. As it is hers, as I’ve said, and as you would have found...again, had you done your research.” Napoleon said.
“So there is a divorce pending.”
“I am comfortable in telling you: unequivocally, yes. The paperwork has been filed and believe me when I say, there is no hope for reconciliation. She has expressed to me quite plainly that she wants nothing more to do with him or their marriage.”
“And the rumor that she’s being held captive by—”
“A rumor, nothing else, and an unsubstantiated one at that. She’s not “being held captive” by...anyone. She’s well aware that she can leave at any time and go wherever she pleases. Mrs. Graves is exactly where she wants to be and who she wants to be with.”
“It would be better if we could hear this from her.”
“And for the third time, Ms. Rogers, she was not made aware of this appointment beforehand so she is unavailable at this time. Again, I would be more than happy to schedule a formal sit-down at a later date. Please have someone from your scheduling department contact me and we will go over a day and time that would work best for both parties.” He reached into his breast pocket as he spoke, pulling out a slim case and sliding a business card from it, holding it out to her between his fingers. She stared at it a moment before taking it, giving a tight signal to the cameraman who lowered camera with a glower. “Have a wonderful day, Ms. Rogers.” With that, he closed the door in their faces, throwing the lock a little harder than was strictly necessary so they could hear it and it’s tone of finality. Hearing steps behind him, he held up a halting hand until he heard the van pull from the driveway and fade away.
Turning, he pulled Samantha into his arms as she went to him, holding her close and catching how she trembled slightly.
“Thank you for handling that.” She said, looking up at him and he gave her a gentle smile, leaning down to kiss her softly. “Why were they here?”
“Jonathan sent them. After seeding the idea that you’re being held captive.” Napoleon said, “Unsurprising. Dayglow Media is basically a tabloid with a holier-than-thou coat of paint.”
“Maybe I should have talked to them.”
“It’s better this way, trust me.” Napoleon said, “The fact that they were here with no warning was planned, I promise you. Trying to catch us off guard.”
“But we’re not doing anything wrong.” A pause, “Are we?”
“Not in the slightest.” He reassured her, “But they were probably hoping you and the others would be acting like the “demons” they think wolves are and they’d have a better story than “Pastors wife divorces him”.”
“Do you think he’ll come here?” She asked and he saw the flash of fear that passed over her eyes at the thought.
“He may.” Napoleon admitted, “But he won’t be allowed anywhere near you and you will always have at least one of us around if he is here. You’ll never be alone with him.”
“I know.” She said and her eyes closed, deflating in a sigh. “I know. You’ll all protect me. He can’t hurt me.”
“Ever again.” Napoleon said, “Samantha, August shared with me that you were...young when Jonathan married you.” She just nodded. “I did ask, he didn’t give the information unprompted, and I would have asked you, but I didn’t want to pull up any potentially painful memories until I was sure. I had my suspicions.”
“Thank you.” She said, her eyes still closed, and he leaned in, pressing his lips to her forehead.
