#the only reason I gave him long fur is because I tried to hide the fact that I can't draw cats

[dravikso]

cotl fandom do we fw long fur narinder or should I kill him immediately

redraw here

[ladymercysletters]

Synopsis: Reader has just been given the all clear by the maesters to be with her husband again. There is however the issue that her husband has taken to leaving their chambers before she wakes in the morning, and only coming to bed well after sleep has taken her. Fed up with only ever seeing her husband briefly at dinner, where he is still deep in conversation with one of his bannermen or pouring over papers, y/n takes matters into her own hands.

Word Count: 3,656

Rating: 18 + NSFW (no minors!!)

A/N: I seem to have written a 1980's Mills and Boon. Though I do like the idea of Cregan as Heathcliff!

_____________________________

“Well My Lady” said the maester, putting his instruments carefully back into his bag, “I would say you are fully healed.” He congratulated, looking up at you as you sat on the edge of the bed.

“So I can? We can?” you asked eagerly and unabashed. You had been without your husband for so long and these last few weeks of healing from your latest childbirth had been torture.

“uh, yes. My Lady.” Said the maester bashfully, head immediately dipping down to hide the reddening of his face. You thanked the maester once more before he left, calling in your maids to run you a bath and dress you. Now that it was safe for you to enjoy your husband once more, that is exactly what you intended to do. For almost two moons now you had been parted from Cregan, or at least that is what it felt like. Since you had given birth, though you still shared a bed, you found that he would be already gone by the time you awoke – and in the evening when you would stay up late into the night reading to keep yourself awake for when he did return, he would still manage to only return to bed once you had been taken by sleep. The only reason you knew he did still sleep beside you, was because you could smell him on your sheets and would sometimes still feel his warmth in the space beside you.

You sat in the milky bath as your maids paraded various dresses in front of you. Mabel held up a pale violet crushed velvet dress; it was loose and skimmed over your curves, allowing your skin to breath whilst still catching the candlelight. You had almost decided on that when Florence pulled out one of your old favourites, it was a dress you had brought with you when you first moved to Winterfell after marrying Cregan, a deep blue layered dress with a creamy silk underskirt. You had had it made especially as you had heard of how cold the North was; golden bronze fur lined the low neckline before raising higher at the back. Your eyes lit up as you remembered when you first wore it. That was the dress to seduce your husband.

Mabel and Florence dried and dressed you, plaiting strands of your hair to curl around the crown of your head like a maiden and lacing the front of the dress as tight as it would go. Unfortunately, given your many children, the front would not do up as tightly as it once did. Mabel had suggested a modesty layer for your chest, surely to keep out the cold in such a warm dress. Florence just elbowed her and gave her a look as though she was missing the point.

--x—x—x—x—x—x—x—x--

Cregan yawned as he sat at his table, eyes drifting as he tried to stay awake. He had awoken early as he had every day since the birth of his latest child, dressing quietly and leaving before you woke. Every morning he’d stay and watch you a little: his wife, tucked up in the thick, soft furs of their bed, before tearing himself away. The maesters had come to him shortly after the birth. They had expressed deep concern over the struggle of this birth how weak you were. Given that you had fallen pregnant with this one only three moons after the birth of your second child your body had not been given a lot of time to recover, which they felt contributed to the long labour and your subsequent bed rest.

The sight of you weak in bed; skin drained of much blood and not even able to hold your babe as you had your others. Cregan had berated himself no end at your state, blaming himself and his recklessness that you almost died. So, he did the only thing he could do: he distanced himself from you, leaving your chambers before you awoke and returning only when he is sure you must have fallen asleep.

--x—x—x—x—x—x—x—x--

The first place you looked for your husband, you knew you’d find him, was the great hall. He was surrounded by his men at the high table, no doubt meeting to discuss what more they have left to de before winter comes. You glide into the room as the Lady of Winterfell ought to; nodding to the guards as they opened the doors before taking a slow turn about the room. One of your ladies in waiting came with you, arm in arm you walked slowly about the room, breathing deeply to allow your bust to spill a little over the soft fur neckline of your gown. Some of the ladies of court were scattered about the room: some sitting by the large open fire grate with their embroidery. Greeting them all you sat with them, moving your hair subtly over one shoulder to make the best of your exposed neckline.

Your eyes flickered over to the top of the room, where you see Cregan’s already on you. His brow is down as he looks up through his lashes; eyes raking over your body and nostrils flaring at the sight. Giving him a small smile you hold eye contact as you trail a light hand down your neck, watching as he huffs a breath and turns back towards Lord Burley. Slightly frustrated at his dismissal you stood again, this time walking towards Cregan and his seat. He watched appreciatively though subtly. He could see that dress you had on was one you had worn when you were first made man and wife, the bust was tighter than it had once been and Cregan steadied his breathing once more as he thought of your breasts, full of milk for his babes and practically pouring out of your dress.

“Husband” you greeted lowly as not to disturb him. You picked up the jug to fill his cup. Ever the stoic Northman he paid little mind to you as you greeted him, so you went a step further: leaning over him jut a bit too much you steadied yourself on his thick thigh as you leaned into him to pour his drink. Your warm scent filled his nostrils and his eyes fluttered closed, only opening to see the soft pure skin of your chest so close to his face that all he would have to do would be to lean a little closer to taste you.

Pulling back with a sigh you placed the jug down and drew your hand slowly up his thigh, just grazing his inside seem that wasn’t covered by leather, before retiring from the room. If he wanted to pretend he didn’t see you then you would do what you did best: be a nuisance to him.

--x—x—x—x—x—x—x—x—x--

You took some time before finding him again, taking tea with your ladies in one of the viewing towers whilst you plotted your next move.

The training yard was where you found him that afternoon. The winter had faded into a slightly less harsh winter, so you and your ladies were safe from having to wrap yourselves up too much as you sat on the viewing platforms. Cregan and his men had clearly been in battle for some time; even with the milder weather you could still see the steam rising from their bodies. You watched as Cregan swung his sword over his head, shoulders rolling as he brought it down onto the shield of the man cowering beneath him. You bit your lip as you watched his muscles move under his shirt. Thick fingers gripped the hilt of his family sword when several men approached at him at once. There was no denying your husband was a warrior: his broad back twisted as he fought from all sides, body turning with ease in his leathers and sweat dripping from his brow as grunts filled the arena. Moving over to where he had left a cloth you took a seat nearer the edge of the grounds.

Giving him your best sultry look you breathed deeply, making the most of your heaving bosom as he stopped for a break, his chest heaving as he strode towards you.

“Wife.” He growled, almost annoyed at seeing you again. You shot him a wry smile as you stood and took a step towards him. Picking the cloth from his hand you stepped up to him and swiped it over his brow, watching as his eyes closed. You leaned forward just a bit too close to be innocent as you trailed the cloth over the back of his neck for him. A low groan rumbled from Cregans throat as you massaged the back of his neck. “It is good to see you out and about my dearest.” He murmured, head tilted back at your touch to watch you down the bridge of his nose.

“Husband. The maester visited this morning.” You let your words drift. He knew what that meant.

“My darling” Cregan growled, cupping your waist “Are you sure?” you nodded, grinning widely at his unhidden enthusiasm. The breath he released almost contained steam itself as he looked you up and down. Your lips quivered to kiss him, but you restrained yourself; simply smiling once more as you left him to his training, his knights calling him back to practice.

--x—x—x—x—x—x—x—x—x--

You didn’t see each other again until your evening meal. Dinner was quiet. You ate with a few of his bannermen and their families: yourself and Cregan sitting at the head of the table. Though the grip of his hands around your waist had indicated his need for you earlier, you were disappointed to find your conversation at dinner lacking. Instead, he has been distracted by the lord to his left causing you to sit in a haff by his side. Bored, and ready to tease him some more you placed your hand on his thigh, just low enough to not garner any notice.

Your hand rested over the thick material of his trousers before pressing firmer into the flesh of his leg, slowly making your way up his thigh - the only reason you knew he noticed your hand was the subtle twitch in his leg when you pressed closer to the centre of them. Your gentle hand brushed at the thick length buried deep beneath his layers when his quickly slipped below the tabletop to stop you.

His head turned sharply to you, eyes glaring a warning. You had never been a brat before and he certainly wasn’t going to allow it now, in front of everyone. Your hand flexed under his grip as his attention was drawn from you again. Your fingers moved subtly to stroke him – his length thickening in his breeches as your fingertips managed to surround the head. His thighs snapped shut at the stimulation, breathing deeply to avoid making a sound.

Dinner could not end soon enough, Cregan thought as your hand finally retracted from him. His prayers weren’t answered though as, just as the meat was taken away, small plates of sweet treats were brought out whilst drinks were further poured.

Dates shipped up from Dorne were your favourites; split open and filled with honey and chopped nuts they were one of the few sweet things you had craved through your pregnancy. You sat sweetly and eyed him as you ate; slowly biting into the fruit and licking the sweet nectar dripping from it from your lips. Cregan only looked up when he heard a faint ‘oops’ fall from your mouth, only to see you swiping honey from your cleavage, failing miserably as the sticky mess just spread further.

Cregan’s eyes glued to where your finger swiped - watching with thickening breath as your pink tongue wrapped around your finger and sucked. His thick fingers flexed on his thighs as he fought his urge to pull you into his lap and bury his face in your full cleavage to assist you. The shine of the honey distracted him when Lord Tully approached his table to congratulate your new arrival. It was only at the sound of his title leaving your lips that Cregan snapped out of the spell you cast over him and looked up, flushed.

When the last of the trays was finally taken away the Lord of Winterfell announced that the day had been long and everyone should rest, ready for a longer day tomorrow. He only hoped that his subjects did not notice the rigidness of his voice, or the clenching in his jaw as he leaned over the table.

No sooner had you entered your rooms than he was upon you.

“You think you can torment me like that wife?” he growled into your ear, pressing you against your dressing table. “You tease me. All day. In front of my men. And you don’t think I will do something about it?” he pawed at your dress, ripping open your bodice and pulling at the strings holding the rest of your gown together. You were left in just your stays and shift: back pressed against Cregan’s chest as he held you in front of your mirror. His hand held your neck and turned your face to him so he could kiss you, swiping his lips from yours up to your ear. “Watch yourself” he whispered.

The hand that wasn’t wrapped around your throat trailed down your body, over your thin undergarments where his hand bunched up the light fabric moving up your inner thigh - eyes watching you quiver in his embrace. Two thick fingers slid to part your slick folds, his thumb stroking gently over your exposed clit. He continued the slow movements, holding you in place as the pressure barely increased. Only when he could feel you dripping over his fingers did he slip the first one inside you, soon followed by the second when he heard broken moans pour from your throat.

“There’s a good girl” He growled into your ear. Despite the teasing and constant, unrelenting, movements over your little swollen bud the first thick breech of his fingers turned your legs to jelly. Having been without any touch of your husband for so long the rough texture of his palms on your heated flesh and the firm consistent push of his fingers led you to scream into the air – begging your husband for release.

“Please.” You gasped. “Husband!” you begged for gods knows what. Cregan’s lopsided smirk into your fragrant hair was enough to tip you over. The promise in the dark blown pupils of his eyes forcing your first high in months.

Your body went limp against his front, his strong arms coming around your body to lay you on the furs spread out in front of the fire. The thick pelts moulded into the curves of your naked skin and if the buzz from your first high hadn’t made you dizzy enough, seeing the broad frame of your husband staring down at you as he stripped himself of his clothes made you feel as if you would pass out.

Cregan lowered himself down to you, pulling your frame the small way up to his to kiss you properly: the rough stubble that had grown on his face grounded your mind, bringing you back into the moment to feel his body over yours. His kisses were as firm as his fingers pressing into your back, lips trailing down your neck to mark you, inhaling your scent whilst small - deep blooms appear over the swell of your breast. Cregan continued to worship his wife - over your stays and moving the remainder of your clothes out of the way as he did so. His kisses never ceased, beard rubbing deliciously over your newly expose skin when he settled his body between your thighs.

“Now. Wife.” Cregan’s breath puffed out against your sensitive flesh. “The maesters said you were healed?” you whimpered a yes. “Fully?”

“Yes husband” your high tensed voices spoke out.

“Well then…” Though you knew it was coming the high gasping moan that left your lips still did so in surprise. Cregan’s broad tongue swiped through your folds, bathing his tongue in your wetness. His eyes rolled to the back of his skull as he drank you in for the first time in almost half a year. Hands still gripping both your sides they slid down to brace your shaking legs over his shoulders.

He ate you like a man tasting food for the first time, curved tongue pushing as far as it could go before his lips moved to focus on your still sensitive clit. He sucked gently as his tongue continued to play – mimicking the actions of his fingers earlier. The consistent stimulation was driving you insane; legs shaking in Cregan’s strong hands you sought stability by running your fingers through his long dark hair, gripping a handful at the base making him groan into you.

He re-doubled his efforts when he heard your heavy breath and mewls; nose pressing into your pubic bone and tongue lapping generously over you. Your thighs shook and tensed – your high rolling over you in waves. The rush of your flavour on Cregan’s tongue had him groaning into you, lapping you clean in big strokes as your breath softened and you went limp in him arms once more.

“Don’t think you can rest yet my love.” He growled, pressing soft butterfly kisses up your thigh and hipbone as he rose above you. “You think after all the torment you put me through today, you’re only going to come twice?”

Cregan rolled you over and pulled you back up against his front. Your head lolled on his muscled shoulder as you caught your breath, looking up at him through your lashes to see the strong jaw of your husband. His large warm hands smoothed over your rumpled smallclothes; soothing your heartbeat as you relaxed back into him, only to feel his fingers flex into the small openings of your stays and rip them in two from your body.

Discarding the remains of your clothes, Cregan spread your legs further over the haunch of his thighs – pulling you back to settle your slick folds over his cock. Rutting his hips lightly he pushed his hard length through your folds, slicking it in your juices and brushing against your swollen bud before moving just slightly to impale you on his full length.

The shock of the sudden intrusion pushed a shrill puff of air from your lips; the stretch of his girth so welcome. Holding your hips down against him as he pushed up into you, his thrusts strong and firm as his hold. His hips snapped up into you at a steady, fast pace – your hands grasping out to steady yourself as your breath never fully steadied.

Falling forward you finally gained enough strength to start pushing back on him, desperate to get him deeper into you if that was at all possible. Cregan’s broad back folded over you, caging you in as he went to town; hand coming down in front of you to find your bud as he felt you spasm and clench around him. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as he flipped you over, propping your legs over his shoulder and pushing back into you in one smooth movement.

His thick length was always a stretch in any position, but the friction brought about by your legs flung over his shoulders was something else entirely. The sparks shooting up your spine with each thrust made you keen and grope at the soft furs beneath you. Cregan watched like a wolf above you. Mouth hung open slightly as he panted, his gaze dragged down your body; from your hair splayed out over the grey black fur beneath you, over your soft breasts bouncing with his thrusts, down to where you connected. He stared at where you connected, groaning as he watched his length plunge in and out of you, your lower abdomen bulging slightly with each movement.

He leaned forward then, face to face with you in a position that just allowed him to brush that spongey spot inside you. Sliding his hands from your thighs, up your arms, he gripped your wrists in one hand and held them above your head, pressing you further into the furs as your legs hooked over his thick hips. The both of you clung to one another as he rutted into you, your hips angling to ride him from below as you both hurtled towards your ends.

Your high came first, Cregan peppering kisses down your next and biting into the juncture of your shoulder whilst you clenched and fluttered around him. He came crashing after you; groaning into your ear and holding his hips steadfastly into yours as he pumped ribbon after ribbon of cum into you, balls drawing up as they drained.

Whilst you came down from your high you felt the weight of your husband slowly drop onto you as he melted into the touch of your fingers rolling up and down his spine. After a moments reprieve Cregan pulled himself away, settling down at your side and pulling the throw at the end of your bed off and over the both of you. You both relaxed into each other, watching the glow of the fire whilst you felt your husband’s presence next to you for the first time in months.

“Never leave me for that long again.” You mumbled, bringing his knuckles to your lips, pressing a reverent kiss to them.

“Never” he murmured. Pressing a kiss to the crown of your head in response.

[nixie-writes]

How about alastor, husk, and sir pentious (separately) have an adopted kid who assumed that they were biologically related to their father their entire life because they bare a striking resemblance to them, until they're finally told that they're adopted later on in their life (14 or 17 years old) and gets mad that they weren't told earlier (angst ensues) so it results in an argument that ends with something along the lines of "YOU'RE NOT EVEN MY REAL DAD" (it could also end with fluff to be an angst/comfort thing but that's up to you)

This has major Helluva Boss Season 1 Episode 3 vibes

Alastor

When he adopted you, you were no more than two years old. A small doe with curled fur and the brightest opal eyes. He adopted you to help him kill initially but as you grew to be a soft, sweet little doe he realized he'd adopted the sweetest little thing.

You always believed you were related to the Radio Demon himself and it gave you a sense of safety. You'd always be okay as long as you had your "father" by your side.

You were 15 when he finally told you the truth. You were mortified. He lied all this time...? Everything he'd done for you suddenly meant nothing. He tried to calm your temper but you were screaming, your demon form taking place. You ended with a sharp "you're not even my real dad so fuck off!" and stomped off to your room, leaving behind a frowning Radio Demon.

Husk

He adopted the sweetest looking black and white kitten. He wanted some form of sweetness in his life and you were it. He took you home with him and planned to care for you and spoil you rotten.

Spoiled rotten you were. You were his darling little kitten and you always referred to him as Daddy growing up. Your "father" adored how much you looked up to him despite his drinking and gambling. He hoped you didn't pick up his habits. He knew he had to tell you eventually.

You were 17 when he told you. You were outraged. Claws out, eyes narrowed, you were about to attack him for admitting he adopted you so long ago. It was only Vaggie getting in your way that stopped you from leaping on him. She tried to reason with you, that you shouldn't threaten to attack your father. All you said was, "he's not my dad, don't refer to him as that" and left for your room. Husk was broken.

Sir Pentious

He found a cute little snake curled up on the side of the road and just couldn't say no. He adopted you in a heartbeat and considered you his sweet little experiment. Your eyes were so bright and curious, you slithered over to everything to either put in your mouth or observe, he liked your curiosity.

As you grew up you helped him build machines to take over the Pentagram. You were so proud of your "father" and you were proud to be helping him. You knew he'd make it as an Overlord one day.

You were 16 when he told you. He told you as he was building a machine he was sure was going to win him the Pentagram. Your claws were sharp, eyes bright with anger, the eggs were hiding from you for the first time since you arrived. You screeched, crying, you didn't know what to say or do. In a fit of anger you smashed your fists through the machine you two had built with the emblem "daddy daughter machine" written on it. "You're not my real dad," you sobbed in pain. "I hate you!" You cried out as you stormed to your room. Pentious had no words to comfort you, you just needed time alone. He could repair the machine and emblem no problem but it wouldn't be the same without you.

[captain-mj]

I'm so sorry for the loss of your writing buddy, MJ

I hope you and Bunnie will be okay, sending hugs and well wishes

I’m using this as an excuse to talk about her because i want to talk about her so much

Leona would only eat cream cheese and frosting. No other human foods. She’d fight with spaghetti noodles because she tried to eat one one time and it snapped.

For every house but this one, she would claim a cabinet that she’d have as a safe place. I always tried to avoid pulling her out of it for any reason or disturbing it because I understood that was her way of saying she needed alone time

I call her my writing buddy because she’d lay on my chest while I was writing. She was more of a writing hinderance but she was always my buddy. Occasionally, if I needed to finish something fast or by a deadline, I’d push her off and have her lay at my side. I regret that now.

She didn’t like men for some reason. I had her since she was a kitten and she never had a bad experience with one, she just didn’t like them very much. She knew one of my friends was trans before he did and hated him.

Her favorite position was to loaf or lay like a broken doll. Some of the positions didn’t make sense for her spine but she was comfy. Those were the only times I could pet her belly.

When she was a kitten, she would hide in the space behind my back as I leaned against a wall. She was so upset Day she was too big to fit. I was too.

Also when she was a kitten, she’d hide in my hair when I was laying down. Sometimes she’d purr in my ears.

My wife was used to lay on whenever I wasn’t available. Leona never looked happy about this, but the alternative was a blanket and I Guess that wasn’t good enough all the time.

She never lost her kitten fur so even at 6 years old, she felt really soft.

None of the kitten audios from tiktok worked on her because she hated kittens.

Her best cat friend was named Ellie. They were best friends until I moved out of my brother’s house and Ellie stayed with her owners there. When they reunited later for a visit, they cuddled again.

Her nose was always really pink. So were her toe beans. She’d let me squeeze them so her claws would detract all the time. Just as long as I gave her chin scratches too.

She was only noisy when she wanted something. Normally she was a quiet cat. But she did purr a lot.

She hated the outdoors. Even as a kitten. I never had to worry about her rushing outside.

I buried her with a couple of bottle caps in her box because they were her favorite thing. She never liked cat toys. Tolerated catnip. But she loved bottle caps , especially if I put water for her to drink in them.

She was my baby. I love her so much. She’s buried in my Wife’s parents yard. It’s a peaceful place, even though I know she would hate it if she was alive.

If reincarnation is real, I hope I see her soon. I hope she isn’t Mad I took so long to find her. I was looking, but she had tucked herself into a space in the closet where we couldn’t see her. I know I’ll see her eventually. Just have to wait for her to come back around for her next life.

[presleypictures]

Vernon Presley's interview with Good Housekeeping, January 1978 (Part 3)

I want to emphasize that although he had to leave her often, Elvis was crazy about his little girl Lisa and she adored her daddy. When Lisa wasn't in school and he wasn't on the road, she'd come to Memphis and they'd play together in his home, Graceland, for hours.

A lot of people have asked about the girls who shared the final years of Elvis' life. Of them all, I think Linda Thompson was the best for him. She was always with him, caring about him. And, though I don't know why they broke up, that may have been one of the reasons. Possibly Elvis felt that her love was beginning to choke him. Sheila Ryan was another fine little girl. I don't know why she and Elvis quit seeing each other either, but I was surprised when she married someone else so soon after their breakup.

I never got to know Ginger Alden well. She's not much of a talker, but a while back Elvis told me he'd fallen in love with her. 'This is the love I've been searching for', he said. 'I want more children, a son. And I want Ginger to be my children's mother'. After that, Ginger and Elvis came over to show me her engagement ring. That was one of the few times I'd ever seen her smiling. I assumed they were going to get married, but nothing happenéd and Whenever I tried to talk to Elvis about Ginger, he'd seem upset.

Finally, just a day or so before he died, I told him, 'I keep hearing and reading that you're going to announce your engagement. Is that right? When are you going to get married?' 'Only God knows', Elvis said.

I got a feeling then that maybe he was changing his mind about marriage.

The papers have played up the fact that neither Priscilla nor Ginger was mentioned in Elvis' will. In answer to that, I want to point out that Ginger had already gotten her share of gifts from Elvis. As for Priscilla, she didn't expect to be mentioned, because Elvis had made his settlement with her when they were divorced.

Stories have misrepresented the details of Elvis' private life in every possible way.

Whatever his private life may have been, none of his employees, friends or associates ever went without anything they wanted or needed- - be it Cadillacs or diamond rings and furs for their wives. Elvis gave lavishly because it was his nature to be generous. He wanted to share his good fortune with everyone who was close to him. I remember a time not too long ago when I felt that he was carrying too big a crew, so I advised, 'You don't need all of them, especially some who just seem to be out for what they want'. Elvis stopped me cold, answering, 'You see their wants. I look beyond their wants and can see their needs.'

Though Elvis never went into hiding as erroneously reported, he did enjoy privacy, just like we all do-so he'd spend time in his room, reading or talking with one or two good friends.

I spent some of the happiest moments of my life sitting and talking with Elvis.

A few days before he died, Elvis and I talked at Graceland for five or six hours about all sorts of things until I finally said, 'Son, I have to go home now and get something to eat'.

'I know, Daddy', Elvis told me. 'But I want you to know that I've really enjoyed this'. So had I.

There are so many unanswered questions about Elvis' death for which I must find answers. How long had he been lying there on the floor before his body was discovered? Why hadn't somebody at Graceland wondered where he was and if he was all right? These are two of the questions I want answered.

I know he hadn't been able to sleep the night before he died and had played racquetball at about four or five o'clock in the morning. Then what happened?

I want to know.

Joe Esposito, one of Elvis' crew, was with me in the office when he got a call from the house and told me he had to go up there right away. I continued with some work until the phone rang again and Patsy, our secretary, answered. 'It's Joe', she said. 'He sounds funny' I took the phone and Joe told me, 'Mr. Presley, come up fast. Elvis isn't breathing'. I haven't been well for some time now, so Patsy had to help me to the house. As soon as I saw Elvis, I knew immediately that he was gone.

The things that happened after that are hard to put into perspective. Some were so unbelievable and I was so grieved I could scarcely grasp what was going on. For instance, I didn't pay any attention to security. I never dreamed that one of Elvis' own cousins would take a picture of him in his casket and sell it to a sensational newspaper. Nor, when I met Caroline Kennedy, did I guess that she'd come to the funeral to do a story. In fact, when we were introduced, I didn't know who she was.

I was with my mother and sister when Priscilla came in with someone she introduced as Caroline Kennedy. I still thought of President Kennedy's daughter as a cute little girl, so I didn't identify the young lady until after she'd left me. Then I heard somebody say, 'That was President Kennedy's daughter', and I thought, 'She's going to think I'm crazy as hell not knowing who she Was'. So I went out and found her and told her that we were honored to have her there and that we welcomed her to Graceland A little bit later, Priscilla told me that Caroline wanted to see Elvis' trophy room. I said that I couldn't show it to her then, but that if she'd stay over until the day after the funeral, I'd do it. As far as I know, Caroline didn't stay. Because I was dazed with shock and misery, I didn't see or recognize some of the people at the funeral. Ann-Margret and I hugged each other and cried together, but I didn't even see her husband, Roger Smith, who was close by.

During Elvis' 22-year career, Colonel Parker handled the show business side of his life, while I tried to handle‘ Elvis' personal affairs. Now that he's gone, I shall continue to look after his affairs until all unfinished business has been attended to'. I may move into Graceland now because my mother and sister have lived there for years and need someone with them. Also, it may be easier for me to handle Elvis' un- finished business from Graceland than from my present house. We received permission from the city of Memphis to move Elvis' body to Graceland, where security is easier to maintain. I also brought Elvis' mother back home to be buried. If possible, Elvis' baby brother, Jesse, will be moved from Mississippi to lie beside them. Elvis sometimes talked about bringing his twin's body to Memphis and I may go ahead with his plan. To go back to what I said at the beginning of this story, I am more heartbroken than I can express over Elvis' death, yet I'm comforted by the sure knowledge that my son was a gift from God and his life was always in God's hands. From one point of view, I would have wished him to live forever, yet I know that his early death, like all of his life, was a part of God's plan. I thank God that He blessed me with such a son.

Vernon photographed on November 24, 1977 by Elvis' resting place at Graceland.

[themurphyzone]

BatB AU: The Prince’s Tale Part 3

AN: Sorry for the two month delay everyone. Here’s the final chapter to The Prince’s Tale arc! 

AO3 Link

Ch 25: The Prince’s Tale Part 3

At Brain's request, Pinky retrieved the enchanted mirror from his room on the way back to the West Wing. Pinky didn't question Brain on this, even though he was abrupt about it. 

"Are you sure you don't want it back?" Pinky asked as he tried to give the mirror to Brain. He held it away from his body like the handle was on fire. "It's your mirror." 

Brain instinctively flinched as his reflection came into view, having no time to brace himself for the sight. 

I thought I was getting better at this, he sighed. 

"Pinky, I'm not taking back a gift," Brain said, subtly turning the glass so that his reflection wasn't visible. "You're the rightful owner now. I'm only borrowing it so I can properly tell you everything." 

But Pinky still looked nervous about handling the mirror. 

"Sorry. It's just…I've never owned anything as fancy as this mirror before. Zort," Pinky said. "Almost looks out of place in the cottage, you know." 

But Pinky happily wore the extravagant dresses and jewelry offered to him, didn't mind pampering himself with perfume and manicures, and was always ready to try Flavio's new recipes.

It wasn't an issue of class difference. 

Though Brain wanted to call Pinky out on such an obvious fabrication, he couldn't entirely fault him for hiding the true reason behind his discomfort. He'd never been comfortable with the mirror himself. 

"You know, when I first received this mirror, it took me six months before I was able to use it for the first time," Brain admitted. "And even then, I only used it out of necessity." 

He wasn't entirely comfortable sharing an event that occurred during the curse, but he just wanted Pinky to know that he understood his concerns about the mirror. 

"What happened?" Pinky asked. 

"Mindy wandered off. Not an unusual event, but nobody could find her anywhere. Buttons was absolutely frantic," Brain admitted. “I knew of the mirror’s capabilities, but…in order to use it, I had to confront my reflection first.” 

He remembered standing across the room and trying to command the mirror to show Mindy’s location, but it didn’t work. Eventually, he realized the mirror required him to see his reflection in order to locate others. 

Because of that, he kept the mirror wrapped in a cloth when it wasn’t in use. 

“She’d somehow crawled into the organ, but we got her out before any harm came to her,” Brain said. 

Pinky gave a sigh of relief. “That’s good,” he said. Then he shuffled his feet awkwardly. “Are you…um, doing better with your reflection?” 

Brain stiffened as the sensitive topic came up. Was he still hesitating so much in front of mirrors that Pinky noticed?

He looked away. “I can stand in front of one long enough to brush my fur. But not for long periods.” 

“Oh. Well, I’m sure you’ll get there,” Pinky assured him, finally accepting the mirror. He planted an encouraging kiss on Brain’s forehead, and Brain let him linger for longer than necessary. 

“My point is, I understand your reservations with the mirror,” Brain said quietly, reaching for Pinky’s cheek. Pinky let out a soft trill in response, despite his worried demeanor. “But perhaps you’ll be able to find a different way to use it.” 

Once it seemed that Pinky’s doubts about the mirror were soothed, they continued down the long, lonely corridor to the West Wing. 

During the daytime, there were plenty of things that kept Brain busy, but now that it was quiet and dark, he wondered if he'd ever noticed just how isolated the West Wing was from the rest of the castle. 

His predecessors once used the West Wing as their chambers. So Brain had taken up residence there too, simply because it was expected of him. 

The detachment was necessary to show off their high status. Brain once believed in their reasoning. 

Now he only felt the loneliness and isolation from the separation he’d imposed on himself for so long. 

“...I never noticed how far the West Wing is from the rest of the castle,” Brain quietly admitted to Pinky. 

He barely recognized the corridor anymore. It was once full of frightening gargoyles, broken mirrors, and shredded carpet. 

Now the damage was repaired. Busts of philosophers and past rulers replaced the gargoyles. The mirrors were whole, though Brain avoided looking at them. And the carpet underfoot was no longer frayed and worn, looking as if it had been laid down yesterday.  

Though it was no longer foreboding, Brain still felt uneasy because of all the changes. 

“Yeah, it’s a bit of a walk, isn’t it?” Pinky agreed as they finally reached the heavy doors of the West Wing. “All this way, and it always ends with one of us saying goodbye.” 

A lump formed in Brain’s throat. He gripped the brass knocker harder than necessary. “Goodbye?” he repeated. 

Pinky’s blue eyes were misty. “First time I came here, you scared me out,” he said. Though his tone lacked anger, Brain rubbed his neck awkwardly at the reminder. “And the second time, you let me go. It was the most magical night I’ve ever had in my whole life, and I meant to come back once Papa was better, but then Snowball happened, and you were dying on the balcony, and I wasn’t ready to say goodbye. I’m never ready to say goodbye. To anybody. Poit.”  

You didn’t let me say goodbye! 

 Echoes of a time long past rang through his head. Aside from getting his entire castle cursed, his actions on the night they met were Brain’s largest regret. 

Brain didn’t have the words to comfort Pinky, so he reached out and carefully took Pinky’s hand instead. Pinky wiped his eyes with his free hand, and Brain was surprised at the tiny smile Pinky gave him. How Pinky always smiled at him, in spite of all the turmoil Brain had caused, he would never understand. 

“...I never wanted to say goodbye either,” Brain said quietly. 

He wanted Pinky to stay with him forever, not out of necessity, but because Brain didn’t want to live the rest of his life alone. Because he’d wanted the companionship and reassurance, the sunshine and warmth, the hope and love that only Pinky could bring. 

He didn’t want to say goodbye when he released Pinky from his promise, nor when he was dying and helpless in Pinky’s arms. 

And now, he wasn’t ready to say goodbye if Pinky chose to leave after this. 

With a heavy heart, Brain opened the West Wing doors.

It certainly didn’t feel like his room anymore. The curtains weren’t torn and faded. The furniture stood proud and tall, as if it had been installed yesterday. A small, inviting flame burned in the hearth.The broken vases, statues, and frames had been swept away, as if they never existed at all. 

The West Wing was elegant and fit for royalty once again. 

Yet the ugly scar remained on his portrait, the painting hanging in tatters in a broken, tarnished frame. It didn't matter how meticulously the servants tended the West Wing.

The marks of the Beast couldn't be erased and hidden from sight. They would remain forever.

Yet Pinky's expression was soft, his hand gently enveloping Brain's. He saw the scars of the past, the anger and despair and hopelessness, but Brain remembered the tender way he'd touched the portrait and slashmarks the first time he'd entered the West Wing. 

Pinky didn't pretend the ugly clawmarks weren't there, yet he wasn't repulsed by them either. He just accepted their presence. 

Brain wondered if he'd ever achieve that too, someday.

"Come, Pinky," Brain whispered, tugging Pinky towards the enchanted rose that once served as his hourglass.

The rose was in full bloom, glowing brighter than Brain had ever seen it before. It was colorful and vibrant, no longer fragile and sickly. 

The table it rested upon was free of any fallen, dead petals. 

"Narrrf," Pinky said in awe of the rose. "It's so pretty, Brain." 

Mesmerized by its beauty, his hand stretched towards the protective bell jar. 

A paranoid, protective instinct surged through Brain, and he stiffened as he tried to clamp down on the impulse to knock Pinky away. 

It's only Pinky. He wasn't trying to harm the rose last time either. I don't need to scare him away again. 

So why couldn't he relax? Why was instinct telling him otherwise when he knew Pinky wouldn't intentionally destroy the rose? 

And to Brain's surprise, Pinky removed his hand from the bell jar. 

"...sorry, Brain," he murmured, his tone sincere. "I forgot."

"It's okay," Brain said quietly, forcing himself to relax. The rose was meant to function as an enchanting lure. It was easy to stare into its glow and lose track of everything. “It’s time you knew the whole story anyway.” 

He looked down at his feet, wondering how he should begin. He’d dreaded this moment from the second he’d started to fall for Pinky. 

"Brain?" Pinky said softly. 

"Just…trying to figure out where to start, Pinky," Brain said, his voice weak and uncertain. 

He felt Pinky's hand slip into his. “Well, all the stories I’ve ever heard start with once upon a time,” he suggested. 

His gaze was soft and reassuring. It wasn’t a bad suggestion, but Brain looked away, knowing that he’d never get the words out if he made eye contact with Pinky. 

But he took a deep breath anyway.

"Once upon a time, a banished prince lived in a forgotten castle. Though he should've had everything his heart desired…power, servants, wealth…it was never enough to satisfy him. He always demanded more." 

There had been an empty void within him, one that couldn't be fulfilled through power or wealth. Oh, how he tried to fill his castle with material possessions, hoping that the extravagance would force everyone to realize his importance and fame. 

Hoping that it would force the royal family to take him back and restore what he believed to be rightfully his. 

"The prince became distant, selfish, as cold and cruel as a winter's storm. Only the throne and the crown mattered to him."

Perfect kings were omnipotent and untouchable, inspiring awe and fear among their subjects. They always made the right decisions and struck down opposition without mercy. 

His parents had drilled that philosophy into him since the day of his birth. 

That’s what he had to become to win over the people’s respect and admiration. To make his parents see that he was worthy of his title. To achieve a victory over Snowball. 

But…there was no such thing as a perfect king, was there? 

For all their claims of perfection, they were simply…flawed. Arrogant. Uncaring. 

Forever clinging to an ideal that could never be achieved. Cutting themselves off from the ones who tried to care about them. 

And no matter how much Brain tried to convince himself otherwise, he’d discovered that perfection only brought about loneliness and sorrow. 

“The prince continued with his foolish ways, until one harsh winter’s night, when an old beggar woman knocked on his castle’s door. She requested shelter from the storm, only offering a single rose as payment. But the prince only saw her filthy rags, her haggard appearance, her poverty…and he turned her away.” 

“...this rose?” Pinky asked softly. 

He didn’t pass judgment on Brain’s horrible decision that night. Brain wasn’t sure if he should be grateful or if he wanted Pinky to condemn him. 

“Yes, Pinky,” Brain whispered. “This rose.” 

The rose had been dull and unassuming the first time he’d laid eyes on it, much like the faded brown cloth of the beggar’s rags. Little did he know that it would be the only object of beauty in the castle for a long, long time. 

“Angered by the prince’s refusal, the beggar threw off her cloak, revealing a powerful enchantress. The prince realized his mistake too late, and though he tried to beg forgiveness, the enchantress would not hear it. She declared…that he had no love in his heart.” 

He thought he’d loved his parents and Snowball, even though the feeling wasn’t mutual. He’d been angry with them, he was trying to prove himself to them, but after all this time, he found that he was unable to completely hate them. 

But…maybe that wasn’t really love either. 

“How could she say something so awful?” Pinky suddenly shouted, crossing his arms against his chest, tail lashing behind him. “Of course you have love in your heart!”  

Taken aback by Pinky’s furious outburst and assertive declaration that Brain had the ability to love, he flinched. 

Pinky’s ire melted away instantly. “Sorry, Brain,” he said, his ears drooping. 

“...it’s okay, Pinky,” Brain assured him, unable to stand the sight of downcast blue eyes. “But you must remember that things were different back then. I was different back then. And I’m not proud of it, but…I left her in the cold first.” 

“Poit. Yeah, that was awful too…” Pinky admitted, honest as ever. Yet he passed no judgment.   

Brain’s throat tightened, his fists clenched against his sides. He closed his eyes and forced the words out. 

“As punishment, she transformed him into…into a horrifying beast, then cast her curse upon all who lived in the castle.” 

He sank to the floor, unable to keep standing as he remembered how the Enchantress’ magic forced him to his knees. The sharp point of a wand striking his forehead, the agony of horns exploding from his skull, his tail snapping a million times over from base to tip, the inability to control his own body as it expanded and distorted, the taste of his own blood as he cut himself on a pair of growing fangs, the wicked claws springing from his fingertips, his screams turning into a terrifying, deafening roar that drowned out the screams of the servants, a warm, gentle hand enveloping his, a soothing voice whispering that he was here with him, that he was safe in the West Wing, that he wasn’t alone and would never have to feel that way again. 

The magic vanished, revealing the darkened West Wing, where the enchanted rose and fireplace served as its sources of light. 

Yet Pinky outshone both of them, the moonlight striking his snowy fur and outlining his entire body in a beautiful, silver glow. Brain latched onto this angelic image, knowing that he didn’t deserve to see something so beautiful, but Pinky was kind enough to grant him the sight anyway. 

“...Pinky?” Brain said in awe, unsure if he was just an illusion. 

But those sky blue eyes, smile, and soul weren’t things that could be created by anyone. They were natural. 

“I’m here, Brain,” Pinky murmured, his assurance flooding over Brain and banishing the last of the memories. 

Though Brain wanted to sink into Pinky’s embrace more than anything else, he refrained. Though Pinky wouldn’t mind, the tale wasn’t complete yet. 

He’d never be able to finish if he started crying. 

“Before she departed, she presented the rose and a mirror to the prince-turned-beast. She explained that the blossoming rose was enchanted, and if he could learn to love another, and they in turn came to love him back, then the spell would be broken. But if he failed to do so by the time the last petal fell, then he would be doomed to remain a beast for eternity. And the mirror would show him anything he wished to see, but in order to use it, he would have to view his own twisted reflection first.” 

Pinky glanced at the rose, whose dying petals were restored and healthy once again. 

"And I fell in love with you," Pinky murmured. 

Brain didn't meet Pinky's eyes, stunned by his candid statement.

“As the years passed, the beast tried every single day to break his curse, concealing himself in the castle, for he would never be accepted back into royalty if they discovered his disfigurement. Yet all his plans failed, his mind wasting away alongside the dying rose. And he fell into despair. No matter how hard he tried, the curse would never be broken. Because he knew deep down…nobody could ever love a beast.” 

With his sordid tale finished, he bowed his head as he anxiously awaited judgment. Now that the entire truth was out in the open, Pinky would withdraw his affection and love.

No more warm, cozy nights on the fuzzy rugs of the library. No more banter at the dinner table. No more smiles or laughter or companionship. 

His castle would become cold, dark, and lonely once again. The sunshine would never reach him again. 

Brain couldn't hold back his tears anymore. 

This is it. He'll never want anything to do with me ever again. Why would he want a fallen prince or a monster? Why would he want me when he could have someone so much better? 

Then he felt a soft, silken cloth against his cheek. 

Shocked by the gesture, Brain could only stare into that beautiful blue sky within Pinky's eyes. 

“I could," Pinky said, his voice soft yet determined as he gently dabbed Brain's damp cheek with the long sash of his dress. 

Brain wished Pinky didn't feel the need to sacrifice an article of clothing for his comfort again. 

"I…I don't understand…" Brain stammered. 

He sank into Pinky's soothing strokes, though his body remained tense. For all he knew, this would be the last time Pinky would willingly touch him. 

Before he could react, Pinky pulled Brain against his chest, his warm body contrasting against the cool spring air. A strong, steady heartbeat resounded in Brain's ears, a pair of arms gently wrapping around his back. 

A kiss was pressed against his forehead, a soft hum vibrating through his body as Pinky held him steady and didn't let him go. 

Confused by all the affection, Brain could only wipe his eyes with the end of Pinky's sash, trying not to let his tears dampen Pinky's dress. 

"Mind if I continue the story?" Pinky asked softly. "It's not finished yet." 

Brain blinked, unsure of what Pinky was trying to do. 

But there was a quiet, hidden determination in Pinky's eyes, and Brain realized that there was something he wanted to convey. 

"...alright," Brain whispered, his curiosity getting the better of him. 

"Meanwhile, there was an itty-bitty mouse who lived in an itty-bitty village far far far far far far far-" 

"I believe you've made your point, Pinky," Brain interrupted. 

“Hold on a sec, Brain,” Pinky said. “Haven’t gotten all the fars out of my system yet.” 

Brain just sighed fondly, hoping that Pinky wouldn’t meander too much with his additions. 

“-far far far away. He lived with his papa and horse, and he was friends with his squirrel neighbors. But everybody else found him…odd. And nobody really wanted to be friends with him. They all thought he was too silly to understand what they were saying behind his back.” 

There was a pang of hurt in Pinky’s voice. Subtle, but even months of living in the castle couldn’t completely erase everything Pinky had endured in the village. 

“But you did,” Brain said softly. “I mean, the mouse did.”

Pinky nodded, and Brain noticed the longing in his eyes, and a silent wish for something better.    

"When the mouse felt loneliest, he'd sit in the lovely meadow with colorful wildflowers and make wishes upon the dandelions. All he really wanted…was somewhere he could truly call home, where he could really belong with someone who understood him." 

Brain touched Pinky's arm in empathy. He knew yearning and isolation all too well. 

Pinky gave him a sad, gentle smile in return. 

"Then one day, the mouse was riding his horse out in the forest when he came across a big scary castle with a big scary beast inside!”

Pinky had left out the actual details of how they met, but Brain assumed he was doing it for simplicity’s sake. 

“The beast was very grumpy and mean and he had absolutely no indoor voice! ‘RAAAAA GET OUT OF MY CASTLE’ he roared at the mouse, who was so scared that he took his horse and fled the castle!” 

Brain rolled his eyes, bemused by Pinky’s poor impression of a bestial roar. He didn’t sound anything like that. 

“If you’re going to try your hand at making primal sounds, at least make an attempt to do it from your chest and not your throat,” Brain said. “You get a louder reverberation if you build from your lungs.” 

Pinky stared at him, stunned by Brain’s suggestion. Brain blushed and looked away. Maybe that was a weird thing to know, that particular knowledge only gained because of his transformation. Princes were supposed to be sophisticated and eloquent, not teaching their company how to imitate wild animals.

But Pinky touched his chest, uncaring of social convention. “Show me?” he said. 

Well, it was an unusual request, but since they were in the privacy of the West Wing, there wasn’t much harm in it. Brain didn’t want to go back to communicating in such a primitive way ever again, but he could guide Pinky through the basic principles. 

Brain positioned Pinky’s hand so that it was between the bases of his lungs. 

“Inhale from this spot and hold it,” Brain instructed as Pinky took a deep, exaggerated breath. “On the count of three, release your breath. One…two…three!” 

And Pinky released it…in the form of a high-pitched squeak that echoed through the West Wing. He covered his mouth sheepishly, not expecting that noise at all. 

“Egad, you make that look so easy,” Pinky breathed. 

And Brain realized that this was just Pinky’s way of trying to understand him. Warmth bloomed in Brain’s chest, though he tried not to revel in it because of Pinky’s impending departure. 

“It was a valiant effort, my friend,” Brain admitted. “But I’m certain you were successful at frightening every block of cheese in the kitchen.”

“You really think so?” Pinky gasped, happily accepting the little victory. 

Brain nodded. “I do. Now, I believe you were on the part where the big, scary beast frightened that poor mouse out of his wits?” 

Pinky nodded and launched back into his story.

“But the mouse and horse soon found themselves in trouble, because an entire wolf pack was chasing them for a tasty meal! They plowed through snowbanks and a frozen river, but nothing slowed the wolves down! In his panic, the mouse fell off his horse, and right into the middle of the wolf pack!” 

Brain raised an eyebrow. “An entire wolf pack, Pinky?” 

He’d only fought a single wolf, who’d already been weakened and desperate from hunger. He’d never been foolhardy enough to test his luck against a wolf pack.  

“All good storytellers embroil a little,” Pinky shrugged. 

“The word you’re looking for is embellish,” Brain said. 

But he couldn’t help feeling flattered that Pinky thought he was strong enough to take on many wolves at once, if that’s the direction Pinky would take with his story. 

“Armed with only a tiny twig, the mouse tried to defend himself, but a wolf tore up his cloak, one last gift from his mother. The twig snapped in half as the wolf pinned him to the snow, ready to finish him off. But then, the beast came out of nowhere, roaring loudly as he knocked the wolf off the defenseless mouse and fought the pack, sending every wolf fleeing with their tails between their legs.” 

Pinky’s voice became soft and quiet as he solemnly recalled how his mother’s cloak had been torn up by the wolves. Even the cloak Brain had given him as an apology gift couldn’t completely erase the loss. 

“But…although the beast was brave, he was also badly hurt during the fight. The mouse saw the apology and pain in the beast’s eyes as he collapsed in the snow. And the mouse realized…that the beast wasn’t as big and scary as he appeared…or tried to be. Just in pain and needing help. So the mouse took the beast back to the castle to heal his injuries.”  

Brain found no trace of irony in Pinky’s bright gaze. “Brave?” he asked, unsure what Pinky was talking about. 

He'd never been brave. Quite the opposite actually. He was just a coward who hid in the West Wing and did nothing to help his servants while they suffered under the curse. 

"Well, yeah. You saved my life, Brain," Pinky said softly. 

"So did you," Brain replied. In more ways than one. 

"Though the beast was stubborn at first, he let the mouse patch him up. And the mouse thanked him for the rescue. It didn't take long before they became best friends." 

Pinky smiled as the story took a happier turn. 

"They started to do everything together. During the day, they'd eat lots of yummy food, have snowball fights, and take walks around the castle. And at night, they'd sit on the fuzzy rug of the library and read stories and talk about secret things they never shared with anyone else. Then they'd fall asleep with the mouse nestled safely against the beast, who made the cutest happy growlie sounds whenever he was hugged." 

Pinky's eyes twinkled mischievously as Brain blushed. 

"I-I did nothing of the sort!" he said hastily. Privately, he wondered if that was a possible reason why Pinky had a habit of cuddling him whenever he could. "You must've mistaken an involuntary defensive reflex for sounds of happiness." 

"But you enjoyed cuddling too," Pinky teased, a hint of smugness creeping into his tone. 

The warmth. The feeling of acceptance and belonging. The serenity. 

"It was…beneficial to both of us," he admitted. 

"And for the first time, the mouse didn't feel lonely anymore with the beast and all his new friends in the servants. Then one day, the beast invited him to attend a ball. The mouse had never been to a ball before, and he was very, very happy to accept once he realized the beast had planned it all for him." 

Brain had fretted so much over the planning of the ball. The venue, clothing, and food all had to be perfect. Fortunately, his servants were all capable and ready for the task.

He'd fumbled his invitation, not sounding like the suave Prince Charming image he'd wanted to project, but the gesture still lit up Pinky's eyes and caused him to smile brighter than the sun. 

That smile had made all the stress and worries of planning a ball worth it. 

Pinky’s tone became dreamy as he recounted the magical night of their dance. 

“The mouse wore the most beautiful dress he’d ever worn in his life, a flowing golden ballgown with silk gloves and a sparkling tiara. He felt like a princess in a fairy tale! And the beast looked very handsome and gentlemanly in his blue suit. He told the mouse he looked very punctual in his ballgown. Narf, it was so romantic….” 

Brain blushed, still embarrassed about his slip of the tongue. But if Pinky chose to believe that punctual was synonymous with beautiful, then he wasn’t about to correct him. 

“They had a wonderful dinner and danced the night away like Cinderella and her prince! The Beast was shy at first because he’d never really danced before, but the mouse taught him how to waltz, and once the beast got the rhythm down, he smiled so beautifully that the mouse had forgotten the world around them. It was just him and the Beast, waltzing in the sky to a lovely song with the clouds and stars floating and twinkling around them.” 

Not all of Brain's memories from his time under the curse were of despair and hopelessness. Because of Pinky, he had plenty of memories he could classify as…happy. 

Playing in the snow. Reading by the fireplace. Indulging in random and often baffling topics of conversation over a delicious meal. 

And most of all, dancing to a slow melody with a warm body in his arms. The world fading around them, and only seeing Pinky's dazzling smile, an endless sky in his bright blue eyes, his body cloaked in liquid sunshine as he gracefully waltzed in time with the music. 

The happiness and joy in that moment were indescribable, and all of his troubles and doubts melted away. He'd made Pinky happy, and that was the crowning achievement of his life. 

But if everything had played out exactly like a fairy tale romance, then Brain would've confessed to loving Pinky on the balcony, Pinky would've reciprocated his affections, and the curse would've broken right there. 

But his hopes and dreams of a brighter future were shattered the moment he saw Pinky's wistful, far-off glance into the lands beyond the castle. 

Sometimes, he still wondered how events might've played out if he'd chosen to follow through with his plan to confess. If he'd broken the curse without having to deal with a mob, or Snowball, or dying from a mortal wound. 

Pinky would've remained despondent. His father could've died alone in the cold if Pinky hadn't asked to see him in the mirror. Breaking the curse wouldn't mean anything if it was at his expense. 

He'd never told Pinky he'd planned to confess on the balcony that night, had he? 

"Pinky, may I take over the narrative for a moment?" Brain asked.

Pinky's tail perked up. "Sure! Oh, I just love your narrator voice, Brain!" 

Brain only blushed at the praise. 

“When their dance ended, the beast led the mouse to the balcony. He…had something very important to tell the mouse, but…” 

Brain’s heart clenched as he recalled the trepidation and fear that came with the nature of such a confession. He’d never prepared a romantic, flowery speech as the lovers in his books did, only fumbling over his words and desperately hoping that he wouldn’t say anything that would mess up Pinky’s night.

Pinky gently covered Brain’s hand, and even after two weeks, he was still shocked by how his hand was smaller than Pinky’s now. 

“...he was still working up the courage to confess everything. Including…how much he cared about him. How much he wanted the mouse’s companionship. How much he…loved him. Yet he couldn’t get the words out. Then the mouse gazed into the horizon, into the lands far beyond the castle. And the beast noticed the yearning in his eyes.” 

Pinky was silent as he took in Brain’s side of the story, his gaze growing thoughtful. “You asked me if I was happy,” he breathed. “That’s why you were so nervous.”

Brain’s ears lowered. Had his anxiety been that obvious? 

“And I told you…that I missed my father,” Pinky whispered, his shoulders slumping. “You were trying to say ‘I love you’ that night, weren’t you? And I…didn’t realize it. Poit.” 

Brain gulped. He’d never wanted Pinky to feel conflicted over this, not then and certainly not now. 

"Yes," Brain said softly. "Given your circumstances at the time, I thought…it would be easier for you to leave if you didn’t know.” 

Pinky’s ears fell as he looked away. “...it wasn’t easy, Brain,” Pinky whispered. “I missed you and the Warners, Buttons and Mindy, Marita and Flavio, Hello Nurse, Rita and Runt, and everyone else the whole time I was gone. But…I get you were just trying to help. Thank you.” 

"The beast knew time was running out for him, but…it didn't seem right to admit the truth while the mouse was sad. So the beast took the mouse to the West Wing and offered his enchanted mirror. But when the mouse saw his father in extreme danger, he cried out in distress. And upon hearing his cry, the beast realized…the mouse needed to return home, never to hear what he wanted to say. So…they said their goodbyes, and the mouse departed from the castle." 

"But how's the beast supposed to break the curse if he doesn't tell the mouse he lo-" Horror dawned in Pinky's eyes, and Brain knew that he'd drawn the correct though depressing conclusion. 

Brain bowed his head. "...the curse won't break," he murmured. "He's condemned himself and the castle for all time." 

"But that's not fair!" Pinky shouted, startling Brain. He'd never expected Pinky to react so vehemently. "He…I mean, you don't deserve that, Brain!" 

The sentiment was nice, but Pinky was giving him too much credit. He'd never done anything worthwhile in his life, and he paid for his failings dearly. 

"I deserved that fate far more than I ever deserved you, Pinky," Brain said quietly.

Though he’d kept it together reasonably well up to this point, admitting that final truth finally caused the tears he’d been trying to hold back for all this time to flow down his face. 

He’d never be a proper prince. His attempts to lead his own castle had only resulted in misery for everyone, so what made him think he could lead an entire country? 

His own pride had blinded him into thinking he could resolve the curse without love, when everything and everyone was telling him that it was in fact the only way. He’d only prolonged everyone’s suffering with his stubbornness. 

He had no accomplishments to his name, no virtues to speak of, and nothing to offer Pinky. He was grateful that Pinky was willing to stay a bit longer, but that wouldn’t last long. 

He knew it would end this way. So what gave him the right to cry over the inevitable? 

There was a heartbeat in his ears, his head pressed against a warm body with soft, cloudlike fur. Brain tensed, not wanting this warmth to ever go away, though he expected it to vanish in seconds. 

But the warmth never vanished. He was only brought closer, a nose gently nuzzling the curve of his ear as strong arms wrapped around him. 

“The mouse found his father just in time and took him back to their old cottage,”  Pinky said, taking back the narration of the story. “And he told his father lots of stories about the castle, servants, and the beast. But as he nursed his father back to health, the mouse found that he really missed his life in the castle. All the strange and wonderful things he’d seen, the jokes he heard, the acceptance he felt even though he was very different from everyone else. And he missed the beast’s company most of all. He never belonged anywhere so much before. Nobody had ever given him an entire library or threw an entire ball just for him before, nor did he ever meet someone who gave such wonderful hugs or brought him comfort when he was sad.” 

There was an odd hitch in Pinky’s breathing, and maybe it was Brain’s imagination that Pinky’s heart sped up a little, though it settled back to a normal rate quickly. 

“The mouse’s father gave his blessing for the mouse to return to the castle, and once his health was better, the mouse set off to reunite with all his friends and the beast. They were overjoyed to see each other again, and as they hugged, the mouse confessed that he’d finally realized he loved the beast while he was away. Then the beast admitted his own love for the mouse, and the curse broke on him and the entire castle. The magic lights turned the beast into a mouse again, and the pair shared a romantic kiss upon their noble steed and galloped into a gorgeous sunset, living happily ever after.” 

Pinky’s blue eyes were misty, contrasting with his gentle smile as he finished his tale. 

Though the ending was oddly cleaner with no mob action, no mention of Snowball, and less violence than the events that actually transpired, Brain decided against drawing attention to those details, even though Pinky deliberately omitted them from the story. 

But that wasn’t what bothered Brain. 

“How do you know they’re living happily ever after?” Brain asked quietly as Pinky cupped his cheek. He tried to memorize the sensation, unsure how long it would last. “All of their problems…they can’t just be completely erased.” 

He’d once held a romanticized view of life after the curse was broken. He thought he could just go back to the luxurious life of a prince, he thought he could just keep trying to spread his influence across the land, hoping that his parents would one day hear of the prosperity he’d brought to the neglected countryside.   

Had he really been so naive back then?

He could barely touch his crown without tossing it across the room, frightened by its coldness and lack of feeling. He was inadequate for the throne, something he’d been too arrogant to believe before the curse. And he didn’t know what the future held for himself, Pinky, or the servants. 

“I don’t think all their problems are gone.” Pinky mused. “I’m sure they’ll have more. But they’re together. They’ll never have to face anything while feeling sad and scared alone. They’ve got each other, and that's a wonderful happily ever after. Just like ours.”  

"Ours?" Brain repeated. "You think we're in a happily ever after right now?" 

Pinky nodded, though he seemed confused at the question. "Of course. Don't you?" 

“...I don’t know,” Brain whispered. His body trembled, and Pinky’s embrace tightened, steadying him once more. Pinky’s clothing was damp with Brain’s tears, but he didn’t seem to mind. “A happy ending is just a fantasy. But…it’s nice to indulge in it before you leave for good-” 

“I don’t get what you mean by ‘leave for good’, Brain,” Pinky frowned. 

Brain swallowed anxiously. “I-I’ve told you my history. You’ve seen how much of a failure I am. I…I’m grateful for the offer to be part of your family, but…I already disappointed my parents. And I’ve failed my servants too. So…I understand if you want to leave before I ruin your family more than I already have.” 

“Brain-” 

“You can settle wherever you want. I’ll make sure you’ll always have shelter and food and money as my personal gratitude, perhaps some extra coins if you want to buy something nice-”

A pair of hands gently tilted his head upward, until he was looking into a pair of sad, gentle blue eyes. 

“I don’t want to leave you, Brain. Or make you feel unwanted,” he said, sounding hurt by the suggestion he would. “Please, if Papa, Pharfig, or I are doing anything that makes you feel like you aren’t part of our family, let me know so we can work it out.” 

Though Brain was touched, he felt a pang of guilt for believing that Pinky would abandon him like the royal family once did. There was no evidence to support that accusation. Pinky never abandoned him under the curse. Not even once. 

He’d worked himself up over nothing. 

“I’m sorry, Pinky. It’s nothing any of you have done,” Brain said softly. Quite the opposite in fact. They were so welcoming that he had no idea how to respond to their kindness and generosity. “I should’ve known from the moment I saw you on the balcony that you wanted to stay. I really don't know why I was scared…"

Pinky’s thumbs gently brushed over Brain’s damp cheeks. “It’s okay. You’re new to all this, but you’ll learn our inside jokes and my great-great-great-great-great grandma’s passed down for generations super secret cheese souffle recipe soon enough. Only family members are allowed to know the secret ingredient to her souffle.” 

“Let me guess. The secret ingredient is cheese,” Brain said. Pinky may’ve been adept in many areas, but the art of subtlety wasn’t one of them.

Pinky gasped in amazement, like Brain had just unlocked the secrets of the universe. “Narf! Wow, Brain!” he exclaimed, genuine surprise in his voice. “I can’t believe you guessed it on your first try! That means you’re definitely part of our family now!” 

But Brain still wasn’t convinced. He found it hard to believe that guessing something so obvious would allow him a place in Pinky’s family. 

“I can’t accept, Pinky,” he said. “I…I’m not worthy of being part of your family.” 

Pinky rested his head atop Brain's, and Brain nearly jerked away, before remembering that there were no horns for Pinky to skewer himself on anymore. 

"You don't need to be worthy," Pinky murmured, gently kissing Brain's forehead. "You just need to be Brain." 

Pinky's lips lingered against his fur, and Brain leaned in, soaking up all the tenderness Pinky wholeheartedly gave him. 

He wanted to adhere to Pinky's strange wisdom, but…. 

"I haven't been Brain in a long time," he whispered. He'd always been a prince, or a beast, or a disappointment. He had a second chance at life, but outside of spending it with Pinky, he had no idea what to do with it. "Nor have I really planned for this scenario. Where would I even start?"

"Well, the Brain I know is smart enough to figure that out," Pinky declared. "And maybe he doesn't always get it right, but he won't give up easily either, even when he's scared. He acts grumpy but gives really good hugs and can be very sweet and endearing too. And most of all, he cares about me and his servants, and I think he could've been a great prince if he'd been given the chance." 

Overwhelmed by Pinky's honesty and passionate speech, Brain's tears began anew. 

Nobody ever said those things to him before. 

It was somewhat embarrassing, as all conversations that involved emotions tended to be, but…it was nice. 

He pulled Pinky's head down to give him a proper kiss, fully believing that it was the best way to show his appreciation, gratitude, and love. 

Pinky kissed him back, letting out a narf of contentment. 

All of Brain's troubles were far away. Nothing else mattered except this peace and serenity within the West Wing, made possible by one incredibly special mouse. 

And the enchanted rose's light was brighter and prettier than ever before.

End AN: And that completes Brain’s backstory arc for this AU! 

Next we’ll see how Pinky’s adjusting to all the changes, and deal with his leftover issues from the night of the mob attack. I’ve dropped hints that Pinky is deeply affected by everything that happened to him that night and is trying to hide it, though Brain can tell something’s off. Pinky omitting the mob and Brain’s temporary death from his story is one of the largest hints. 

[ericac318]

A Stakeout

Summery: Things get a little boring while Luke and Robin are watching their latest suspect. A one-shot that takes place before my story Multiple Entanglements

Robin turned in her seat, fighting boredom while keeping Luke from noticing. They’d only been working together for six months and she didn’t want to look bad in front of a legend.

“Are you alright, Agent Carter?” he inquired, “How long has it been since you took part in a stakeout?” he added.

She nodded, “I’m great. I just wish I’d brought a book or maybe some word searches,” she admitted, looking away from his gaze, afraid she’d see judgment on his face.

“This type of work is about patience,” Luke began, “I looked at your scores from the Farm. You excelled in these situations. Almost all of your instructors complimented your composure. Is there something else going on?”

Robin didn’t want to admit that part of her problem was that she was distracted by her feelings for him. She knew from her team that he was working on winning his ex-wife back so there was no point in pursuing her interests. She needed to think of a quick lie.

She shrugged, “I think I’m just a little bit intimidated by you. Roo and Aldon are always talking about how many amazing things you’ve done. I’m not sure I belong on this team,” she told a half-truth, causing Luke to shake his head.

“There’s no need,” he replied his tone tender, “You earned your place on this team. Are you sure that’s the only thing bothering you?” He was giving her another chance, to be honest.

Robin took a deep breath, “You’re right, there is something else, but I really don’t want to talk about it. I hope that’s alright?”

Luke nodded, even though he already knew what was on her mind. Roo had told him that Robin had feelings for him because she’d noticed that he was attracted to her. “You have every right to keep whatever it is to yourself. If you change your mind, we have all night,” he offered before silence resumed between them.

A few hours passed before Robin couldn’t handle the tension that was building between them, for another second. 

“Ok, I’ll tell you what’s bothering me,” she burst out, “But, if things get awkward then we pretend I never spoke, deal?”

Luke gave a simple nod as his response. 

She took that as a go-ahead before she started explaining, “I am not usually unprofessional like this. I need to make that clear.” She swallowed before continuing, “I tried to ignore these feelings but I haven’t been able to. I am into you, Luke Brunner, like deeply. The reason that I’m having such a hard time during this stakeout is because of that and also because I can think of some fun ways for us to pass the time…” She let her words linger in the air, hoping she didn’t just ruin a brand new relationship, no matter how things shook out.

Luke didn’t answer right away as he thought over his words. Finally, he took a deep breath and spoke, “If you’d told me this two, or even three, months ago, I would have told you that I am still devoted to my ex-wife and that we couldn’t have any kind of future. However, after working with you, I can confirm that I have developed feelings for you two. I’m not sure what you mean when we say we could make this stakeout more fun, but I would like to take you out on a date after the mission is complete,” he confessed.

“I would really like that,” Robin replied as her lips curled into a mischievous smile, “I was kind of thinking that I could scratch the itch now, though. I’m very aware that you’re old-fashioned, but we could have a lot of fun while we wait on our target to make a move,” she added as she moved onto her knees on her seat, angling herself to face him while she placed her hand on his thigh.

He nearly held his breath to hide his reaction to her touch, “If we do this, we need to keep it quiet. Even if some of the team know we have feelings for each other, they can never know that we’re acting on them. Can you do that?”

“Of course, I’m a spy,” she said before she inched her hand further up his thigh until she reached the obvious bulge in his jeans. “Are you sure you want to move forward and have our nice first date later?”

Luke let out a hiss as he felt her start rubbing him through his pants, “I’m sure,” he agreed as he started to pull her over onto his lap before his expression took on a look of confusion at her shaking her head.

“I have a very specific idea,” she whispered, leaning in toward his ear, “One of us has to keep watch,” she added as she undid his belt first and then moved to undo his jean.

A guttural groan escaped his lips as she grasped him in her hand before she started to move up and down, painfully slowly, ensuring he was ready.

After Luke released a few frustrated moans, Robin took pity on him and removed her hand, replacing it with her mouth. She ran her tongue from the base of his shaft to the tip before she engulfed him between her lips, smiling as she felt his hand grasping her hair.

With each small noise and grunt Luke made, Robin felt herself getting wetter but she resisted the urge to touch herself, too consumed with him.

He surprised her when he suddenly removed her mouth from her, hosting her onto his lap until she was straddling him. “I don’t want our first time to be about just me,” he whispered as he ran his hand up her leg until he could move her panties to the side, allowing her to adjust before she sank down on him.

She moaned as she felt his fingers dig into her hips before she started moving up and down on him, both of them already close. 

“I can’t wait for our first real date,” she nearly yelled out as she felt her orgasm take over, forcing herself to keep moving. She could feel him starting to twitch as she clenched around him and knew he wouldn’t be far behind. 

[voidtouched-blue]

Forgotten-contract--prior

Hands clasped together he leaned against his knees, keeping his attention to himself as he realized after a moment the young woman wouldn’t eat with him looking (That was reserved for her sleepy hours) and let the quiet stay for a bit, with only the small sounds of her eating for a bit… until it slowed, and stopped, and his gaze was brought to her own, the tint of the glasses obscuring her in the dark - and yet they remained for the time. A shield for his inner thoughts. Her tail flicked comfortably around her legs, that long furred tip wiggling in something as he tried to read her expression, eventually prompting the man to ask; “…Is everything alright?”

The natural orchestra that nightfall brought in was plenty to fill the silence between them. Her time away from the Shroud was short, but she would have traded the still heat and the din of the crowded streets for the peaceful quiet of the crickets and frogs. Paired with the gentle crackle of the fire, this was the first time she had felt at peace in the last year. Being able to just enjoy the sounds that bathed them in that tranquility was...nice?

Cyra had scooted herself off the log, pulling her legs close to her chest, wrapping her arms over her knees with her tail coming in to settle in a curl around her legs. It had taken her far longer to fully recognize that Silvaire had come to sit closer to her. That was the moment she realized how much she missed having familiar company. Bryn had been gone for a few years now, and... She flicked her ears, tail also curling and uncurling in the way it did as her mind worked through a fresh flood of emotions. After everything that had happened in the last year, the self-isolation, her self-loathing, and a hatred for how unfair everything felt.

She hadn't made an effort to slip on the mask after the last time it had fallen. At this point, it was too much of an effort to put back on. Not to mention, there was no way she could hide her true feelings with how expressive her extra furred appendages were. It was one of the few ways that she could let off some of the building pressure. A flick here and there, or in some cases repeated movements aided in moments of deep thought that required focus.

The detection of movement at her side had caught her attention subconsciously. The Keeper turned her head towards Silvaire, resting her chin on her arm and hadn't caught that she had been staring.

“…Is everything alright?”

It was a simple question, but without a simple answer. She had wanted to tell him how, despite the rather unsettling events that had happened within the last two days, she was enjoying his company. And she felt guilty for it. It felt like a betrayal to the grief she had been nurturing, that festered within her. That grief had become the source of a different kind of suffering that she knew she had yet to comprehend. The anticipation of it was what bothered her. But above all that, it was simply because she felt guilty for enjoying his company.

It was with a gentle huff from her nostrils that she turned her attention back to the fire, her eyelids resting low over her starlit gaze. Her ears gave it away, flattening back against her head, and her tail began an anxious dance of its own. She had been used to the way it reacted to her emotions, simply unfolding one of her arms to reach down and grab it to hold the damn thing still.

He's expecting an answer...

"I...." She started, finding her heart start fluttering as it had done before. Cyra shifted, stretching out her clawed toes for a moment as she tried to release the nervous energy in a more productive way.

"....I don't...know." She sighed.

The weight was heavy on her chest. It almost felt like it had taken away her air. Her she was, taking a stranger back to her home to help her with the current source of her anguish. Truth be told, Cyra felt like she had been cursed. Any who came near her either ended up dying or having to leave for some reason or another. She considered herself a strong woman, but the isolation was getting... lonely. She missed the enjoyment of conversation, no matter how menial. She missed having someone she could trust enough that the gentle touch of a hand didn't send her spiraling back into her past just to experience it's source anew.

I'm worried that I'm getting used to this. And that just like the others, it will be gone all too soon.

The flattened ears had not returned upright for the entirety of her silence. In another attempt to self-soothe, she gently rubbed the exposed fur on her arms, claws gently tracing the stripes, and the scars that hid beneath. She was tired of being overwhelmed with her rather decorated past. She wanted to be open with someone, to have a connection. Hearing the sound of his light laughs replay in her head had made her conflicted in this desire.

The Keeper knew that the path she walked would be her own burden, and nobody would truly be able to help her carry the weight. They could be there to offer support, but the reality was that the only one who would be hurt in the end was herself. Her mind wandered to a rather uneventful time during her imprisonment, a stretch of days where none had come to terrorize or abuse her. They were far and few between back then, but even if they had withheld meals and contact, it was the only peace she had known. Yet, for the first time since Haurchefant...and Bryn... she hadn't felt so isolated.

Cyra realized that having been absorbed in her studies, she neglected to truly reflect on his company. As strained as their connection may have been the other night...and of course when she attacked him... the fact that he hadn't tried to hurt her in retaliation, nor the fact that he hadn't questioned her about her unusual appearance or stared as long as most others would have made her feel seen.

"Why haven't you asked me about them? The patterned fur, I mean." She didn't truly want to answer his, but in the peaceful song of the crickets that answered the glittering stars, honesty and exhaustion ruled. She was nervous about his answer. Cyra could handle rejection. She could handle the way people stared, or the way children pointed her out in crowds everywhere she went. All the behaviors that made her further isolate herself from the public eye, to layer more fabric over the striped stories that came with exposed skin. Subconsciously, her fingers traveled up to the marred line of pale skin on her neck.

[robininthelabyrinth]

How does the cultivation world find out about the Nie tiger qi deviation?

Tigers

Lan Qiren was six, and he was tired.

He’d been running after the grown-ups for what felt like ages, trying to keep up, trying to justify having been brought to the Unclean Realm to accompany their father on a night-hunt even though he knew the real reason was because there was trouble back at the Cloud Recesses that, for whatever reason, required him not to be there. Something to do with his mother, maybe, or possibly his father’s reaction to his mother’s death – he really wasn’t sure.

They’d left him behind, though.

Possibly on purpose.

Either way, he’d tried to catch up, and he was pretty sure he was now lost. He didn’t even know where he was anymore – it didn’t even look like forest, being all twisted and turned around, with round tombs with no apparent entrances…except there was an entrance, because the old sect leader Nie was being helped into one. He didn’t look too good, with his eyes gone all red and a little bit of foam at his mouth, and Lan Qiren hid himself away, instinctively certain that he shouldn’t be seeing this, not least of all because the people escorting him looked like they were conducting a funeral. They’d only just changed sect leaders in the Nie sect recently, with Lao Nie stepping up to become sect leader, and no one had actually said what happened to the old sect leader, but they’d all exchanged significant looks…

They’d left it too long, whatever it was. The old sect leader shoved all his helpers away, throwing back his head and howling in rage and pain and –

And about halfway through, it turned into more of a roar, instead.

After a bit, it wasn’t even that.

Lan Qiren stared, wide-eyed, at the tiger swishing its tail where the old sect leader Nie had been standing.

He didn’t move as the Nie sect disciples conferred with each other, then shrugged and headed into the tombs, carrying the old sect leader’s saber like they were going to proceed with the funeral – like they’d always planned on burying the saber instead of the man.

Maybe they had.

In the meantime, the tiger yawned and stretched, then trotted away – straight towards Lan Qiren, actually. Not accidentally, either: it stopped right in front of the copse of trees Lan Qiren was hiding in and gave a pointed sniff.

“Uh, hi,” Lan Qiren said. Then, out of lack of anything better to say, added, “You’re a very pretty kitty now, Sect Leader Nie. Uh. Former Sect Leader Nie?”

The tiger preened.

“Still a bit covered in gore, though.” It had been a pretty big explosion. “Do you wanna take a bath or something, maybe? I read in a book that cats like to be clean…”

The tiger nodded. Vigorously. Then it turned to go away, but paused and gave Lan Qiren a look. Several looks.

“…I can come with you?”

Another nod.

Lan Qiren considered his options: remaining lost, or following the tiger-once-a-person.

“Can I ride you?” he asked, and beamed when the tiger nodded. Easy choice!

(Later, Lao Nie found him with his face pressed into the tiger’s now-clean fur, most of the way asleep, snoring and drooling, and shook his head. “You’re not supposed to let people know, you know that,” he told his father, who sneezed in his general direction. “But it’s Qiren, so I suppose it’s all right. He’s a good boy, he won’t tell anyone…”)

They were right, too, Lan Qiren thought, many years later when Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian blurted the secret out to the cultivation world at large. He shook out his sleeves and did his best to adopt a careless attitude – not his natural state of things, to say the least, but at least tolerably believable.

“What, Sect Leader Yao,” he said loudly, “are you saying youdidn’t know? I thought it was common knowledge!”

Sect Leader Yao gaped at him for a moment.

“Surely you’ve just forgotten,” Lan Qiren said pointedly. “Easy enough, since we see it so rarely. Still I’m sure we’ve discussed the Nie sect leaders’ fate in the past, don’t you think?”

Technically not a lie. Lan Qiren had definitely discussed the qi deviation part of it with Sect Leader Yao before – though perhaps not the final implications thereof.

“Oh, yes, of course,” Sect Leader Yao said, never one to miss an opportunity to look like he knew everything. “Of course, of course. It’s just been so many years – you know how it is.”

Lan Qiren nodded. “The Nie have long been accepted as a Great Sect,” he said. “It would be very strange if we didn’t all know about such a fundamental fact of their cultivation.”

It would be, too, except for the fact that they’d kept it such a secret.

Still, between the Lan sect reputation for not lying and Lan Qiren’s forcefulness and personal authority – there was nothing like an old teacher for being believed, he’d found, even if the people doing the believing were his students’ parents – it only took a little more than that. Eventually he had everyone nodding along with him as if they’d always known about it, that it was common knowledge.

Now they just had to come up with a way to convince everyone that the late, unlamented Jin Guangshan’s tragic death by animal bite had nothing to do with it, and everything would be fine.

(That much, he was leaving to Nie Huaisang.)

[snowstark]

counting to 100. 🍒

For @tonystarkbingo | Fill: Peter Parker/Spider-Man For @peterparkerbingo | Fill: Villain Redemption The one where the Superior Iron Man finds himself having a soft spot for Little!Peter who regresses after a stressful day as Spider-Man. READ ON AO3

The first time Peter saw him, it was when he was out on patrol.

He remembered hiding behind the line of hedges on the penthouse rooftop, stilling his breath like he was terrified that he could hear him. He remembered letting out a little gasp when the— the thing—armour?—wrapped around his body, enveloping him like a snake slithering up his torso, and remembered the way his blue gaze had snapped to his hiding spot. He’d known he’d given himself away that night.

But the Superior hadn’t done anything; his gaze lingered on Peter for a few moments before he disappeared, leaving behind a trail of dust as he shot off.

The second time Peter saw him, it was when he was sitting on the curbside of the empty playground, humming under his breath as he traced the alphabet into the sand. He’d had a rough day, and he could feel the familiar haze of warmth and safety and softness approaching him when he was interrupted by a set of sharp, clean black shoes at the corner of his vision. He jumped to his feet and stared with wide eyes. It was 4 in the morning; no one ever came to this area by now.

But this was the Superior, and he played by his own rules.

Peter’s chest tightened with fear and he stammered, “I— ‘m not—”

“You’re young,” the Superior noted, and Peter fell silent, wringing his mask in his hands.

Then, he looked down and gasped. His mask! He was— he wasn’t supposed to let anyone see— he tried to yank it back onto his face but a silver tendril shot out and wrapped around his wrist, making him choke on another gasp. “Please,” Peter whimpered.

“So fearful, little one. What scares you this way?”

And that— that was just a ridiculous question. The Superior was scaring Peter, and there was no way he didn’t know that. Peter knew who the Superior was, knew what he could do, but he was little right now, and fear only made him feel smaller by the second.

“I don’t—” A pitiful noise escaped Peter’s throat again, and the tendril retreated to hover over the letters scrawled into the sand. Peter followed the movement with his gaze. He’d stopped at ‘P.’

Then, the Superior wrote, slowly: ‘Q.’

Peter’s lips parted in surprise.

“What comes next, little one?”

Peter’s gaze jumped back to his face, and the armour melted away like a melting snowman. The Superior raised his eyebrows, and Peter bit his lip, then said softly, “R.”

The Superior’s lips quirked into a small smile. “That’s correct. Smart thing, aren’t you?”

Peter felt his cheeks tinting with warmth, and he ducked his head. The warm, fuzzy feeling was approaching his vision again, strong this time, even though deep down, somewhere in his brain, he knew he should be making an excuse, should be trying to put some distance between them, and get home safely.

But thoughts were hard. It was like trying to swim in mud. Fuzzy mud. And Peter wasn’t a caterpillar.

So, he looked down at the sand, bent down, and wrote ‘R.’ Then, he looked up at the Superior, who nodded, and he wrote ‘S,’ then ‘T’ and ‘U.’ He continued until he reached ‘Z,’ where he ended it off by drawing a little heart.

“‘m done,” he said softly, looking up at the Superior.

The man had his hands tucked into his pockets, and he gave Peter an impressed look, drawling, “Look how smart you are. Now can you count to 100?”

Peter blinked, and said uncertainly, “‘s— ‘s a big number.”

The Superior’s lips tugged into a smile, eyes crinkling the slightest bit. “It is, isn’t it?” Then, he turned his head, like he was concentrating on something far away, and Peter got on his tip-toes to try to see too. Except he didn’t see anything but the dark, black sky.

Then, the Superior said, “Practice your numbers, little one,” before the armour covered him in a shimmering case of silver. He was gone within moments, leaving Peter standing there with nothing but the English alphabet etched into the sand.

--- --- ---

For some inexplicable reason, Peter found himself back at the playground again the next day. Someone had erased the alphabet, but he wasn’t upset. He could start again.

The weather was getting colder now. He’d have to bring a jacket or something to wear over his suit when he was done patrolling. He always got a little more chilly when he was slipping into that safe space too, like he was being poked by icicles.

He was sitting on the swings when the Superior arrived, as if they’d planned a rendezvous.

He looked up, surprised. The first day had been a coincidence, this was not.

The Superior was silent as the armour melted away, and Peter fidgeted nervously before squeaking out, “Hi.”

The Superior lifted a poised eyebrow. “You’re out late again.”

“Um, I patrol.” Peter lifted his mask up, blinking uncertainly up at him. “‘s my break time right now. And ‘m hungry.”

“Patrol, huh?” A coil of metal reached out to flick Peter under the chin, making him jump. “Brave boy, keeping this place safe.”

“Sometimes,” Peter said softly. “Because sometimes I see bad things on TV at school ‘n I have to go fix it.”

“Oh, do you? Is that why you can’t count to 100? Been skipping class too much, little dove?”

Peter’s lips formed a small pout before he could help himself. “I can count,” he protested, affronted. “‘s just a little bit hard, sometimes.”

“Well, that’s okay. You can always ask for help, can’t you?” The Superior approached him, watched his feet skitter nervously on the sand of the playground.

Peter nodded timidly, then asked, “What’s a dove?”

The Superior’s lips twitched. “You’re a dove.”

Peter looked down at himself, confused, then back up at him. “‘m not! ‘m just— ‘m just Peter.”

The Superior didn’t say anything, just watched him fidget some more on the swing before he murmured, “I have a surprise for you.”

“A surprise?”

The Superior gave a slight nod.

“I like surprises,” Peter admitted softly.

“Well, then, you’re a lucky boy.” The Superior extended a silver tendril behind the bushes to draw something out.

Peter slid off the swing, eyes wide. Then, when the object was close enough for him to make out what it was, he gasped. “For me?”

The Superior nodded again, pressing the white teddy bear into his chest.

Peter grabbed it immediately, pressing his fingers into the fur. It was softer than anything else he’d ever touched; it didn’t feel like a cheap dollar-store purchase, but more like the type you would see on display at fancy clothing stores, sitting on the counter. He pressed his face to it, rubbing his cheek against it as he let out happy noises.

“What do you say?”

Peter’s gaze jerked up to meet the Superior’s expectant gaze. “Thank you,” he said breathlessly. “I love her.”

The Superior looked smug. “I knew you would.” Then, he turned around again, just like he’d done last night, staring at what only he could see, and Peter clutched the bear closer to him.

“Um— Mr. Superior?”

“Hm?” The Superior didn’t turn his head.

“Can I— she’s mine?”

“She is.” With that, the silver armour began to ghost over his body again, and Peter almost watched with an air of desperation as his face disappeared from view.

“Mr. Superior?” he blurted out in a rush before he could leave.

The Superior waited.

“Um— thank you. Can I have 100 bears?” The words left without Peter realizing it and he gasped, mortified that he’d even asked such a thing. He sounded spoiled.

But the Superior just chuckled. “Maybe if you learn how to count, sure.”

“And um— will you— will you be here tomorrow, maybe?” Peter bit his cheeks, flushing.

The Superior tilted his head. “Do you want me to be?”

Peter ducked his head, shuffling his feet.

When he didn’t respond, the Superior told him, “I’ll be here,” before he turned and left the playground.

Peter watched him disappear, then looked down at the bear in his hands for a long time before heading home.

--- --- ---

The Superior met him every night after that, and that was just incomprehensible to Peter. He knew the man had better things to do. Maybe he was just interested in him because he knew he was Spider-Man.

But even that didn’t make sense, because the Superior never brought it up, nor did he try to hurt him. In fact, Peter found that the urge to go on patrol and be New York’s brave superhero was lessening in favour of being small with the Superior.

The Superior was nice to him. Nicer than anything he could’ve ever imagined. He always brought Peter nice gifts, like a snack, or a warm hoodie for him to wear, and even some hot chocolate.

He always said nice things to Peter too, like you’re a smart boy and such sweet manners, little one, I’m impressed.

But then, one night, for the first time, the Superior was upset with him.

Peter was terrified, and had nearly started sobbing as he collapsed into the swing, the meat of his palms pressed to his eyes.

“What did you say to me?” the Superior demanded, and Peter had never heard his voice like that before.

“I don’t— ‘m sorry—” he whimpered, breath quickening when he felt a tendril of metal wrap around his wrists, pulling them down from his face. “Just— just don’t wanna keep takin’ gifts, M-Mr. Superior, don’t want anymore—”

“Oh, no, no,” the Superior interrupted, his ice-cold gaze burning into Peter, and that didn’t make sense either, because ice was supposed to be cold, not hot. “That’s not your choice to make. It’s always the same thing with you little ants. Never happy, never grateful, only little brats.”

“‘m sorry!” Peter cried again, sniffling.

The Superior was quiet for a few moments, and all Peter could hear was the sound of the man’s harsh breathing in the space between them before it gradually deepened into its regular soothing rhythm. Then— “You’re a sweet boy.”

The words made Peter’s eyes fly open in confusion, and he asked tearfully, “I am?”

The Superior nodded. His gaze was more gentle now. Not soft like it usually was, but gentle. “And that’s why I keep bringing you gifts, little one. It’s rude to deny them when I’m being generous. I’m not always a generous man.”

“Just to me,” Peter sniffled.

“That’s right,” the Superior crooned. “Smart boy, always learning so fast. C’mere, little one, let your Superior teach you how to repent properly.”

Peter stumbled forward, scrunching his face as he mumbled, “I dunno what that word means, Mr. Superior.”

“It means you show me how sorry you are.” The Superior cupped his chin with a hand, tipping his face up. “Because you were rude, weren’t you?”

“Uh-huh,” Peter hiccuped. “‘m sorry.”

The Superior’s thumb stroked over his cheek. Then, he said, “No more tears, little one. I can tell how sorry you are. Had a bit of a scare, didn’t you, poor thing?”

And that was confusing too, because the Superior was comforting him like he’d just woken up from a nightmare when he was the nightmare. But Peter just pressed into the touch and mumbled again, “‘m sorry.”

“I know, little one. But you’re going to be so much more well-behaved now, I know it. You’re a good boy.”

Peter nodded timidly.

For the rest of the night, the Superior watched Peter struggle to complete the hopscotch he’d drawn for him in the sand before leaving.

--- --- ---

Peter was considerably meeker the next day, and he knew that the Superior knew. But he couldn’t help it; he just wanted to be good.

Eventually, the Superior said, “Want to do something fun, little one?”

“Fun?” Peter blinked, then asked softly, “What kinda fun?”

“Mmm.” The Superior tilted his head, eyes glinting. They almost looked like the moon in the sky, glimmering with light. Like a night-light, almost. “Do you want to fly, little one?”

“Fly?” Peter gasped, eyes wide. “I— I can kind of fly.” He held his wrists out in demonstration of his web shooters.

The Superior chuckled, reaching out—with his hand, for once—to gently grip his wrist and tug it back down. “Oh, sweet thing, that’s not true flight. I can show you how to really fly. I promise it’ll be fun. A reward for being so good today.” He crouched down now, eye-level with Peter sitting on the ground. “Do you trust me?”

Peter stared at him, breath shallow in his chest. He wrapped a hand around the Superior’s finger, looked down at it, then back up at his face. “Yes,” he whispered.

The Superior reached out and picked him up, and Peter let him. “Good boy. Hang on tight.”

“Yes, Mr. Superior.” Peter did exactly as he was told, clinging to the Superior’s arms as they stood with his back to the Superior’s front. He could feel the familiar shift as the armour wreathed over the Superior’s body, but it didn’t cover him.

“Are you ready, little one?” The words were spoken in a low voice, quiet enough that Peter had to strain to listen to him.

“Uh-huh.” Peter tightened his grip, heart beginning to pound. He knew he’d be fine. The Superior hadn’t hurt him yet, and he wouldn’t now. And if he fell, well, he had his webs. He might be a little more clumsy with how small he was feeling, but he could do it.

Or maybe the Superior would be the one to catch him.

“Good.” With that, the Superior lifted off the ground, making Peter inhale sharply.

They went up, up, and up, until Peter was convinced that they could touch the sky. Then they were going forward, picking up speed, and Peter gradually found himself relaxing as fear left him, replaced by pure delight at the sight of the twinkling buildings illuminated against the night sky.

The wind was cold against his face as the Superior let them swoop down. Peter let out a thrilled yelp and let his arms fly out, the Superior’s grip on him the only thing keeping him held and safe.

There was a chuckle from above. “Little dove, flying through the air, hm? Daddy taught you how to fly?”

Peter grinned and twisted in his grip, and the Superior held tight. “‘m flying!” he shouted, feet kicking before he could help himself.

Another laugh, and the Superior didn’t say anything else.

Peter kept his arms extended as they shot through the sky, and the Superior even did a loop-de-loop when he begged him enough. Then, Peter pointed at a little apartment building that they zoomed by and squealed, “‘s where I live!”

“Is it?” the Superior murmured, sounding interested. “Do you want me to drop you off at home, little one? Is it bedtime for you yet?”

Peter shook his head adamantly, pouting. “Nooo, I wanna stay with you.” He glanced up, craning his neck, and found the Superior looking down at him.

“Always saying the right things, little dove.”

Peter smiled. He was being good, and now he got to fly with the Superior, and he’d ask if they could do the same thing tomorrow night, too. He was sure he’d get a yes in return.

He turned his attention back to the buildings they shot past, then gasped. “What’s that?” he pointed at the large tower standing tall and proud amongst all the other buildings.

“That’s my tower.”

“Yours?” Peter gasped, eyes wide. “You live there? ‘s so big!”

The Superior nodded, speed picking up the slightest bit. “Do you want to see it?”

Peter didn’t hesitate. “Yes! Please!”

The Superior chuckled. “Well, only because you asked so nicely. I do have a weak spot for pretty words.” With that, he held onto Peter tighter before shooting off towards the tower.

Peter squealed, covering his face with his hands. “Can’t breathe!” he proclaimed dramatically, hearing the wind whip past his ears.

The Superior laughed above him. “Don’t be ridiculous, little one. You’re perfectly fine.”

Peter gave a little wriggle, but he didn’t voice any more protests as they neared the tower.

It was even more grand up close, with big fat letters that said “STARK” and windows that reflected the moonlight that shone down on them. Peter squirmed to get down, and when their feet landed on the platform, their shadows painted streaks across the floor.

“Wow,” Peter breathed, craning his neck to stare up at the sky. They were so close to the moon, he could feel it. He wondered what the moon would feel like in his hand. Cold and heavy, maybe. “Mr. Superior?”

“Hm?”

“Can you get the moon for me?” Peter turned big, pleading eyes to the Superior.

The Superior chuckled. “Perhaps one day, little one.” He outstretched a hand, and Peter took it, obediently scampering by his heel like an excited puppy as they walked towards the open door.

The Superior led him inside, then let go of his hand. Peter immediately ran to the large windows and pressed his nose against it. “‘s so pretty.”

“Do you like the view?”

Peter nodded without turning to look at him.

Then, there was a hand on his shoulder, squeezing lightly to get his attention. Peter looked up and met a pair of pale blue eyes. “You see that, little one?” Peter followed the Superior’s finger to stare out of the window and at the sparkling city before him. “This is my world. This is my universe. I own it all. And if you’re good, I can give you some of it too.”

“For me?” Peter’s eyes widened. “But— but I dunno how to own it.” He could barely keep track of where he left his stuffies, never mind buildings.

The Superior chuckled. “Well, it’s why you have me. You can always ask for help.” He ran a soothing hand through Peter’s wind-tousled hair. “Are you hungry?”

“Mhm.” Peter blinked up pleadingly. “Pizza.”

The Superior rolled his eyes. “You always want pizza.”

“‘cause it’s good!” Peter pouted.

“Fine. But only one with veggies on it.”

Peter pulled a face, but he knew he’d already lost the fight. Maybe he could pick them off when the pizza came. He followed the Superior towards the kitchen, counting the number of windows they passed by. Then— “Mr. Superior?”

“Hm?” The Superior looked down at him.

“Can you— can you help me? Um, to count to 100?” Peter asked softly.

The Superior appraised him, then smiled. “Oh, little one, you most definitely asked the right person.”

Peter smiled, biting his bottom lip happily, then got up onto his tip-toes to plant a quick, shy kiss to the Superior’s cheek. “Thank you.”

He knew he could always ask the Superior for help.

part 2?? maybe?? tagging: @vaguekiwi @carelessannie @starkentrprises @thegreenmetblue @professional-benaddict

[writinginthedarkwood]

Werewolf! Kirishimia Eijiro: A New Meaning to Golden Retriever Boyfriend.

Thank you so dearly for this request, it was so much fun to write. Prompt #16 “Not this again.” For the fictober event. If you have a request, please send me an ask I would love to write it. 

No warnings, fluffy and cute.

"You've got to be kidding me, not this again." You looked down at your phone, a long paragraph typed up from your boyfriend Eijiro in the same format as last month. An excuse, an apology, canceling tonight's plans, and about two more apologies. Tonight he's claiming stomach issues, but you know the truth. You sigh and check your bank account. If he would just tell the truth you could tell him that it wouldn't be a problem for you to pay for the movie tickets tonight! He makes good money, he must really spend over his budget. He's so chivalrous and sweet, it might insult him to try and pay for things sometimes. You don't mind, if only he'd just open up.

You decide that enough is enough, you're going over there and you're going to put an end to the lying! He's going to let you pay for the date if you have to drag him out by his ears. You throw on the outfit you had planned for your date, cleaned up your hair and head down the street into the night air. Eijiro's house is just outside of city lines in the suburbs. He has a nice end lot with a large field behind it. You're so jealous of his view. You hop on the bus and ride with head phones on, listening to a playlist he made you. The bus can be a little scary at night, but nobody is on here except for you. It's kind of peaceful just listening to music and staring at the full moon. It's large and round face is staring down at you like a caring grandmother.

 Another text pops up.

"Are you okay? I'm sorry I disappointed you. I have to get some sleep, I love you baby." You rolled your eyes. It's just past 10pm! You're not letting him sit and sulk in the dark alone all night. You resisted the urge to throw your phone into your bag in frustration. He is such a wonderful boyfriend 99% of the time, but he always seems like he's hiding a part of himself. What is it? A bad childhood? A gambling addiction? Is he secretly apart of the mafia??? The bus halted to a stop and left you outside of his neighborhood, you stomped all the way down the sidewalk to the end of the line of houses and stared at your boyfriends place. The porch light is off, but the lights are on inside. You know where he keeps the hidden spare key and jam it into the lock. You almost kick the door down as you shout for your boyfriend.

 He was sitting on the couch, tying his shoe laces. He's putting on hiking boots this late? "Hey! You're awake!" You slam the door behind you and scold your red headed sweet heart. "Babe what are you doing here? It's almost midnight!" His voice is shaking. He nervously looks at the clock on the wall and stands up. "You have to go baby, I'm really embarrassed! My stomach is-" "Stop lying! Your stomach is fine!" You want to raise your voice and yell, but his giant puppy dog eyes are so cute. You jam a finger into his chest and scrunch up your mouth, doing your best to look irritated. "I knew I would get here and see you're not hunched over a puke bucket!" He put both hands on your shoulders and gently rubbed up and down on your arms. He's such a large man, he's practically a wall he's so solid. Yet he always has the sweetest touches, making sure to be so gentle with you. His callused finger tips brushed against your skin and gave you goosebumps.

 It took every ounce of restraint in you not to fall right into his arms. "I'm sorry honey, but you really can't stay here tonight. I need you to head back home." He said hardly above a whisper. He kissed your forehead and you shoved his chest with all of your might. He didn't budge, but understood you wanted him away from you so he stepped back. "Oh I'm sorry, is your booty call on the way over and I'm interrupting?" You felt like someone had stabbed you right in the heart. It couldn’t be true, he has never showed any signs of being disloyal. You’re just tired and confused.

 Eijiro looked panicked. "Oh god of course not! No, no its not like that I swear!"  He swallowed you in his arms pushing your cheek against his pecks and kissing all over the top of your head. "There is nobody other than you, I could never even think of betraying you, you're my soul mate." He said between kisses. You wrapped your arms around him and snuggled in. His warmth overwhelming. "Well then what is it...?" You whined a bit, it's getting later and you want to just fall asleep in his arms. "Are you going to turn into a wolf at midnight?" You chuckled. His hand stopped running through your hair and he stiffened completely. You look up at him puzzled, he's staring down at you with a look of panic. "That's crazy why would you even say that?" He says all too seriously. You nervously laugh. "What's wrong? I was just joking. It's not like I really believe you're about to start howling at the full moon." Eijiro stared off into space, like his brain was loading and he couldn't think of what to say. "Right...?" You cocked an eyebrow at him. "It might be a little bit like that." He scratched his head. 

You two sat in the quiet for a little bit. Every time he tried to elaborate he ended up getting caught up in his own words. You two sat awkwardly in his living room until its about 5 minutes til midnight. "I- I'm going to go to the bathroom." He quickly dismissed himself, running to his bedroom and shutting the door. You followed quickly after him. Is he insane? Does he really expect you to just sit out here while he hides pretending to shape shift to get out of movie night? He's obviously  having a difficult time, maybe his money troubles make him feel emasculated? You softly tap on his bedroom door and it slips open. The bathroom door is closed shut with the light peaking out under the crack. You walk past his bed and dressers and hear weird scuttling sounds the closer you get. You knock again. "Hey honey, why don't you come out so we can talk about this? It's okay if you didn't want to go out because of money..." You leaned against the door. "It doesn't make you less of a man to let me pay sometimes." He's so wonderful, you don't think there could be any other reason why he can be so flakey.

The sound of shampoo bottles and shaving cream canisters falling to the ground startle you. "Babe are you okay?" You turn the door nob. The door flings open, a large shape tackles you, knocking you to the ground. You let out a large wheeze, the wind escaping your lungs. "What the fu-" Your face was assaulted with a large flat tongue, licking all over you. Slobber flew across the room as a giant red dog panted and whimpered as it gave you kisses. "You're a dog! Oh my god you're a dog!" You pushed your monstrous boyfriend off of you and took a good look at him. He's huge, and even a little scary looking. His fur is bright crimson and his eyes are a daring shade of yellow. But he sat there, panting like a normal dog. You waved in front of his face. "Are you in there babe?" The dog playfully nipped at your finger, trying to pull your hand into his mouth. "Hey! No bites!" You retracted your hand and held it close to your chest. His fangs are giant. 

The wolf man got down low to the ground in the stance you've seen puppies do right before they-

 He takes off, zooming across the floor and into the living room at full speed. Pictures that lined the hallway crash to the ground. You rush to your feet and chase after him. "Wait!! Down boy! Down!!" You shout. He's already on the couch, gripping a throw pillow between his powerful jaws and shaking it. Cotton stuffing flies across the room, coating the floor. "No! Bad Eijiro! Bad doggy!" You try to wrestle the pillow away from him and fail. He topples over you, knocking you back down onto the floor and taking off across the room again, this time to the kitchen. You tenderly rub your arm, you landed on it weird and it's a little sore. Another crashing sound prompts you to get up onto your feet and run after him. The trash can is toppled over on its side, trash strewn across the floor. His snout was pushing around the garbage, looking for something to swallow. "Are you kidding me? What is with you?" You grab the wolf by the scruff of his neck, and pull him to the other side of the room away from the trash. "You sit!" Eijiro whines and sits down, looking up at you with the saddest eyes. "Oh don't look at me like that. This is not what I thought a werewolf would be like." Eijiro's large head pushed against you, rubbing his face all over your stomach as you pet his head. "You just need to burn some of this energy off." 

You can't help but love the silly thing. He is still your boyfriend, even if he is a little different than usual right now. He followed you down the hall,  staying right by your side. He takes up most of the space, his large frame almost tipping you off balance with small bumps into your hip. You dug through a pile in his hall closet until you found an old baseball and plastic toy bat. Wow, he really needs to clean up his closet, you think to yourself. "Okay babe, let's go-" He looked up at you with all of the love in the world, hanging on your every word. You crack into a smile. "Let's go outside and play you big goof.

"The two of you trampled through the tall grass behind Eijiro's house, he seemed to use little to no effort at all. His massive paws stomping down the weeds like it's nothing. You decided you were far enough away from the neighbors and took a strong stance. You haven't hit a ball in ages, but this plastic bat is wide and should make it a little easier on you. The baseball flew high into the air, you focused and swung the bat, smacking the ball across the field. Your wolf ran, faster than any animal you had ever seen after the small object, passing it and having to loop around with a terrifying pin point turn. He grabbed the ball off of the ground so quick you barely saw the motion, and in a flash he was back at your feet. You could do nothing but shake your head and laugh. "Are you kidding me? You're amazing!" Eijiro looked pleased, so you scratched his neck fluff.

 "Alright let's see if I can hit it a little farther." 

Again, and again, and again he chased the ball across the field and back happily dropping the ball at your feet. He only made you wrestle for it once, he could probably keep the ball away from you forever with those intense muscles, but that's not as fun for him. Seeing how pleased you looked when he brought it back was filling the beast with all the pride in the world.

Eventually your arm got tired, and he seemed to have about run out of energy too. He laid down in the field and looked up at the moon. You laid your head on his stomach, the rhythm of his breathing so comforting. You just talked to him, venting about life and how weird things are in the city now. You found yourself thinking about how a simple bus ride was starting to feel too far away from him at this point. "I know you don't really understand me right now, but I really love you. I know we've said it before, but I love you. I think you're my forever person." He was laying on his paws, looking up at the starry sky. "I know you felt like you had to hide this from me, but it doesn't scare me, or weird me out." You talk quietly and close your eyes, snuggling deeper into his fur. "If I have to come throw a ball for you once a month, I'll do it. I've got friends that deal with way worse with their boyfriends." You smirked, thinking you're pretty funny. That'll make Eijiro laugh in the morning, you'll save that for later. 

The rising sun burned your eyelids, scaring you awake. You hadn't meant to stay out here for the rest of the night, but it was so late and he was so comfortable. He's much more familiar to you now, he slept peacefully as you rested on his chest. He looks worn out, but the two of you can't stay out there forever. You gently tap his face. He popped one eye open and looked around. "Oh man!" He gasped and looked down at his hands and feet. "I'm so stupid! You could get sick staying outside all night!" He put a hand on your face and cupped your chin. "Are you alright my love?" He asked with the soft voice only you get to hear. "Yeah I'm fine. How are you feeling?" "I feel fine. I'll be a little more hungry today, but it's no big deal." He looked down at the ground with a sheepish smile. "Thanks for staying with me all night." "Aw come on, it's no big deal. You're... a good boy." You teased while ruffling his hair.

 "Hey!"

My Ko-Fi -> https://ko-fi.com/writinginthedarkwoods Please send spooky requests!

[springy-springtrap0]

OKI HERE

Also I’m open to suggestions if you have any.

like anything to fix or maybe a thing to add or continue the scene

Oki now here ya go for reals-

“Hey Auzzi?” I pronounced, gently taking the monster’s hand from behind. I found him in one of the hallways, pretty far from the queen’s throne room.

“Hmm?” His nerves quite obviously tried to resist the smile and small blush that became present on his face as he turned towards me. He slipped his bookmark into the novel as he closed his book with his free hand.

“Apex was telling me about Antoine.”

Auzzi’s eyes widened. I guess he was trying to hide the snarl that escaped from his mouth. “And?” He said with a forced smile, his tail swaying in a slightly angry arch.

“Uh… She said you two hated each other from the first moment you saw one another. I came to ask you if that was the full truth.”

Auzzi now let out a full growl. “Of course it is! You can go ask that jerk of a prince all about it; I��m sure he’d love to answer. You can go listen to his long boring rants about how he was right in every way and I was nothing better than that Satan thing Tommy told him about.”

He had let go of my hand, now pacing back and forth. I’m pretty sure you could tell by just his hand movements how angry he was.

“That furball was nothing more than a little-”

“Hey, hey.” I stepped up and took Auzzi’s hands back in mine. “Calm down. It was just a small question. No reason to get so heated about it.”

Auzzi sighed and slumped against the wall, once again letting go of me. He grabbed his horns as he tucked his head between his knees. “I just don’t understand why he gets to die and still come back as some super awesome fallen guardian angel or whatever he is now.” He had tears in his eyes now. “I can’t even get physically hurt!”

I sat down next to Auzzi, leaning against him and wrapping my arms around his torso. “I’m sure you can. You just haven’t been hit in the right spot yet.”

“I’ve shoved a knife in every inch of my body and it just went through as if I were made of jelly.”

I paused, unsure of what to say. “W-well, maybe a knife isn’t the right thing?” I suggested, but it was quickly shot down by the glare Auzzi gave me. I sighed. “Why do you want to be hurt anyways?”

He huffed angrily. “Just forget it.”

“I’m sorry.”

We sat there in silence afterwards. I played with the strings on his corset, him giggling every now and then as my fingers brushed his ticklish skin underneath, but the laughter didn’t last long before his expression changed back to the slight snarl.

I guess I must have fallen asleep on Auzzi, because it was dark in the palace when I opened my eyes. I looked around, jumping when a dragon I’ve not met bent it’s head down to our level. Auzzi was awake too, his breathing slightly rapid. I looked at him, watching his eyes move frantically.

He probably couldn’t see anything with the lack of light, given how he often complains that he can’t see all that well in normal light. He had one arm wrapped around me, his hand squeezing my hoodie so hard I would probably be bleeding if he was holding any other part of me.

“Luke? Where are we?”

I opened my mouth to answer when the dragon, whom I forgot about, growled, “You’re in the palace hallway, bug.”

Auzzi growled, though his breathing slowed a bit. “You should know better than to call me a bug, Marshal.”

The dragon, Marshal, chuckled in a deep voice. “I’m sure you can handle it.”

“Marshy, leave them alone. It’s the middle of the night!” A new dragon came into the hallway, holding a torch.

I could now see my surroundings clearly. The first dragon was tall and had dark fur and curly hair. The second looked just like the first, only with a much lighter pallet of colors. These dragons must be the twins Donny and Sorio were telling me about.

If that one’s Marshal, I thought, pointing to them in my head, Then that one must be Charley!

I tried to stand, but Auzzi held me close to him. “Why are you even here?” He growled.

Marshal rolled his eyes and looked at Charley. “But I couldn’t sleep! This bug snores too loudly!” I almost let out an audiable growl as the dragon motioned to Auzzi with his wing.

This time, Auzzi tried to stand, his normally soft hands forming into rock solid claws. I grabbed him by the horn, pulling him down. He looked at me, confused as I shook my head.

heyyy, you remember my OC Auzzi?

ya why

[writing-on-the-wahl]

Writing Snippet #19: The Voicemail

It was the dog at her side who warned her of his approach.

Normally she was much more in tune with her surroundings. It was the whole reason she’d come to the park in the early morning hours, to soak in the peaceful stillness, hear the birds chirping, and feel the morning sun on her face.

But her thoughts raced within even as she sat on the familiar park bench, her eyes closed as the rays of the morning sun danced across her skin. It was colder this year than it had been on that day.

But today she was alone.

Except for whoever had decided to join her on this particular fall morning.

She acknowledged her dog’s signal but didn’t open her eyes. Leaves crunched on the path, footsteps coming closer until they were nearly past her.

She stiffened as the air went silent.

“Cecelia?”

The familiar rich voice sent a stab of pain through her chest—an injury she’d thought healed long ago.

Why would he be here, today of all days? He’d made his choice, so he had no need to come relive the memories. She clenched her hands together in her lap.

“Hello, Hero.” She was surprised and relieved at how neutral her voice sounded.

She heard a shaky inhale. “Cece…” Her heart tripped at the nickname that was singularly his.

Leaves rustled and she tensed. Her dog let out a small growl, warning him against coming any closer.

Good boy, Bingo.

Hero had noticed her discomfort as well. “You don’t want to see me.”

There had been a time that was all she wanted.

She tipped her head back even further, focusing on the sun seeping into her skin rather than the raw grief clawing its way to the surface.

“I called you.” He hadn’t answered.

“Yes, I know.”

“I left you a voicemail.” A part of her harbored the hope he’d never gotten it, that it hadn’t been his choice to abandon her.

“I know.” His voice was strangled, pained.

The tiny hope withered and died.

Then her head was in her hands, fingers digging into her hair as the old pain resurfaced with the memories of that night. “You didn’t come find me.” The words slipped out before she could stop them.

He took in a shuddering breath. “No. I didn’t.”

Tears slipped down her cheeks, and she pressed her face more firmly into her hands.

No. He hadn’t come. And she’d been left alone. In the darkest moment of her life.

“Cece.” He was crouched down in front of her now.

She wondered why her loyal companion hadn’t bitten his face off yet.

“I’m sorry. When I came home and saw the papers strewn across the floor, the table half set…”

She bit back a sob. She’d wanted to surprise him with dinner. Not for anything special. Just because. It had been the anniversary of the day they’d met. A date she was sure he’d forgotten. She’d gone over while he was still working at the fire station. Begged a key off the landlord. She’d been in the middle of setting the table when...

“I honestly didn’t think you’d want me to come.”

She’d left that voicemail begging him to come.

“Because you couldn’t love me like that?” The words overflowed with bitterness. He’d said he’d always love her. No matter what.

“Of course I loved you! Enough to let you—”

“I swear, if you say ‘let me go’…” she growled the words through her hands, filled them with all the pain and heartbreak and anger living inside her stitched-together heart.

A twig snapped as he stood and took a few steps back. He was probably running his hands through his hair, like he always did when he was agitated. He’d often put off getting it trimmed, and the soft waves were constantly falling in his eyes. She wished she could peak up through her hands and see the adorable way he’d push the waves back, only to have them immediately fall back into place.

“I know I don’t deserve anything from you, but even after all this time, can you really not bear to even look at me?”

She let out a hiss and pressed a hand against her chest to stifle the pain those words brought. Bear to look at him? She let out a sharp laugh, bitter and without humor. He’d gotten her voicemail. He knew. How dare he ask that of her.

Cecelia raised her head and opened her eyes.

Not that it made a difference in the blackness that was now her world.

She heard him inhale sharply. She fought the instinct to close her ruined eyes. She’d never seen them of course, but the nurses had told her of the unsettling milky sheen now coating her once-blue eyes.

Wood creaked as he settled beside her on the bench.“What happened?” His voice was so achingly tender.

The memories of what had happened were like acid, making her eyes burn just like they had that night. The masked intruder in the hallway. The brilliant flash of light. The intense pain in her eyes that sent her to her knees.

She’d told him in the voicemail. Not everything, but most of it.

When she didn’t answer, he shifted close, interrupting her thoughts. “Cece, how long have you been blind?”

A shiver prickled along the back of her neck. Something was wrong. The way he was reacting…

“Two years ago today.” The day of their anniversary. The day she’d hoped he’d ask her to be his for the rest of their lives.

The silence that followed made her desperately wish she could see his face. His voice was excruciatingly calm when he finally asked, “The day you left was the day you went blind?”

“I-I called you.” Her words were barely audible. She heard his sharp intake of breath, but forced herself to continue. “You didn’t answer. I was scared and alone and in so much pain… I didn’t know what else to do. So I left you that voicemail.” The admission cost her more than she cared to admit.

“The voicemail—”

“I waited all night for you to call. For you to come. But you didn’t.” Her voice broke at the end, and she stood and stepped away from the bench, not wanting Hero to see the tears escaping the corners of her eyes.

Bingo pressed up against her side, and the feel of his soft fur beneath her fingers gave her the strength to say the words she’d held inside for almost three years.

“You left me,” she whispered to the wind. “You promised you’d always love me, and when I needed you most you weren’t there.”

“Cecelia.” He was standing behind her now, close enough she could feel the brush of his clothes against her back. “I didn’t listen to the voicemail.”

The words sank in, and relief washed over her, but was quickly followed by confusion and pain.

If not her blindness, then why? What had she done to have pushed him away? To make him never want to speak to her again?

“Why not?” She could hardly breathe as she waited for the answer she wasn’t sure she was ready to hear.

“I didn’t listen to the voicemail,” he repeated slowly. His voice was closer now. She heard him take a steadying breath. “Because I thought you left me.”

“Why would I leave you?” He’d been her entire world.

“The file was on the floor.”

“File?” Her nose crinkled up in confusion. “What file?”

“The file—I’d left it at home. Didn’t realize until… when I came home and the papers were spread across the floor…” His hands ghosted over her arms for the briefest moment before abruptly pulling away. Her traitorous heart leapt and then fell at the almost touch.

“I know I should have told you sooner who I was—what I was… but I was so afraid. So afraid I’d lose you. And when I saw the plates on the table, I knew you’d been there. I thought you’d seen—”

Cecelia closed her eyes. Tried to remember that night. The intruder had held papers in his hands… had that been the file Hero was talking about? She remembered being surprised someone would think a firefighter would have information worth stealing.

“I didn’t read any files.”

“What?”

“By the time I got to the hospital…” Her voice gave out, and she couldn’t continue as the horror and the panic that she’d felt when the doctor gave his diagnosis hit her again.

“I thought you didn't want to come.” The admission tore out of the still-ragged part of her heart, and she distantly registered a pained noise coming from Hero, but she couldn’t stop the next words.

The ones that had beaten themselves into her mind and heart since she’d laid awake all night long on a stiff hospital bed, waiting for him to come. Praying he would come before her vision was completely gone, so she could see his face one last time. The words that had been the only explanation she’d been able to find for why the man who’d had a ring hidden in the back of the silverware drawer had abandoned her to face a darkening world alone.

“I thought you didn’t love me anymore because I was blind.”

Hero went completely still at her words. “Oh. Oh, darling, is that what you’ve thought all this time?”

She tilted her head down, wanting to hide from the warm gaze she could feel following every tear.

Leaves crunched beneath his feet as he slid closer.

“I have no right, at all, to ask. But please, please love, let me hold you.”

Anything she did now would only lead to more pain. So what if he hadn’t known about her blindness before? He knew now. And once the reality set in, once he saw the limitations of her disability, he wouldn’t stay. And she wouldn’t recover from the loss. Not this time.

But right now, all she wanted was to feel his arms around her again.

She gave the tiniest of nods.

With excruciating slowness, his hands rested against her face. His thumbs gently wiping away her tears before his hands slid down her shoulders and pulled her into the familiar circle of his arms.

Her arms came around him as she sobbed into his chest.

She was dimly aware of him leading her back to the bench, of him pulling her down beside him, but all she cared about was the hand running gently over her hair, the arm pulling her snug against him, and the way she still fit perfectly in his arms.

The moment ended too soon.

She felt his arms loosen, and though he didn’t pull away, she knew he wanted to.

“So you don’t know what was in the file.” His hand slid across her hair one more time before falling away.

“No.” What could possibly make her not love him? The worst thing she could imagine was if he’d cheated on her… and there was no way he’d done that.

“I kept it a secret for so long. I always knew one day you’d figure it out and I was terrified you’d leave me. And then when I came home to those damning papers strewn across the floor and my worst fears had come true. I thought your voicemail was goodbye, and I didn't listen to it because… well, I knew, I knew, love, that if I heard your voice one last time, I wouldn’t be able to keep myself from going after you. And if you wanted to leave, who was I to stop you?”

The words both healed and hurt, soothed and shattered the jagged pieces of her heart.

Cecelia leaned into Hero, unable to bear the distance he’d put between them any longer. His arms automatically came around her, but they were stiff, waiting.

So she asked.

“What was in the file?” What secret was so terrible you thought I would stop loving you?

His chin rested on the top of her head and his arm’s tightened around her, as though he was afraid she would pull away. She should. Every moment spent in his embrace would only make his inevitable departure more painful.

“Proof.” His voice was resigned as his arms dropped, taking away her choice. “Proof that I was—that I am Villain.”

✨ a huge thank you to @im-a-wonderling for helping me make this as tragic as possible bc she is the Queen of Beautiful Tragedy and thank you @shieldmaiden-of-gondor for letting me shatter your heart as a trial run- you’re both amazing ✨

Master Taglist:

@im-a-wonderling @shieldmaiden-of-gondor @watercolorfreckles @distance-does-not-matter @onestopheroxvillain @lolafaiy @chaoticgoodandi @1becky1 @tobeornottobeateacher @himynameisorla @superherosweet @brekker-by-brekkerr @crazytwentythrees @great-day-today @sunflower1000 @ill-eat-you-if-you-cross-me @selectivegeekwithstandards @chibicelloking @trantolette @sapphiques @jinpanman @genesissane @wish1bone1 @amongtheonedaisy @distractedlydistracted @kitsunesakii @glitterythief @jinx1365 @cherrychewingbrat @in-patient-princess

Trying out a general taglist- Lmk if you want to be added or removed :)

[itsnothesameasitwas]

greek mythology aus you say 👀 ana my dear pls spare some links 👉🏼👈🏼

yes… I said that my dearest friend 😌; sadly there are only a few ones but here the links of those i have already read 

✰ To Hell and Back by poshboyfriends | 4k | NR | MDC (happy ending)

an au based off of the story of orpheus and eurydice, the one with the musical lute player who loses his lover and plays his way through the underworld to bring her back.

✰ The Five God Cure for One Anxious Heartbeat by homosociallyyours | 11k | GA

When OT5 decides to sneak into a music festival to have a bit of fun and maybe make a few people fall in love, they expect things to go relatively smoothly. Fate has other plans.

Or: Niall, Louis, Harry, Liam, and Zayn are just five lesser Greek gods out there trying to have a good time, and they're feeling so attacked right now.

✰ not even the gods above (can separate the two of us) by feelslikehxme | 17k | TUA

“Mhm. Soulmates, the two of them.” Harry lays back on the grass, shielding the sun from his eyes with his arm. The last thing Louis needed was the sun shining down on Harry, not that he was staring or anything. “Do you have a soulmate?” He asks, curious to how matchmaking worked. It must be nice, watching people around you fall in love.

“I do. Somewhere. Everyone has one.”

or the one where Louis finds out he's the son of Athena, Harry keeps matching him with the wrong people, Niall accidentally breaks into Louis's flat and Liam doesn't know when to stop asking out Zayn.

✰ Winter Pines and Ocean Eyes by binarysunsets | 14k | TUA

Harry is awoken by the sudden weight of his dog across his chest, and he yawns and stretches his arms above his head, relishing the crack of his back the gesture produces and sending Fen tumbling down onto the bed. There’s a niggling sensation that he has something important to do that day, but in his still-sleepy state he’s struggling to recall what it is. When it hits him, he freezes mid-rub of his eyes, and his hand slowly falls to the furs strewn across the bed. His fingers tangle into their soft texture and he bites his lip.

Right. It’s that day.The day he’s meant to travel south.

Or, the arranged marriage au between young viking Harry, son of his clan's chief, and a certain caesar by the name of Louis, heir to the empire.

✰ A Dangerous Night (To Fall In Love) by FallingLikeThis | 7k | E

“Hey, Harry!” Louis greets, walking up to Harry with a sunny smile.

Any other time, that smile would lift Harry’s heart even as it made it race. He could let himself get lost in it, would probably catch himself more than once hoping, wishing for it to be more than a smile aimed at a friend. He’d relish the moments he could forget that that’s all he is to Louis. Any other time, he’d be selfish and let himself entertain those thoughts. But this is not like any other time. Tonight is the beginning of the end.

or Harry has visions and sees the destruction of Pompeii before it happens. Now, how does he tell his best friend what's to come?

✰ this is heaven in hiding by hemakeshimstrongx | 48k | GA

Harry is destined to sit on a throne. Louis makes him want to throw it all away. Or: Harry embarks on the greatest journey of his life. Louis is there every step of the way.

✰ keep your eyes upon the skies by hypocorism | 12k | TUA

Disney - Hercules AU

✰  the tragic story of a muse and a war god  orphan_account | 30k | E

Harry is a reckless god of war, Louis is a muse unspoken of, and their love might not be written in the stars.

PERCY JACKSON AUS

✰ in a sea of mist by tomlinvelvet | 126k | E

A Greek Mythology/Camp Half-Blood AU where Harry is lost, the road to peace is a wretched one, and somehow, through a mist of confusion and regrets, Louis seems to be the only thing that makes sense and everything Harry needs.

✰ How Far We've Come by hrrytomlinson | 32k | TUA

“This is Harry Styles,” Chiron offers.

He’s beautiful. His eyes are a stunning green, the color of new foliage. The new kid’s limbs are long and lanky—he looks extremely uncomfortable and uncoordinated. Louis internally smirks to himself, guessing the kid probably won’t be too skilled with a sword, or a bow, or anything sharp, most likely. His hair falls to his shoulders in sets of loose, brown curls. The color is rich and luscious, resembling soil so much that it looks like flowers could sprout from his hairline at any moment. But Louis’ eyes are stuck on his soft looking lips, pink as flower petals and slightly parted as his eyes scan the horizon of the camp.

“Welcome to Camp Half-Blood, Harry.”

✰ Like A Drum (Baby, Don't Stop Beating) by exitthequitters | 9k | NR

They walk through the camp together hand in hand, past the big house where Chiron waves happily at them, past the strawberry field where Louis first kissed Harry, past the lake where Louis first met Zayn and Liam, past the dinning hall where Niall sat down next to Louis before he knew he shouldn’t, and to Harry’s cabin.

Or, they're all sons of Greek gods at a summer camp for demigods.

HADES/PERSEPHONE AUS

✰ Breakable Heaven by amomentoflove | 44k | E 

“What do you think?” Louis gets captured by Harry’s green eyes, unable to look away or even take a breath.

“I think you’re the most magnificent creature I’ve ever met.”

“You must not have met many creatures then.”

Harry’s eyes glance downward to Louis’ lips and his tongue darts out to wet his own. 

“None like you.”

✰ My Heart Lies With You by asphodelknox | 31k | M

“What did you hit me on the head for?” Louis said. He tried to frown, but it hurt too much. Plus it was hard to frown at someone taking care of him so tenderly. “I didn’t hit you on the head,” Harry said calmly, moving from Louis’s forehead to remove some bandages on his arm. “My friend Niall, the God of Death, hit you on the head.” “Well, why did Niall hit me on the head?” Louis asked. He noticed his lips hurt too, and felt a small gash on them. His arms were covered in scratches and cuts, and as he moved to sit up, he winced at a pain coming from his waist. “What the hell happened to me?” Harry sighed. “Niall… can get a bit… excited.” “Was he excited about hitting me on the head?” “No!” Harry said. “Niall just got away with himself.” “Does he do that often? Get away with himself, I mean?” Louis asked wryly. “Only when an idea gets stuck in his head that he can’t get out.”

For being the God of Death, Niall has a habit of acting on ideas without thinking them through. It's probably why Harry ends up with an unexpected but entirely welcome visitor in his bed the day after a Mount Olympus party.

✰ daisies & dying by xaz | 14k | E

Harry’s eyes stayed cemented to the marble tiles, engraining the memory of his shiny loafers and their contrast to the flooring as he heard the footsteps draw near. An icy hand yanked his chin violently, forcing his face forward.Hand still clutching Harry’s chin, the man gave a toothy smirk, “I’ve waited centuries to have you as my bride. I won’t settle for less than your full attention, my love.”

OR Hades!Louis and Persephone!Harry but make it pirates

✰ you flower, you feast by stylinsoncity | 18k | M

He's King of the Underworld, but don't assume Louis has it all. He could stand for some excitement in his monotonous, eternal life and maybe, even.....a soulmate.

(Despite not having a soul.)

And along came "Harry".

✰ For every reason why, you were my because. by hisfirstrealcrush | 3k | GA

He was his greatest form of love.

an au in which harry meets louis in his forest and nothing seems to matter but his ocean-like eyes and his warm embrace.

------

hope you like them!! <33

[kohanayaki]

.:Time and Time Again:. (Marauders Era x Reader) Ch 6

You continue the tale of how you, James, Sirius, Remus, and Peter became known as The Marauders.

LINKS:   CH 1   CH 2    CH 3   CH 4   CH 5   CH 6   CH 7   CH 8

___________________________________________________________

Ch 6 .:The Making of the Marauders:.

~Previously~

“That was when they were first starting to put the map together,” you continued, “but that wasn't even the biggest secret they had. Of course, I wouldn't find out about that for another year. . .”

“So at this point I knew that they were hiding something else, but not what it was,” you told Harry, continuing on with your story, “But one night we had planned to meet up and use the invisibility cloak to map out the underground tunnels that ran through the storage cellars, and they never showed up. So I snuck into the Gryffindor common room through the secret passage and found their dorm completely empty. But what was there was our work in progress map. . .”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~   1975  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“This isn't going to work,” Peter said flatly, watching James and Sirius draw a large circle in chalk on the floor of the Shrieking Shack.

“Not with that attitude it's not,” James said, “if there's a way we can speed up this process I'm willing to give it a go. I don't know how long I can go on with this bloody leaf in my mouth.”

“Is this even real?” Peter sighed, “it looks like what muggles think magic is.”

“It's real all right,” Sirius said, “old, but real. I mean, Transfiguration was founded on the principles of magic circles! I'm not really sure what these runes on the side mean, but it's probably not important.”

“I seriously doubt that,” Peter retorted, “Remus, back me up here.”

He turned towards Lupin, but he had long since dozed off, arms crossed as he leaned against one of the nearly decaying walls in the corner. Peter sighed, taking a piece of paper from the ground and crumpling it into a ball before promptly throwing it in the sleeping boy's face. Lupin jolted awake, realizing what had happened and chucking the paper back at Peter in annoyance.

“Not a moment of peace,” he huffed under his breath.

“Sounds awfully boring,” James said over his shoulder.

“Blimey, what time is it?” Remus said, panicked as he noticed the light had completely gone from the sky, “It's long past sundown.”

“So?” Sirius shrugged.

“So, we told (Y/n) we'd meet them to work on the map at dusk,” Remus said, “They're probably looking for us right now!”

“Oh, they are,” you announced your presence, an unimpressed look on your face as they jumped, whipping around to look at you.

“(Y-Y/n)!” Sirius stuttered, “how did you—”

You held up the map, raising a brow at the four guilty looking boys.

“Right. . .”

“You snuck into our rooms?!” James said incredulously as he saw the map, which he was sure he had left on his bedside table, in your hands.

“You've snuck into my shower before, Potter,” you glared lightly at him.

“Point taken.”

“Okay, look, I'm sorry we didn't show tonight, and I know we've been acting weird,” Sirius sighed, “the truth is—”

“Lupin's a werewolf.” 

The color drained from Remus' face, slightly mortified that you already knew.

“Come on, guys,” you said, “the claw marks and you lot disappearing whenever there's a full moon kind of gave it away. You aren't exactly subtle about it.”

You could sense the intense nervousness in the room, especially from Remus. Ok, so maybe coming right out with it wasn't the best course of action.

“Look,” you said, “if you're worried about anyone else finding out, they won't. I mean, the only reason I even knew you were here is because I'm literally helping you make a magical map that details all the secret passages and shows where everyone is. I won't tell anyone, I swear.”

They still seemed a little unsure, and you bit the inside of your lip slightly.

“If it'll make us even, I'll let you know a secret of my own,” you said, “it can even be future blackmail me if you really don't trust me.”

“No, it's not that, (Y/n),” Remus said as he stepped forward, his throat feeling dry, “it's just, well, I've never really told anyone except the people in this room. Having someone else know. . . it's just a lot to process, but if had to be anyone I'm glad it's you.” He paused for a moment, feeling oddly self-conscious as he regarded you. “When I turn into a werewolf I can't recognize any human as someone I know. I have no control over myself in that state. In the worst case scenario, I could injure or even kill someone I didn't mean to. We originally started taking note of the secret passages and rooms to find a place where I could turn safely and not hurt anyone, and we settled on here. I don't remember much when I come out of it, but. . . I do feel this painful sense of separation each time. Werewolves are pack creatures by nature, so being isolated in that state is. . . agony, if I must be honest. They all figured, I can't recognize humans, but perhaps I could recognize other animals, so. . .”

“They're trying to become animagi,” you finished, “so you won't have to be alone. That's. . . that's actually really sweet,” you said, a breathy laugh escaping you.

Remus thanked Merlin the Shrieking Shack was as dimly lit as it was so his beet red face was at least somewhat less noticeable.

“I agree,” Remus said, turning to his friends and sharing a rare, genuine moment with them. “And, you don't have to tell us your secret,” he said, turning back to you, “it's okay.”

“Hey, I wanted to know,” Sirius said, Peter swiftly elbowing him in the ribs.

“I was actually planning on telling you anyways,” you said, “If you guys are trying to become animagi, I can help you.”

You took a few steps back, bracing yourself against the wall.

“Promise me you won't freak out.”

After receiving a few quick nods, you kicked off the wall. Your body seemed to morph in mid-air, shrinking and re-configuring so fast that by the time you landed on the floor you had been entirely replaced by a large, (e/c)-eyed wolf with fur reminiscent of your hair.

Peter yelped, instinctively putting Sirius in front of him who was gawking at the sight. Remus was in complete shock and you could have sworn you saw James' glasses slip down his face.

In your animal form your heightened senses could sense their fear, and you tried your best to assuage it. You padded around in a circle, sitting down and blinking up at them to try and show them you were in control of your actions. After you figured they'd seen enough, you crawled back into your robes, which had pooled on the floor when you'd transfigured, and willed your body to turn back.

James, Sirius, and Peter looked somewhere in the intersection of shocked and terrified, but Remus looked nothing less than impressed.

“That's amazing, (Y/n),” he said breathlessly, “your transformation was seamless, how long have you had this ability?”

“My aunt had me go through the process when I was nine,” you said, a bitter edge to your voice as you fastened your clothes back around you, “it's not fun, but obviously useful. And thank you, but trust me, it didn't come at all naturally to me. I spent a good part of my winter break stuck with a wolf's hind legs, which is just as inconvenient as it sounds.”

“But this proves that it's possible!” James said, a new rush of energy invigorating him, “we can actually pull this off.”

“If I can manage to keep this sodding leaf from choking me every ten minutes,” Peter grumbled.

“Here, this should help with that,” you said, drawing your wand and pointing it at Peter's mouth. With a simple sticking charm, he suddenly felt the odd sensation of the leaf in his mouth disappearing, only to find it had melded with the flesh on the underside of his tongue.

“It's a long process, but yes, it's possible,” you said to James. Your eyes drifted to the floor where the magic circle and pages of runes were still scattered about, “if you were thinking of taking shortcuts, you might have wanted to read the warning about this spell requiring a blood sacrifice.”

The quartet paled and you laughed at their dumbstruck expressions.

“Kidding,” you grinned, “but seriously, there's no shortcuts. Now look alive, boys. We have a lot of work to do.”

_________________________________________________________

From then on, you helped the four wizards along on their quest to become fully fledged shifters.

“In order to become an animagus, a wizard must keep a Mandrake leaf in their mouth for an entire month, even when eating and sleeping,” Peter read aloud from the book they'd snatched from the restricted section, “Next, under a full moon, the wizard must place the leaf in a vial full of dew that has neither been stepped on nor exposed to the sun. The resulting potion must be stored in a dark place, and the following incantation: Amato Animo Animato Animagus, must be recited every morning until an electrical storm arrives, at which point the potion can be taken.”

“Blimey, all that to turn into a bloody cat?” Sirius said, exasperated.

“Well we have the first part almost done,” James said, feeling the faintest outline of the leaf still under his tongue, “Next full moon we'll have to go dew-hunting, I suppose. Looks like you'll have to stick it out for a few more cycles, Moony,” he said to Remus.

“That's alright,” he said, “I've made it this far.”

“He won't be alone for those,” you said, “I'll spend the full moons with him until you guys are ready.”

“What?” James said, looking at you like you'd just told him you were off to join Voldemort, “not a chance, that's way too dangerous.”

“Aw, don't act like you're all concerned about me all of a sudden, Potter,” you smirked. When his expression didn't change it took you aback slightly. He was actually worried about you. “Look, I'm probably the best suited for it anyways,” you said, coughing a bit to coast through the awkward tension, “Remus and I are both wolves, or at least partly. If one of you end up turning into a sheep or something you might be dead meat, not to freak you out or anything.”

“That's reassuring,” Sirius said under his breath.

____________________________________________________________

“You really don't have to do this,” Lupin insisted as you sat on the floor together in the Shrieking Shack later that month.

“I want to,” you assured him, “take it as a thanks for helping me pass Arithmancy. Besides, it's a perfectly fine excuse for me to practice interacting with other animals in my animagus form.”

The boy beside you was quiet for a moment, shoulders tense and jaw set tight. It wasn't that he wasn't happy you were here, he was more grateful than you could know, but he was terrified that he was going to end up hurting you. On top of that was the fact that he didn't want you to see him as he transformed. It wasn't pretty, and it was visibly painful. He didn't want you to think any lower of him, though he knew that fear was irrational.

The calming jazz record that spun on the other side of the room was the only noise between you two for quite some time, but you understood that he needed time to gather his thoughts. This was something so deeply personal you were surprised and a bit honored he allowed you to be here at all. You noticed the photograph that he held in his hands; it was of Hogwarts, taken from the very edge of the forest. The sun was peeking over the horizon, spilling out between the complexly constructed towers that made up the castle's exterior, and casting a warm, golden hue over the landscape.

“It's beautiful,” you said, “the picture.”

“It is,” Remus smiled to himself and nodded, “James gave it to me, as a reminder. He said that matter what happens during the full moon, the sun will always rise on us again.”

“Huh,” you mused softly, “perhaps he isn't such an insufferable jerk after all.”

“Oh, no, he is,” Lupin chuckled, “but he is also a very good friend, and endlessly thoughtful even if he denies it.”

You let that sink in for a moment. You supposed he was.

“Well,” you said, laughing a bit as you shifted in your seat, “this isn't as deep and meaningful as the photo, but I brought something for you.” You reached into your bag, retrieving something that made Remus' eyes widen.

“Where did you get that?” he said, elated as you held out his favorite chocolate bar which had been out of stock at Hogsmeade for weeks now.

“You guys have a secret tunnel that goes right to the Honeydukes cellar and you've never taken advantage of their storage?” you grinned.

Lupin hesitated as he held the bar in his hands.

“So you stole it?”

“I left five dracma in the tip jar,” you rolled your eyes, “I'm not a death eater.”

His smiled returned at that, and he ripped open the familiar foil gratefully.

“Thank you,” he said quietly.

“It's the least I could do,” you said.

“It's really not,” he said, turning to face you fully. You were left a bit breathless as the unexpected intensity of his eyes. “None of this is the least you could do, because the least you could do is nothing,” he continued, rambling, “we were so horrible to someone you consider a dear friend, and you were willing to look past that. You're risking your life by even being with me right now, (Y/n).”

“You don't—”

“I do know that,” Remus said sharply, “I've never been in contact with anyone as a werewolf. The one time I was, I. . .” he trailed off, and it hurt you to see his pained expression, “I just don't know how I'll react.”

“You're saying that as if something bad's already happened,” you said gently, “it'll be okay.”

“How can you be so sure?” he asked quietly, equally full of frustration and admiration.

“I'm willing to put my trust in you, Remus. I think it's time you put some trust in yourself.”

Lupin's heart pounded a little harder in his chest. Had you ever called him by his first name before? You looked at him so reassuringly, so confidently. He couldn't understand it, but your words reached him to his core.

“(Y/n). . .” he trailed off, blinking rapidly. A shaky breath escaped him, and your stomach dropped.

“Remus?”

Suddenly you saw something shift in him. His breathing became heavy and his pupils dilated, completely filling his irises in a matter of seconds. He braced himself against the wall as he stumbled to his feet, his skin slowly taking on a gray hue.

“It's happening,” he said, voice deeper and strained, his neck convulsing, “you have to transform, now!”

You didn't waste any time, taking the shape of your wolf form and padding away a cautionary distance. Your stomach churned as you watched Remus yell out, his expression full of pain as his body grew in size, his cries slowly becoming reminiscent of howls. His face contorted in agony as his head morphed into a more animalistic shape, ears growing from his scalp and fur appearing as if his werewolf was fully formed inside him, physically escaping through his skin. You've seen werewolves before, but seeing someone you know actually turn into one, it was completely different. Nothing could have prepared you for this. Seeing anyone in this much pain made your chest tighten harshly.

At last it seemed the transformation was complete. Remus Lupin was gone, and in front of you stood a creature of at least eight feet, perched on his hind legs and towering over you especially in your animal form. You could hear how ragged his breathing had become, his body convulsing with the motion; growing and retracting like a beating heart. You heard a whimper escape his throat, and you could tell he was still recovering from the pain.

You steeled yourself, making the decision to alert him to your presence subtly. You tilted your head upwards, releasing a similar sounding whimper to his. Immediately the werewolf across from you was on high alert, his head snapping towards you and his lips pulling back into a snarl as his ears lowered. You took an instinctive step back, lowering your head slowly. He seemed puzzled by your behavior, which made sense seeing as Lupin told you he never interacted with any other animals during the full moon. His head tilted inquisitively and he took a heavy step forward. You forced yourself to not back away, testing the waters. His eyes narrowed again as he saw you standing your ground, but you quickly sat down, your head tilting to expose your neck slightly. You made doubly sure not to show any signs of aggression; you knew you had no chance against a werewolf at full strength.

However, he seemed to take your queues well. His tail seemed to relax a bit, his eyes returning to their full, round shape as he looked at you with curiosity. You sniffed up at him and he hesitated, but eventually circled around you and did the same. You could almost see the turmoil in him, as a werewolf you doubted anyone he came across treated him with anything less than terror in their eyes, but you were completely relaxed.

He whimpered again, and you were shocked at the sign of submission. You rose to your feet, and he didn't back away. You let out a friendly yip, which he returned, and you felt the weight lift off your chest. You leaped to the side, and he followed you, running alongside you as you bounded across the room, practically leaping off the walls. You jumped at each other playfully, rolling across the floor in a mess of fur. You smiled inwardly as this continued throughout the night, no longer seeing fear or pain or aggression in his eyes when you looked into them. Even if he wouldn't remember most of this, you hoped he would at least feel better in the morning than all the times he had to go through it alone.

Exhausted from all the playing around, you padded softly back to your robes, crawling inside yours and and gesturing over to him with your head. He followed you, coming down to all fours before laying beside you. You weren't sure when sleep came over you, but it was like the world's most comfortable blanket had been thrown over your shoulders, and your eyes drifted closed of their own volition. . .

“Merlin's beard, just what were you two doing last night?!”

You and Remus both jolted awake at the sound of James Potter's aggravatingly loud voice but quickly came to your senses. Remus' arms were wrapped around you, your back facing him. You were just barely covered by your robes with nothing underneath as a result of your transformation. As you scrambled to get decent your face heated even more as you saw Remus was currently without a shirt, his pants ripped considerably. You scrambled away from each other, trying to make yourselves decent.

Peter was howling with laughter, James looking smug as ever. Sirius was oddly quiet, but you were too wrapped up in the embarrassment to notice his behavior.

“What was that about being 'endlessly thoughtful'?” you grumbled to Remus.

“Right, I completely take back what I said,” he scoffed, “ 'insufferable jerk' is much more accurate.”

“Close your eyes, you perverted git!” you yelled at James, who was blatantly staring at you, “toss me my clothes at least, would you?”

James bit back a smirk as he grabbed your bag that was sitting in the corner of the room— clothes you had brought with the intention of changing into after returning to your human form when Lupin fell asleep. He tossed it over to you and you began to change under your robes. As his back was turned to you his mind began to wander. You'd always been attractive, sure, but since you'd always been his rival he hadn't really given you a second thought, especially when he'd been trying to get Lily's attention for ages. But just now, thinking about how downright adorable you looked when you'd yelled at him, something in him shifted. He shook it off quickly, turning to Lupin with a grin he'd managed to put on concernedly fast.

“You cheeky bastard,” he said to Remus, who was furiously changing into a new shirt, “you just wanted her alone, didn't you? Do you really need us to become animagi after all?”

“You're the worst, Potter,” the werewolf glared at him.

“Don't listen to him, Remus,” you grumbled, straightening out your tie as you slipped it on over your shirt, “he's an even bigger idiot than he looks.”

“Are you implying I look stupid?”

“Implying may not be a strong enough word.”

__________________________________________________________

It had taken months of brewing the potion and getting all the necessary preparations in order, but they were finally ready. Remus sat with you in the grass, wand at the ready to undo any untoward transfiguration that happened on accident. Peter, Sirius, and James stood across from you, standing at the edge of a stone ledge about five feet off the ground. You'd said that a leap of faith is what would best trigger their first transformation. They looked nervous, but they were prepared as they'd ever be. Over the last year you had grown considerably closer to the four boys you had miraculously come to know as friends.

“Remember, focus on your emotions,” you said, “you need to pick a strong one, let it fill your body and flow through you. If you block the magic off from any part of your body, it's not going to be pretty.”

“Right, but how do I—”

“James, I swear, I'm really rooting for you to be a mute animal.”

“But how do you choose-”

“Just do it already!”

“Oh, sod it,” James squeezed his eyes shut, not giving himself time to second guess before jumping off the ledge. For a moment he was certain he was about to land face first in the dirt, but then it happened— a moment where time seemed to freeze and his body felt completely weightless. He felt this sensation where his arms and legs vibrated with an intense, foreign energy. Images flashed through his mind in that brief moment in the air; Sirius manically laughing as they ran away from Filch, Remus snapping off a piece of chocolate to offer him after he'd lost Gryffindor a Quidditch match, and, unexpectedly, you. A feeling of warmth spread through his chest, and he grasped onto it, letting it flow through his body like you said. In an instant he felt torso shift, his shoulders narrow, his neck elongate; and when he landed on the ground he still landed face-first as he predicted, but in a completely different form.

He could see you and Lupin in front of him, mouths agape. He was about to say something when he found his vocal chords only allowed him a gruff whine. Shocked, he lifted his head, which felt much heavier than he'd last recalled, and as he looked down at himself he was taken aback to be met with a pair of hooves right beneath him. He staggered to his feet on wobbly legs, of which he now had four. As he tilted his head he could see the shadow of a pair of antlers twisting into brilliant shadows on the grass.

“Potter, you did it!” you exclaimed, “you actually did it!”

“Well how about that,” Remus chuckled, “a stag.”

“It fits him, I think,” you grinned, looking over at Sirius and Peter who looked determined and terrified respectively. “Well go on, it's your turn now!”

Sirius braced himself for the jump, but somehow he found no fear in his system. After seeing James shift in the air right before his eyes, he knew he could do it. He looked over at Peter who was nearly shaking.

“Come on, Peter,” he said, “we'll go together.”

“I-I don't know about this, Sirius,” Peter said, “I'm not ready, I don't think I can do this.”

“It's just a little jump,” Sirius said encouragingly, “you can do this.”

After a few nerve wracking deep breaths Peter gave him the smallest nod one could manage.

“We'll go on three,” Sirius said, “Ready? One—”

“AaHH!”

Sirius shoved Peter off the ledge, knowing he wouldn't jump on his own, before taking the plunge himself. Peter's screams became higher and higher pitched as he shrank at an alarming speed, almost an undetectable size by the time he hit the grass. A small brown rat scurried across the field towards you and Lupin.

The stag in front of you made a sound, dragging his hooves across the grass in what you could imagine as James' unadulterated laughter at his friend.

Sirius began to morph almost as soon as he left the ground, something you were surprised by. He landed on his hind legs, landing gracefully as his front two followed, and a shaggy black dog looked back at you with mischief in its eyes.

You couldn't help but go over and pet him. You laughed as he nudged you with his nose, a resistance that was quickly halted as soon as you started scratching him behind the ears.

“I have to say, I didn't think you would actually manage that on your first try,” you said, secretly prouder than they could have known, “but if anyone could have done it, it's you three stubborn goons.”

James huffed as he saw you continue to pet Sirius, using his antlers to prod the dog out of the way. Sirius barked, lunging at him playfully. It was quite a scene to see the two interact.

“Honestly, this is a pretty solid group,” you said, “you've got James who blends perfectly with the surrounding wildlife so he wouldn't be suspicions, Sirius who could probably do a fair bit of damage as a dog if he needed, and Peter who can fit through small spaces and snoop around the castle virtually undetected.”

“Quite an odd pack,” Remus chuckled.

“Definitely,” you agreed, “but a pack nonetheless.”

And that very week, Remus Lupin was able to spend his first night as a werewolf with his four friends by his side.

__________________________________________________________

“So, how did we choose which animals we turn into?” James had asked you the next day at breakfast, “I specifically tried for a dragon.”

“You don't get to choose,” you rolled your eyes, “You're a stag, that's the end of it. It's pretty much up to chance.”

“I'm sorry, you're telling me I could have turned into a fish and died right there on the ground?!”

“If only,” you sighed dreamily, earning you a playful shove from James. “Alright, it's not completely random, but you're definitely in the unknown the first time you turn,” you went on to explain, “and once you turn for the first time, that's it. That's your animal. A wizard takes on the animagus form of whatever animal most closely resembles their personality. So, a horny bastard for James, a loyal little puppy for Sirius—”

“A bitch for you,” Sirius quipped.

“Never heard that one before,” you scoffed, purposefully messing up his hair.

“Hey, watch it!” he shoved you off him, twisting each of his curls back into form.

“Well, look who's a high maintenance pup,” you chuckled.

Around the same time that year, you finally completed the map. It came together beautifully, each different way of folding the paper revealing a different level of the castle for easy navigation. You'd included the surrounding forests as well as the parts of Hogsmeade that applied for the secret passageways, all of which were marked with symbols and the unique names you'd all come up with. Every student and staff member at Hogwarts had a tiny scroll with their name that appeared in their location. Remus had added the nice detail of including footprints at the last second, so you could see which way they were facing and walking as well. It was fireproof, rip proof, and prone to insulting anyone else who tried to read it. It was the pinnacle of your magical (and slightly illegal) achievement.

“We should write our names on it,” James said, looking down proudly at the finished map, “it belongs to us, after all. We don't want anyone else taking the credit.”

“Yeah, fantastic way to get caught,” Sirius rolled his eyes, “what if Filch comes across it? That's like leaving your signature at a murder scene.”

“You should use code names, then,” you suggested, “I know you guys call Remus 'Moony' as a joke, but I kind of like it.”

The scarred boy blushed lightly at the compliment, a brow raised to his other three friends.

“Alright then, I guess you should all say hi to Rudolph over here,” Sirius said, jutting his thumb in James' direction. The bespectacled boy narrowed his eyes before shooting back.

“Right! And this is my good friend, Snuffles.”

Sirius lunged at him and James swatted him away in laughter.

“Come on, you two,” Remus said, “or we won't put anything down for you at all.”

“I've got an idea for Peter,” you piped in, “When my mom used to garden she said she didn't mind having rats there because their tails resembled worms, which were an old a sign of healthy soil, I know it's odd, but I think Wormtail sounds pretty cool.”

Peter seemed to perk up at your acknowledgment and nodded. It suited him somehow.

“Should we pick animal features too, then?” James mused, “I guess Antlers doesn't really sound that cool. What's another word? Horns? Give me some analogies, guys. What else do they look like?”

“Yours honestly kind of look like a couple of bent forks,” you snickered.

“Prongs?” Sirius snorted, the laughter that followed nearly splitting his sides.

“Oh, go on, what have you got then?” James scoffed.

“I was thinking Padfoot,” Sirius said, “like a dog's paw prints.”

“You know, for someone who was just making fun of code names a second ago you sure have given a lot of thought to yours,” you teased.

“Shove it,” he smirked, “What about you? Can't very well have a second Moony.”

You stared at him in momentary disbelief.

“Me?”

“Well, yeah,” Sirius chuckled.

“We couldn't have done any of this without you,” Remus reminded you with a smile.

“I think you've more than earned an honorary title as one of us,” James said.

“That is, if you want to,” Peter said timidly.

You looked at the four of them, genuinely touched.

“I. . . I don't know what to say,” you smiled.

“You could say 'yes',” James piped up.

“Alright, you loons,” you laughed, “if you leave Severus alone for good, then yes.”

“Hey, I think we've been pretty good about that lately,” James pouted.

“Yes you have,” you admitted, “It's the only reason I bothered to give you the time of day, but this time it's a promise.”

James rolled his eyes, but the smile on his face was undeniable. He'd never admit it out loud, but being friends with you was more fun than messing with Snape ever was.

“Alright, fine. (Y/n) (L/n), I solemnly swear that I will leave tormenting our dear old friend Snivelus behind us forever,” he said dramatically, putting a hand up at his pledge.

“Oh, bother,” you laughed, “the only thing you'll 'solemnly swear' to is that you're up to no good.”

“I'll take that as a compliment.”

“Then that's settled,” Remus smiled, “you'll need a code name too.”

“Let's see,” Sirius hummed in thought, “What other defining features do wolves have besides. . . well, their. . . fangs?”

“They're canines, you numbnut,” you huffed.

“Close enough, I'm writing Fangs.”

“Oi, I didn't agree to that!”

“Too bad, I'm already writing it~”

“Okay, well if that's the stupid name I'm getting saddled with them I'm going to write it myself,” you said stubbornly. You actually didn't mind the name at all.

“Well that's it, then,” James said, “Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, Prongs, and Fangs. We could join the bloody circus.”

“All we need is a group name,” you said, half joking.

“We've already got one,” James said proudly.

“Oh? Let's hear it, then.”

“The Marauders.”

“. . .”

You kept your face straight for exactly three seconds before you burst out laughing. The four boys flushed with embarrassment.

“The Marauders?” you chortled, “what are you, pirates?”

“It's what McGonnagall called us the first time we got ourselves into proper trouble,” James defended himself, his cheeks reddening, “You rowdy mob of marauders, she'd said.”

“Huh,” you chuckled, coming down from your laughing fit, “Well, then I suppose that would make this The Marauders Map. I'll admit, it actually kinda has a ring to it.”

And despite your group's joking quips and bickering, they couldn't agree more.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Wait,” Harry said, eyes wide at your story, “So, my dad was an animagus too?”

“Sure was,” you smiled warmly.

“This whole time I thought 'Prongs' was just because his patronus was a stag.”

“Your animagus form is usually the same animal as your patronus,” you explained, “In some very rare cases they can be different, but they work in the same emotionally driven vein of magical ability, so it would make sense that they'd be linked. Your father was extraordinary at both, because as much as he would deny it, he felt everything very deeply.”

Your eyes drifted to the wall opposite you in the living room, and a small but sad smile graced your features.

“Love is often the most powerful emotion a witch or wizard can draw from,” you said softly, “but you already know that.”

Harry followed your gaze over his shoulder. There, posted on the wall among a collage of photographs from the Order was a picture of his mother and father. It was one he'd seen a hundred times, and one he had his own copy of: them in each others' arms in a London park, autumn leaves swirling around them as they danced without any music. Even from this distance he could see the emotion in their eyes as they looked at one another— like they were the only two people in the world.

“Yeah,” Harry said, wiping a stray tear from his eyes, “I do.”

Read chapter 7 here!

Taglist:  @sleep-i-ness, @blackpinkdolan, @parker-natasha, @ornella0910 @undertaker1827 @thatwierdo-koemi @nxstalgicnxbxdy @calaryssia @aleksanderwh0r3 @juggysgirlfriend @beautifulsweetschaos @kattirin @mialupin1

[valewright67]

Ok, so for the holidays, I'm visiting my grandparents a state over, and they have goats. (Guys they were so cute and playful and fluffy, I loved them so much--) and long story short I got an idea.

First of all, Meliodas grows out his hair to "throw people off his tail" but in reality, the guy missed longer hair, and he was too lazy to chop it. (You cannot convince me that half the reason his hair is so messy isnt because he does it himself.) This particular part is entirely self indulgent because Ponytail Meliodas got me screaming.

So first of all, ESCANOR was the one who found Hawk and decided to create a bar as a cover for himself. He called it "My Sweet Gluttony" of course.

Meliodas on the other hand, he woke up (powers intact, but sealing them within himself for subtlety) in the middle of a herd of wild goats. He blinks, looks around at them and shrugs. He can make this work, it wouldn't even be his first time being a goatherd.

As a magical creature himself, rather than a human (who is the clan most disconnected from nature and magic) He tamed the goats pretty quickly. Well, sort of. They listened to him, but it was more of a mutual respect and understanding than anything else.

He gave into sentimentality as he named them. The one who'd woken him up by chewing on his hair was, quite amusedly, stained pink from getting messy with some wild berries. He named this one Little Goat, and he had a dappled beige and creme coat. Original, he knows, but Gowther was his brother, in a way. Upon seeing the tan Goat that tried his best to wrangle the young ones, he dubbed that one Goat Dad.

All the goats, eight in total:

Sunny was a light Grey goat that had a sense of PRIDE as he not quite strutted around, and he flirted with a white goat he named Lisa. The Grey one reminded him of Mael, just a little.

There was another, slightly darker, Grey goat he dubbed Rossa, after the eldest of his younger brother. Mostly because he and Sunny, for whatever reason, fought each other constantly, usually over a very done with it Lisa.

Then there was Dris and Lucy, both of which were black, but Lucy had white markings. They also disliked eachother, but usually just avoided each other instead of fighting. They were attached to Rossa and Sunny accordingly. He thought it was funny how they divided themselves into little cliches.

Little Goat was trying to court a light brown goat he named Nadia. He seemed to like her calm, affectionate demeanor, and she liked his dorkish antics.

Glox was the most laid back of them all, with a dappled fur pattern of varying shades of brown. He was pretty content to hang out with an almost as laid back dark brown goat he named Daryl.

He was rather fond of his little herd. Poor Nadia and Lisa, the only girls. Oftentimes, they'd come hide with him and Goat Dad while the boys rough housed and galloped across whatever field they occupied.

He had set up camp for the night, a little fire set up in a spot he'd cleared, and his sleeping mat rolled out next to it. He'd been trying to cook some rabbit he'd caught when someone approached. He looked up quizzically then blinked when he recognized the signature inside the rusted, creaking suit of armor.

"Um... Hi?"

The figure creaked forward and he stumbled to catch it, before it landed in the fire. He settled her, he knew it was her already, against a tree and took off her helmet.

Yep. That was Elizabeth, without a doubt. He put a hand on her forehead and was a little concerned to feel that she had a fever. It wasn't a bad one, but there nonetheless. He opened up her armor and took her out, placing her on his bed roll gently and drawing the single wool blanket he had over her.

"Goat Dad, watch her please." He instructed as the beige goat settled beside her. Then he bounded off into the woods.

She woke up the next morning, wincing at the aches over her body, and the pounding behind her head, and was a little startled to find herself face to face with a beige goat, who bleeted at her and returned to grazing.

Then she registered there was a man sitting by the fire in front of her, a little grinding noise coming from something he was handling. Long, golden hair, tied back in a ponytail, was adorned with little strings of beads, some small braids thrown in. He was wearing brown pants, flexible, but not baggy, and a green tank top. There was also a green band on his left arm, over his bicep. (It was to hide his mark, but the whole outfit, top especially, reminded him a bit of what he wore in his Stigma days.) He glanced behind him and did a double take, then smiled at her.

"Hey, you're awake! I'm almost done with this." He twisted around to revel he'd been grinding some sort of plant(s) using a mortar and pestel. He pressed the pulp against the side and pressed down on it hard, most of the liquid dripping down. He took the pulp and put it in a small cup he pulled from his bag, then pulled a tiny kettle off of the embers by the fire, pouring the steaming water in. Finally, he handed the cup to her. "Drink slow, it's hot. It may taste foul, but it'll ease your fever and that soreness I'm sure you've got."

She took it, still stunned as she sat up slowly. True to his word, it smelled bitter and tasted worse, but she powered through. Already, she could feel her headache clearing.

"Thank you..." She whispered. "I- where am I? Who are you?"

"You can call me Mel, I'm a goatherd. A nomad, if you will. Just me and these eight idiots I call my herd. You collapsed in my camp last night. Your armors over there, by the w- Daryl, no, stop, don't eat that!!" He scrambled over to pull a dark brown goat away from her armor, and she giggled quietly.

"Thank you for helping me. Would you mind directing me in the direction of the nearest town? I'll be out of your hair right away!"

"Mm... sure, but a couple of conditions. First, you wait for that fever of yours to be gone, ok? Let me get you back on your feet. So recovered from your sickness, and some fresh water and food into you. I can't guarantee it'll be good food, warning you now. But it'll be food nonetheless."

"Are you sure, I've already intruded enough-"

"I insist, really."

"...Alright. What else?"

"Would you mind answering a few questions for me? Like... your name? What you're doing all the way out here? This is pretty thoroughly the middle of nowhere."

"M-My name is Elizabeth! I-... I got lost..." Her voice got down to a whisper, and Meliodas snorted. "I see."

They got to talking and it didn't take him long to get it out of her that she was looking for the Seven Deadly Sins.

"But I've been searching for WEEKS, and I've gotten nowhere, I haven't even found ONE of them!"

"Well, that's not true."

She blinked at him slowly, and the small, not quite fond smile he had on his lips widened to a little grin, a bit of mischief coming with it. His chin was in his hand as he leaned forwards, legs crossed. "You HAVE found one of them."

"...I beg your pardon?"

He laughed quietly. "You found me. Mel is a nickname, TECHNICALLY, it's Meliodas."

She gaped at him as he pulled down his armband a little, sitting up as he revealed the dragon mark. She went a little pale, and put a hand on her forehead. "Good lord..." She whispered. He pulled his armband back up with a smirk. "Indeed. Now. Would you tell me more about this plot to overthrow the kingdom?"