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#Werewolf
pansylair · 2 days
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friend shaped creature :)
id: a small, simplistically stylized ceramic sculpture of a standing werewolf decorated with earthy colours. Its little paws are held close together in front of its belly, snout raised and giant wet eyes peering upward.
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werecreature-addicted · 21 hours
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Listen I get that wolves don't purr. It wouldn't make sense if werewolves purred...but imagine if they did. Imagine if a big scary werewolf purred when they lay on top of you. imagine the full-body vibrations while they rumble. I think it would be neat.
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ellecdc · 2 days
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DONT TEASE ME WITH PLATONIC BARTY AND BIG BRITHER SIRIUS STOP IM ON MY KNEES PLEASEE 🪩
okay so this accidentally ended up being almost 5.5k words??? whoopsie daisy.
this concept was a collaboration with @unstablereader and also intertwined a few requests for best friend Barty, big brother Sirius, and poly!moonwater hurt comfort!!
poly!moonwater x fem!reader who was bitten over the winter hols
CW: Best Friend Barty (i.e., swearing, chaos, slight insanity), Big Brother Sirius (i.e., coddling, bad cop, certified dumbass), swearing swearing swearing, slight muggle blasphemy, description of wounds/blood/injury, discussion of Sacred 28 Pureblood Families, etc etc etc - hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending
Barty Crouch Junior was a plethora of dichotomies and contradictions. 
He was a good friend and a bad son. He was a smart boy who made horrible ideas. He was a rational person with unreasonable reactions. He was a menace and very reliable. He was a good lay and a bad boy. 
Barty liked that about himself though; he liked that no one ever knew what to expect when it came to Bartemus Crouch Junior. 
Though, he supposed to those who knew him, it would have been completely predictable for him to have stayed at Hogwarts over the winter holidays. Maybe he should have gone home – really surprised everyone then.
His nightly routine of trying to incendio Daily Prophet articles of his father with nonverbal and wandless magic was interrupted by an awkward thump on his dorm room door. 
“Come in?” Barty called awkwardly, unsure who might be at his door seeing as his friends were all home for the holidays and the staff here tended to avoid him like Dragon Pox.
The doorknob began to rattle but it sounded as if the person on the other side of the door was struggling to turn it.
“Salazar’s saggy balls. WHAT!?” He seethed as he ripped the door open, determined to teach whoever was stupid enough to bother him a lesson when he came face to face with you.
Except...except you were crying, and bloody, and so pale.
“Treasure!?” Barty squawked, awkwardly catching you as you began to slide down the door frame which you were leaning the entirety of your weight on. 
“Barty...I-” you started before a pained sob tore through your teeth. “I need help.”
“What happened?” Barty asked breathlessly, moving you from the door to his bed without your help after your left leg gave out on you.
“Barty...”
“What. Happened. Y/N?” He demanded.
“Barty, you cannot- cannot tell Reg and Remus. Pl- hnggh - please promise me you won’t tell them.”
“Tell them what, Treasure? What’s wrong!?” Barty pressed, beginning to panic when his bedding quickly became saturated with your blood. 
“Promise me!” You shrieked, your voice carrying the most clarity since you had arrived.
“Okay! I promise!” Barty agreed readily. You didn’t seem convinced, however.
You shakily held your pinky out to him and stared intensely at him. “Promise me that y-, that you will not tell Remus or, or Regulus.”
Barty looked between your eyes and your pinky before finally interlocking your pinky with his. “I promise I will not tell Remus or Regulus.”
More tears fell as you began pulling your long winter robes off. You were wearing a long sleeved shirt and long trousers, but Barty could tell most of the bleeding was coming from your leg. Your fingers were shaking too much as you unsuccessfully tried unbuttoning your trousers, so Barty silently asked for your permission before undoing the button and zip for you.
You pulled the pants to your knee to expose a large...werewolf bite on your left thigh.
“Treasure.” Barty breathed out horrified, looking back up at you with tears in his eyes. “What...what happened? No, I ... I can see what happened. How did this happen?”
“I...I just-”
And you passed out.
“No! No no no. Nononononono.” Barty chanted as he tried to rouse you awake.
“Okay Barty, come on, think. You didn’t achieve all twelve O.W.L’s for naught.” He berated himself, lying you down on his bed and pulling your trousers the rest of the way off.
He turned you onto your right side and tried elevating your leg to stop the blood flow after he realized a simple episkey was not going to close the wound.
He realized that the reason you’d been struggling to open the door was that your wrist appeared to be broken, and you’d been leaning onto the doorframe to keep your weight off of your injured leg. That he could fix with an episkey, so at least he wasn’t completely useless. 
His sweet, sweet Treasure. Bitten. By a werewolf!? Your parents...
Oh gods, your parents.
That’s why you were here.
You couldn’t go back home, not as a werewolf; your parents would kill you. The only thing worse to a Sacred 28 Family than a dead daughter would be a werewolf one.
Fuck. 
Fuck fuck fuck fuck.
Any why couldn’t he tell Lupin and Regulus!? Lupin was probably the only person who could actually help you right now. Barty hated that – hated that someone else could help you and he couldn’t – but he also loved that you had people who loved you and could help you.
Fucking fuck, he was supposed to be burning moving pictures of his father right now, not trying to bring his best friend back from the brink of death.
“That’s enough Treasure, you need to wake up.” He muttered, shaking you by your shoulders gently. When that still didn’t work, he cast a quick rennervate. 
You groaned in pain and tried rolling onto your back. 
“No, Y/N, you need to stay like this. I need you to tell me what happened.”
You moaned again and turned back towards him; eyes shut tight in pain. 
“I...I needed to leave I, I – ugh.”
“Okay, okay. So you left, that much I can understand. How’d you get bitten?”
“I didn’t, I didn’t know it was there until it was too late, Barty. I swear it. I was following the trail behind my-my house and it just appeared! I fell back- backwards onto my arm when it lunged and I apparated once I realized what was happening, but it was...it was too- too late.”
“Where were you trying to go?”
“The Potter’s.”
“And why can’t you go there now?”
You opened your eyes at that, and Barty felt his heart fall out of his ass at the amount of pain that spilled from your eyes that had nothing to do with any of your various physical injuries.
“Rem... Rem hates himself. He hates The Wolf, he ha- hates his lycanthropy; he thinks he is a m... monster and deserves nothing. Barty, he’ll hate me.” You broke into a sob at the end of your sentence and Barty was very close to joining you.
He didn’t think you were right at all, mind you; he thinks it’d be rather impossible for anyone to hate you, least of all Lupin who seemed completely lovesick for you and Regulus. He didn’t think it was worth your energy to argue with you about it though, seeing as he already pinky promised not to go to the lycanthrope or your other boyfriend about this.
He didn’t know what to do, though. He needed to close this wound and stop the bleeding, he needed to pilfer from the infirmary, he needed to pilfer the potions supply closet, and he needed to figure out how to help a werewolf. And he needed to do all of these things whilst somehow not leaving your side at all. 
“I’m tired, Barty.” You murmured quietly, startling him from his internal panic.
“You can’t sleep, Treasure. Not until we close this wound and stop the bleeding.”
He pulled out his third year DADA textbook to find the chapter on werewolves. 
“Dangerous creature this, loss of moral sense that, right then – powdered silver and dittany applied to a fresh bite wound.” Barty recited as he read off his textbook. He looked over to your wound, still oozing and bleeding, though the new angle and elevation did seem to be helping staunch the blood flow at least a little.
“Right... fresh enough I suppose.” Barty sighed, making you promise to stay awake long enough for him to raid the potions supply closet and the infirmary to get the necessary ingredients.
Barty had been feeling quite confident in his plans.
Except something was very, very wrong.
The dittany and powered silver bubbled slightly where it interacted with your blood and flesh but didn’t seem to be sticking to your wound at all; it seemed that it was just causing you to moan in agony as Barty uselessly tried spreading it over your leg.
“You’re sure it was a werewolf that bit you?” He asked again. Barty was certain that if you were feeling better, you would have kicked at him.
He wished you could have kicked at him.
“Yes, Barty.” You cried.
“Oh, Treasure, I’m sorry.” He lamented, putting down his bowl of useless silver paste and brushing sweaty hairs away from your forehead.
“Salazar, you’re burning up, Y/N.” He commented, cupping your heated and flushed face with his hand. 
“I’m cold.” You argued, awkwardly trying to pull at his bedsheets to cover your arms. Barty hated to add more layers on you when your fever was this high, but he couldn’t really bring himself to deny you, either. 
Unfortunately, it appeared that Barty needed help. 
Unfortunately, Barty made you a promise.
Fortunately, there were ways around that. 
Unfortunately, that meant having to resort to a fate worse than death.
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“Oh! Hello there.” Mrs. Potter greeted Barty as she rounded the corner after being alerted by the house elf that there was a student at the floo. “Are you looking for Regulus?”
Barty adorned his most charming (and least maniacal) grin as he bowed politely to Mrs. Potter like the proper Pureblood he'd been beaten raised to be. 
“Euphemia Potter – looking as smashing as ever.” He said before returning to his full height. “Actually, I’m here for the lesser Black brother today.”
Mrs. Potter narrowed her eyes at his comment but pursed her mouth as if fighting back a smile.
“Am I to assume you’re referring to Sirius, Barty?”
Barty sighed in admiration. “Smart and pretty, Euphemia; how do you do it?”
“I’ll be right back, Mr. Crouch.” Mrs. Potter called over her shoulder as she left the floo reception room. Barty quickly pulled out the charmed compact mirror he had connected to a hand mirror which he had set up beside you before he left. You were asleep and shivering violently, but you were alive.
Help is coming, Treasure. 
“Oh.” Barty heard, causing him to close the mirror and look up to see a confused looking Sirius pausing mid-step into the room. “Sorry, I’ll go get Regulus for you.”
Barty scoffed derisively. “Oh, come off it Black – give the woman a little credit, yeah? I asked for you. Now let’s go.” He barked, turning towards the floo flame.
He turned back when he realized Sirius wasn’t following him.
“Hello??” He called sarcastically. “Did you not hear me? I said let’s go.”
Sirius looked Barty up and down and crossed his arms in front of his chest.
“Why in the hells would I go anywhere with you?” Sirius asked bemusedly. 
“Black!” Barty seethed. “I do not have time for this, we have to go now.”
“I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what this is about.”
Barty sighed and looked down to the hells for patience or possibly extra strong demonic powers to get through this conversation with Sirius. 
“Where is Regulus right now?”
Sirius considered Barty skeptically but answered, nonetheless. 
“Upstairs with Remus.”
Barty looked at Sirius at that. “Is it safe to assume he is helping him recover from last night?”
Sirius’ face fell and he levelled Barty with a hard glare. “What the hell are you on about, Junior?”
“Black, please believe that there is absolutely nothing in this realm that I’d rather be doing than sitting here asking for your help but I’m here doing just that.”
“For what?”
Regulus was here, and Regulus was helping Lupin, which meant that Lupin was also here with his supernatural hearing. Barty made you a promise – he would not tell Regulus or Remus what has happened.
“I need your help, because I’ve found a lost Treasure that seems to be in some Trouble.” Barty explained slowly, praying to every god that Sirius would pick up on his not-so-subtle clues.
Sirius’ eyes stayed narrowed at Barty before they grew comically in understanding. 
“Where is-”
“Not here.” Barty interrupted. “Grab your things and come with me.”
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“I have so many fucking questions.” Sirius muttered as he stepped through the floo, somehow ending up standing in the Slytherin common room. 
“Like?” Barty asked in a bored tone.
“How the hell did you manage to connect the floo network to the Slytherin common room?” He started, realizing that it probably wasn’t the most important question, but it seemed to take precedence in his mind.
Barty turned to sneer at Sirius, though his steps never faltered as he sped towards what Sirius could only assume was his dorm.
“Really, Black? I tell you that your future sister-in-law is in dire need of your help, and that’s what you’re- you know what? I’m not surprised. The floo network is easy to manipulate so long as you know how to dismantle ancient wards.” Barty explained dismissively.
 Easy. Dismantle ancient wards. Sure.
“What’s wrong with Y/N?” He asked much more seriously. Most (though not all) of the contempt drained from Barty’s face as he stopped in front of a door. 
“She...she was bitten.”
Sirius just stared dumbly at the absolute last person he imagined he'd be spending his morning with as he let that information process.
He wasn't given much time, however, as Barty quickly opened the door and disappeared into the room, clearly unbothered to see if Sirius was following him in or not.
“Treasure? Hey, hey; it’s okay. Look? I brought some help, okay? You’re alright.” He cooed at a curled-up form on his bed – your curled-up form.
“Oh, Trouble.” Sirius breathed out in disbelief, surveying your shaking and battered body before his gaze paused on your exposed thigh – clear as day was a large canine bite, still bleeding. 
“Oh, my girl.” Sirius cooed, feeling like he might be sick at the sight of one of his favourite people in the world in so much pain. It was very different from post moon care with Remus; Remus was seasoned, he was prepared, they were prepared.
You looked like you were dying.
“What’s wrong with her?” Sirius asked quickly, shaking himself and trying to force himself into action.
“Other than the very obvious werewolf bite?” Barty sneered. “She has a fever that won’t quit.”
“Take the blankets off.” Sirius ordered, earning him a whimper from your form.
“S’cold, Siri.” You whined.
“I know, Trouble, but you’re burning up.” He replied apologetically, pulling the blankets out of your currently much weaker grasp.
Barty looked like he was just as heartbroken as you were at the loss of the warmth, but clearly agreed with Sirius enough not to argue. 
“Mean.” You pouted; eyes still screwed shut in pain.
“I know, I’m the worst.” He whispered, casting a quick auguamenti and glacius on a rag and placing it on your head, earning him another protesting groan from you.
“Why’s her leg still bleeding?” Sirius asked, eyes still on your face as he used the cloth to wipe away the sweat from your features. He quickly prepared two more rags and placed them on the back of your neck and your chest. 
“I don’t know. I followed the instructions from our DADA textbook on werewolves – three tablespoons of powdered silver mixed with four tablespoons of dittany to create a paste. It did nothing but hurt her and aggravate me.” He admitted, sounding horribly dejected.
“Where’s the silver from?”
“Slughorn’s supply closet.”
Sirius groaned. “That’s why. The school buys the cheapest ingredients they can to keep costs low. That won’t be pure silver.”
“Well, where in the hells are we supposed to find pure silver then?” Barty groaned. 
Of all the times for Sirius to not be at Grimmauld Place anymore – that place was teeming with pure silver.
Pure...
Toujours pur. 
“Regulus.” Sirius whispered no louder than a breath. You didn’t seem to hear him, your lucid moment clearly over; but Barty did.
“I promised Y/N I wouldn’t tell Lupin or Regulus.” He explained plainly, causing Sirius to groan.
“Then what are we supposed to do?”
Barty turned his face to glare at Sirius. “I promised Y/N I wouldn’t tell Lupin or Regulus.”
Sirius rolled his eyes. “I heard you, Junior. So, what are we going to do then?”
Barty let out a long-suffering sigh. “I promised Y/N I wouldn’t tell Lupin or Regulus.”
Sirius’ brows furrowed and he cautiously lifted his hand to press the back of it to Barty’s head, checking for fever of his own. Barty aggressively swatted him away.
“Are you quite alright, Junior? Is this a stroke?”
“I need you to listen to me very carefully, Black. Okay? Are you listening to my words?”
Sirius nodded at him as Barty grabbed Sirius by the shoulders and stared imposingly into his eyes. “I – Bartemus Crouch Junior – promised that sweet, lovely Treasure you call Trouble over there, that I – Bartemus Crouch Junior – would not tell Remus Lupin or Regulus Black. I promised her.” 
Now, Sirius feels it’s important to note that it was currently maybe seven o’clock in the morning, and he’d only just stepped out of the shower after washing away a night of romping in the woods around Potter Manor with Moony as Padfoot last night to be told there was someone at the floo for him; in other words, he was fucking exhausted. And to add to that, he had one of his least favourite people tell him that one of the worst possible things happened to one of his favourite people. So, sue him for what he said next.
“I don’t understand.” 
“Fucking son of a mother fucking cunt, I swear to that fucking muggle-religion-wizard-guy-that-caused-the-whole-brew-ha-ha-in-that-big-ass-muggle-tome I will shave that fucking head of yours and wear your hair as a wig; I cannot tell Lupin and Regulus.” Barty spat, though somehow managed to keep his voice low enough to not gain your attention.
“Yes, yes, yes. You promised her.” Sirius lamented. “You p- wait... you promised her. You promised her.”
“Thank Merlin and Morgana.” Barty groaned as fell to his knees in exhaustion, clearly more than thankful that Sirius had finally gotten it. 
“I’ll be back.” Sirius announced and started towards the fireplace in the Slytherin common room in order to retrieve his brother. 
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Regulus looked up from the pages of his novel to survey Remus’ form again. His boyfriend laid on his back with his head propped up on two pillows and his eyes closed as the soft morning light filtered its way through the sheer curtains and painted his features in its warm glow.
Regulus knew Remus was likely exhausted and sore and perhaps feeling awfully sorry for himself right now, but Regulus wasn’t sure he ever looked more beautiful. 
“You should take a picture; it’ll last longer.” Remus commented dryly, never bothering to open his eyes as a smile danced on his lips.
“Ha ha.” Regulus deadpanned, returning his gaze to his book with a blush taking over his face.
“You worry too much, love. I’m okay.” 
“I know you’re okay.” Regulus argued.
“Yet you still worry?”
“Yet I still worry.” 
Regulus heard Remus’ head turn against his pillow, and he looked back up to see Remus regarding him.
“Have you heard from her by chance?” Remus whispered as if fearing the answer he knew was coming.
Regulus knew it was you who Remus referred to; they’d been waiting quite impatiently for your owl for the past few days.
You had promised to write as often as you could - every day if possible – over the winter holidays. The last correspondence they had with you was four days ago as you told them of some family gathering at your home.
He hated to be the bearer of bad news, but he could tell he was caught at the disappointed sigh from Remus.
“No, mon loup. I’m sorry.” Regulus admitted.
Remus let out another sigh and leaned his head back down on the pillows, squishing his eyes shut as if the pain of not knowing how you were was more painful than the current aching in his bones.
“Hey, Reg?” Regulus heard his brother call from the door. 
“He’s awake.” Regulus called back simply.
“How’re you feeling, Moons?” Sirius asked, walking towards the end of the bed with his hands in his pocket.
“Been worse.” Remus answered.
“I...” Sirius started, cutting himself off with a sigh.
“Spit it out, Sirius. We’ve not got all day.” Regulus drawled and put his book down. He couldn’t stop his heart rate from picking up when he noticed Sirius’ discontent, however; sudden flashbacks of Sirius standing in Regulus’ doorway begging him to pack his things and leave with him bombarding his mind.
“What is it, Pads?” Remus asked, seeming to pick up on his friend’s anxiety as well.
“I need your help.” He admitted. “It’s...it’s Y/N.”
Remus sat up all too quickly and winced at the cracking of his back.
“What is it? Where is she? Is she okay?” He asked, trying to free himself from the bedding that Regulus had tucked him into hours earlier.
“No, well, yes...she-”
“Where is she?” Regulus whispered in horror.
“With Junior. At Hogwarts.”
Regulus relaxed slightly to at least know you were safe at Hogwarts and with Barty, though that raised more questions than answers for him.
“How do you know that?” Regulus asked, all the while Remus continued struggling to dress himself despite his various aches and pains. 
“Junior told me.” Sirius admitted, finally taking pity on his friend and helping him dress whilst his boyfriend sat their uselessly. 
“Why did he tell you? When did he tell you?”
“This morning!” Sirius barked, clearly growing agitated, “listen, I just-”
“What happened to her, Sirius?” Remus begged, finally taking a moment to catch his breath and stare at his friend imploringly. “What happened to her that Junior told you and not us?”
Sirius swallowed thickly before he answered.
“She was bitten, Rem.”
All colour drained from Remus’ face and Regulus sat stock still.
“Was it me?!” Remus asked through a choked sob. This seemed to snap Regulus out of his uselessness and he reached for Remus’ shoulder to squeeze it affectionately.
“No, no. Moony, no one was there last night. I swear it.”
“What...why do you need my help? What do you need?” Regulus asked quietly, standing to pull on his own jacket and retrieving his and Remus’ wands from the dresser. 
“We can’t get the wound to close, and she’s got a wicked fever that we can’t bring down. She’s barely lucid, she's lost an insane amount of blood, and the silver at the school didn’t work to close it and-”
“No, it wouldn’t.” Remus agreed breathlessly.
“Why not?”
“Too costly to give pure powdered silver to a bunch of students who make throw away potions – they only use what works in the brew but not in practice.” Remus explained, groaning as he stood and quickly transfigured his suitcase into a cane on account of his hip after the transformation. 
“So, you need pure silver? Like... the ring!” Regulus whispered, hastily ripping the Black Family signet ring from his thumb and passing it to Sirius.
“We need to go now. She can’t afford to lose any more blood, and it should have been closed immediately.” Remus pressed, making his way to the door albeit a little shakily. 
Regulus was sick with worry; for you, your life, your future, your family, for Remus and how upsetting this must be for him as well, but something still wasn’t making any sense.
“Why did Barty tell you?” Regulus asked as they stepped through the floo into the Slytherin common room, making a mental note to ensure that it was closed before the rest of the students returned from winter holidays.
Sirius grimaced slightly and turned to look at his friend who he was supporting as they followed Regulus to the dorm room.
“She...she made him promise not to tell you guys.” Sirius admitted.
Remus’ steps faltered and Regulus turned, ready to help Sirius in catching him, only to notice that he wasn’t falling but rather had stopped walking all together.
“Why wouldn’t she want us to know?” Remus asked mournfully.
“I never did hear why.” Sirius admitted, encouraging Regulus forward with a nod of his head.
The three of them entered the room to find Barty sitting on a low stool beside you with his pinky interlinked with yours. Your eyes were still shut tightly and your breathing was shallow, but Regulus could hear Barty talking lowly to you and your occasional responses. 
“I like that song about the fighter, the writer, and the ruler.” Barty murmured quietly to you.
Your brows twitched as you gritted out “it’s Soldier, Poet, King.”
“Ah, right you are, Treasure.” Barty responded, looking over his shoulder at the new additions to the room. “You always know everything.”
“How is she?” Sirius asked as he dropped the signet ring inside the mortar and pestle and traded seats with Barty who began to grind it into powder, and Regulus and Remus moved to stand near the end of the bed to take in your form.
“Hanging in there, Black.” Barty responded to Sirius, though he looked at Regulus as he said it.
Sirius must have noticed Regulus’ death glare being pointed at Barty and opted to intervene. 
“Hey, Trouble?” Sirius asked you gently, brushing some of your damp hair away from your forehead. You hummed in acknowledgement without opening your eyes.
“Why didn’t you want Remus and Regulus to know, sweets?”
You whimpered as your face morphed into agony, eyes finally opening to look at Sirius through fat tears.
“Remus will hate me.”
Remus actually whimpered at that, clearly itching to move towards you, but not wanting to interrupt you.
“Why would he hate you, sweets?”
“He hates werewolves.”
Remus’ head dropped in shame as Regulus rubbed soothing circle into his back. 
“But he loves you, Trouble.” Sirius pressed, watching Remus all the while.
“Not anymore.” You sighed in resignation, closing your eyes once more.
“Always, dove.” Remus insisted. You squeezed your eyes tightly as if you were trying to convince yourself that he wasn’t there. 
“Do you hear me? I will always love you. There is nothing that could ever happen that would make me hate you, okay?” He carried on, slowly making his way to the other side of the bed in order to curl up behind you and pull your back into his front. 
You whimpered, though Regulus was sure it was less from physical pain and more in distress.
“What about Reggie?” You cried as Sirius continued rubbing his thumb across your forehead. 
“It’s almost ready.” Barty interrupted as he began measuring out the silver and dittany. 
“Reggie thinks the world of you, dove.” Remus murmured into your hair, looking over at Regulus imploringly. 
“You’ve got a lot of people who care about you, Trouble.” Sirius added. “We’re not going to let you do this alone.”
“It’s done, Treasure. We’re gonna fix you up.” Barty said as he made his way over, keeping his eyes trained on Regulus. 
“Dovey, this is going to hurt an awful lot, okay? But you’re so brave, you’re so brave and then you’ll feel all better, okay?” Remus spoke into your hair, keeping you pressed tightly to his form as you began to struggle against his hold. 
“Regulus, you need to be brave for her.” Sirius ordered, looking as severe as Regulus ever remembers his older brother being. 
What could Regulus have ever done to make you think it was at all possible for him to feel anything but love for you?
How could Regulus ensure that you never thought such things again?
“I’m right here, amour. Okay? You’ve got four of us here who love you, we’re not going anywhere.” He pressed, moving to take over Sirius’ place on Barty’s short stool as Sirius positioned himself close to your feet.
“I don’t want to hurt.” You cried, breathing becoming slightly erratic as Remus added more pressure in keeping your arms pinned to your sides.
“I know, amour. It’ll be over soon, okay?” Regulus tried, brushing hair away and pressing his lips to your overly hot forehead.
“You’re so brave, Y/N. We’ve got you, okay? Such a brave girl, come on babylove, you’re okay.” Remus chanted, looking over at Sirius as he pinned your ankles to the bed and Barty transfigured a stirrer in an applicator.
“Please. I don’t want to.” You begged.
“You’re so brave.” Remus repeated, pressing his mouth to the top of your head as his own tears fell into your hair.
“Do it.” Regulus insisted, not wanting to prolong this anymore.
Regulus nearly dropped his wand in his haste to throw up a silencing charm around the dorm room as your screams bounced off the stone walls in time with Barty’s first swipe of the ointment. 
Regulus couldn’t hear the words spilling from Remus’ lips, but he knew that he was whispering sweet encouragements to you as he cried in sympathy. Sirius looked to be using all his strength to keep your legs pinned down as you struggled, and his eyebrows furrowed on your behalf as well.
“You’re okay, amour. You’re okay.” Regulus insisted for both of your benefits, watching as Barty applied the last of the paste to your leg.
“Now what!?” Barty shouted over your agonized cries.  
“Breathe dove, breathe. The pain will fade, just breathe.” Remus coached, rocking the both of you gently back and forth as you sobbed.
“You’ve done so well, amour, so well. Ma courageuse fille; you’re so brave.” Regulus praised, taking both of your hands into his and pulling them from Remus’ grasp to press kisses to your knuckles. “Tu as si bien fait, tu es la personne la plus forte que je connaisse.”
It took some time and many more encouragements before your sobs decreased into pitiful hiccups and whimpers as you looked towards Regulus. 
“You don’t hate me?” You asked pitifully.
Regulus used his thumb to wipe away the tears that were still falling as Remus caressed your arms.
“It never even crossed my mind, cheri. I could never; non.” Regulus insisted. 
“I’m so sorry, dove.” Remus whispered into your head. “I’m so sorry this has happened to you.”
“Remus.” Sirius warned. 
“Not because it makes her any less lovely, Sirius. But because she doesn’t deserve it.” Remus explained. 
“I’m scared.” You admitted timidly.
“I know, dove.”
“Lucky for you, Trouble, you’ve got some seasoned professionals here.” Sirius added, nudging Remus’ foot. 
“Can I start the animagus process now, Rem?” Regulus groaned, looking at Remus pointedly. 
“I guess it wouldn’t be fair to make you sit out on full moons now.” Remus relented – he’d always hated the idea of putting the two of you in any undue danger, but he couldn’t deny Regulus of the two of you, nor you of Regulus; not when you would need him most.
“Wait, wait, wait.” Barty interrupted, moving his skeptical glance between the four of you. “You’re telling me that animagi can romp around with the likes of werewolves?”
Remus nuzzled his face impossibly further into your head as Sirius chuckled. 
“Werewolves don’t care about animals. In fact, it makes them quite happy to have a ‘pack’.” Sirius explained.
Barty laughed conspiratorially. “Well, sign me the fuck up. Regulus, I’ll buy the first mandrake leaf; my treat!” He called as he grabbed his jacket and wand and headed for the door, likely heading to Hogsmeade for supplies in his excitement. 
“Moony is not going to like him.” Sirius proclaimed flippantly, finally falling into a chair in exhaustion after Barty was gone.
“It’s not just about him, anymore.” Remus responded, pressing a kiss to your head. Regulus could tell your fever was reducing, though your cheeks were still flushed.
You had a lot to discuss; what happened, why it happened, and where to go from here. But for now, Regulus was just happy you were alive, currently safe, surrounded by people who loved you, and agreeable to him running you a bath. 
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sandpontiff · 2 days
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Mercedes
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eloaholiveira · 3 days
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Wolf Moon [REMAKE]
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First: here || Prev: here || Next
I REALLY need to get back to 'arting' and work on pending stuff(so sorry for the long wait!!!) so lets start with something fun shall we
Teen Wolf AU! That first comic was awful bro, so i decided to remake em. So finally you guys get to know more about this AU since i worked on it before joining Tumblr.
This is just for fun, imma update when i can. I really need energy and motivation rn.
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corantus · 2 days
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[ych] lupa (she/her) for @wheelie-butch 🐺💦
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pearlusha · 3 days
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omggg he's excepting his alpha nature 🫢😘🤗🐺🐺🐺
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yandere-wishes · 3 days
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𝓦𝓮𝓻𝓮𝓦𝓸𝓵𝓯
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Summary: Heritage pricks Wriothesley like a valley of thrones, it's unnerving to find someone with the same pains. 
Warnings: Yandere Behavior, werewolves, gore, older man/ younger woman if you squint.
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January 15th; 12:00 Am  
There's blood on your face and a blade in your hand when Wriothesley first meets you. A body at your feet half gutted and half eaten. If not for the flickering shade of gold in your eyes, he'd have summed you up as just another alleyway murderer. 
Not a monster.
Not a creature he was all so intimately familiar with. 
When you'd first met the Duke of Meropide, there had been a full moon hovering overhead. A little too haunting for your taste. The stars cowered behind heavy clouds as the taste of metal rang in your mouth. His frigid fingers had tucked a lock of hair behind your ear. Tracing it's shell that had yet to lose its unnatural edge. "Qutrub" he mumbles, low and rattling as he drapes his jacket across your shoulders. 
You've yet to tell him that that night still haunts you. Not the blood or the first kill. Not the face of the man as you tear out his intestines with your teeth. No, the nightmares come from his voice, how easily he spoke of the horror you'd turned into. He'd known you before you'd even known yourself. 
His familiarity is what haunts you. 
All too deep and knowing. 
You still shiver when the beast's name leaves his tongue. 
He's blunt and brutal when he tells you of the curse you've inherited. What manner of creature resides within you. He speaks as if he's the Archon of wisdom, all lethal facts and icy truths. You couldn't really speak back then, brain still split between two worlds. Too feral to be human, yet too meek to be a threat. "The first transformation is always the worst, kid. It'll take a while before your mind's set straight again." 
You didn't understand what he meant back then. Too busy focusing on the permanent buzz in your head. It felt like a fever dream, sticky, slow. Your limbs weren't your own and neither were your thoughts. You think you may have collapsed back then. Vaguely recalling the sensation of his calloused palms against your forehead. 
 It's only by the end of a brutal week that you finally realize what his words signified. You're starting to act human again. Morphing back into something normal, something tame. It's only on the seventh day that you remember how to form words. And even then it's only half-slung phrases in your mother tongue. Wriothesley answers when you speak. Mirroring your words, your accent, your tones. That had been around the time you'd begin to understand what he was. What you where. 
Not human. 
Never human. 
 It's another excruciating week before you remember the language of Fontaine.
 Another long endless month until the new moon. 
January 30th; 1:00 Am
There's blood on your hands again, a shade too red to have a name. You stare at the body, his face shredded beyond recognition. 
His bone reverberates between your teeth. Beckoning you to crush it, to crack it open and gulp down the marrow like nectar. 
Wriothesley hums in approval, slinging himself over the ring ropes. The Pankration Ring is abandoned. Reserved only for the warden and his new "pet". It had become routine over the last few weeks, Wriothesley would bring in a "misbehaving" prisoner, some he -and by extension Fontaine - needed gone. And you would take the opportunity to whet your new, primal powers. 
"bloodlust does not define us." He circles you. Predator and prey. "Our kind has existed since the dawn of Tayvat. We're not monsters, although that's what everyone likes to think." he stops, his fangs tickling the side of your neck. As if trying to simulate a reaction, he needs you to feel the antiquity that courses through your blood. To understand where all this is coming from. 
The bone in your mouth cracks, something thick spills out. Just as Wriothesley's fangs pierce your precious flesh. 
"We're not monsters..."
"Not quite" 
January 31st, 11:59 Am
His voice is haunting. It slips into the cracks of your psyche, pulling apart the open wounds until there's enough room for him. Only him. The glib timbre of his voice stalks you through the corridors and past the darken rooms. Slithering over walls and echoing in your skull. Cauterizing doubts of what you are. He needs you to feel his pain. To live with his curse, his blessing. 
There's a window five meters from his office. It's the only time you catch glimpses of the world outside the metal dome. Your mind is fractured now too preoccupied by new sensations and emotions to fully recall anything from the topside world. The blurry scenery has long since faded from your memory.
 Somewhere a clock chimes. You start to race for the boxing ring. 
February 1st, 12:15 Am
You recall the first lesson he ever taught you. Back then you had yet to shed the ferocity running ramped across your veins. Preferring to use your teeth, to tear and sheer, hacking at whatever flesh you could reach.
You lay in a pool of gore, fresh enough to make your mouth water. Still, you keep your eyes locked on him. Longing for some acknowledgments, a shred of affection. 
Wriothesley's shadow is casted above you, white fangs glowing. He looked every bit the predator he'd raised himself to be. "Tired already?" His voice carries a tone of mockery. It's to be expected you guess as you'd laid on the metal floor heaving. Black dots danced across your vision, laughing when you tried to block them out. Wriothsly stands proud, metallic boxing gloves reflecting what little light they can. "We're qutrub's (y/n), not animals. Stop acting like one." 
Today's prisoner had put up a fight. A dirty one at that. His blade had pierced you more times than you dare count. it had been Wriothesley who had finished the job. Who had saved you from your target. A heartbeat later you feel him pulling you up, cradling you in his arms as he departs for his chambers. 
Back then you'd seen him as a predator, a beast. No difference in what he decided to call himself. Now all your eyes can convene is a saint draped in black. Wriothsly wears his heritage on his sleeve. Proud of the beast he has become. Proud of the way his bones rearrange to turn in into something odious, something ethereal. Someday you wish to make him proud. To be the creature he envisions, to be more than a monster, more than a wolf. To be worthy of him. 
"I love you" Wriothesley mutters, warm breath hitting the side of your neck. You wonder if monsters can love if that sentiment isn't stripped from them the moment they grow claws. You think it's ludicrous to believe either of you can still harbor such human feelings.
 The new moon feels like a lifetime away.
Febuary 8th, 2:00 Am
 "Until you learn to control your powers, they'll always reign over you. Never bend to them. Remember they are an extension of you. Not the other way around."
The bloodlust has grown more ferocious as of late. Its vicious howl rings through your head, blocking out Wriothesley's voice. It's a welcomed difference, a much-needed rest from his constant yammering. 
You've taken to hunting for sport. Slaughtering any you can corner, any you can out-match. Cherishing the blood that dries under your nails and the liberating ache of your body after the fact. 
At first, Wriothesley had made a show of decorating his desk with any blood-soaked trophy you'd brought him. Now you think he's growing vexed. 
He has you perched on his lap. Ankle cuffed and chained to the stone floor. A security mechanism he'd insisted on after you'd brought him the heart of the Coupon Cafatria's chef. 
Wriothesley never keeps animals in the fortress. He insists it's cruel to cage such a free thing. You wonder if you'll be the first exception. 
Wriothesley drinks tea religiously. it's the only thing keeping his heritage flowing within his bones. You wonder if the flavored scorching waters keep the violent urges at bay. You wonder if their soothing is all that keeps him from ripping out people's jugulars. 
He offers you a sip from his adorned glass. The tea's aroma is overwhelming, it reminds you of a place you've never been to. It burns your tongue on the way down. Enough to make you consider shattering his cup. 
February 11th, 3:00 am
Wriothesley flinches when he sees the blood coating his hands. Flashes of a hell he'd long since buried flicker through him.
A part of you wishes to tell him that he's clean. That killing isn't a sin. At least not here, not to them. He tells you of the night he first transformed, a tiny boy who, at the time, had only ever pulled his punches. 
He tells you why he killed and maimed, why his powers awakened when they did. "I keep trying to tell you." His words are phantoms, restless spectators that cloud your mind. "We're not monsters, not really. Sure all they see is the bloodshep and claws and they take off running. But the truth is our kind have been guardians and protectors longer than their kind has existed." 
His fingers trace your cheek. Leaving red waterfalls to drip down your chine. You think this is love in its rawest form. You think this is desperation in its strongest form. 
Wriothesley's kisses taste of burnt ice and ash. Filled to the brim with sorrow, too deep to understand. You claw at the back of his neck. breaking skin on a childish whim. Desperate to unleash the monster he insists, doesn't exist.
In a blinded second of rage, of passion, of some emotion, no word could properly describe. He has you sprawled on the cold ground. His body hovering over yours. You see his eyes bleed into the most perfect crimson. You see the monster start to break out. 
Febuary 14th 11:58 Am 
It takes too much effort on his part not to baby you. To remind himself that regardless of your age and lack of experience you are still an adult. He gives up on most days, opting to just cradle you on his lap and hum some forgotten tune until you fall asleep.
Tonight's the new moon. He doesn't know what to expect.
You hear his voice in the back of your head telling you to calm down. 'It's just the way we look, you're alright.' you ignore it favoring the sensation of your claws digging behind your eyes. You feel his claws on your wrist prying your hands away. They cut into your veins and you howl, something inhuman, something feral. 
Wriothesley kisses your eyes, staining his lips a doleful red. He listens to the cacophony of your bones rearranging, cracking, and slipping into their new positions. 
he teaches you how to box. Tells you it's a way to stay in touch with your human side.
he tells you about the murders, about how, even at such a young age, he'd known he was a monster, he'd known his heritage sang hymns of moons and blood between his bones. He tells you how he overcame it, where he became something more than a monster. The stories ease the transition, piquing your interest enough to distract you from the natural way your body bends. 
"I want to be human again" you choke, tears marring your cheeks "I hate this, I hate you. Why couldn't you have left me in that alleyway? Why couldn't you have left me alone!"
Wriothesley's facade cracks, your trained eyes pick up the slightest indication of concern weaving across his face. "They'd have hunted you like a wild animal". "I am a wild animal" You protest. "You should have let them kill me!"
There's blood in the back of your throat, metallic, pungent. It feels like holding the sun between your teeth and letting it burn you from the inside. You wonder when you'll be strong enough to deny the bloodlust, to relish in the transformation. Will a time ever come when all this feels natural? When you're as calm and composed as him?
Wriothesley kisses your forehead. It's the last thing you remember before the world turns red. Your brain and body are no longer your own, governed now by the fanged creature inside you. 
If ever there was a time to die, now's not it. 
Febuary 15th 11:00 Am
You wake up in a soft bed. Wriothesley's arm tucked under your head. Your nails have lost their supernatural edge, you trace stars and moons into his chest absentmindedly. His pale blue eyes, shift to you, shaking off the netherworld they'd been engaged with.
"There's an old story about us." His gaze is as cold as the blizzards of Snezhnaya. "About how we were cursed yet survived. The divine turned us into soldiers, they didn't expect us to thrive."
You used to be a fickle thing, all so arrogant and free. So sure of your place in this world. When did that change exactly? When did the world morph into an endless stream of gore and despair? When did you start hanging onto his every word? Despreat for him, all of him?
"What is a monster anyway" you ask, voice too frail that it cracks when met with open air. "A guardian, an outcast, the child of heroes who shares none of the glory its parents once had." You feel the burn on your tongue from the tea he gave you. Suck on the flesh before replying.
" It's inexperienced shoulders buckling under the weight of duty."
"Maybe" he shrugs, "I guess it could be that too."
Somewhere along the lines, Wriothesley forgot how to love. He's not even sure if he's ever understood the emotion in the first place. Maybe it all comes with being a feral, creature of the night. Maybe it all comes with being born only partially human. He rolls your name off his tongue. Nicking his bottom lip on his fangs.
He wonders if you'll like chameleon or mint tea for breakfast. Or maybe something more bitter. His lips find you delicate ones, an exchange of exhaustion. You're so soft and sweet under him, a stark contrast to the beast he's come to tame. 
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sushisusii · 12 hours
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Tree
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theskullbeast · 2 days
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"What makes this fragile world go 'round? Were you ever lost? Was she ever found?"
Experimental critter piece inspired by "Space Song" by Beach House, my ongoing Big Feels, and the very talented artist @mcromwell 's squiggly coyotes
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wolven91 · 2 days
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Inventors
When humanity joined the rest of the races amongst the stars, it was a cause of celebration across the stars as they paraded the humans through the GC ring world, regardless of the gaunt and tired faces that the ticker tape and confetti fell upon.
The celebration was confirmation that there was yet more to the universe to see! The melancholy that had plagued the races for two hundred years was over! There was yet more life in the galaxy! What humanity learnt in the coming weeks and months, was the reason *why* humanity being found and brought into the fold was so important.
It was because the wider galaxy; had stagnated.
No new ideas were being made. No new technology besides mild improvements of what had already been there. No new fashion, just old things recycled again and again. Not even concepts that were commonplace and obvious to humanity had been even thought about by the wider GC. It was so bad, for so long, there was a statement that confused most humans when they heard it. The galaxy was so stagnant, that not even so much as a new recipe had been discovered in over a hundred years.
So, when humanity appeared, most of the races didn't even *think* of asking them whether they had any new ideas they wanted to share with the galaxy, they assumed that the races had not only thought of everything, but that humanity couldn't have possibly discovered new things on their own.
In the end, it was little things that were slowly added to the combined technology of the Galactic Community.
An 'umbrella' was created on a planet that only ever had rain. A blanket with sleeves in was invented for a long-haul transport trip.
'Unique' and 'inspired'.
So obvious most of the races from the stars merely blinked and wondered how they could have possibly missed such marvellous and simple ideas.
Humanity! The little inventors that *could*!
It was brilliant PR for the little race to buck off the sombre knowledge they were nearly extinct to add their own work into the tapestry of the GC. The heads of state even gave a small speech of how, regardless of whether in a hundred years humanity was still with the GC, their little contributions would mean they were remembered forever!
The console screen snapped off and the remote thrown across the room, hitting a cushion with a solid 'thud'.
"Fucking twats." Growled the human, still glaring at the now blank screen, fuming.
A canid's head popped around the doorframe at the outburst with his ears perked and eyes attentive. The human was facing away, but the tense shoulders and anger in Ted's voice told Kiv that the human needed him. The scent was acidic and figuratively burnt the back of Kiv's snout.
"You okay Teddy?" Asked the canid, quickly washing his hands and running them down the messy grey fur of his thighs to dry them. Padding into the room, the human now had his hands on his hips but was staring at the blank console screen mounted on the wall. From Kiv's perspective, he was like an ursidain; a living mountain. The tight green shirt running along and highlighting the corded muscles of his back, neck and shoulders.
"Teddy?" Asked the canid again, gently. He stepped around the oversized sofa and tapped the tips of two of his claws together, holding his hands in front of his chest as a nervous tick. Kiv was a nervous soul and despite doing nothing to earn the ire of the human, there was still a part of the canid that blamed himself for anything negative in the world around him.
The human turned to face Kiv and the mostly fleshy face broke into a tired smile, easing Kiv's fears.
Kiv was not your average canid. He was an outlier by a large margin. As a canid, he was considered 'disabled' despite being perfectly capable to exist in society without the need for help. But Kiv wasn't considered 'capable' in his own species' eyes.
Kiv was a runt. Incapable of serving the military or even private security in any capacity.
At barely 5'5, the canid had to look up at the 6'3 human who dwarfed him in all ways. Kiv practically had to bend his back and crane his neck just to look his fellow canids in the eyes, saying that they could reach up to 10 feet in height. The human blinked and sighed through his nose before speaking. 
"Sorry Kiv, I got... annoyed at the TV." Replied the human, gesturing with a limp arm and allowing the tension that was in his broad shoulders to melt away with another sigh. The human merely turned to the canid and wrapped his arms around the short, furry alien. Kiv closed his eyes and rumbled into the nap of Teddy's neck, relishing the thick broad arms of the human, holding him in place. The human, without issue of effort, lifted the wiry canid from the floor and flopped down onto the sofa. It had been built for the titan-esque ursidains in mind; the furniture barely noticed both the human and the tiny canid.
Relaxing into Ted's hug, Kiv didn't know what a 'TV' was but could guess that it was the news that had annoyed Ted. It usually was.
"What were they saying?" Kiv asked quietly after a moment of them both laying there.
"Congratulating us poor, helpless humans and how we're doing *super* and that if we die out, that's okay; we invented stuff." Ted replied with a gruff, annoyed tone. It still made Kiv nervous. The mere tone was enough to set him on edge despite Teddy never *once* raising his voice in anger for frustration at the canid.
Kiv's ears laid flat as he gazed up at his human longingly. Kiv never believed he could be a real canid before meeting Ted. Canids each had an instinctual drive to protect and defend others. It mostly meant one's pack, but when Kiv simply wasn't included in a pack, all he wanted was someone who could rely on him, despite being a runt.
Then he had bumped into the mountain of a creature that was Theodore. Ted or 'Teddy' for short. Kiv liked how only *he* was allowed to call the human 'Teddy'. The human had mistaken Kiv for a cub at first, which the canid couldn't blame the human for. But after that crash introduction, the pair of them had become close friends. Kiv had shown the human around the station in a manner not approved of by the administration and the human had met an equal, one that didn't treat him like a lesser being. Kiv had to admit that he had fallen for the human almost instantly in the beginning...
Moving in together had been pragmatic. Sharing each other's bed was merely the natural progression of things, much to the canid's absolute joy. He had never dreamt that he could have had such a wonderful life when he was growing up.
Kiv gently licked the underside of Teddy's chin, pulling the hulking figure out of his thoughts again.
"You don't need their approval. Since when have you needed anyone's?" Asked the canid carefully, pointing out the truth. The human grinned and planted his soft lips against Kiv's leathery nose once. Kiv licked it as a habitual response.
"You are the only one that matters to me. Just annoyed. I feel called out." Replied the human, merely articulating his feelings for the alien.
"Don't! You're a brilliant inventor! Your invention is going to change the stars! Every canid from here to Anul-6 is going to want one! Even if you only sold them for a single credit; you're never going to have to work another day in your life! We could-"
But Kiv stopped himself and laid his muzzle flat against the human's chest, preventing him from spiralling and talking too fast and too much. He had a habit of getting excited then speaking so much that people found it annoying. Kiv didn't want to annoy Teddy...
"Hey! Hey, hey hey..." The human coaxed, aware that the canid was once again silencing himself. The human used his arms to hug and squeeze the canid to get his attention. Ted was aware that Kiv was used to being shut down by others, merely because his opinion was worthless to them thanks to his size. "What was it? 'We could' what?" The human asked calmly.
"You'll laugh." Accused Kiv, nervous and feeling vulnerable.
"Never at you darling. *Never* at you. What could we do if this works?" Promised the human, using his finger and thumb to being the canid's head up and catch his gaze, holding it; silently promising nothing but respect and love.
"We could... get a little plot of land..." Whispered Kiv in a tiny voice.
"Oh? That would be nice... Whereabouts?" Whispered Ted right back.
"...I always liked the looks of the ursidain forestry worlds... They sell little parcels... I... um... That was my dream. To earn enough to buy one..." Mumbled the canid directly into the chest of the human, the insides of his ears turning a bright pinkie red, that had the human grinning from ear to ear.
"Alright then. That's the goal." Ted said with a firm tone and a curt nod.
Kiv's head snapped right back up, nearly clocking the human under the chin with the canid's skull.
"But what about you?" The furry, wolf-like alien demanded.
Teddy snorted.
"Like I had a 'plan'. Until you came along, I didn't have anything, or anyone left to make plans *with*. At least now..." He touched his nose to the canid's muzzle again. Kiv licked again. "I have someone to dote on."
The pair laid there for a time on the sofa, merely enjoying each other with their eyes closed. Eventually Ted sighed and with a single hand, reached out to the coffee table where one of his prototypes laid there. Grasping it, he held it up in one hand and turned it over.
'This is so stupid' Ted thought to himself, only to have Kiv, seemingly read his mind and pipe up.
"They're brilliant you know. I mean it."
"You really think they'll be popular?" The human gave it a squeeze and physically felt the response from Kiv as he laid on the human. The rubberised material deformed in the human's grip and forced the air out of the hollow insides through a squeaker. The high pitch squeal gave one note, then drawled another as air flooded back in once Ted had relaxed his grip.
His eyes flicked to the canid, who despite living with these things now for a few weeks, was still; completely and utter enraptured by the object. His eyes and ears were locked on and as Ted held the toy still, raised above the canid, Kiv could help but lick his chops and begin to shake in anticipation.
Ted broke out into laughed and scooped the canid up into a hug and rolled the alien against the back of the couch as he began peppering the smaller creature with kisses, his foul mood; long forgotten.
[r/WolvensStories]
[Ko-Fi]
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hemipenal-system · 22 hours
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personally? that thing werewolves do where they tenderly lick your face or neck or hands as an apology for something? i go fucking feral for that
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werewolfaday · 13 hours
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day 88
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siriuslystyle13 · 2 days
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You drew stars, around my scars
Remus Lupin x Fem!Reader
cw: scars, self loathing (Remus), hurt/comfort, FLUFF!!!
Yawning slightly and flattening down her hair, Y/n trekked down to breakfast in the great hall. Sitting down sandwiched in between Lily and Marlene, she grabbed a slice of toast, lathering it with a monstrous amount of butter.
Parting her lips to indulge in her breakfast, Y/n looked over to where her boyfriend, Remus usually sat. instead, she was greeted with the concerned faces of James, Sirius and Peter.
"Hold on, where's Rem?" She asked the three boys who stared back at her like deer in headlights. "He's still in bed Y/n, not feeling in top shape." James replied, raking a calloused hand through his thick black hair. "Mhm." Sirius interjected, his mouth full of cheerios. "its his..." the boy whispered cupping his mouth in his hands so only Y/n could hear. "time of the month"
How could've she forgotten? The full moon was tomorrow and Remus always struggled immensely in the days leading up to it.
Finishing her toast quickly, Y/n hastily got up from the table and rushed to the boys dormitory.
She found herself faced with the hard oak door and decided to knock to get Remus' attention instead of just barging in.
one knock... no reply
two knocks... still nothing, though Y/n could hear shuffling inside
three kno- "Sirius I swear to merlin I told you to leave me alone-"
"it's me Rem." Y/n spoke softly, he cheek to the door. At this, the handle turned and the door opened to reveal her boyfriend. Though sickly and pale looking, he was still beautiful.
"Hi dove" he murmured in exhaustion. Waiting for Y/n to open her arms and allow him in.
Y/n sat him down on the bed and cradled him in her arms as she stroked his hair.
"How could you like someone like me" He spoke, looking up at her with faint tears glistening in his eyes.
"whatever do you mean, lovely?" she stroked his cheek looking down at him in utter confusion and remus swore he had never seen a prettier sight.
"I'm a monster Y/n. You know it, I know it, James and Sirius know it."
"Remus you know that isn't true, I love you. Werewolf or not. I'm here. James and Sirius are here. You have friends, you have me."
Before the full moon, remus' self esteem always hit a low. Y/n believed it to be her duty to make sure he knew how loved and cared for he was.
"I love you Remus, I love everything about you. I love the way you make me laugh, I love how clever you are, I love your scars, the list goes on baby."
"I love you too Y/n." Remus replied, cuddling into her more. "I don't know what I would do without you."
"I vow to never let you find out." she chuckled, stroking his hair.
That's how they fell asleep, cuddled up. remus' head on Y/n's chest, encapsulated in her arms. Only to be found by James and Sirius later on in the day.
"oi guys come look at this." James whispered summoning Sirius and Peter.
"ew I think I might actually be sick" Sirius whisper wailed dramatically.
"well I think they're quite sweet." Peter smiles, attempting to move the other two out of the way so he could shut the door and leave you in peace.
hi guys! tysm for all of the love on 'in sickness and in health' I thought I might do something similar but a different fandom. if you have any requests let me know and I will do my best. thank you for reading!
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seeminglydark · 13 hours
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I’m just…
Gonna leave this here
Werewolf au, sexy teeth, I’m so gay for Caro’s etc etc and so on and so forth
Caro and Johnny are from my webcomics mil-liminal and seemingly dark
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eloaholiveira · 2 days
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Wolf Moon [REMAKE] 2, 3
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