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Chapter Text

Death itself had many names, as did the previous wielders that were gifted the privilege of representing it. 

Depending on whichever name was told and the story attached, it would instill the same sense of dread in many, knowing they would inevitably meet the harbinger one day. 

Dying too soon, or at all, was a fear all living things in the realm faced. Many would become obsessed with this fact, and some would try to outplay their fates through whatever magical means necessary. However, such methods always came at the cost of others.

To dare such a thing for such a frivolous reason would not only capture the attention of the current wielder but guarantee a faster end, one without mercy. 

Muerte couldn't count the number of times he'd revealed himself to avaricioso persons who'd think they could defeat him, only to have their boasting turn to begging. Of course, he'd silence them without another thought as they had forfeited their souls the moment they began searching for eternal life, rather than using the time they had to live.

Those that had their lives cut short unnaturally, would beg as well, staring up at him with pleading eyes. The younger they were, the more difficult for them to understand there was nothing he could do. Thus, he could only offer comforting words and carefully guide them through the process, to the Beyond, where they could rest. 

Even those expecting him would still stare with apprehension at his intimidating figure but go along willingly. 

This was something he'd come to expect when he'd been passed on the responsibility by his predecessor, and he'd grown desensitized to the fact that all would look at him with fear, hatred, or despair. He'd learn to live with it - enjoy it at times, even.

With the amount of injustice, hate, and misery that the wolf had been witness to, it was all too easy to ignore it and move on to the next corpse.

To his next hunt. 

"Es el precio que pago por esta responsabilidad." 

Except, he'd broken one of his few rules. 

Muerte had allowed himself to become too invested in the life of an individual living person, one that didn't need collecting. Yet, after seeing them during the death of one of his long-awaited hunts, he'd unconsciously found himself drawn to them. It was another wolf that would linger in the back of his mind, for years, before he decided to introduce himself one fateful night. 

If humanity could be utterly selfish, why couldn't he? 

What he hadn't anticipated was how his life with the brown wolf had changed everything. 

"Muerte," Wolfie would warmly, happily, say and move towards him whenever he'd return to visit. His eyes and movements reflected joy, as opposed to the many souls that looked at him with fright. 

"Precioso," He'd reply fervently and be all too eager to intertwine their paws together as if they'd been apart longer than a few days. He'd spent so much time watching, waiting, that it often felt surreal to be able to touch the object of his affection after so long. To have that eagerness reciprocated was even more so.

To think he'd gone hundreds of years without such looks, soft touches, and kisses from another. Yet, he understood that only the brown wolf could ever evoke such reactions. 

As long as his duties were completed, and his other codes of honor unwavering, then he could continue like this. The other entities in the realm would be none the wiser to the space of vulnerability he carved for himself, or understand his needs for the contentment that the other brought him.

After some time, he could make another selfish decision and find an apprentice. 

For now, the world would continue to fear and despise him, perhaps be right in doing so, but as long as he could gaze into the eyes of his lover, then he'd embrace it with open arms.

Chapter Text

"What do you see in him?" 

Wolfie looked away from the sparring session between Muerte and Puss to the sleek tuxedo cat sitting beside him.

They were currently out in the castle gardens, momentarily away from the others and the mini get-together Shrek had invited them to.

Usually, the lobo and cat would play nice during these meetings but due to their rather strained past, they’d intentionally get on each other’s nerves, which potentially lead to spontaneous battles. 

“All in good fun,” according to Puss when Kitty had initially protested at the idea and assured her that it would allow the two to blow off steam and improve their skills. Muerte, on the other hand, would flaunt the fact he'd have to hold back lest he 'accidentally' collect the cat's soul. 

Wolfie didn’t see any harm in it and honestly hoped it would make them less hostile toward one another. Oddly enough, the two did seem to (begrudgingly) respect each other's craft. It wasn’t difficult to understand, after learning of their fight on the wishing star, and it made it easier to digest Kitty’s dislike of his mate.

Even if it added additional awkwardness to these get-togethers. Though, she was more subtle about it.

Thank goodness for Perrito, who seemed to have a knack for being a group therapist for the trio, and played as a neutral third party to try to de-escalate situations. The little chihuahua had a talent for the way the cats and wolf would give him their full attention, and it was no wonder he got along well with everyone else in the castle.

Wolfie, as an outsider to their intertwined history involving the star, would focus more on getting Muerte to ease up on the others. This wasn’t too difficult because, apparently, he had the lobo absolutely “whipped.”

It was this comment, said by Puss no less, that ignited (yet another) sudden sparring session. A bit hypocritical considering the orange tabby was just as enamored with Kitty, who openly said as much.

Thus, the clashing of steel intensified while they watched from the sidelines to wait for their partners to tire themselves out, or for one to admit defeat.

Perrito stood a distance away, cheering Puss on, though occasionally encouraging the large wolf. He seemed to be playing as a referee to ensure it didn’t get out of hand.

The question from Kitty was a simple one, a common one he'd been asked by a few others in his pack by this point, really. He supposed if someone had told him years ago that he’d now be literally dating Death, he’d probably ask “Why?” or “How?” He’d like to think more out of confusion than genuine fear.

The brown wolf had always given different answers to each person but felt there were no words that could really do his mate justice. Maybe it was the fact this was the longest relationship he'd ever been in or the way the silver-haired wolf looked at him like he was the only thing to exist, or how Muerte would adorably get excited during their moments of affection, or how he'd give that sharp-toothed grin that never failed to make Wolfie shiver, or... well, it was little things like that that made it difficult to summarize what he felt.

To his pack, they’d really only seen the guarded side of Muerte the first few months after he’d introduced them during one of their usual get-togethers. It’d been… rough, more or less, especially when he’d reveal that Muerte's name wasn’t an exaggeration.

Throw in Puss, Kitty, and Perrito's unexpected arrival and concerning history with the large wolf - well, it’d been a tiring day of assumptions and questions.

 Aside from that, it’d been rewarding to see Muerte adjust to talking with the others, and see those walls slowly come down, brick by brick. The topic of Muerte’s immortality wasn’t one they touched on very much, but the brown wolf knew that he'd been alone for a long time - and it was no surprise that he would be socially awkward as a result.

Wolfie glanced back at the two before them, at Muerte, before finally answering. 

"He makes me feel safe," He smiled at her, a small protective part of him daring the cat to question him further. While physical fights were Muerte’s specialty, the brown wolf liked to think verbal battles were his.

Kitty seemed to blink at his answer, furry head tilted as she too looked out, just as Muerte had grabbed at the Puss's signature cape and flipped him over - earning a yip from the chihuahua.

"My idiota makes me feel the same way,” She replied back with a knowing smile of her own. “I may not get it, but I do know what it’s like to be with someone who’s a bit much.”

“We sure have our hands full with these guys, huh?” He joked feeling a bit at ease at her response, before a little sheepish. “I hope it gets less… weird, with all this, but I understand that’ll take a while.”

“Yeah,” Kitty responded as she got up from her place on the bench with a stretch. “Just a little. Though, I do hope it works out for you - even if I think you’re too good for him.”

“Uh,” Wolfied paused at that, but the tuxedo cat had already begun walking back towards Puss and Muerte, making him notice the two had finished.

Considering the smug look on Puss’s face, he supposed the orange tabby had turned the battle around in his favor, which explained the exasperated expression Muerte held. Perrito seemed to be alternating between congratulating and consoling the two but excited as always nonetheless. 

The brown wolf got up and mulled over Kitty’s words, unsure of what to make of her comment, before joining the rest. He had a cranky harbinger of death to cheer up after all.

Chapter Text

Rumplestilskin was a manipulative, vile, scheming being that used his magical skills to prey on the desperate or idiotic. He'd ruined countless lives and abused his powers for his own goals. 

He’d been on Muerte’s list for some time, and the wolf had been hoping, waiting, for one of the rat’s contracts to backfire terribly. It was bound to happen, and lady luck had smiled down at him in recent years when it came to collecting prominent figures of disdain. 

El rey arrogante, el hada manipuladora y el falso príncipe. While there was never an end to his list of such persons, as the world was vast and greed endless, it was interesting how their deaths appeared to come right after the other. 

He’d hoped such a trend would continue, especially as the ogre seemed to be a magnet for trouble. 

Of course, that would have been too easy.

The lobo hadn’t expected the ogre to foolishly make a contract with Rumplestilskin - one the little cretin ensured would be so powerfully binding that his goals of gaining control of Far, Far, Away would be accomplished. 

A change of this magnitude should not have been possible.

Yet, here the large wolf was, seeing a brand new kingdom that seemingly was in shambles because the ogre never existed to rescue the cursed princess. 

This change in fate, in destiny, had caused a calamitous domino effect to take place.

Immortal beings, like himself, that were bestowed with responsibilities that intertwined deeply with the realm were not affected. Thus, his memories from the true timeline remained intact and he was all too aware of the shift when it occurred. 

Those outside the contract, however, had seemingly lived through years of the fabricated world unaware of their diverged paths.

Some changes had been amusing, such as a certain legendary hero having been turned into a gordito house cat. The princess even appeared to have rescued herself and created an underground resistance to take back her kingdom.

Other changes were less so as those that had died previously were now alive, whereas those meant to live were now dead. This change spat and disrespected the natural order of the world, making his fur stand on end when he initially observed the destruction.

The thing that had guaranteed he was going to maim the devious trickster was the role his potential mate was placed in. While he had no romantic claim over the brown wolf (yet) he’d still found himself absolutely hirviendo de ira.

Wolfie had been turned into a servant, forced to attend to Rumplestilskin and his entourage of witches. To be treated poorly, swatted away as if he was a mere pet, and to take care of pelucas of all things!

Oh, how Muerte was tempted to show himself to Rumplestilskin. How easy it'd be to terrify the little man, perhaps draw blood as a warning, but he knew there was little he could do in terms of breaking the magical seal.

Even if the world had been altered, and lives rearranged, he could not interfere in the dealings between the living when it involved such magic. Especially when the contract the ogre signed had yet to expire, allowing a small chance for things to be fixed. 

So, he could only watch and, for the first time, want to help the living in small ways to ensure the contract was broken. He was displeased with the ogre, sure, especially when learning exactly what Shrek had given up, but this appeared to be a lesson the man would have to learn the hard way.

Muerte could adjust to the world if the ogre failed. He could begrudgingly wait for Rumplestilskin to die (preferably by Fiona's hands) to enact his vengeance but that wouldn't change the current circumstances. 

The odd pack his beloved Wolfie surrounded himself with was gone, and forever changed by this world.

Watching from the shadows, before he'd followed after the ogre and donkey, he could see how alone Wolfie was.

It was a familiar feeling, one that he hated so deeply, that the idea to reveal himself was once again tempting for different reasons. Especially when seeing how the other wolf shrunk into himself, the scent of his fear and obvious distress making the lobo angrier.

He'd give anything to console him.

Su primer encuentro no sería aquí. No en esta vida.

Muerte preferred the timeline where Wolfie was happy, freely wearing and doing whatever he'd like, so that when the silver-haired wolf did finally appear to court him - it'd feel natural. (Or as natural as he could make it, as he'd had yet to think of a way without scaring the other off because of his title.)

If it meant ensuring the ogre and his allies stayed alive, and only slightly bending his rules, so be it. None of the other otherworldly beings had done anything yet, making him ever more confident to proceed, not that they could convince him otherwise.

Perhaps they too were curiously waiting to see if the timeline would become permanent. 

He brushed away such thoughts, leaving behind the pretentious castle and Wolfie, to try his hand as a temporary Ángel guardian. 

It'd be interesting to see how the ogre's journey would play out and he could only hope that by the end, there would be another name crossed off his list.

Chapter Text

Their relationship, as most are, was far from perfect. 

Like any other couple, they would have their arguments, issues, and things to work out. They had their respective insecurities and fears that often made it difficult to communicate. 

Wolfie struggled with his feelings of self-doubt, as well as his mute manner of dealing with things. Due to his stoic personality, he'd found it easy to hide his vulnerabilities that even Muerte found it difficult to read him. While he'd been somewhat open to his pack, he was still adjusting to having a romantic partner.

Muerte, on the other hand, struggled with his feelings of protectiveness and the need to be constantly hovering. Due to his 'job', they'd only get so much time together before the lobo would be gone for days, maybe a week, but that didn't necessarily mean he wouldn't check on Wolfie - often without his knowledge.

It didn't necessarily affect their relationship and they still had space apart when needed, however, it did reveal the grey wolf's unspoken fear of losing Wolfie's attention. Of somehow not being enough for him, or that the brown wolf would have second thoughts about them being together.

As if that was possible by this point. 

Wolfie could partially understand, to an extent, why the other acted this way.

Muerte had been admiring Wolfie for a long time, for years, while simultaneously facing the absolute worst of humanity. He'd been alone since taking on the title, shouldering his sacred duties and most of his enjoyment had come from, well, terrorizing the damned or greedy. A side that he'd initially attempted to downplay, because of the aforementioned fear.

So, there was plenty to discuss and boundaries to lay down as time passed and patience was necessary when being with an immortal being who was, straight-up, death after all. 

To most, their dynamic was a bit odd, and even concerning with the way the grey wolf would be looming over his shoulder, crimson eyes daring those outside their pack to approach. 

It didn't help that the few times they'd go out to public spaces, Muerte would attract some unwanted attention - especially from other fairytale creatures. Wolfie couldn't blame them, really, as the larger wolf's appearance alone was alluring. It had caught his attention when they first met, so it was bound to catch the attention of others.

It would make one wonder what exactly he saw in Wolfie and how different they were that... yeah, he supposed it was these moments where he held that same insecurity that combined horribly with his nerves. 

Except, they were only moments, as Muerte would completely disregard any admirer's attempts and pull Wolfie closer to his side.

"You're mistaken," He'd flash a humorless grin. "I'm clearly here with my mate, and you're ruining our night with your presence. Vete." 

And as usual, Wolfie would be all too happy to intertwine their paws together to get their couple status across (maybe even smirk). 

Of course, there were still some that somehow took this as a challenge to up the ante. 

A rather uncomfortably flirtatious fox had rolled her eyes, and even dared suggest she'd have more to offer Muerte than a "washed-up," fable. This is where Wolfie would bare his figurative fangs, so to speak, with a verbal dressing down. However, he supposed what made her scamper off was when Muerte had actually growled out a less-than-subtle threat. 

Wolfie didn't mean to encourage his behavior or even relish in it, he wasn't some damsel that needed a knight to fight his battles - but the fact Muerte was angry on his behalf felt... well, it felt really good. 

Pinocchio had described it as having "scary dog privileges" now, which wasn't completely wrong but he'd still bonked the wooden boy’s head regardless. 

"You didn't need to scare her like that," Wolfie tried to scold the larger wolf despite failing to hide how pleased he felt as they stepped away from the festival area, into the quiet outskirts of the town. "It wasn't that decent of an insult anyways, she was just being petty." 

"She better hope I don't meet her again so soon," Muerte muttered, an arm draped over Wolfie protectively as he gazed out into the darkened woodland around them. "Estoy cansado de estos idiotas que nos acercarse." 

Wolfie's understanding of Spanish was still shaky, but he could empathize with the frustration evident in the larger wolf's tone. "I'm sorry," He'd leaned into Muerte's side, and looked to meet crimson eyes. "I was hoping tonight would be less of, well, people like that bothering you." 

"Don't apologize for that, you'd be surprised with how many try to flirt with death - even if they don't realize it," Muerte replied with a huff. "Her absolute confidence in thinking insulting you would win me over... pathetic." 

"Yeah," Wolfie said quietly and looked out at nothing in particular, thoughts drifting back to his moment of insecurity - of the fox's words. He felt a gentle squeeze from his mate and a nuzzle against his head making him blink. 

"Don't overthink, hermoso, especially over that," Muerte murmured against him. "...I consider myself the one who can't offer you what you deserve." 

It wasn't the first time he'd heard similar comments, or the implications behind them as the brown wolf learned more about Muerte's responsibilities, his immortality, and the things he's done with little remorse. 

Or the potential trouble Wolfie could face if anyone powerful (or vengeful) figured out the grim reaper had a mortal partner. 

The fact the grey wolf saw Wolfie in such high regard but believed he was the one lacking in their relationship was absurd. 

The comments hit a bit too closely to Wolfie's own self-doubts, ones he'd found difficult to voice as if speaking them into existence would guarantee their fate. 

Yet, maybe it was time to address them. 

"Don't put yourself down either," Wolfie frowned and pulled away to properly face Muerte, or rather look up at him, seeing the familiar expression of self-doubt creep onto the other's face. "I don't want you to think I somehow deserve more, or that I need more because I... think the same thing for you about me. I feel like I can't give you enough." 

Muerte looked surprised at the sudden change, muzzle moving to instantly protest. 

"Not done," He held up a finger and continued. "I'm still kinda processing that you, well, stalked me for years because you saw something you liked. It should be a bigger deal, a red flag, but what actually scares me is that one day you'll realize I'm not that special. You always protect me, compliment me, and do whatever to keep me happy but... that isn't fair." 

"I don't want to be on this pedestal you've put me on, or see myself as "washed-up", or anything like that. I'm... just an old wolf that loves to dress up and wants to know everything about you, even the parts you'd think would scare me," Wolfie said softly and gripped the sides of his gown, thumbing the texture to soothe his nerves. "It won't. Do you know why? I didn't expect someone like you would want to be with me or to have stayed this long after getting to know me." 

"I want us to be more open with each other, is the point I'm trying to make because I'm tired of my stupid thoughts, of your thoughts, of everything - I just want honesty," Wolfie concluded earnestly and hoped that he'd said enough, as he felt his anxiety drain away the rest of his words. This was the most he'd said on the subject, and it made his heart pound.

"I... mierda," Muerte began but paused, ears flattening as he looked down at the brown wolf, guilt evident in his expression. "I didn't see how this was affecting you, affecting us. I don't want you to think I see you as lesser, as someone I can't speak with. I..." 

"I've spent so much time yearning to be with you, that maybe once I did have you, a selfish part of me wanted to do anything to keep you happy. So you wouldn’t become frightened by what I am," The silver-haired wolf admitted and looked away, slight bitterness in his tone. "I'm what everyone fears, what everyone will face, and a warning to those that dare play with Fate. I... enjoy that fear, and my reputation is something I'm proud of." 

"I help those who suffer, yes, to pass on peacefully, pero I like the hunt much more." 

Wolfie had heard bits of what exactly a hunt would entail, how it would end for those that lacked the resolve to change their ways such as Puss did - the only exception as far as he knew. Muerte had briefly mentioned when sharing his first encounters with Shrek, what had happened to Farquaad after the tyrant's initial death.

It made Wolfie wonder what had become of Fairy Godmother and her son when they were collected by Muerte.

"I assumed collecting the escoria de la tierra would be enough to keep me content."

It didn't help that it was obvious to everyone that Puss was uncomfortable if left alone with Muerte for too long. His two companions were always nearby as a result, never quite relaxing when Puss became on edge, particularly Kitty who didn't hesitate to challenge Muerte if the teasing became too much.

While his pack had grown to like Muerte, and even get along with him, there was still that underlying tension in the room when Muerte would unintentionally share morbid details of his job.

"Yet, you continue to surprise and enlighten me. Dios, you still stay with me despite the blood on my hands, and it makes me want to keep you to myself even more. In my hundreds of years of existence, you are the first I've encountered that makes me want to be something else," Their eyes met again, and the larger wolf hung his head, taking a shaky breath before continuing. "You remind me of who I was before Muerte, and knowing I could lose you… scares me." 

A moment of silence passed between them with only the long-forgotten festival and its people faintly heard in the distance. 

"You won't," Wolfie told him gently, feeling his heart swell, and break, for the larger wolf that stood before him.

It would take more time, more discussions, to unpack all that was said but at the moment all he wanted to do was to make one thing certain. "I can't be your princess in a tower, even if I'd look great in Fiona's dress, and I don't want you to think you have to hide from me. Even if I don't understand everything, or can't, I can try and be there for you - if you meet me halfway." 

"I promise you I will try," Muerte told him immediately, briefly looking up to meet his eyes - to express the sincerity in his words. "I didn't mean to make you feel trapped. Lo siento." 

Despite his promise, and apology, the grey wolf still seemed so uncertain. His paws clenched at his sides and distress was evident in his posture.

For the first time looking so small to Wolfie.

But who wouldn't be? To be Death himself confessing to feeling fear - a thing that he directly caused in others, yet hypocritically struggled to acknowledge himself. 

The words were at the tip of Wolfie's tongue in an instant. 

They had yet to say it aloud to each other, despite dating for quite some time, but it wasn't a phrase to be said lightly. The brown wolf wracked his mind for the proper phrasing, the pronunciation, before speaking once more. 

"Te amo," Wolfie cringed not meaning for it to come out as awkwardly as it did. "I, uh, really hope I said that right." 

Muerte paused for a moment, before lighting up. A look of disbelief on his muzzle, "En serio?" 

"Please don't make do another spiel - I think I can only do one emotionally draining talk a night," The brown wolf shakily joked, feeling himself grow warm as Muerte stepped forward, closer. "But yeah, en serio."

Large, gentle, paws found their way onto his sides, pulling them closer together. It was interesting how quickly the mood had changed but it was eagerly welcomed. Wolfie happily placed his own paws on Muertes's chest, feeling the rough texture of his poncho, and looked up at him.

"I love you too," The larger wolf told him and paused, intentionally leaving a small amount of distance between their muzzles. "Can I kiss you?" 

"Please. " 

Kisses they've shared before, quick pecks around others or drawn-out in their privacy, always full of want and tenderness. This one was no exception, yet it would signify more. 

It was a promise for improvement, for both of them, and a sign of another bump successfully surpassed. 

Wolfie eagerly pushed himself deeper into the kiss, gripping the poncho tightly, thankful the material could't tear and felt the loving hands holding him in place tighten.

He adored how Muerte was larger than him during these moments, how easily the larger wolf could engulf his smaller frame with ease. 

They pulled apart, mostly for Wolfie's sake to catch his breath, but they remained tangled together. Muerte's half-lidded stare and pleased smile made him grow warmer.

"Let's head home," Wolfie said, all too eager to leave the festival behind for the familiarity and privacy of his bedroom. "And maybe you can apologize to me another way."

Chapter Text

Halloween was an interesting holiday. 

Not particularly one of his favorites, and he perceived the festivities in the primarily English-speaking countries as more of a direct reminder that Día de los Muertos would soon follow. Though, even across the sea, many still celebrated both with great enthusiasm.

While the latter holiday offered a more intimate connection between the living and dead, as well as a brief overlap of realms, he'd taken note that persons of all ages enjoyed the dressing up aspect. However, seeing more ofrendas appear over the years in households or the burning of incense never failed to make him pause to observe quietly. 

Same with the smell of fresh cempasúchil petals. 

His dear predecessor, La Señora, had always lit up whenever he'd surprise her with her own bouquet, and she'd be all too happy to add to the growing trail in homes. She’d always speak gently to the few visiting spirits that didn’t hide from them, to hear them gush about their living family members, or even participate in the offerings made to her. Many often confused her for La Catrina that watched over the holiday but she could never say no to sweet bread and was happy to indulge from time to time.

However, she'd turned her nose at Halloween, and the chaos that often plagued the holiday, as well as the less-than-savory beings that appeared for it. Although, even she wasn’t above playing tricks on mortals those nights to humble them or steer them away from making mistakes.

Muerte, on the other hand, found the scares, treats, and disfraces as a fun tradition for children to enjoy. It was quaint, even if the adults tended to abuse it with excessive drinking, and challenges to scare each other.

Occasionally, he would collect the souls of those that had been utterly terrified to death, but such a thing was rare. However, it never failed to make him laugh because what tonto was scared of clowns of all things? He’d never understand such fears.

He’d long dropped the habit of conversing with the visiting spirits, as his appearance was quite frightful even to those long deceased and he didn't share the same enthusiasm as La Señora. For Halloween, however, he’d admit that it was one of the few nights that allowed him to blend in and walk amongst the living with no issue. Unlike the times he'd only reveal himself to guide the dead or confront his prey.

For that night only, the lobo's intimidating attire and weaponry were viewed as mere props that added to his "costume." Some would even ask for photos, and he'd be all happy to oblige, as it would make encountering them many years later all the more interesting.

Over the years, he'd mostly get himself a drink and watch the many families celebrating in the towns he visited. Occasionally pausing to ensure no rowdy teens heckled the younger children. It never hurt for brats to learn such lessons of humility early, after all, lest they find out the hard way later in life.

This year would be different, as it was the first Halloween he’d have a mate AND be invited to a party.

Wolfie had wanted him to join a yearly party hosted by the ogre and the rest of his pack that evening. Muerte could never say no to his amor and knew that he'd begrudgingly have to get used to interacting with his mate's chosen family now and then.

It wasn't as though they were unpleasant, no, it was the fact they were oddly welcoming despite his ‘job’. He’d made a less-than-stellar impression with Wolfie’s chosen pack, even dealt with a scolding from a cookie of all things, but they’d invited him to game nights and made an effort to know him nevertheless. 

Ese maldito gato had seemingly adjusted to his presence as well, though he did occasionally like to scare him. Kitty seemed to be the only one that stayed cautious and didn’t hesitate to call him out but even they had slowly begun to get along. Hell, he found himself wanting to talk to others at times, such as Shrek who seemed to share his crude humor. 

It was an odd feeling, something he hadn't expected when courting Wolfie and it made him feel a bit... out of place, so to speak. He wouldn't call them friends just yet, but maybe in time, he'd feel comfortable enough to do so.

Thus, he was going to his first party willingly. Though, the lobo drew the line at wearing a costume. He was plenty scary with his normal outfit, and many of the damned would agree. 

As the sun finally set, he put his sickles away in their holsters, with the hope he wouldn't have to retrieve them so soon. While he couldn't control who lived or died (most of the time), he could pause his 'work' and let fate take over for him. It'd add additional work later for his collecting but to spend time with his mate was more than worth it.

The harbinger moved through the shadows of the land, whistling to himself softly until he arrived at the home of his beloved. Of course, he avoided using the front door and easily made himself appear in the hallway before Wolfie's bedroom. 

He sniffed the air and noted the silence of the rest of the home. He couldn't sense any other presence besides Wolfie and he supposed the swine trio had left early for the party, which gave the two wolves more time to be alone.

Muerte knocked on the bedroom door gently. He may have technically broken inside but even he knew it was impolite to intrude in someone's bedroom. 

"Precioso, are you ready?" He heard some movements from within and the rustling of cloth. He'd yet to know what exactly the brown wolf would be dressing up as, even if he would love it regardless, and a part of him was selfishly excited to get the first view. 

"You can come in now," Came the muffled response from Wolfie but as he opened the door and saw what outfit his mate had chosen, the large wolf froze at the sight. 

"Well?" Wolfie asked with a mischievous smile on his muzzle and gestured to himself.

He wore an ebony eye mask to try to copy Muerte's facial markings and a seemingly handmade hooded poncho. Rather than wear trousers, he'd replaced them with a dark skirt, which revealed black fishnet stockings underneath that matched his fingerless gloves. Finally, the brown wolf had switched his signature pink cap with a black one with two comical sickle pins attached. "We're supposed to dress up as something scary, so..." 

"You dressed as me," Muerte breathed out, eyes shamelessly drinking in the outfit. Feeling very, very pleased and grinned widely as shut the door behind him. "Te ves maravilloso." 

"Thank you," Wolfie smiled at the compliment, tail wagging underneath his skirt and doing a mini twirl to fully showcase his work. "I'm glad I got it done before the party, took me forever to make the poncho." 

Muerte eagerly closed the space between them and gently reached a paw out to cup Wolfie's cheek. He took the eye mask off to get a better view of his partner's face, which earned him a questioning look. 

"The party will last all night, sí?" The larger wolf asked and at Wolfie's nod, he nudged the smaller to step backward. "So, we have some time for… a treat, you could say." 

Despite the time they'd spent together, seeing Wolfie repeatedly grow flustered at his advances and eyes gleam with excitement never failed to make the lobo feel ever more eager to please his mate. 

The brown wolf glanced behind them, at the bed where they'd been inching towards, before letting out an amused huff. He moved back and took a seat on the edge of the mattress, looking up at him with a sly smile. 

"Seems more like a trick to me," Wolfie said as Muerte bent down to eye level and placed his hands to his sides, prompting the smaller wolf to gently grasp at his shoulders. "Just don't rip anything. I'm still not over losing my last outfit." 

"I'll try, pero I make no promises," Muerte smirked, before closing the gap between them. 

They were two hours late to the party and Wolfie had to wear a costume from the previous year. One that Muerte still thought looked very cute on him!

Not too many questions were thrown their way, not that Muerte was going to answer truthfully, and he merely attributed their lateness to doing some... trick-or-treating of their own. 

Aside from having a grumpy mate the rest of the night, and the firm promise of a couples costume next year, he supposed he could tack on another reason to like the holiday.

Chapter Text

It had been a simple comment that Muerte made to Wolfie as he'd been watching the smaller wolf rummage through his room for an outfit. 

They were going on a casual outing with the others and due to the warm weather, the brown wolf had wanted to wear a sundress Fiona had gifted him. While Wolfie wasn't usually messy, in his haste to find that specific dress, he'd thrown a few of his other outfits to the side. 

Just as he found it, his ears perked up at Muerte letting out a hum. 

"I can see why you'd prefer these, they do look more comfortable." 

Looking over quizzically, he saw that his mate had picked up one of his pull-on waist skirts to examine. It was obviously much too small for the other, yet he felt the sudden need to ask. 

"...We could try outfits together sometime if you want?" He knew Muerte loved how he expressed himself through clothing, but Wolfie knew little to nothing of the larger wolf's style. He had never seen him wear anything except his 'work' outfit. 

It didn't help that the magic keeping Muerte immortal apparently extended to his clothing as well, truly giving him no reason to change. 

So, Wolfie waited to see if the larger wolf would hesitate, perhaps take his question as a joke, as many often did. Instead, he saw Muerte glance over at him then back at the skirt, and gave a nod. 

"I don't see why not, pero I don't think anything you have will fit me," He said with a smile and placed the skirt on the nearby dresser. "Perhaps you can find something for me, precioso?" 

"Sounds good," Wolfie smiled back and made a mental note to himself. He felt a bit ridiculous for ever doubting his mate and quickly changed into the sundress to avoid them being late, lest they endured more teasing from their friends. 

A week later, after he'd spent a day with Doris trying to find something for Muerte to try on, did he find the perfect outfit. He'd seen it in the storefront, in one of the smaller shops in the Far, Far, Away downtown area, and even Doris had been surprised when he'd bought it. 

It didn't suit Wolfie, his taste in clothing leaned toward soft, comfortable, and muted colors and smooth fabrics. The dress he bought, however, was hopefully more of Muerte's preference or a start to encourage him to branch out. 

As most of their home dates went, he'd give his roommates a heads up and the choice of staying home or letting Wolfie have the house for a few hours. Not that it'd really matter, as the two wolves would mostly stay in his room.

More often than not, they'd do nothing. Or rather, Wolfie would read while they cuddled in bed, or Muerte would attempt to teach him new phrases (albeit be sneaky about their true meanings), and so on. 

Simply enjoying each other's presence was enough. 

However, this night had Wolfie with his back turned as he heard his mate begin to try on the outfit he'd carefully chosen. He'd been worried that Muerte might have changed his mind as it was one thing agreeing to appease him (which Muerte tended to do) versus actually wanting to. 

"Does it fit? It was the biggest size they had," The brown wolf asked with a tinge of worry. "If it doesn't feel comfortable you don't have to-" 

"No te preocupes, precioso. It fits well enough," Muerte reassured him and after a few more minutes let out a pleased huff. "You can look now." 

Wolfie turned and immediately knew he made the right outfit choice because of the way his heart skipped a few beats. 

It was a simple sleeveless black dress, as it was Muerte's signature color, that stopped at the knees. It featured a faux leather collar and underbust harness with buckles and chains. It was simple for a starter outfit but it really highlighted the great build the larger wolf's cloak hid.

A possessive part of Wolfie was overwhelmingly pleased he was the first to see such a sight.

"I do quite enjoy the chest piece," Muerte hummed as he played around with the chains and looked down at himself before noticing the star-struck look on Wolfie's face. "I take it that you like it too?" 

"Very much," He replied instantly. "Do you like it, though?" 

Muerte seemed to pause at the question with a thoughtful expression, gently grabbing at the ends of the dress as he faced the body-length mirror in the corner of the room. "It feels... different. It's been a moment since I've worn anything new." 

They were both silent for a moment with the brown wolf watching as Muerte played around with the hems of the outfit. Wolfie figured that would be the case, and recalled how initially uncomfortable he felt first wearing clothing, texture wise.

His gaze softened, "You can take it off now if you want. I do appreciate you trying it on, and think you look really cute." 

"It's been a long time someone's called me that," Muerte told him with a laugh, looking at him through the reflection of the mirror, before letting go of the ends to smooth down the front of the dress. "...I don't understand all the fuss about clothing. Especially those idiots that whine about clothing needing to align with la identidad." 

"I think they'd changed their mind if you came at them dressed like that," Wolfie remarked with a smirk, already picturing how both terrifying and amazing it'd be to see Muerte hunt down bigots. "But yeah, it's annoying. I'm used to it." 

"If anyone bothers you-" Muerte began with a growl before pausing as the brown wolf enclosed him with a hug from behind. 

Or tried to at least.

Due to their height difference, it made it impossible for Wolfie to rest his head on Muerte's shoulder so he opted to press his cheek against the grey wolf's back as his arms enclosed his midsection. 

"I know, I know, los mutilarás," Wolfie murmured and felt his mate gently press back into him. 

It was thanks to their many cuddling sessions that he'd discovered that Muerte adored being held, or any form of touching, really. A trait the brown wolf assumed was from a lack of positive contact over the years. "And if anyone bothers you... I could probably ask Elizabeth to eat them, she owes me for babysitting last week." 

Hearing the deep laughter that he'd come to love and feeling it reverberate through Muerte made Wolfie's tail wag slowly. He knew that Muerte was always serious with his claims of overprotectiveness, and the brown wolf hoped the other knew that he'd do the same if he even had a fraction of magical ability. 

"You wanna know my favorite part of knee-length dresses?" He asked, reluctantly detaching himself and taking a step back from his mate who shot him an endearing head tilt. "Do a twirl, it'll feel nice." 

"A twirl?" Muerte repeated but without hesitation moved to grab at the bottom of his dress, moving slightly until a full twirl was accomplished. His face lit up and he turned to Wolfie with a delighted fanged grin, "Ay, it is nice!" 

Wolfie could only laugh and feel his heart swell with affection at the sight. Oh, how he couldn't wait to have more moments like these together. 

Chapter Text

Sentir celos es admitir que dudas de tu pareja.

If one lets such feelings grow, they can turn into something ugly, and even dangerous. The lobo had seen what jealousy can do to humans, creatures, and even other immortals. 

Unfortunately, he'd be all too knowledgeable of the outcome for those whose partner's obsessions, deserved or not, led to them taking matters into their own hands. Many of which guaranteed that he'd be less than kind when he'd collect them later in death or they were turned into tales of caution for mortal ears. Especially those whose jealousy stemmed from wanting utter control over their partner. 

Disgusting, he'd think when encountering such persons and scoff. Before he'd even entertained the thought of having a partner, of ever meeting someone like Wolfie, he'd never thought he could understand such feelings of envy.  While that remained true, as he would never dare enforce anything on his beloved, he felt the trickles of los celos bristle his fur watching Wolfie and Leif talk. 

They'd been attending the yearly trading festival King Arthur had established during his first year of rule. It was to encourage villages far and wide to send their most talented merchants to showcase their goods and establish a connection to the affluent community of Far, Far, Away. A festival to bridge the gap between the classes and make the kingdom less intimidating. 

Muerte had to hand it to the young king, he'd been doing well as a ruler thus far, especially with the ogre family helping to coach him. He'd yet to speak to him personally but based on his passionate speech all those years ago when going against Charming, knew he had a good head on his shoulders.

The two wolves had separated from their pack, as everyone had gathered to help out with organizing, to explore the many stalls. The main streets had been temporarily closed down to allow for various tables, equipment, or tents to be set up for the many visitors participating. It was supposed to be an hour to themselves, perhaps to spoil Wolfie with something that caught his eye. Except they'd stopped at one stall that showcased fine earthenware of all shapes and sizes.

He'd pluck up a vase to examine its intricate pattern. The light-toned human behind the stall was dressed in casual wear and appeared to be middle-aged with curly brown hair wrapped in a ponytail and a scruffy beard to match. He had frozen at the sight of them, or rather, at his mate. 

Usually, Muerte's presence was enough to make people back down from their gawking or even look away, except this human had completely ignored him, as if he wasn't there.

"Leif?" Wolfie asked before he could even growl out a warning making him pause as the human, Leif, snapped out his staring. "...Long time no see, it's been what, four years?" 

"I can't believe it's been that long, you look great!" The human smiled, getting up from his seat, and finally seemed to notice Muerte, eyes widening and the smell of fear instant. "Oh, wow, I... didn't see you there." 

"This is Muerte, my mate," Wolfie told him while the larger wolf gave an acknowledging nod, and noticed the human tense up immediately. "I didn't know you got into selling your work, it looks nice." 

"Uh, yeah, after... everything, I decided to take your advice and start new," The man said rubbing the back of his head awkwardly before perking up again. "I made you something since I kinda hoped to bump into you while I was here!" 

Without waiting for a response the human turned his back to them to begin looking through the shelf of pots, plates, and other crafts set up behind the counter. 

Muerte raised an eyebrow at Wolfie, to silently ask about his connection to the human and perhaps explain the sudden nervous energy radiating off the man. His mate gave him a blank stare in return, one that the grey wolf had come to view as his primary poker face. One Wolfie used only when he felt unsure about sharing something. 

"...So, ganna put this out here but he's my ex-boyfriend," Wolfie told him as nonchalantly as possible, despite his nervous trait of smoothing down his gown giving him away. "We got together after Farquaad died, at Shrek's wedding, but it didn't go anywhere." 

Muerte tried not to let this new information surprise him. He knew that he was far from being Wolfie's first lover but that didn't stop the vase in his paws from nearly being crushed. 

"Promise that you won't be weird about it?" 

"Of course, hermoso," Muerte smiled at him warmly as he set the vase, not-so-gently, down. "I was just wondering." 

"Found it!" Came the excited shout from Leif who faced them once more brandishing a small clay teapot, its sides decorated in various floral designs and paw-prints. "It's made of terracotta. I hope you still like tea or else it'll make for a nice paperweight." 

"You've really improved," Wolfie commented and took the small teapot in his paws, gently looking it over and pausing. "...You even remembered my favorite flowers." 

There was a moment of silence that Muerte observed between the two. 

It didn't quite sit right with the larger wolf. Moreso at the fact that Leif's anxiety, and fear, had seemingly increased as the human shot him nervous glances. 

"Muerte, you think you could go give us some space to talk?" Wolfie asked smiling sweetly at him, although his tone indicated that he was more telling rather than asking him. "And no being a creep." 

Of course, he listened, especially after such a blatant callout, but that didn't mean he couldn't sulk from across the street. If he’d wanted to be a “creep” he could eavesdrop but the brown wolf had gotten quite skilled in sensing his presence.

Él estaba haciendo pucheros como un niño y tratando de no estar celoso. 

There was no reason for him to be jealous, truly. It was the comfort of Leif being rightly scared of him that eased that concern. Not that he'd humored the thought of the human doing anything to begin with. The lobo wouldn't allow himself to have such insecurities, let alone force them onto his mate. 

Yet, watching them talk still made him frown deeply, especially the way Leif had moved closer to Wolfie as soon as he gave them space. 

"Nice to see you out in the day for once!" A familiar brisk voice said making the grey wolf pause, realizing he'd been so focused that he'd failed to notice Doris had walked up. 

The woman was in her signature outfit per usual and looked over at the two, before back at Muerte with an amused head tilt. "So, what's the story? I'm guessing somethings up if you're all the way over here. You and Wolfie are practically tied to the hip these days." 

Their friendship was tentative, as he'd only conversed with her on a few occasions, but he did respect and owe her for giving him the chance to court Wolfie all those months ago.

"What do you know about Leif? Wolfie's ex-boyfriend." It didn't hurt that she most likely would have more information regarding the man.

"Leif?" Doris repeated with a hand tapping her chin before lighting up in surprise. "Oh, damn, didn't think I'd ever actually see the guy, especially after what went down between them," She seemed prepared to continue but stopped herself, realizing his ploy the second she saw his frown deepening. 

"Well, that's for Wolfie to tell," Doris told him, crossing her arms and leaning against the wall to join him. "I think you get the picture from the way you're drilling holes into the guy's head, but if Wolfie's talking to him, maybe he's apologizing." 

The thought of Leif having hurt Wolfie, even if in the past, made the grey wolf all the more eager to find an excuse to interrupt but he held himself back. It wasn't his business (yet) and he'd bide his time. Similar to his many hunts, he'd wait until his prey made an inevitable mistake before he'd sink his teeth into their flesh. 

"I take it this is the first time you've been jealous," The woman said bluntly, once again making him look away from his protective watching. "It kinda comes with the territory of being in a relationship, honey." 

"...I suppose, pero I don't want to have such doubts," Muerte replied, a bit weary of potentially over-sharing too much. It was still a new sensation of feeling seguro enough to speak his worries to others outside of Wolfie, knowing they wouldn't be used against him. "To be jealous is to have doubts about your partner." 

Doris hummed in response, seemingly mulling over his answer. "Or yourself. Back in the bar scene, I've seen plenty of guys boss around their partners as if they own them. Not wanting them to talk to anyone, or else they assume they're cheating. Gross shit like that.”

"I assume your job sees how that ends, yeah?" At his nod, the woman continued. "Now that is pure unfiltered obsession, not love. It tells me more about them cause the moment you think you own someone is when it stops being a relationship." 

"You," Doris gestured to the large wolf and back towards his mate and Leif. "Giving Wolfie space to talk to his ex despite feeling a little jealous is love. Sure, it's sucky to feel but the fact you aren't attacking the guy outright is a good sign to me." 

The candid conversation reminded him of that night at the festival two months back, where he and Wolfie openly discussed their issues. It was all so new to him, and he wanted nothing more than keep his mate safe and content. It was a slippery slope for such feelings to turn into possession, as the woman said, and he'd wanted to avoid that. 

Minor drops of jealousy were natural, even for someone of his unique background. Like the many feelings and problems that would arise, it would take more time to adjust and not internalize them like he usually would when he'd been a literal lone wolf.

"And the fact Wolfie pined hard for you after one night - like a whole month, tells me that he wouldn't downgrade for a guy like that," Doris told him and smiled as he let out a chuckle in response before she moved away from the wall with a stretch. "Now, I gotta go help my sister set up our stand on Emerald Street. She's trying her hand at selling cookies alongside our usual drinks, so you two cuties better drop by." 

"Gracias, señorita, we will be sure to do that. I appreciated our talk," Muerte told her sincerely and felt his respect for her grow more, and could understand why many described her as motherly. "If you ever do run into trouble, or need me to put the fear of Dios into someone, don't hesitate to call on me." 

Doris blinked at his offer before letting out a snort, shooting the wolf an appreciative grin. "I'll keep that in mind." 

As he watched her go, he felt less tense than before and looked back at Wolfie and Leif just in time to see his beloved turn towards him. It seemed like their talk had reached a conclusion as the brown wolf, and wrapped teapot, made their way over to him. 

"How was your talk?" Muerte asked gently, hoping he wasn't coming off too eager to know. By the lack of distress and smile on Wolfie’s face, the large wolf could only assume it went well. 

"It was nice. Mostly just talking about how things ended between us," Wolfie told him with a half-shrug, looking pleased albeit a bit tired. "I think it was weighing on him more than me, to be honest." 

"Do you want to talk about it, or would you like to explore a bit more?" 

"...Explore some more but talking later would be nice, I think I need a second to process," The brown wolf admitted and grimaced slightly. "I hope this wasn't too weird for you? I don't think I've ever talked about him, so this must have blindsided you." 

"Wolfie," The larger wolf leaned down to nuzzle him gently, to help cease any potential spiraling. "No necesitas compartir todo conmigo. I understand that you have your past with others. All I ask is you tell me when you feel comfortable, not because you feel like you have to." 

Wolfie returned his affection in response and let out a small content sigh, "Thanks." 

"Now, let's go, shall we? I heard Doris and her sister have a stall close by," Muerte looped his arm around Wolfie's, bringing them closer together as they began to walk. 

Jealousy was a fleeting feeling. He may not have had Wolfies past, but he did have the present, and if he was lucky, then the future as well.

He couldn’t say the same for the teapot if it mysteriously ended up near a group of mischievous dronkeys later that day.

Chapter Text

"Yeah, ya got a real shiner there," The ogre remarked as he inspected the damage done to Wolfie's left eye with a sympathetic wince. "Might need two bags of ice, dear." 

"Already ahead of you," Fiona said as she came out from the kitchen, and gently placed one bag onto his eye, noticing his slight hiss upon contact. "How are you feeling?" 

"Well, considering I can't open my eye - I've been better," Wolfie replied, trying not to sound annoyed, and replaced her hand with his paw, silently hoping that the swelling would go down quickly. "Thanks for the ice." 

It was one of the rare occasions the ogre couple would have a night out for themselves, where they'd go out to try to have a social life.

Usually, in regards to babysitting, they'd call on Donkey or Puss if they were available but both options fell through. Donkey and Elizabeth were trying to teach their kids to better control their magical abilities, whereas Puss was off with Team Friendship on another quest. 

So, the mish-mash of fairytale friends was their closest option. Not that they were any less reliable, but it took all their joint effort to care for the rambunctious trio. 

It felt surreal that Felicia, Fergus, and Farkle were now toddlers full of never-ending energy. The triplets were somehow more of a handful than the six dronkeys, but had the same love for causing chaos.

Felicia had followed in Fiona's footsteps fairly closely, not only having the same fiery red hair but also a love for martial arts which she'd love to demonstrate. Fergus had a similar love for fighting but tended to copy Shrek the most and enjoyed practicing his roaring or biting. Meanwhile, Farkle was relatively quiet and reserved with his words but loved going along with whatever scheme his siblings enacted. 

The three were an unstoppable force and Wolfie could only imagine they'd take the world by storm once they ventured beyond the swamp. However, for now, they were nightmares to deal with, especially when they'd started a spontaneous game of 'keep away' with one of Shrek's bottles of eyeballs. 

The fairytale squad had been there for less than five minutes when the game broke out, and despite the couple trying to corral them, Pinocchio's promises of treats, and Gingy demanding they stop - the bottle had flown through the air and slammed right into Wolfie's eye. 

The brown wolf quite literally saw stars, and it hurt a lot, but he patted himself on the back for only reacting with an "ow." The bottle thankfully hadn't shattered when it got him, and the puppet had dive-bombed to grab it before it could hit the ground.

Fiona quickly helped him sit down on the armchair and went to get ice while Shrek scolded the trio. He sent them to their shared room for a mini-time out while he surveyed the damage. 

"I'm sorry about that," Fiona apologized with a sigh. "They've been hyper since this morning when they found out you all would be coming." 

"Really appreciate it, by the way, since it was last minute. I don't think Cookie would have let us off the hook for missing another dinner," Shrek told him with a sheepish grin.

"Vould you vant to go home? Ve can vatch ze kiddies ze rest of ze night!" Horst peeked over from the other side of the chair, looking concerned over the whole ordeal. 

The pain had subsided to a stinging numbness thanks to the ice pack, but the thought of going home early sounded too pleasant to pass up. "Thanks, that would be great. Think you guys could give me a lift?" 

"Of course. Just let me say bye to the kids and get my bag!" Fiona assured him with a smile before moving out of sight, leaving him with Shrek and Horst while the others scattered about the house prepping for the rest of the night. 

"Aye, you'd think they'd be preparing for a twister with the amount of bubble wrap everywhere," Shrek chuckled watching the three blind mice unroll a pack on the floor, while Pinnochio and Gingy went to work moving other potential projectiles out of grabbing level. "They that much of a hassle for you all?" 

"Vey are sweet angels! ...Half ve time," Horst told him with a smile. "Vey like to play ze games, and ze pranks, but ze don't act as mean as before." 

"I think your kids took longer to warm up to us than Donkeys, but bribery with sweets or other stuff helped," Wolfie admitted reflecting on the early years when Felicia only started to listen to him when he'd make outfits for her doll. Whereas with her brothers, he and the others made a makeshift castle of pillows and furniture to appease them. He supposed it made sense considering how isolated the family was in the swamp, and a bit overprotective the couple was the first year. They'd let no one babysit them, not even Lillian. 

"You're all good with them, dunno what Fiona and I'd do without ye," Shrek admitted as he got up, choosing to be oblivious to how genuine he sounded.

Such comments were rare since the ogre wasn't the best at verbally expressing himself, which Wolfie could relate to, but it was still surreal when remembering how utterly standoffish he was so many years ago. It was a little funny how the guy who went on a whole quest to get rid of them, now saw them as part of the family and trusted them enough to watch his kids.

"Do ye think you and Muerte will have any little ones?" Shrek asked with a smirk, earning a laugh from Horst, and making Wolfie immediately let out an annoyed sigh.

"Not you too," He frowned, already being too familiar with the question from not only Donkey ("So, puppies, when?") but the three pigs as well. "We've only been together for a few months." 

"So, is zat a yes for ze future?" Heimlich interjected himself into the conversation with an excited snort. "A little Volfie vould be so cute!" 

"Uh, we're both cis so I don't think-" 

"Doris told me the head elf that used to work at Fairy Godmother's, Jerome, started up his own business," Fiona reappeared holding her possum-stitched handbag with an excited sparkle in her eyes. "And he has a lot of interesting potions for couples who can't biologically have kids. I can give you his card!" 

"Okay, conversation over," Wolfie said already feeling himself grow flustered over the thought, and swapped the first ice pack with the second. "Mind taking me home now?" 

Everyone laughed at this but thankfully spared him further embarrassment as they finally headed out to Shrek and Fiona's onion carriage. 

The ride to his place was filled with more casual conversation and catching up, some questions about his mate but nothing as intrusive as before. He'd learned that Shrek and Fiona had joined a club of sorts, where they'd befriended other ogres like them and one of the organizers had monthly dinner parties. Due to Shrek's notoriety across the kingdom, they'd extended an invite for the couple to join. Their kids were welcome to come along but considering how slow to warm up to new people they were, the last thing the couple wanted was for them to be overwhelmed. 

"We'll see you in a week for the cookout," Fiona waved at him as he climbed down. "Again, sorry about your eye, and we hope it heals up okay!"

"It's fine, it happens," Wolfie shrugged and lazily waved a hand back as he headed toward the comfort of his home. "Hope you have a good dinner!" 

As he heard the carriage depart, and he fished out his key, he thought back to Shrek's question.

"Do ye think you and Muerte will have any little ones?"

Did Wolfie even want a kid? He hadn't given it any thought in general, even before Muerte, and it still felt too soon to breach the topic.

Sure, as a pup, he'd been told and expected to continue his pack's lineage but he'd never thought it'd happen. Especially after everything with Granny and Farquaad, he had completely dropped it from his mind. Even with the different partners he had, they never got far enough for children to ever be a possibility. 

The sharp pain from his eye shook him from his thoughts and he realized he'd had yet to unlock his front door. The key was only mid-turn, truly showing how lost in his mind he'd been. 

"Stupid," He muttered under his breath, firmly telling himself to drop the subject, the question, from his mind lest he dwelled on it too long. The last thing he wanted was to accidentally bring it up to Muerte if the others hadn't pestered the large wolf already. 

...What if Muerte did end up wanting pups?

"Ah, precioso!" Speak of the devil, and he shall appear, Wolfie thought as his ears perked up at hearing his mate's smooth voice. "I thought you'd be busy tonight." 

Wolfie turned around and was pleasantly surprised to see a small boutique of daises in the larger wolf's paws. It was one of his favorite flowers, mostly because of how they'd grown near his den in his youth, and he'd spend hours sleeping amongst them. 

"For me?" He asked jokingly taking a step forward before pausing and noticing the immediate change in atmosphere. 

Muerte had frozen up, face blank, and dark eyes honed in on the ice pack against his very much swollen eye. A flurry of emotions seemed to pass by his face, one of concern, and confusion, before stopping right on anger. The grey wolf's fur bristled, eyes sharpening, and his grip on the poor flowers tightening enough for the wrapping on them to crinkle loudly.

It was very deja vu of their first meeting together, that if he weren't actively focused on Wolfie, the brown wolf would assume he was having another premonition. 

Except, the fury radiating off his mate felt very different and alarmingly concerning. 

Muerte was closer in a blink of his one good eye that he nearly flinched if it weren't for how gently the other reached out to move his paw, and the ice pack, away. He grimaced slightly at the cool night air and the knowledge that his left eye probably hadn't gotten any better to look at within the hour. 

"Quién te hizo esto?" 

It took a moment for Wolfie to process the question, to understand Muerte's reaction to his eye, before realizing how it looked without context. The lack of a quick response didn't help as his mate's gaze softened, yet held the same ire. 

"Give me a name and I'll make sure they never touch you again." 

As much as hearing, and seeing, how utterly protective his mate was on his behalf, a concept he was still adjusting to, he didn't think it wise to let continue. Even if it made him flustered again, for an entirely different reason. 

"It's okay! No one gave me a black eye," Wolfie assured him with a small smile and hid his eye behind the ice pack once more. "Well, not on purpose, Shrek's kids got a little rowdy and accidentally hit me with a bottle." 

Almost like a light switch, the tense growing atmosphere dissipated, although the concern, and slight confusion, remained on his mate's face. "A bottle?" 

"Yeah, a bottle. It was, uh, a bad game of catch," He explained and ever so delicately used his free paw to reach for the poor crushed daisies, feeling how tense his mate had gotten. "Thanks for the flowers, by the way."

"Oh, los flores," Muerte scowled as he lightened his grip and winced as a few petals had fallen off during the whole exchange. He sheepishly handed them to Wolfie who gave them a soft sniff. "I was going to drop them off, as a surprise, pero..." 

"They're great, nothing a little water can't help," Wolfie shrugged despite them both knowing there was no way the flowers would last more than a few days, maybe less. "I don't think I've seen you get that upset before." 

"I couldn't help it. The thought of anyone having hurt you pissed me off," Muerte admitted whilst rubbing his neck, looking slightly embarrassed. "...I may have also gotten excited at the thought of hunting on your behalf." 

Wolfie blinked at this before letting a small snort which then turned into a full-blown laugh. While, usually, your partner willingly (or wanting) to kill for you was a warning sign, it'd become such a normal comment to hear that Wolfie honestly couldn't help but laugh.

He could feel his heart swell with even more affection. 

"You're a dork," He calmed himself before delivering a quick kiss to Muerte's cheek (the front steps helping a little to balance their height difference) and gestured towards the front door. "Wanna come instead and have some tea?" 

"I would love that," Muerte grinned at him and happily finished turning the key and opening the door for Wofie to pass through first. "Siéntate y relájate. I can make the tea, it's simple enough." 

"That's what you said about using the stove for rice and ruining Horst's good pan." 

"I brought him another one, didn't I? One of the finest from Germany!" 

The two went back and forth, and Wolfie watched from the dining room table as his mate began brewing him a cup of his favorite tea. It felt quite domestic, and it was all too easy to envision the rest of his life with the grey wolf.

Maybe, in the far, far, far future when they'd had more time together to talk about it, he could picture a pup seated next to him.

A pup calling him their parent and watching as their father made them both tea, or whatever else, and spending the rest of the night snuggled together on the couch. 

For now, they'd stay unvoiced thoughts, and Wolfie would enjoy the moments when it was only the two of them.

Chapter Text

Muerte adored the soft touches, kisses, embraces - anything he'd receive from Wolfie that he'd often forget he was among the most feared being across the world.

He initially found it concerning how easy it was to lose himself that he'd get embarrassed and unsure. It was surreal how much Wolfie’s touches made warmth burst in his chest and flood the rest of his body.

The feeling wasn't unfamiliar, albeit felt in a different context. 

He'd experienced it so very long ago as a pup with his dear predecessor. Due to how young he’d been when she’d found him, chosen him, he’d quietly viewed her as a motherly figure, yet she never crossed that line between mentor and parent, even if she too felt that unspoken bond between them. That distance was necessary for what was to come, he supposed, and as he trained and learned for years under her, he respected it.

As an adult that final year, who was long past the age of clinging to her robes, La Señora had still pet his head gently - and he'd lean into her touch.

The day he'd truly become Death, la Muerte, was the day she'd taken that warmth with her. 

Sure, he'd fill that void by focusing solely on his duties and watching the world continue to develop. As well as creating his hit list of persons that he’d personally visit and his own reglas that the others didn’t seem to mind (not that he would listen even if they did complain.) His hunts were more for entertainment purposes, and he enjoyed them enough to think it would be the only thing to almost match that warmth.

Then he found Wolfie. 

Even if their first meeting had been cut short because of a certain egotistical feline, the lobo had obsessed over how they had held hands most of that evening. As well as their almost kiss, making him even more eager to finish his collecting that entire month. 

When they reunited, and Wolfie accepted him despite his lie and even kissed him, it was much better than anything he could have imagined. He’d reacted calmly, perhaps too eager, and spent the rest of the night in an almost drunken stupor while replaying the kiss in his mind.

Había pasado mucho tiempo desde que alguien lo tocó voluntariamente. También era la primera vez que alguien lo besaba.

It was the first of many new experiences he'd come to look forward to. 

Despite his seemingly calm and charismatic nature, one that he’d love to convey, he'd been horribly awkward at initiating most of their intimate moments the first few weeks. He wasn’t naive to the many aspects of a romantic relationship, specifically the sexual kind, but he hadn’t bothered experimenting with others, not even with his fellow immortals. Mostly because he hadn't cared about such acts, and focused on completing his sacred duties.

Death happened everywhere, anytime, and there was only one of him, after all.

So, he’d been embarrassed to share his lack of experience and was worried he'd disappoint his new mate but the brown wolf hadn’t minded at all. Wolfie was all too happy to guide him along and ensure he was comfortable with each step. The grey wolf soon felt brave enough to act on his desires, such as their first Halloween together, or simply ask for affection.

For Muerte, what made him ever more smitten with his mate aside from such patience were the days Wolfie would simply hold him. 

He would slip into the smaller wolf's bedroom after dealing with whatever battle, murder, accident, etcetera, and his beloved would only need to take one look at him and know a cuddle session was needed. 

"I got a new magazine, looks like some more drama around the newest princess," Wolfie shared as he scooted over, patting the spot next to him on the bed. "I can read it to you if you want?" 

"I'd love that," Muerte said already removing his sickles to place on the dresser alongside his cloak to reveal a black tank top underneath, courtesy of Wolfie. Casual wear was something he hadn't expected to enjoy, but it surprisingly helped him unwind.

He laid down on the mattress, gently placing his head close to his mate’s chest and pressing himself against him. He looped his arms around the other's waist, while Wolfie wrapped an arm behind the grey wolf’s head. Due to their height differences, and the bed being too small for both of them, he'd have some part of him hanging off the mattress. 

Hearing a heartbeat that wasn't pounding with fear, anxiety, and the like was another thing the lobo quite enjoyed. Listening to Wolfie's heart steadily beat and being surrounded by his familiar scent made it easier for him to shut his eyes and relax.

Sleep wasn't a thing he needed, along with most mortal needs, but that didn't mean he couldn't indulge from time to time. He felt Wolfie gently scratch at his head, making him melt even more. 

He'd heard some describe new couples experiencing a so-called "honeymoon phase" and that such feelings would fade over time or lose that spark. Eso fue pura mierda. He'd been around for so long, seen many declare "true love", alongside the cheating, lying, and mistresses - of those that chose to be unfaithful. 

He'd rather use his sickles to tear into his own flesh before he'd hurt Wolfie in such a way. 

Intimate moments such as these he treasured deeply, and it made him reflect on his long lifespan. When he renació as Muerte, he'd willingly shed away his birth name and past identity, to fulfill his new role and as a form of grieving for losing La Señora that same night. 

For so long, it felt as though he was going through the motions, merely existing as the sole vehicle to guide the deceased to the Beyond. It was hard to not grow apathetic and indifferent to the suffering of the world, nor to relish the opportunities he'd get to be just as cruel.

Like the many before him, and that would surely come after him, they’d find their own way to cope and keep sane.

However, Wolfie and his pack had brought that warmth of living back into his temporary unending life. 

"Muerte?" 

The grey wolf's eyes slowly opened. He'd been somewhat following along as they'd move onto some section interviewing a girl with magical slippers, but he could truly care less. He'd only listen to such pointless stories to hear his mate talk for hours on end. 

"...You are worth waiting hundreds of years for," Muerte spoke with a lazy grin, enjoying the way his mate's heart sped up at his words. "Eres tan suave." 

Wolfie chuckled softly, although the larger wolf knew he'd liked how sentimental he could be during these sessions. Where Muerte had lacked company and gentleness, the other wolf had been neglected in words of affirmation from his previous partners. 

He knew his mate was far from perfect, a fact Wolfie made sure he understood, but he still found himself wondering how one could look at Wolfie - and choose to leave. He supposed it was for the best, as he was now the only one to see the flushed, bashful, and lindo looks the brown wolf gave him when he'd shower him with sweet words. 

"You really like head scratches that much, huh?" Wolfie joked, though there was clear affection in his voice, and his paw gently brushed the grey wolf's head once more. "I wanted to know if you wanted to stay for dinner. Horst is trying a new stew, and wants your opinion on it." 

Only then did Muerte notice how little light was in the room, and the lone window revealed that the sun had begun to set. Time was, once again, another foe he'd have to face after ignoring for so long. 

"Hm, I suppose I can stay for dinner," Muerte hummed before tightening his hold on the smaller wolf and closing his eyes once more. "Después de cinco minutos más." 

"...Fine, five more minutes," Wolfie conceded and let out an amused huff before nuzzling Muerte gently. "Love you." 

The grey wolf responded by lifting his head to press his lips to Wolfie's, to not only convey his love in return but to spread that same warmth that bloomed in his chest.

Chapter Text

"...And that's when I told him, 'I told you so!' but man, did that crazy cat stick the landing!" Donkey concluded earning a smattering of applause, chuckles, and a playful glare from the groom in question. "Welcome to married life, brother!" 

The long-awaited wedding ceremony for Puss and Kitty had been wonderful thus far, as they had rented out the Poison Apple for the day (and night) to celebrate with close friends. 

The ceremony and exchange of vows had been quick but sweet, as it was obvious to all how enamored Puss was with Kitty - and the wedding itself felt more of a formality. Or an apology to each other for their first attempt.

Wolfie was sure everyone knew about the Santa Coloma story at this point, and Kitty had even cracked a joke about it earlier during her vows. The two cats seemed to have grown stronger from it, and moved past it, especially following their quest for the wishing star, so maybe that distance was needed to rekindle their feelings. 

While the brown wolf wasn't very close friends with Puss and had only gotten to know Kitty in recent months, he knew the two were a perfect match. The way they spent the entire day giving each other soft looks, and sweet words alongside playful quips, were all evidence of their bond. Further proof was the fact they both opted to put a twist on their ceremony, moving away from cisnormative traditions, and had even sought him out for advice weeks earlier.

Wolfie had Doris lend a hand and she had introduced Kitty to various friends with tailoring experience, while he had the joy of finding a dress for Puss, an activity he legitimately never saw coming. Meanwhile, they had given Perrito a bow tie with a vest as his role as ring bearer and the chihuahua had been a bundle of excitement the entire day.

Many in their pack had gotten dressed up for the occasion, and Wolfie was no exception. Although, he had decided on an old favorite that he didn't wear out often. The last time was for his first date with Muerte all those months ago, and how the grey wolf had been flustered most of that night.

It was a simple crimson ruffle hem dress made of silk, one of the first dresses he'd bought for himself, post-Farquaad. The years were evident in the faded colors, frayed edges, and wrinkling but it held a special place in his heart that he couldn’t throw it away. Instead, he’d sewn up any tears and wore it for special occasions.

"Thank you for that, you lovable ass!" Puss said to Donkey with a laugh before standing atop the makeshift stage they’d created. His satin ivory dress looked more enchanting underneath the dim lights. "Gracias a todos for all the kind words and support you've shown Kitty and me!" 

"And for all the boot polish," Kitty chimed in with a laugh. She was seated on the edge, a cup of milk in her paw, and her vest pairing nicely with Puss's dress. "But truly, thank you. You've all been very welcoming!"

"I'd like to make a toast to my dearest friends, no, mi familia who helped me become the cat I am today!" 

There were more cheers as Puss went on to thank key people in their odd family like Shrek, Donkey, and so on. It was a sweet moment and added more to an already joyous event. 

The brown wolf had spent much of the wedding with his pack, dancing and arguing about who gave the best gift, but he'd hoped to finish the night with Muerte. Due to the grey wolf's duties, and the unexpected tragedies around the world, he couldn't ignore them for too long, so he promised Wolfie a dance at the reception. 

(Though, he did catch glimpses of his mate throughout the day when the vows were taking place outside. Muerte could say whatever he wanted but Wolfie knew he'd been touched when the couple had openly invited him to their wedding.) 

Wolfie had stepped to the back of the bar, drink in hand, as he patiently waited. Mostly out of respect for the others, as Heimlich still got severely spooked if Muerte appeared too suddenly. 

"Finally, a toast to the one who quite literally chased me back into Kitty's arms - Muerte!" Puss finished and lifted his glass high before downing it with everyone else following suit. 

The band, consisting of Hook on the piano and a few other former villains, took this as their cue to begin to play. Kitty then hopped onto the stage to join her husband and both cats intertwined to showcase their dancing prowess once more. 

"I'm surprised he'd thank me for anything," Came the familiar voice behind him, and the comforting presence of his mate. "Though, not many want Death to be at their wedding either, so, I suppose I shouldn't be." 

"I'm just glad you're both getting along better now," Wolfie replied and turned to face Muerte but paused, taking immediate notice of the lack of his signature poncho. Instead what greeted him was a casual white dress shirt with dark pants to match. "...You wore the outfit." 

"Well, you picked it out for me, hermoso, and I didn't want to disappoint," The larger wolf grinned widely, pleased at the reaction, before giving Wolfie a softer smile. "You look wonderful, especially in that dress." 

"Thank you," Wolfie smiled back, trying to ignore how well the outfit looked on his mate, especially how the lobo had left the front slightly unbuttoned. He offered his drink to Muerte who happily finished it. "How was work?" 

"Fue muy tedioso de lo habitual," Huffed the harbinger and discarded the empty cup on a nearby table. "All I could focus on was getting back here to you. Maybe take advantage of the open bar too." 

Wolfie chuckled and was all too happy to take Muertes's arm to move them towards the drinks, and to enjoy the blithe atmosphere together. The grey wolf wouldn't divulge too much of his day, as he'd prefer to keep the morbid details to himself, the least Wolfie could do was help him unwind the rest of the night.

It helped that the reception was in full swing now, with many of their friends chatting, dancing, or simply enjoying themselves.

"I will admit that I had my doubts, pero those two do make a good pair," Muerte looked over at the two felines as they sat and ordered their drinks at the bar. "The ceremony was nice too. Simple and to the point." 

"Would you want something similar?" Wolfie asked casually, taking a sip of his sangria and letting out a pleased sigh at the taste.

"...Is this your way of asking me?" The large wolf asked with an amused smile but he could tell the question had caught him by surprise.

"Humor me." 

"I suppose, for our kind, it would be traditional with the blessing of the elders and mating ritual but seeing as we've long since done that," Wolfie snorted in response. "And don’t need trivial blessings, then a simple ceremony like this would be nice." 

"The practice, and the symbolism behind it, not so much. The aftermath is always messy - especially when it comes to vengeful spouses," Muerte chuckled before taking another sip of his drink, a glass of vodka. "What would you prefer?" 

Wolfie pondered for a moment and took glances around the room at his friends, his family, and the happy couple. He was most familiar with the martial ceremony of wolves, specifically from his previous pack, but they lacked any festive parts. It was more about ensuring the survival of their group. Not that there wasn't love among the chosen mates but his parents had lacked that warmth, and he’d been raised mostly by his mother.

He'd been invited to a few weddings in the past, Shrek and Fiona's being the first non-lupine one, and that had given him a glimpse of what unconditional love looked like. Of course, even with weddings such as that, it still leaned greatly into catering to only men and women.

Even within the various fairytale communities, same-gender (or gender-diverse) couples weren't thought of in the slightest. The traditions, vows, beliefs, clothing, and everything in between were intertwined heavily with assumed heterosexual and cisgender expectations. 

It seemed so exhausting to have to limit yourself in such a way, but maybe that was just Wolfie's perspective. After all, Puss and Kitty had thrown tradition out the window for their ceremony, opting to do things their way and the two looked stunning in their outfits.

Most of all, they looked happy.

Only so many couples could pull off breaking away from such norms without facing backlash. (Not that anyone could say anything, lest they wanted to fight off two blade-wielding cats, their therapy dog, and everyone else in attendance.) 

Yet, he could understand the appeal of it all.

To have that trust in another person, and the confidence to know they’d love you just as much to solidify that bond.

Many couples did so without such labels already, and it wasn't as though the pesky laws in place had stopped queer couples from committing to each other in other ways that made them any less meaningful. (He’d heard some time ago that King Arthur was slowly changing the outdated laws Lillian’s great-great-grandfather had put in place, and while he didn’t care about having a certificate, he hoped more of the discriminatory kind would be taken care of.)

"I always thought the idea of a wedding was sweet, but I don't think I'd want everything that's attached to it. Like, the traditional things? Feels on the same wavelength as how my pack did it with the hierarchy system," The brown wolf shared with a frown before shrugging slightly. "I do think I'd look good in a wedding outfit for either, though." 

"But... the commitment part is nice, and I do want you to officially be my mate for life,” Wolfie nonchalantly admitted as he finished off his drink with a hum, not noticing how Muerte had paused mid-sip. “I kinda figured that's where we were heading already."

"You want to mate for life?" 

The brown wolf turned to face him to see an awe-struck expression on the larger wolf's face, and genuine shock. It wasn’t often he’d see such an expression, mostly during the first few dates of figuring their relationship out, but it told him that he’d gotten carried away with his words again without realizing it.

Wolfie felt a bit of anxiety creep up wondering if saying that was much too soon for Muerte's comfort. The two never discussed anything long-term yet, and now he'd practically told Muerte what he wanted, not even considering his mate's current immortal status. "I think this whole night is getting to me, just forget what I-" 

"I would love to be your mate, for now, y por siempre,” The grey wolf told him softly, the expression having faded and replaced with utter adoration as he fully turned to face him.

Well, now it was Wolfie’s turn to stare wide-eyed as his chest tightened at the absolute sincerity in Muerte's words. It shouldn’t have been surprising, considering how close they'd become, but hearing it confirmed verbally felt surreal. It was one thing to be showered with compliments and given sweet words when dating someone, it was entirely different knowing Muerte wanted to stay with him permanently.

They'd been together for less than five months by that point, but quick marriages weren't exactly uncommon among fairytale folk, especially among queer couples. If anything, his pack had found it weird they'd yet to do something or just skipped right to pups. (It'd taken the threat of not being the card dealer for game nights for them to drop it.)

Wolfie was positive of two things at that moment; 1) picturing a future with Muerte came so easily to mind, that knowing the grey wolf wanted the same made him feel so very happy, and 2) this was probably the worst way he could have proposed.

"I guess this is my way of asking then," Wolfie started before gently adding on with an embarrassed smile. "I'm sorry it isn't as romantic as it could have been."

"It's you speaking your mind, I wouldn't have wanted it any other way, Wolfie," Muerte grinned back before using both paws to hold Wolfie's, crimson eyes meeting hazel. "I don't need a ring, a fancy speech, not even la boda. I would be fine with just the promise to stay together." 

Both wolves' ears suddenly perked at the sound of a loud 'Aww', abruptly popping their moment like a bubble. They had momentarily forgotten they weren't alone and Mabel, Doris's sister, and bartender helping out for the night, had seemingly watched their entire exchange from behind the counter.

"Oh, I'm sorry - I came over to ask if you wanted a refill but it seemed rude to interrupt," The woman apologized but appeared excited for them more than anything. "Doris called it! I promise not to say anything, but can I make you two something special to celebrate?" 

Even with the moment interrupted their eyes met again and without any words, Wolfie knew what they'd both order.

"A negroni, please."

"A bloody mary, por favor." 

Mabel paused at the odd drink choices but didn't dare to question them, and only offered another smile and a quick "Be right back!" before moving to the other end of the counter. As soon as she was out of earshot, both wolves laughed quietly to themselves and continued to hold their paws together while their tails seemed to wag in sync.

It was only fitting to get the same drinks they shared that fateful night at the mixer. As cheesy as it sounded, and something Wolfie didn’t think he’d ever find, it felt as though he’d finally reached his “happily ever after.”

He was surrounded by his chosen pack that loved and supported him, proud to openly be himself, and somehow found someone that truly saw him and wanted to stay.

Wolfie's story may have officially started when he found Little Red Riding Hood so long ago, but it certainly hadn't ended when he left those woods.

However, if the previous adventures he and his pack went on told him anything, he doubted this would be the end of their story and he welcomed whatever else came their way.

He figured there was nothing the Big Bad Wolf and the literal embodiment of Death couldn’t handle, especially together.