#fey family business

[oodlyenough]

I've been thinking a lot about how fandom attitudes towards female characters shift, and how a lot of the outright hatred that was once prevalent now is replaced by "girlboss" "mom friend" "only braincell" type discourse... and also about the Hawthorne twins and what I see of them in fandom vs canon.

It's interesting to me that I see a lot of what feels like a fandom desire to rehabilitate Dahlia as a character from a feminist perspective, sometimes taken as a given that her canon material was bad, when ...tbqh I don't really feel that she needs it. If I think of characters wronged by their canon text, Dahlia wouldn't make the list. Even a surface-level reading of Dahlia is, imo, a compelling character, with clear motivations, consistent behaviour, agency. She's funny and memorable. You can dig deeper into speculation and headcanon territory with Dahlia (and I totally get the impulse, she's great and there's lots of potential there) but I don't think you need to do that to make her a solid character, I think she already is. I don't think she's any less complex than the other trilogy villains, and if anything she's a lot more complex already than someone like Engarde, and on par with Von Karma.

On the other hand, I think Iris got some paper-thin writing as "the good twin" and, let's be honest, a feeble attempt to set up a heterosexual romance for Phoenix which gets dropped in subsequent games anyway. There are interesting possible complexities to tease out of Iris, just as with Dahlia; Iris facilitates or participates in some pretty messed-up things, but Phoenix and the story are very forgiving, which just flattens her out further into Good Twin. I don't think the canon is very interested in Iris outside of her role as plot twist doppelganger and occasional blush sprite... and mostly it seems the fanon Iris gets in response is to quadruple down on those things. She's pure and kind and sweet, besties with Phoenix, their relationship is cast as something wholesome and innocent, despite the uh objective reality of it.

What about the Iris who helps her sister plan harebrained criminal schemes only to back out at last second, the Iris who fell in love with Feenie despite herself and yet continued to lie and place him in danger for eight months, who watched Dahlia get a death sentence without ever coming clean ... Those things are the aspects that would make her a multidimensional character, imo, but they're ignored and/or glossed over in the story and (what I've seen of) fandom. And I don't say this to mean that she's evil or irredeemable or something, she isn't -- just that the basic fact of her actions is a lot messier than is usually acknowledged, by canon or fanon. For the canon I think the reasons are obvious and not flattering; for fandom, I think the intentions are generally positive, trying to correct for the opposite end of the spectrum (and 20 years ago the attitude was probably quite different), but I still wish female characters were given more space to be complicated in ways that include being kind of fucked up actually.

[kingdom-stars]

Something, something, throwing up 'bout my AU all over the page, something, something(?).

Wright & Co. Family bussines

So, this past year I've been thinking about an Ace Attorney AU. Nothing original, just the tri-color trio (Apollo, Athena and Trucy) in the original trilogy

You'd think it'd be the most common AU, but I've seen surprisingly few of them

(Unless I haven't searched well, in which case, post links👀)

So I gave myself the task of making one, because if you want something to go well you do it yourself :V

Clarifications before starting:

This OBVIOUSLY has spoilers for both trilogies, so I'll put a cut here

I decided to move some important moments to fit into the AU, such as:

The trial where Trucy's father disappears was taken by Mia and was for the accidental "death" of Thalassa, he is declared innocent but leaves Trucy because he does'nt think he's a good father to her. Phoenix's last case will still pass and Shadi will still be accused of murdering Magnify Graymare, but Trucy will not be the one to give Phoenix the note and she'll not recognize her father (but Phoenix will)

Simon's trial will pass two years before canon. Phoenix, blessed be his heart, adopts Athena because she has no one else and her relatives in Europe have not been brought up yet

Apollo will be found by Mia while she searches for some other relative of Trucy's and tells Phoenix, who immediately contacts child services to make the adoption

Apollo and Athena decide to keep their last names, Trucy is the only one to change it to Wright, but the three are comfortable with being called by Phoenix's last name

Nothing related to the newly formed Wright Family, Edgeworth decides to adopt Kay after Turnabout Reminiscences, just as he adopts Sebastian after Turnabout for the ages (I just saw that's the official name for The Grand Turnabout and it's DOPE AS FUCK)

Some other things:

Apollo will be 12 in this AU, as that would be the age calculated for this point in the series, Athena would follow with 7 and Trucy with 5

The three of them will reference their respective backstories, Apollo having knowledge about the spiritual channeling thanks to his time in Khura'in, Athena missing her mother and paying attention to Phoenix to become a lawyer and save Simon and Trucy having vague memories of when her mother was still with her

Apollo will have a tendency to use his Chords of Steel™ when he gets nervous and will switch to Khura'ines

Athena would still use the sound canceling headphones (or emotions, whatever) but as the story progresses she will take them off more and more

By the end of the second case, Trucy will start wearing the blue cape

Maya will be a kind of aunt/older sister, Pearl will be the cousin that no one can get angry with and Kay the bad influence gremling cousin(?)

Larry, Gumshoe and Edgeworth will be the ✨Cool Uncles✨. Gumshoe and Edgeworth will take a while to get there for obvious reasons, but they will

Each final case will be in some way related to the three children. This would be with Athena

Without further ado, let's go to the first game!

Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney

The first Turnabout:

There's not much to change here. Character introductions, dynamic statements, the odd clue about the children's talents and little triggers for Phoenix, but small ones, small ones

Turnabout Sisters:

Slight changes but nothing significant. Apollo's discomfort with the Kurain channeling technique is mentioned for being similar to those of Khura'in, Trucy is the one who notices the butler's lies, Athena hears April May's fear of Red White, Red White attempts to blackmail Phoenix out of the case by threatening to take the children away from him, and Apollo testify on Phoenix's behalf, Phoenix has major triggers here

Turnabout Samurai:

I don't know what I would change here. Gumshoe being rude to Phoenix and Trucy defending him, Maya dragging poor Apollo into fan conversations with Cody and Phoenix bringing up the issue of Dee Vazques' threat at trial, on a separate note, Edgeworth finds Trucy in the prosecution lobby and returns her to Phoenix

Turnabout Goodbyes:

Ohhhh boy, this is the one. Kay makes her debut introducing herself as Edgeworth's daughter/assistant, she is the one who asks them to represent him to Edgeworth's mortification and will help in the investigation with Gumshoe, the three children catch Edgeworth's desperation for this case which makes Phoenix more determined to help him. This is practically the final case for Athena, she sympathizes with Edgeworth's earthquake phobia, she hears von Karma's true intentions but doesn't know how to explain them, she is inspired by Phoenix's story of how Edgeworth and Larry defended him as a child and how that act made him become a defense attorney and decides to do the same for Simon, she feels a strange understanding in not wanting to believe that she killed his her father mother (the black psycholocks sound), she stays by his side when he makes the last testimony and explains his nightmare, even going so far as to grab his hand to give him strength and shout at Von Karma in the face when he tries to ridicule them, when Von Karma's breakdown occurs he tries to attack Athena in the purest Tronchatoro style and then she is saved by Edgeworth. In the end she starts calling him Uncle Edgeworth

Rise from the ashes:

Oh yes, the DLC case, I almost forgot. Apollo and Trucy go full on Gant and his tics, Ema and Apollo bond (no Ship here, just friendship), Athena jumps into full scolding when she sees that Edgeworth wants to resign as a prosecutor because "they didn't spend three days stressing for you to then throw it overboard" or something like that, everyone gets scared by the Blue Badger and everyone wants to kill(?) Meckins

Ahhhhh, finally, I took it off my chest

I have olabs for Justice for all and Trials & Tribulation, but I'll make separate posts for those, you say if you want to hear it or not

Byee~!

[zhoudadudugongjin]

Forever unwell about male characters getting left literally holding a baby that isn't theirs. It's one of my favourite tropes.

[vnti-vnxiety-recs]

Serenade of the Damned (M)

★ PAIRING: Pied Piper! Haechan x Little Red! Reader

☆ WORD COUNT: 10k

★ GENRE(S): Dark fantasy AU, Dark Fairy Tale AU. Magic. Smut, enemies to ??

☆ SUMMARY: The Pied Pier was one of the most feared folk legends of your time. Little did you know he was real and was coming to take your life. You, who was known as the wolfhunter, realized that the hunter had become the hunted.

★ ☆ WARNINGS: mature themes. Minor character death, knifes, blood, violence, alcohol, unprotected sex, gangs, threats, killing, 18+, MDNI

☆★ NOTES: Hallo! This is something that is totally different from my usual writing style, so im a little nervous to debut this, but im so excited because this concept was so freaking cool. I've been sitting on this for a while, but I thought it would be best to post in oct to fit the Halloween spirit. See the request that inspired it here.

Glossary Changelings- a shapeshifting race of beings that are related to the fey Tiefling- a humanoid race with devilish ancestry. They are known for their large horns, extravagant appearance, and carefree attitude Halfling- A halfling isn't a half-breed in that sense. They are their own separate race. They're called halfling because they're about half the size of a human. Half-Elf- A race that has a mix of human and elf traits Half-Orc- A race that has a mix of human and orc traits Harengon- race of rabbit-like humanoids Half-Harengon- A race that has a mix of human and harengon traits

In a quaint, shadowy town, where cobblestones whispered secrets and fog clung to alleyways, the figure of the Pied Piper emerged like a ghost from the depths of folklore. Clad in a tattered cloak, his features were obscured by the dim light of the moon, but the shimmer in his brown eyes betrayed a glimmer of mischief. To the townsfolk, he was more legend than man; a cunning sorcerer with the rare gift of crafting melodies so mesmerizing that they can lure even the most elusive creatures from the depths of their dens.

But behind his charisma lay a tale steeped in darkness—a story of pain that turned sweet melodies into lethal harmonies. The legend goes that the Piper had once been a simple musician, beloved for his ability to summon the gentle creatures of the forest with a mere note. But after tragedy left him scarred, his music dulled into a haunting echo of vengeance. Now, he used it to lure unsuspecting victims to their brutal demise.

He made his way toward the shadows of the town, the air thick with the anticipation of a storm. His target tonight was none other than the famed wolf hunter, Little Red. Much like him, numerous tales whispered through the streets about this legendary wolf slayer. He didn’t care; all he knew was that someone wanted you dead and was willing to pay a pretty penny for it. With each step, he breathed in the electric air, a smirk playing on his lips, ready for the deadly dance that awaited. 

Once upon a time…

There was a girl raised with cruelty. Some say she was raised by wolves. She knew nothing but brutality and lies as she grew up. Her family was ruthless and cold.

At a young age, she didn’t grasp the true nature of their business, but she sensed it was far from safe. Whispers of peddling girls and dirty money surrounded her family’s name, wrapping around it like a dark shroud, leaving a bitter taste in the mouths of those who spoke of them.

That girl was you.

You would come to learn that your parents were merely puppets, with someone behind them pulling the strings of their misdeeds. Like a fool, you were a puppet's puppet. You ran their errands, cleaned up their messes, and shouldered their burdens, enduring their brutal beatings when something went wrong.

One day, everything changed. 

You came home to an empty house, silence swallowing you whole. They had abandoned you, cutting their strings and fleeing with their puppeteers' money, leaving you behind in a world that was already merciless enough.

It wasn’t long before your grandmother found you, just before the bruisers came looking for you and your parents. Your grandmother was harsh, but you always thought she loved you in her own way. The forest was your new playground, a wild expanse where you learned to fight, to survive, and to become something more than a victim. Her love was implicit in the hours she forced you to spend deep in the woods, stalking prey, learning to hunt, and discovering how to protect yourself. You braved the harshest weather and the most unforgiving conditions, and though she never spoke loving words, you told yourself that this was better than the life you had before. 

You grew stronger, sharper, and more cunning. Each scrape and bruise taught you resilience, and every moment of solitude in the forest became a lesson in self-reliance. In time, you transformed from a puppet to a predator in your own right.

But soon, new whispers would begin to follow you.

You grew older, you could stand on your own two feet and you didn't need anyone but yourself.

Working at the nearby tavern, you earned a meager living delivering food to families in the area. You tucked delicious meals into your picnic basket and pulled your red hood high over your head.

Your grandmother had insisted you wore a hood in the city—she always said, "Wolves never forget." It had been years since your parents had run off with their tainted money. The Wolf Gang, a notorious bandit group that terrorized the townsfolk and threatened the crown with their ruthless dealings. They had once pulled the strings of your parents, and now they were still searching for you and your family.

As the end of your shift neared, you gathered your cloak tightly around you, seeking warmth against the biting chill of the approaching evening. After finishing your last delivery, all you wanted was to sink into the comfort of your humble home.

You entered the crowded tavern, your red cloak immediately drawing attention. The tavern master, a burly man with a thick beard, called out from behind the bar, his jovial tone slicing through the lively atmosphere of clinking mugs and laughter. “Heading out, little Red?” he teased, a grin spreading across his face as patrons turned to see who had just come in.

“Don’t call me that,” you replied, making your way to the bar.

“Oh, come on, Red. You won’t even tell us your name. What else are we to call you?” a half-elf named Renjun chimed in, leaning against the bar with a playful smirk.

“Faye,” you offered back, your voice laced with indifference. “Or Edith. What about Celeste? Do any of those names suit me?”

The tavern master chuckled, shaking his head.

Another voice chimed in.  “Oh come on, Renjun, we all know she can’t give us her name 'cause the wolves are after her,” a drunken half-orc named Hendery piped up, slurring his words as laughter bubbled up around him.

“Our little Red? Yeah, maybe when the Great Oak grows wings,” your boss added, his laughter infectious. "I do hear whispers of The Wolf Gang creeping closer to town. Just be careful out there." His expression turned serious for a moment, eyes scanning the room to ensure no unwanted ears were listening.

“I can handle myself,” a knot of unease tightening in your stomach. You understood the truth that lurked too close to the surface, the gnarled roots of your past intertwining with your present. The jokes and jests may been harmless to them, but the threat was all too real for you—a shadow that loomed ever closer.

With a wave, you turned to leave, the laughter of the tavern fading behind you, each step taking you deeper into the night. The forest beckoned; it was a sanctuary you understood better than the city. This is where you resided with your grandmother; she had less influence over you now but she was still as cold as ice. 

As you approach your cottage your human eyes struggled to perceive much in the darkness, the moonlight offering only a faint glimmer of clarity about the situation before you. The window to your cottage lay shattered, and the door hung limply off its hinges. At first, an icy fear gripped you—had a pack of wild animals broken in? But as you stepped through the threshold and took in the scene, you realized you were only half right.

A wolf towers over your grandmother's body, her ragged breaths shuddering in her chest. Its long, gangly limbs covered in fur and its ferocious muzzle are coupled with an unsettlingly humanoid shape. It looks like a nightmarish wolf, standing unnaturally on bent back legs. It's a perverse mockery of both wolf and man. These wolves were changelings, creatures that often adopt grotesque forms. Changelings can transform into whatever they desire. In a bid to evoke fear throughout the town, their gang had chosen a form that is both terrifying and unnatural.

"Get away from her!" you cry out, drawing a long hunting knife from your cloak. It may not be the ideal throwing knife, but it’s all you have in this moment of desperation. With precision, you hurl it at the creature. The creature howled in pain, a guttural sound that echoed through the silence of the night. It staggered back, the blade lodged deep in its shoulder, before bolting through the back doorway and disappearing into the darkness beyond. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest as adrenaline surged through your veins.

You rush to your grandmother, a whirlwind of emotions crashing over you. A part of you still harbored resentment, but she was all you had left. Kneeling beside her still body, you fought to steady your breath.

“Don’t fret, child. All will be well soon,” she rasps.

“Save your breath; I’ll find help,” you insist, tearing off a strip from your ragged dress to staunch the flow of her blood.

“There’s no time. Just promise me this: you will seek revenge. He wont just forget he saw you here. You must slay him before he tells the pack.”

In her final moments, she doesn’t utter words of love or comfort, but instead urges you to finish the job. It feels as if the last remnants of your heart shrivel and die alongside her, leaving a hollow void.

You stand up, your resolve hardening as you retrieve your knives from the secret spot beneath the loose floorboard. With a determined breath, you slip out the back door, embracing the darkness of the night.

He was wounded. He didn't get far when you found him. You weren't a puppet anymore; you were a hunter, and that night you killed your first wolf.

Any hope for a normal life died that night. She had thrust this burden upon you, and you could almost hear her voice echoing through the darkness, pushing you into a path you never wanted to tread. You didn’t want to kill that wolf. You wanted to run, you knew they would chase you but you were tired of fighting.

When the weight of his lifeless body slipped from your grip and sank into the murky depths of the sea, a pang of regret twisted in your gut. Days later, the waves returned him to the shore, a grim reminder of your actions. You realized then that you couldn’t simply wash this away.

With each report of the recovery, the whispers in the village grew louder, the shadows seemed to close in on you, and you found yourself a target. You didn't want to have to go further into hiding and you definitely didn't want the bounty that was put on your head.

The red hood, once a cherished gift from your grandmother, had become a symbol of something far darker. It hung around your shoulders like a curse, a silent testament to the blood that stained your hands and followed your name like a whispered sin. 

Then why do it? You had no choice. It was her dying words.

In this world, dying words carry some of the strongest magic imbued within them. They possess the power to curse, bless, or even command. When someone hears the dying words of another, they are bound by an unbreakable pact—compelled to fulfill the deceased’s last wish or face dire consequences. So, not only did your grandmother use her final breath to send you on a path of violence, but she also wove a curse around your fate, ensuring that if you failed to see her wishes fulfilled, you would bear the weight of her wrath.

Three cheers for family.

Your life was never comfortable, but you had grown accustomed to it. Working at the tavern provided easy coin, and you were frequently rewarded with free meals that warmed your belly and warded off the chill. The camaraderie of the patrons offered a fleeting sense of belonging, a brief escape from the harshness of your reality. But now, you stay hidden deep in the woods, very rarely do you go into town.

With winter just around the corner, the familiar game you hunted had grown scarce as the animals retreated into their dens. You were forced to broaden your field. You became a shadow among shadows, relying on your nimble fingers and quick wits to steal and swindle whatever you could in the city to put food on the table.

Tonight you were on a small heist, targeting a goblin who operated a brothel in the seedy pleasure district. He was known for his shady dealings and had amassed enough enemies that you weren’t particularly concerned about the theft tracing back to you.

You slipped through the winding, dimly lit alleys when you heard it—a sound unlike anything you had ever heard. It wrapped around you like a warm embrace, soothing your frostbitten ears and igniting a spark of warmth in your chilled body. Mesmerized, you followed the music, feeling an overwhelming urge to shed your clothes and dance, to lose yourself in the heat of the melody.

Your mind was clouded as you pursued the sound, unsure of where you were headed until you rounded a corner and spotted a figure. There, perched atop a barrel in a dark alleyway near the port where the wolf’s body had washed ashore, sat a man.

“Come to me, bring me the one who spilled blood,” he whispered, his voice carried softly on the wind. At first, you almost missed it, caught up in the resonant tune still echoing in your head, but as you stepped closer, the music faded. Rooted in place, you could only stare at the man—or perhaps the creature—before you.

He seemed human enough, but you knew better than to assume. Some beings intentionally concealed their otherworldly traits, opting to project an image of weakness—patiently waiting for the moment they had the upper hand to unveil their true selves.

“Who are you?” You asked, your back ramrod straight, unable to relax even a single muscle.

“Most call me the Pied Piper; some call me Haechan. But those who do rarely live long enough to share the name.” 

The chill of his words seeped deep into your bones at the realization that the Pied Piper was after you. You had always thought of him as a mere childish legend—tales spun to keep children in line, cautionary fables whispered at bedtime. Yet here he was, very much real, standing before you and setting off every warning bell in your body. 

He hops down from his seated position, setting his flute down on the barrel where he once sat. As he steps into the moonlight, he looks breathtakingly beautiful. He appears no older than you, soft brown hair tousling in the breeze, and delicate features that he likely uses to make his enemies underestimate him. But you’re no fool; you see right through him, right to the wolf in sheep’s clothing. 

He smiles at you, a disingenuous smile that doesn’t reach his eyes, as he closes the distance between you. Leaning down until your faces are inches apart, he distracts you, ensuring that all you can see is his face—the last sight you might have before your demise. You catch a glimpse of his deft hand reaching into his cloak, expecting something deadly. But instead, you’re taken aback when he places a gentle kiss against your lips.

Kiss of death.

Your grunt is muffled against his lips as a sharp pain lances through your side. He had stabbed you, just as you thought he would.

In one fluid motion, he withdraws his knife from your flesh just as he pulls his lips away from yours. The sudden pain breaks whatever trance he has on you. You jolt into action; he clearly didn’t expect you to be a skilled fighter. Maybe he thought you’d simply lie down and bleed out. But whatever he anticipated, it certainly wasn’t the swift kick to his chest that sends him reeling backwards. 

Seizing the moment, you sprint away, adrenaline coursing through your veins, fueling your escape as you leave him momentarily off balance.

You clutch your wound and don’t look back, sprinting through the dimly lit streets until you find yourself standing before the only place you know that might offer some help. The tavern looms before you, its wooden sign creaking in the breeze, the faint flicker of lantern light spilling from the windows.

You slip through the back entrance. The tavern has closed for the night, but you knew that the staff often linger for a drink or two. The sounds of laughter and clinking mugs filter through the air, guiding you like a beacon. Stumbling toward the main room, you knock over a few pails and brooms in your haste, the noises echoing in the silence of the empty halls.

“Red?” your boss calls from the dimly lit main room.

The last thing you see before darkness overtakes you is the sight of everyone jumping to their feet, concern etched on their faces as they rush to your side.

When you regain consciousness, you find yourself sprawled across a large wooden table in the center of the tavern, the surface sticky from spilled mead. Your cloak has been pulled aside, revealing the bandages wrapped around your wounds. A soft glow of magic hovers just above the injuries as Mark, the town’s cleric, administers a healing touch.

“Leave it to you to abandon your work and come crawling back half-dead,” Ten, a tiefling who worked alongside you, grumbles with a sigh.

“You’re just mad you had to pick up her shifts,” Lia, the only other human in the tavern, replies with a playful smirk.

“Will you all quiet down?” your boss interjects, his voice firm. “These doors turn away no friend.” He meets your gaze with a comforting smile, and you wonder if this is what a father’s love feels like.

As Mark’s magic dims, he gently removes his hands from your body. “You’re healed, but you might still feel some minor discomfort in this area,” he says, clasping his hands together. He must have been summoned in the dead of night to tend to you. You want to express your gratitude, but all that escapes your lips is a low groan as you try to sit up.

“Easy, you’re still sore,” Doyoung, a half-harengon with rabbit ears standing alert in worry, cautions you. You’ve always appreciated Doyoung; his expressive ears always reveal his emotions, making him a refreshing constant in a town shrouded in secrecy. He’s likely the closest friend you have.

Lia brings you over a glass. "Drink this, I mixed in a potion that should have you feeling a little better"

Gratefully, you take the cup and down it in one go. The warmth of the potion flows through you, easing the aches as you exhale a sigh of relief.

“Sorry for the intrusion; I didn’t mean to bring any trouble. I should be going now,” you say, attempting to pull yourself to your feet.

“No trouble at all, my dear,” your boss replies, his tone warm. “I’m not sure what kind of mess you’ve gotten yourself into, but if you ever need sanctuary, these doors are always open.”

“A little heads-up would’ve been nice if you were just going to disappear,” Ten chimes in.

“He just misses you—ignore him,” Lia laughs, her voice lightening the mood.

You look at them, a genuine smile creeping onto your face. Maybe you weren’t so alone after all.

The Pied Piper was real, and you were on his hit list. Rumors and legends shrouded his name, leaving you unsure of what parts were true and what wasn't. The one thing you were certain of was that his music did possess the power to enchant. You needed to discover his weaknesses—was it the pipe that held the magic? Or perhaps it wasn’t the pipe at all; maybe the true magic lay in the breath he blew into the instrument. 

You had to find him; you couldn’t just wait for him to show up again and gain the upper hand. Once he had his sights set on you, there was no stopping him from finishing the job. He didn’t chase you that night; he didn’t have to. With just a simple call from his flute, he could lure you out whenever he wanted. He was the cat and you were the mouse. You figured he liked to play with his food.

You had to find him and get some answers. Rumors spread as easily as the plague through the cobblestone streets of this city, and it wasn’t long before his name surfaced again. Tracking his movements was difficult; you had to sift through rumors to find the truth. It was like chasing a ghost but soon you had a lead.

His dark cloak enveloped him like a cloud of smog, and his steps were light as you followed his figure into the woods. You weren’t nervous. This was your hunting ground. You stalked him like a silent panther tracking its prey. 

As you ventured further into the woods, you came upon a rundown cottage with a thick thatched roof. You hid behind a tree as he entered the dwelling. After a few moments, a soft, warm candlelight flickered to life inside, casting shadows as you observed his movements. Carefully, you circled around the house, determining that the best way in was through the back. 

You waited until he moved to the front of the cottage before making your move. Slipping a knife through the crack in the back door, you lifted the rusty latch used to secure it. You entered quietly and shut the door behind you, holding your breath as you listened for his footsteps. The house was eerily quiet. 

Slinking along the wall, you made your way through the dimly lit house. The back door had led you into a small, cluttered kitchen. The air thick with the smells of old spices and something sweet that had long since gone stale. Haphazardly stacked dishes piled in the sink, their surfaces dotted with remnants of food that had dried and congealed.

Peeking around the corner into the front room, you took in the scene: a large desk was strewn with crumpled papers and half-filled bottles of ink. In the corner sat an old chest, its surface marred with scratches and mysterious stains, hinting at secrets long kept. A simple chair and a cushioned bench offered a rare spot of comfort in the otherwise bare space.

The room felt almost empty, save for the creaking floorboards that echoed with your every step, but the atmosphere was charged with an unsettling tension. A single door across the room caught your eye, and you assumed it led to the bedroom.

Just as you were about to move toward that room, you felt a knife pressed against your throat.

“I should thank you for making my job a lot easier, you know,” he says.

You freeze in your tracks, the cool blade pressing against your skin. You try to catch a glimpse of him from the corner of your eye. Raising your hands, you attempt to project confidence despite your precarious situation. “I always thought you were just a legend, but here you are. Tell me, who do I have to thank for sending a mere mice charmer to try to kill me?” You smirk, hoping to buy yourself some time and distract him just long enough to disarm him.

“A mice charmer? What are you, then, to have fallen into my trap?” he retorts.

Seizing the moment, you grip the arm that holds the knife and pull it down toward your chest, away from your throat. With a swift twist, you slip out of his hold. Maintaining your grip on his wrist, you twist it harder. The knife clatters loudly to the ground as you kick it away. Grabbing his shoulder, you pull him forward and drive your knee into his stomach. He doubles over in pain, and you quickly pin him down with a knee to his back.

You slip out your own blade and press it to the soft skin of his cheek. “Don’t move. Lay flat on the ground, and if you move even a muscle, I will hurt you.” You sense he isn’t quite the fighter he appears to be; he likely lets his magic do the heavy lifting for him.

He flattens his body against the rotten wood of the cottage and nods reluctantly. You slowly rise, keeping your knife steady, and make your way to the cloth you noticed earlier lying on the ground. You rip off a substantial piece and return to him, using it as a makeshift rope to bind his hands. 

With a swift motion, you pull him up and sit him in the chair in the corner of the room, making sure he can’t easily escape. 

“A mice charmer is nothing without his flute and enchantments, huh?” you sneer, looking him over with a mix of curiosity and derision.

“What do you want? Clearly, if you were going to kill me, you would have done it by now,” he retorts, glaring at you with a fierce intensity

You look at him under the flickering candlelight of the room. His cloak is missing, leaving him in little more than a simple white tunic and black breeches. A chain is tucked into the neckline of his shirt—probably a keepsake or a charm, something that hints at his connection to whatever magic he wields. You stride forward, seize the chain, and yank it, pulling him abruptly forward.

“Watch your tone, or did you forget I’m the one with the knife?” you warn, leaning in closer, your voice low and threatening.

His burning gaze doesn’t falter for a second, revealing the calm resolve of a man who isn’t new to the concept of death. His hands are probably as bloody as yours, if not more so. He’s been captured, but he’s not broken, and that only makes you angrier.

“Who sent you to kill me?” you demand, your patience thinning.

He chuckles darkly, the sound reverberating through the tension of the room. “With how you treat people in their own homes, I wouldn’t be surprised if you had more enemies than you could keep track of,” he replies, a cruel smile curling his lips. “But we both know who wants you dead.”

You push him back into his chair with force, and he grunts as his back collides with the wooden seat. “You better kill me, because if I get free, you’re dead,” he warns, his brows furrowing in a glare that could cut glass.

His confidence is infuriating, and you feel your grip tighten around the hilt of your knife. “You really think you can scare me with threats?” you say, your voice low and steady. "You're in no position to make demands."

He leans forward slightly, the chains around his neck jingling softly. “You may hold the knife, but you’re still desperate for answers,” he counters, a glint of malice in his eyes. 

You ignore his outburst, your thoughts racing as you assess your next move. You had suspected the wolves sent him, but confirming it wouldn’t hurt; you needed to know what you were truly up against. Weighing your options, you realize that killing him could lead to the same disastrous situation you found yourself in before. On the other hand, leaving him tied up while you made your escape was hardly a safe bet. How many times could you flirt with death before it inevitably caught up with you?

"You overestimate your importance," you say, stepping back from him. "I used to think you were some mythical creature that dragged children from their sleep with haunting melodies when they misbehaved. But you’re just a dim-witted knave with a flute." He bares his teeth and struggles against his restraints, but you remain unfazed. "You don’t frighten me, and slaying you would be a bore."

“If you leave me here, you will regret it,” he growls as you turn to leave.

“If I leave you here, you will owe me for sparing your life—don’t forget that,” you reply coolly before stepping out of the cottage.

Each night that has followed that encounter has been nothing but fitful bouts of sleep. You toss and turn, haunted by the shadows of uncertainty, constantly looking over your shoulder, and darting your gaze at every creak that disturbs the silence. Had he seen you? Would he come for you? You knew he would call your bluff if he could see you now, taunting you with the knowledge that you were not nearly as unfazed as you would have liked to pretend. 

You just needed a few more days to gather some coin and collect your belongings before making your escape. This was long overdue. There was nothing left in this town for you, and you had no desire to fight for a place that felt more like a trap than a home. The memories that lingered here were a weight upon your heart, but the thought of remaining any longer made your skin crawl with discomfort. 

If the wolves wanted this shithole, then they could have it, you had no intention of being among them when they claimed it.

It was your last night in this wretched town, and the anticipation of freedom coursed through your veins. You had already saddled the horse you had bartered for, packing all your belongings tightly—everything you could carry and nothing more. Now, all that remained was to wait for the first light of dawn to break over the horizon. 

Traveling under the cover of night felt far too risky; the shadows held too many unknowns, and you were no skilled rider. You knew you needed the gentle light of day to navigate the forest safely on horseback. The thought of losing your way or stumbling into danger sent a shiver down your spine. 

You were deep in sleep when a noise startled your horse outside. Exhausted from a long day of packing, you stirred slightly but let sleep pull you back under. 

You barely registered the creaking floorboards as someone entered your room. Your body was too tense and sluggish from the day’s work to react quickly. As you fumbled for your knife, a figure lunged at you, pressing a hand against your mouth and silencing you. 

A cold blade pressed against your throat, paralyzing you with fear. You lay stiff in bed, heart pounding, knowing no one would hear you scream in the darkness of the forest.

“I warned you, didn’t I? There’s a bounty on that pretty little head of yours that I have to collect,” he coos, his voice chillingly close as his body pins you to the mattress.

The knife presses deeper into your skin, a sharp reminder of your predicament. You mumble against his palm, and he lifts it slightly, allowing you to speak. “If it’s money you want, I can get it for you.”

“I don’t think you know just how much you’re worth,” he replies, chuckling as he grips your cheeks, squeezing them.

“The king of wolves is worth more,” you say, summoning as much confidence as you can.

His smile vanishes. “What a sweet talker you are. If you think I’m foolish enough to believe you could get the bounty from the king of wolves, you’re insane.”

“I can kill the king of wolves.”

“You’re a liar and a thief. Now give it back.”

The charm from his necklace—the very piece you had swiped the last time you were with him—was the key to his power. You had suspected that taking it would render him powerless, and now, faced with the reality of his desperation, you confirmed that he truly needed it to imbue magic into his flute. Without it, he was helpless. You only took it to buy yourself time; if he could lure you out with just a note again, you knew you would be doomed  from the start.

“Only if you agree to let me up. You won’t find it if you don’t let me get it for you.”

“You insolent little—”

“Ah ah,” you warn him with a smile, feeling the power shift in your favor. He steps back to the center of the room but keeps his knife pointed in your direction.

“Find it, now,” he growls.

“I can slay the king of wolves; grant me but a moment. This bounty is surely tenfold that of mine. The queen herself placed it upon his head; she would give us whatever we desire for his life,” you counter, your words dripping with allure.

“Charm, then we can discuss further,” he reminds you, his eyes narrowing.

You huff and roll your eyes, rising from the bed. The silk nightgown clings to your body, its delicate fabric highlighting your curves while the hem flutters just above your knees. The thin straps slide off your shoulders, exuding both elegance and vulnerability.

You notice a blush rising in his cheeks, a mix of embarrassment and something else. His gaze lingers on you longer than it should before he looks away, but not before you catch the flicker of desire in his eyes.

You slyly retrieve your hidden knife while he isn’t looking. Your heart races and as you pull out the charm from your brassiere, holding it up like bait. He takes a step closer, intrigue evident on his face, but you raise your weapon, warning him to stop.

“Stay where you are,” you command, brandishing the knife. The blade glints in the light, and the tension between you grows thick, hanging in the air like a charged storm.

“You shall not claim my life, for I possess a greater offer in exchange for it,” you declare, your tone resolute and laced with the bravado of a champion, your heart racing.

He lets out an exasperated sigh. “How do you figure you will kill the king of wolves?” 

“I’ve evaded you three times now, and you’re the ever-so-feared Pied Piper. Give me some credit,” you reply lightly, hoping to shift the mood.

He responds with a sly smile. “Impressive, I’ll grant you that, but it’s still not enough.”

“You're going to help me enchant him, and then I’ll take him down. Simple as that,” you say. Under different circumstances, you’d have dressed it up with more flair, but fatigue still linger.

“And why would I help you?” he asks, skepticism etched on his face.

“Because I know more about you than you think. My bounty won’t even cover half of what you need, but a wolf’s bounty…” you whistle, letting the weight of the impressive figure hang in the air, “that will cover everything and more.”

His expression hardens, and a flicker of unease crosses your mind. You wonder if you’ve made a grave mistake by bringing up his debt. 

“Careful where you tread,” he warns, his voice low and edged with threat. 

“You help me take down the king, and we both get what we want. Think about it.” 

He studies you for a long moment, weighing the risks against the potential reward, and you can almost see the gears turning in his mind. The tension thickens, but you know you’ve struck a chord.

“Two days. That’s all you get,” he says, his voice icy and firm. “I’ll be back tomorrow to go over the details. If you try to run, I’ll find you and kill you before you can even plead for your pathetic life.”

“Deal,” you reply, tossing him the charm. You assume he needs his flute to use it, and since you don’t see it on him, you figure it’s safe to hand it over.

With that, he vanishes like a wisp of smoke, a true phantom of the night.

The silence that follows fills the air like a heavy shroud, and you take a moment to steady your racing heart. The confrontation has left you on edge. You run your fingers through your hair, exhaling deeply. Two days. You have that long to devise a plan, gather what you need, and prepare for the next inevitable encounter. 

As the darkness settles around you, the weight of your situation becomes clearer. To kill the king of wolves, you’ll need more than just a tongue-in-cheek plan. You’ll need finesse, strategy, and perhaps a little bit of luck. 

And maybe, just maybe, a deeper understanding of the man you're working with.

This time, when he arrives, you're clad in your red hood and more prepared than before—but so is he. As he enters your cottage, you notice the flute strapped to his back and charm hanging around his neck.

“Neutral territory,” he states. “You’ll find I’m quite formidable with my magic,” he warns.

“Only a fool would think otherwise,” you reply with a smile.

You invite him to sit in your front room and make tea for both of you. He watches you take the first sip before drinking from his own cup.

“You know you're ruining my reputation, right?” he calls out, a teasing edge to his voice. “You're supposed to be dead and the wolves are impatient.”

“Don’t worry, I have a plan for that too,” you respond, your tone steady.

You pull off your red hood and hold it out to him. “With this, you'll claim my bounty, and that should be enough to keep your skin in the game.”

“You really want to kill the King of Wolves?” he asks, raising an arched brow over his cup of tea.

You let out a long sigh. “I could run, but wolves never forget. They will just track me down again. No more running.”

You lay out your plan in detail, and though he appears skeptical, he ultimately agrees to go along with it. A hush falls over the room as you both sit in the weight of your scheme, each of you reflecting on your respective roles in this dangerous game.

“Permission to ask a question?” you ask with a small smile.

He glares at you, annoyance clear in his eyes. “Somehow, whenever you start running your mouth, it pisses me off.”

“Is it true, the reason for your debt?” you ask anyway, intrigued.

He grips his teacup harder, his knuckles whitening. Not many people knew much about the Pied Piper; the legend loomed large, but even fewer knew the man behind the title—Haechan, with his soft features and heavy burdens.

“Yes, I went into debt to save my sick mother. As you can see It was all for nothing, given the fact that I'm here and she's not. I take on these jobs to earn money. Any other invasive questions, Red? How about I ask one—why are the wolves after you, and how do you get a silly name like Little Red Riding Hood?”

“My name isn’t Red; it’s Y/N,” you reply, bold in your assertion. You’ve never shared your real name with anyone before, but you figured it was time to even the playing field.

“And the wolves?” he presses further, curiosity sparking in his eyes.

“My parents stole away with some of their money. They want revenge,” you say with a shrug. “They got it when they killed my grandma."

As the gravity of your shared burdens swirls in the air between you, you realize that beneath the legends and whispers, Haechan was just a man, and you were more than a mere tale woven into the fabric of the woods. The truth hung heavy, intertwining your fates tighter with each revelation.

“And then you killed one of theirs,” he finishes for you, piecing it all together. “So it looks like we both have had our fair share of tragedy. Now look at us.” He shakes his head, a mixture of disbelief and resignation in his tone.

You had never thought of it that way—how similar your paths had been. Maybe out of everyone, he would understand you the best. Looking at him was like gazing into a mirror that reflected not just your struggles but also the shadows of loss and revenge.

Haechan was handsome, his lips plump and cheeks soft, giving him an almost innocent appearance. Yet, his eyes—oh, those eyes were hard and cold; they spoke of the dark secrets he carried, secrets that were all too familiar to you.

“Tell me more about your mom,” you say, breaking the silence that hung heavy in the air.

Haechan's expression shifts; a warmth creeps into his features as he recounts memories of his mother. He speaks of her laughter, of the stories she told, of how she would comfort him during storms and the way her love enveloped him like a soft blanket. Each word is laced with nostalgia, and you can’t help but feel a pang of jealousy at the warmth these memories hold. He was loved.

“She sounds like someone who could light up the darkest paths.”

He meets your gaze, and for a fleeting moment, the facade of the Pied Piper slips away. In that instant, all that remains is Haechan, the boy behind the legend.

“Tell me about your grandma,” Haechan says, curiosity in his eyes.

You take a deep breath and recount your upbringing. Your words are cold and empty as you speak of her harshness, how she cursed you and left you no choice but to kill the wolf that started all of this. 

“She never cared about me,” you finish, feeling the weight of your memories.

Haechan’s brow furrows. “Sounds like she was trying to protect you. If that wolf had escaped, you would have been in danger either way.”

You consider his words, the soft glow of candlelight flickering around you. Maybe he’s right, but it doesn’t change how cruel she was. “It’s too late to redeem her,” you say. “Her protection crushed any chance I had at love or hope.”

He shakes his head. “You’re not defined by her actions.” 

“But am I not defined by her cruelty? To learn is to experience. How can I know love if I’ve never truly felt it? I might just perish tomorrow,” you say, a bitter laugh escaping.

“It doesn’t have to be that way,” he replies gently, his gaze steady. “I still owe you for sparing my life back at my cottage. I can show you what love looks like.”

You narrow your eyes, skepticism creeping in. “And how would you do that if we don’t feel love for each other?”

He leans closer, a spark of mischief in his eyes. “We can pretend, just for this one night. I can show you how I would love you.”

A rush of emotions swirls within you—fear, curiosity, and a flicker of hope. “What do you mean?”

Haechan's voice is soft yet earnest. “Let’s create a moment together, something to hold onto, just in case tomorrow doesn’t come.” 

You hesitate, heart pounding, caught between the pain of your past and the promise of something new.

“Come,” he calls to you, as he stands. His hand outstretched, inviting yet unsettling. You’ve never felt this exposed with anyone before.

You know you’re being reckless, but what does it matter? Life could slip away from you at any moment—what have you to lose? You grasp his hand, and he leads you into your bedroom. 

He closes the door behind you, sealing off the world, and presses you against it, his arms creating a cage around you. 

“At any moment,” he says, his voice low and steady, “if you wish to stop, you have but to hit me.”

You manage a smile, trying to ease the tension coiling in your stomach. “That sounds quite tempting.”

His hands brush up against your cheek, his fingers lingering just a moment longer than necessary. “Once you feel my hands on you, you won’t want to let go.”

Your cheeks flush at his promise, and your heart races. His touch is gentle, as if you were a delicate doll, something precious that he couldn't bear to break. 

He leans in and captures your lips in a soft kiss, a sensation even more tender than you had imagined. His fingers glide over your face before trailing down to your neck, drawing you closer and pressing your body against his. The warmth of him enveloping you is just like the music that filled the air the night you first met by the docks. A sound escapes you—a breathless gasp—one you had never made before.

You can feel Haechan's smile against your lips before he begins to shed the layers of your clothing. Naked and vulnerable, you stand before him, yet your mind races too fast to truly register your defenselessness. His lips find your neck, leaving a trail of heated kisses and gentle nips, igniting a shiver of sensation. You moan softly, your body writhing under his tender yet possessive hold. You were completely at his mercy.

"Like music to my ears, my love," was a low murmur against your skin. His gaze clouded. His eyes swam with emotion you didn't recognize. A heady, intoxicating blend of longing and something else, something wilder. It was as if the taste of you, the sweetness of your mouth, had intoxicated him, leaving him drunk on desire alone. He trailed kisses down your neck, his lips leaving a trail of damp heat against your collarbone and shoulder blades. His hands roam over your body, mapping out every curve before they find their way to your breasts, soft mounds yielding under his touch. With a gentle yet firm grip, he kneads them, pinching and tugging softly, drawing out more moans that escape from your lips.

The old, wooden door groaned under your weight as you leaned against it, your breath catching in your throat. His lips, soft yet insistent, found their way to your nipple, a feather-light touch that sent shivers down your spine. You felt yourself drowning in his touch, in the way he made you feel utterly adored.

His gaze, dark and intense, met yours, the kohl lining his eyes like a smudge of night against the tan canvas of his skin. His tongue flicked playfully, a teasing caress that sent a jolt of pleasure through you. Each movement was deliberate; each touch a whispered promise.

He shifted his attention to your other breast, his deft hands working in perfect harmony with his mouth. You couldn't help but arch your back, your body instinctively seeking more of the exquisite torture. The rough wood of the door dug into your skin, a stark contrast to the velvety softness of his lips and the warmth of his hands.

His touch was an orchestra of sensation, a dance of pleasure that stirred something deep within you. It was a raw, primal connection, a language spoken without words, understood in the depths of your soul. The world narrowed, fading into a blur of color and sound, leaving only the intoxicating presence of him, his touch, his gaze, and the overwhelming sensation of pleasure that threatened to consume you entirely.

“I want you to feel everything,” he whispers, his breath hot against your ear, making you shudder with anticipation. 

He falls to his knees, a look of hunger in his dark eyes. With a swift movement, he lifts one of your legs over his shoulder and presses his mouth against your most intimate parts. A jolt of heat surges through your body as you try to squirm away from his eager touch, but his grip tightens, keeping you firmly in place. Your mind races with desire as you yelp out, your hands instinctively reaching for his thick, dark brown locks, tangling in your grasp. The intensity of the moment overwhelms you as you give in to his fervent passion.

“Hae—Haechan!” you gasp, his name feeling foreign yet perfectly right against your tongue. Each syllable feels like a spell, causing a desperate moan to escape from him as he feverishly licks at you. His grip on your hips is tight and bruising, but you welcome the pain as it fuels your desire for him. You grind your hips against his tongue, unable to control yourself as he dominates you with his mouth. He pants against your heat, driven by pure impulse as he closes his eyes and savors every delicious taste of you.

His lips and tongue move with wild abandon as he sucks on you, filling the small cottage with shameful groans and wet smacking sounds. Your legs start to tremble, but he shows no signs of stopping. You cry out and your head falls back, hitting the door behind you as you convulse in his grasp. A powerful sensation washes over you, causing a tightness in your gut before it finally releases. Haechan eagerly licks you up, cleaning away the evidence that you left all over yourself and on his face.

Your breaths slow down and meld together, as if in perfect harmony. The gentle rise and fall of your chests echoes in the quiet room. "I lost myself for a moment," he says softly, with a hint of apology laced in his words. It's almost as if he didn't intend to take you on this journey to the 12th gate of heaven, but couldn't resist the pull either.

He sets your leg down gently, and  he helps you right yourself.  He guides you to the edge of the mattress, and as he lays you down, there’s a palpable shift in the air. You watch as he stands before you, the heavy cloak slipping away to reveal more of him, piece by piece. The sight of him in his white tunic and dark breeches sends your heart racing, and when he sheds those as well, leaving only his undergarments and the silver charm necklace you once stole from him, your breath catches in your throat. 

You instinctively look away, your cheeks flushing.  Your body betrays you, reacting in ways you never anticipated, aching for connection. There’s a pull within you, a desire to close the distance and feel the warmth of his skin against yours. 

This man who had once threatened your life now stands before you, igniting a raw, undeniable longing that makes your heart race. You grapple with the gravity of the moment, torn between fear and desire.

He used to be your prey, but as he leans down and crawls onto the mattress, you start to see him in a different light. He presses his lips against yours once more, humming a tune that sends shivers down your spine. Your body melts into relaxation, and your senses are heightened even more than before.

“It's not the flute, is it?” You struggle to speak between kisses.

"I don't think I want to reveal any more secrets to you tonight." he responds with a playful smirk.

You surrender to the sensation as it consumes you. He was right - you had never experienced anything like his touch before. Your eyes follow him as he removes his undergarments, and you become slick at the sight.

“This might hurt; just relax and focus on the melody,” he says with a soft caress of your face.

You nod, realizing now that you trust him more than you initially thought. He coats himself in you and you moan at the lewdness of the act. He was coated in your arousal and soon he was slipping inside of you. He hums a beautiful note, one imbued with magic, easing any discomfort.

“It's beautiful,” you say, captivated by the sound.

His eyes shine at the compliment, and he kisses you.  It was strange to think that this love was all an act, because if this is what pretend love felt like, you could only imagine the intensity of real love. 

His hips sway to a rhythm that you can't quite hear, but you feel it pulsating through your body. His movements are fluid, like the  waves in an ocean. The chain around his neck, swinging in time with his thrusts. Your legs instinctively wrap around his waist, clinging to him as if he were the only life raft in the midst of a raging storm. With every thrust, he fills you up with his love, overwhelming you with intense pleasure and making you feel alive. In that moment, it's as if you couldn't survive without him, and he knows it. He pours his love into you, determined to fill every empty space so that you never have to feel alone again.

His movements quicken, the rhythm growing more urgent as passion overtakes you both.  Haechan's eyes lock onto yours, dark and intense. 

"You're a symphony," he murmurs, voice rough with emotion. His fingers trace delicate patterns across your skin, leaving trails of tingling warmth in their wake. You arch into his touch, craving more. 

Moonlight streams through the window, bathing your entwined bodies in an ethereal glow. The air is thick with the scent of arousal and magic. 

You run your hands along the planes of Haechan back and you cling to him as your overtaken by that feeling again. The release makes your limbs weak and mind numb.

Your muscles clench and release around him in a tidal wave of pleasure, pulling him deeper into you with each thrust. He finally withdraws, his body trembling as he releases on your stomach, The air is thick with tension and the scent of sex, but as Haechan's magic fades, all that remains is the sound of your rapid breaths.

As he settles beside you, the silence encases you both, thick with unspoken words and emotions. Your mind races, trying to make sense of how the events had unfolded so drastically. 

You glance sideways at him, marveling at the stark contrast of your feelings—a sudden urge to survive, to revel in this newfound complexity. It was almost surreal: one moment you were in peril, and now, here you were, yearning for the warmth of his presence. 

Determination courses through your veins; you refuse to succumb to the fate that looms ahead. If this is what Haechan's love felt like—the intoxicating blend of danger and allure—then you would indeed fight tooth and nail for every moment you could grasp. 

Working alongside Haechan had become a bit awkward, but you pushed the tension aside as you both raced through the labyrinthine alleyways of the town. The urgency of the mission overshadowed any lingering emotions between you. You had received a promising lead on the elusive King of Wolves; a halfling informant had mentioned spotting him stumbling out of a tavern, drunk and vulnerable. 

The king was never without his entourage, a handful of ruffian wolves who surrounded him like shadows. Despite them believing you to be dead, you understood that you still needed to be cautious. The element of surprise was in your favor, but luring him out would require a careful strategy.

Everything was going according to plan so far. If the informant was correct, then Ten had successfully slipped something extra into the king's drink.

As you maneuvered through the narrow streets, your mind raced with possibilities. You would have to bait the king, drawing him away from his pack. That's where Haechan came in. Haechan kept pace with you, his presence a steady reminder that you weren't alone.

Haechan maintained a watchful eye on the pack from over your shoulder as you both tracked the wolves ahead. The night was quiet and chilly, with a biting wind that whipped through the alleyways, assaulting your exposed skin. You cursed yourself for having given away your hood.

You waited patiently, your heart racing as you scanned the scene for the right opportunity. Though Haechan remained silent, the melody of his flute echoed in your mind—a lullaby only the chosen victim could hear. He knew that timing was crucial; if anyone interrupted or stopped the target, the trance could easily be shattered. Every second felt like an eternity as you both prepared to strike when the moment was just right.

The pack was a grotesque sight, with elongated frames, snarling muzzles, and bent, crooked limbs. Their figures resembled a tall, slender man who had forced his way into the mouth of a wolf, wearing the creature’s body like a horrid costume. They looked sickly and unnatural, and it came as no surprise that they struck fear into the hearts of the townsfolk. 

While trolls, goblins, dwarves, and other creatures managed to coexist with humans, these beings were unlike any you had encountered before. They had made a conscious choice to adopt such a horrifying appearance. They were changelings—shapeshifters capable of assuming any form they desired. They had chosen to embrace the guise of ghouls and monsters that haunted the night.

As the pack slinked past an alleyway, the King stumbled in, his steps unsteady from drink and poison. He leaned against a cobblestone wall to steady himself, his gang too intoxicated and merry to notice him faltering behind as they continued forward. 

Without a moment’s hesitation, Haechan lifted his flute to his lips and began to play a silent composition. Almost instantly, the King's body straightened, moving as if pulled by invisible strings, like a toy soldier suddenly animated. He began to march further  into the alleyway, drawn by the haunting melody, oblivious to the world around him.

You wait a few seconds, holding your breath as the pack continues down the road, their grotesque figures just out of sight. Haechan remains vigilant, his eyes locked on the pack, ready to act if they turn. You know that time is of the essence; you can’t afford to let them discover the King’s absence.

With a swift movement, you push yourself off the wall and follow the King into the alleyway. Haechan’s silent melody fills the air like a ghostly whisper, and you can feel the tension building as the King’s contorted form glides deeper into the darkness. Your knives are unsheathed, gleaming under the faint light, ready to strike. 

A few feet behind him, he suddenly halts. You hold your breath as you witness his body crumple, a howl of confusion escaping his lips. For a moment, it seems he’s still lost in the depths of the enchantment—but then he stumbles, regaining control. 

Realization dawns on you: Haechan must have shifted his focus to the pack once they noticed their missing king. Haechan's magic is now redirected, enchanting the pack that seeks out their leader—perhaps to coax them away from the alley and give you precious moments to act.

You watch as the King sways unsteadily, his eyes flickering with awareness. He glances around, scanning the alleyway for any sign of his gang, oblivious to the danger lurking just behind him. You know you can’t wait any longer; it’s time to make your move. 

He's drunk. He's an easy target. Take him out. The mantra echoes in your mind as you silently slip out of the shadows, your heart pounding in your chest.

With lightning speed, you dart forward, knives glinting in the low light as you approach the swaying figure of the King. He doesn’t see you coming; his bleary eyes are still scanning the alley, lost in confusion and intoxication. 

In one fluid motion, you bring your blades up, the metal shining with intent. Before he can react, before he can summon the last remnants of his senses, you strike with precision. The cut is clean; a swift arc of steel, and his head rolls away from his body, the wolfish features contorted in a final grimace of surprise.

You expect his body to crumple into a lifeless heap, but it doesn't. The headless form sways for a moment, arms reaching up as if searching for its lost head.

“Shit!”

You manage to slip away while he’s still floundering in his confusion. You sprint, heart racing, hoping that Haechan can hold off the other cronies for as long as possible. You may have lost him for now, but you know he has your scent and will find you soon. Your feet carry you through back alleyways and down dark streets until you're bursting into the crowded tavern. You’re met with laughter and cheers that erupt around you as you stumble inside.

“Aye, look, it’s Red!” the patrons call out in greeting. You have no time for pleasantries. Ten gives you a startled look from behind the counter, aware that something has gone awry. You send him a quick, urgent glance and head toward the back of the house. Ten excuses himself and pulls a bewildered Doyoung along with him.

“Well? What happened?” Ten whispers, barely able to contain his surprise.

“I killed him. Well, I thought I did. I cut off his head, but he’s not dead,” you reply, arms crossed and brow furrowed in confusion. “We don’t have much time. I need your help.”

“No way! I already poisoned him on your behalf,” Ten exclaims, raising his hands in exasperation.

“You poisoned the King of Wolves!” Doyoung gasps, his rabbit ears flattening against his head in fright.

“Keep it down!” you hiss, casting a wary glance around. You regretted not filling Doyoung in on your plan earlier, but you didn’t want him caught up in this mess

“What’s going on back here? Red, is that you?” Lia calls as she approaches the small circle where you all huddle.

“Look, guys, I don’t have time to explain, and I’m sorry to drag you into this mess but If word gets out that the King of Wolves was poisoned at this tavern, you will all be on his hit list. So you might want to help me!”

“Who poisons the King of Wolves!?” Lia gasps in shock.

Doyoung points an accusatory finger at Ten, who shoots him a glare in response.

“Guys, focus! There’s a headless wolf after me, and if I don’t leave soon, they’ll come after you too,” you remind them. “Any ideas on how to take him down?”

“Aren’t the wolves changelings?” Lia asks.

“That’s what I’ve heard,” Doyoung confirms. “I read once that if you light them on fire, they burn to ash.”

“I heard that if you show them their reflection, they cower,” Ten adds.

“Well, he doesn’t have a head right now, so that’s out of the question.” You say.

You hear distant howling. That cant be good and your thoughts flicker back to Haechan—where is he? Did he manage to shake off the wolves? The cold grip of worry squeezes your chest as the distant howling amplifies

“I have to go now. Don’t worry; just keep your heads down. If anyone asks, the King of Wolves never stepped through those doors.”

“Where are you going?” Lia asks, concern etched on her face.

“I need to finish this.” You grab a candle lantern from the wall and head out through the back door.

You sprint toward the docks, adrenaline coursing through your veins as you push your body to its limits. Haechan had agreed to meet you there if anything went wrong. The gravel underfoot shifts with each hurried step, but the sound of your heartbeat drowns out the crunching noise. You can feel the rush of impending danger creeping up behind you, reminding you that time is not on your side.

The alleyways give way to a wider street, and you navigate around groups of townsfolk enjoying their evening, blissfully unaware of the chaos unfolding just moments away. Their laughter and loud conversations contrast sharply with the urgency of your mission. You dodge around a cluster of patrons who block the path, their jovial cheers fading into the background as you push through the throng. The crowd thins as you approach the water, and soon you find yourself alone. The air is thick with salty brine, and the sounds of waves lapping against the shore become the only company you have left.

But before you can take a breath of relief, a razor-sharp slash rakes across your back. Pain erupts, and you stumble forward, the lantern slipping from your grasp and extinguishing itself in the dirt with a soft hiss. Darkness envelops you momentarily, panic bubbling up as you realize who had struck you.

“lɹᴉƃ uɐɯnɥ ʎllᴉs,” an ancient voice rumbles behind you, low and mocking. He had no mouth yet you could hear him.

Struggling to gather your bearings, you force yourself to turn and face him—the King of Wolves. The sight of him sends a jolt of dread through you. His haunting figure looms over you. You can feel the fresh blood seeping through your clothes, and your back aches with a pain that warns you of the severity of the wounds. Even with magic, you know it will take days to fully recover from cuts this deep.

You force yourself to stand tall, despite the agony radiating through you. The howling you heard earlier echoes in your mind, a haunting reminder that you’re not alone. Panic flares anew as you realize that his cronies could emerge at any moment. You hope Haechan can fend them off a little longer. you have to think fast.

"ʞɐǝʍ ǝɹ'no⅄ ˙puᴉɥǝq ɯoɹɟ ƃuᴉɥɔɐoɹddɐ 'ǝɔᴉpɹɐʍoɔ ɥɔns oʇ ʇɹosǝɹ no⅄" he snarls, the effects of the poison and booze long gone.

"I'm not afraid to use underhanded tactics on scum like you." You shot back, circling around him, both of you sizing each other up.

He lunged, and you barely dodged his claws. Your body was tired, aching all over, but you were determined to stay on your feet. You threw a knife, but your aim was off, and he sidestepped with ease. It was frustrating; your eyelids felt heavy, and you could hardly focus.

Then, you heard a melody—a familiar tune that made your heart race. Suddenly, energy surged through you, making you feel lighter and stronger. You didn’t need to look around to know who it was. Revived, you fought back, pushing the king back for once. He swung at your ankles, but you rolled away just in time. You were on slightly equal footing, but you needed to gain the upper hand before he wore you down again.

Footsteps approached, and hope flickered inside you.

"Red!" Lia shouted. She was with Ten and Doyoung, and relief washed over you.

"Stay back! It’s too dangerous!" you warned, trying to keep the king's attention on you.

"Don’t be a hero!" Ten yelled, annoyance clear in his voice. "You can’t win without us!"

You exchanged blows with the king, your heart racing as you saw Doyoung preparing an arrow. You held the king off while Lia lit the arrow's tip. In one fluid motion, Doyoung let it fly, and the king of wolves erupted into flames. You all stepped back, eyes wide, as you watched him burn to ash.

Just then, Haechan appeared around the corner, flute in hand, playing that energizing melody that made you feel like you could take on the world. It was the last thing you heard before the music faded and everything began to blur around the edges.

It had been a week since that fateful night. The echoes of that ancient voice still haunt you, but you pushed the memories aside as you stood before the queen, the severed head of the wolf king resting ominously on a velvet cloth. Her eyes gleamed with a mix of approval and intrigue as she took in the sight.

“You have done well,” she proclaimed, her voice a soft yet commanding presence in the throne room. “In ridding us of this beast, you’ve secured not just our safety, but your own place in history.” With a graceful wave of her hand, she summoned her guards, who strode forward bearing an opulent chest. 

As they opened it, a dazzling array of rubies, emeralds, and sapphires spilled forth, glimmering like stars in the dim light. Gold coins cascaded down in a shimmering waterfall, their clinking a symphony of wealth

The sheer abundance of treasure left you momentarily speechless, and you could hardly believe the magnitude of your reward. You accepted gratefully but your mind lingered on Haechan. He had chosen not to attend the queen’s audience, cloistering himself away as he still relied on the myth of his existence as a shadow. He preferred to operate in secrecy, a specter amongst the whispers of the realm.

You stroll into the tavern, the warmth and chatter wrapping around you like a cozy blanket. You’ve brought some gifts and treasures, a little token of thanks for the friends who stood by you in that crazy battle. It just felt right.

"Drink up, fellas! Drinks are on Red tonight!" your former boss shouts, raising his mug high and getting everyone's attention.

You wince at the name. "Would you stop calling me that already?" you groan, rolling your eyes.

Lia smirks, leaning against the bar. "What do you want us to call you, then?"

"Just call me Y/N," you reply, finally giving them the name you’ve always wanted them to use.

"Y/N, huh? It suits you," Ten says, pouring a mug of mead for a troll at the bar, who looks way too eager to drink it.

"Was that a compliment?" you tease, raising an eyebrow.

"Don’t push it," he shoots back, giving you a mock glare, but you can see the hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

Laughter echoes through the tavern as everyone raises their mugs in salute. The atmosphere feels electric, and in that moment, you know you’ve found your people.

As twilight deepened, you made your way to a familiar cottage, navigating through the dense woods that wrapped around the kingdom like a protective shroud. 

Rubies and a dazzling array of gems spilled forth as you toppled over the chest, the treasures scattering against the old, rickety floorboards of Haechan’s hideout. The glint of gold caught the flickering light of the lantern, creating a mesmerizing kaleidoscope of colors that danced across the dim space.

Haechan leaned back against the wall, a sly smile tugging at his lips. “So your word truly holds value, huh?” he teased, walking up to the trove. His fingers sifting through the precious stones as he reveled in his unexpected fortune. “Now, what’s your next move? I can’t imagine the pack isn’t hunting for the one who took down their king.”

You shrugged, a casual air masking the weight of your adventure. “They’re pretty useless without their leader. The royal guard has rounded up most of them, and for any stragglers, they’re probably getting out of town as fast as they can.”

He raised an eyebrow, a hint of hope creeping into his tone. “Are you planning to stay, then?”

“Never did I claim that,” you replied, glancing around the haphazard room. “There’s nothing for me here. I can’t spend all this gold in the slums anyway; I’ve got to see the world.” You stretched with a bored yawn, letting the wild possibilities of adventure wash over you. “But it would be a trifle dull to travel alone,” you hinted, letting a coy smile dance on your lips.

“If only you had a companion,” he shot back with a grin, earnestness hidden beneath the teasing.

“I know, it’s quite sad, really.” You turned toward the exit, pretending to be disinterested. “Well, I’ll be on my way.”

“Y/N.” The sound of your name, spoken for the first time, stopped you in your tracks, resonating in the air and binding you to the moment.

You looked over your shoulder, curiosity piqued and a smile still lingering. “Yes?”

Haechan shifted, his gaze steady and sincere. “You don’t have to go alone, you know.”

For a heartbeat, you considered the weight of that offer. Freedom beckoned ahead, yet the idea of shared adventure was equally tempting. You felt a connection forming, a spark of possibility that ignited your imagination. The world awaited, filled with danger and excitement, and perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad if Haechan journeyed alongside you.

“What do you say then?” you replied, a playful challenge in your tone. “Are you ready to step out of the shadows and into the light with me?”

Note: I might expand this world more for other members in the future so if you guys have any cool ideas that would work in this setting, lmk and i may incorporate them into a work in the future (far future cause i need to finish my other wips lol)

[ohmyitsfaith]

The sunshine and the grump / Part 4

Pairing: Sparrow!Ben Hargreeves x Reader

Summary: With your curiousity for Jennifer satisfied, but your anger about your husband’s dismissal still burning high, you decide to stay just a little bit more with the Umbrellas.

Warnings: fighting, Jayme using her power on the reader continuously

Word count: 2.1k

A/n: Honestly, I realized what my problem was when writing the last two parts of this. I was leaning too heavily on the show and not enough on my own ideas. So here's a part that I wrote on the train where I had no access to the actual show other than my memories.

Five’s reaction wasn’t comforting, but he was ambushed by Klaus the next moment and you went back to eating your breakfast. What could you do?

Technically what you came for, you already got. You now knew about Jennifer, at least you knew what mattered. Though you didn’t really know what to do with the information, your curiosity was satisfied. But thinking about going back… back to the family you thought loved you…

Well, they did love you. You knew that. Ben loved you as much as he was an asshole to you currently. And Jayme and Fei. Sloane especially. Alphonso loved you too and Chris… well he tolerated you. Only Marcus was a bit of a tough nut to crack. You didn’t give up yet on him, but… still. You didn’t want to go back.

Here, at least Klaus liked you. He talked to you, shared the information you needed with you. You wanted to get to know the Umbrellas, if you were honest. They seemed like a… very interesting bunch.

You looked at the Umbrellas that were around you. Viktor was trying to stop everyone from leaving. Klaus and Five were going on a road trip, if you heard it right. Diego and his alleged son were going to the store. Luther was nowhere to be found. And Viktor, giving up on the others, grabbed some breakfast on a tray and walked off.

You had two chances at getting to know the Umbrellas: either wait for Viktor to come back or go with Diego and his son. You quickly weighed your options, then ran after Diego.

“Diego, wait for me!”

“I still don’t like that you’re here” Diego grumbled as you walked down the street. “You’re the enemy.”

“Technically, I’m not” you pointed out. “I’m just a mere human without any powers. I’m harmless.”

“Not if you report back to your little birds” Diego rolled his eyes.

“They don’t listen to me��� you sighed. “I’m not part of the team, the academy. I’m just Ben’s… wife.”

“That’s… sad.”

“It really is.”

“Okay, I’ll bite” Diego looked at you. “Why did you come to us? It can’t be just your curiosity about Jennifer.”

You looked at him for a few seconds. “No, you’re right” you sighed and looked at your hand, where your wedding band sat. “We… Me and Ben… had a fight. If I can even call it a fight.”

“I can’t read in your head, woman” Diego urged you to explain.

“Well… I think it started with me searching for information about Jennifer in his room” you started and noticed Diego’s facial expression. “I know, I shouldn’t have. But he was busy and I wanted answers” you put your hands up. “I understand why he was mad. But then he told me that I was too naive and they don’t need my help.”

“Well… that’s an asshole move, but maybe there was some truth in that. You’re… what do you even do?”

“I’m an interior designer” you supplied.

“Well then yeah, you probably wouldn’t have been able to help” Diego nodded, thinking.

“Asshole!” you hit him on the arm.

“Look, all I’m saying is that he had a reason to be mad at you. And with your job, you’re nowhere near the place where you could help anyone strategically plan” he explained.

“Why am I even here” you grumbled.

“I wonder that myself.”

You glared at him, then just entered the shop. You wondered whether it was even worth coming along with him. If staying at the hotel would’ve been better. You also wondered what Ben was doing. He was no doubt busy with his plan against the Umbrellas.

Which was stupid, in all honesty. Just because they caused some trouble at the mansion, why should they die? The Umbrellas didn’t want them dead. Well… other than Diego. Diego was all for beating them to a pulp. But the rest just wanted their home back. Which was honestly understandable. If what they said was true and they did come from a different timeline, then the fact that they lost everything and were left without even a home to go back to was… jarring, fear-inducing. Kind of what a tree would feel if it was uprooted and placed elsewhere. You could almost share the feeling. Almost.

Because you still had Ben to go back to. This was just a stupid fight, you’d be over it sooner or later. You just had to… talk to him. Alone, preferably.

And that… pretty much settled it. You’d go back and… see how things go.

You suddenly saw Diego duck behind a shelf, which made you suspicious. Especially when you saw him peek out from behind it just a moment later. He didn’t seem the type to play hide-and-seek in a convenience store, so, furrowing your brows, you went over to him.

“Diego, what-” you started, but were interrupted by Diego pulling you down beside him.

“Shush” he said lowly, then peeked out again. “They’re here…”

“Who-” you looked where he was looking and noticed Jayme and Alphonso. “Oh…”

Diego pulled you down again, glaring at you. “Try not to get me caught.”

“Oh god” you rolled your eyes, but Diego was already moving away from the spot where you were crouched. “Don’t try it, Diego!”

But no matter what you said, Diego was already standing up, right in sight of Alphonso. You held your head in your hands, unsure what you should do. Diego wouldn’t back down and would get hurt. Then again, it wasn’t like you didn’t try to stop him. It was his own fault if he got hurt. But still, you didn’t want him to get hurt. In all honesty you just wanted peace. No more fighting, no more arguing. You knew things could be fixed if everyone just sat down and talked.

You heard Diego get slammed back into a shelf and you made a decision. You stood up and ran for Alphonso. You weren’t going to stand by and just watch as the two of them fought it out in the convenience store. So you were going to stop them, whatever it took.

And it seemed the first thing it demanded of you was to take a punch in the face. Okay, it wasn’t that easy. Technically you should’ve expected the punch and ducked out of the way of it. You knew Alphonso was on high-alert and if he saw someone at full speed rushing up to him, of course he was going to act in defense and punch without checking who it was.

“Ow!” you yelped as you were thrown off your balance.

“Y/n?” Alphonso turned at your voice. “What are you-” but in the next moment he was pushed by Diego, who ran at him like a bull.

You cheek was throbbing with pain, but you forced yourself to focus on the fight. You got to your feet and saw Diego try to punch Alphonso without feeling the pain himself.

“Stop it Diego!” you yelled at him, trying to grab his arm, to pull him away.

Suddenly, a knife whizzed by you and scratched Alphonso’s leg. You heard the little boy scream behind you and Diego instantly looked toward him, all anger leaving him for a moment. He jumped up and ran for the little boy, who was whining and writhing on the floor.

You took a breath and blinked against the pain. Then leaned down to grab Alphonso’s arm to help him up.

“What are you doing here?” he finally asked. “With them nonetheless!”

“I-” you searched for the words. “I needed time away from…”

“So you colluded with the enemy?!”

“I did not collude with the enemy!” you denied, offended. “And they’re not our enemies!”

“Of course they’re our enemies!” Alphonso scoffed. “They broke into our home, kidnapped Marcus-”

“But they didn’t!” you interrupted. “Marcus isn’t-”

You couldn’t finish though, because Diego threw a… pan?! at Alphonso, hitting him square in the face. The impact sent Alphonso stumbling back and you stared at Diego in confusion. He had knives. Why a pan?!

But the next item came flying, all aimed at Alphonso, who kept trying to dodge. All that stumbling and dodging ended in him bumping into the aisle, knocking down the short shelves, falling onto them.

That finally alerted Jayme into action. She first spit in your direction, which at first you thought you managed to dodge.

“Jayme! What…” but the next moment a hallucination overtook you.

You were still standing in the convenience store, but this time Ben came in, tentacles out to shield you from the slaughter of Diego’s knives. You saw that the knives were hurting him, but his focus was on you. Just like the first time you met, you were saved by him.

One tentacle wrapped quietly around you, lifting you from the chaos and close to him.

“Ben” you breathed.

He pulled you close, the tentacle putting you right next to him, easing you to your feet. His arms wrapped around your waist, keeping you steady. All noise washed away. It was just you and him. Like all those sweet days of solitude on your honeymoon.

“I’ll take you home, baby” he said, his voice sweet like honey.

“H-home?” you stuttered. “No, I-”

“The hallucinogen is wearing off” you heard another voice suddenly and you blinked hard.

“Don’t worry” Ben said, his voice a bit distorted and looked back at you. The next time he spoke, his voice was back to normal. “You’ll be okay, baby. They won’t hurt you there.”

Your heart calmed and your lips pulled into a gentle smile.

“Okay” you sighed. “Take me home, baby.”

All the way to the academy, you were in and out of the hallucination. In your hallucination you were on a romantic stroll with Ben, once again feeling the peace of your pink-clouded romance. In reality though, you were sweating profusely, dragged by Alphonso and Jayme to the academy, just barely not drooling. You were also breathing hard with the hallucination clouding your brain.

Jayme knew it was probably mostly your subconscious fighting against the hallucinogen. Many times she asked you to train with her for control over her hallucination. As added fun, you tried to fight it, trying to break out of the hallucination before it ran out.

So she kept spitting on you, the black goo seeping into your face. Did she feel bad for you? Yes. But you were caught with the enemy. She couldn’t in good conscience let you go back. Who knows what those criminals did to you to make you stay with them. Because as soft-hearted as you were, you wouldn’t sympathize with criminals, who broke into your home and even kidnapped your brother-in-law. That would be betraying Ben and his trust placed in you.

You kept muttering Ben's name every so often and Jayme couldn't even imagine how the man would react to his wife colluding with the enemy.

When they dragged you into the mansion’s living room, barely conscious, Ben didn’t know what to think.

He had been so mad at you the night before and so focused on the coming mission, he didn’t think much about you not being in your room. He thought that once you calmed down, you would join him in the bed. And then, in the morning you would talk it out as you did all your arguments.

Even if this was bigger than any of your previous ones.

But you weren’t there in the morning, your place still the same way it was the night before. It didn’t take much for Ben to realize that you were never there. By then, he was calm, he had forgiven you for the snooping, after all he was busy and didn’t really have time to search for the answers with you. He was also slightly guilty about dismissing your help at the second mission planning meeting. He knew he was an asshole to you, even though at the time he justified it with being mad at you.

But he really wanted to talk it out with you. To solve this issue. After all, everyone was on edge, him especially. Since you were in his life, there weren’t big enemies like the Umbrellas were right now. Not only did he want to keep you safe, he also wanted to prove himself.

So it was understandable that he was feeling more stressed about this.

Now though? He didn’t know what to think.

“What happened?” he asked, confused but he could feel the rage starting to burn in him. “Why is she under your power?”

Jayme and Alphonso shared a look.

“We found her with the Umbrellas.”

[Previous] [Masterlist] [Next]

Taglist: @snixx2088, @lxkeeeee, @kimm4710, @sagestack, @koshi-sama, @cherryinsalemverse, @lifrimen, @inkedeye2345, @popstarbarbiee

[shiftingparadise]

*gets on knees before repeatedly blowing*

May we PLEASEEEEE get another soft spot part where Feitan and reader have a fluffy and smutty day? I NEED MOREE THE SERIES IS SO GOOODDDD 😭

I hope you like this 🥺 I wanted to show another side of Feitan. Anyway, thank you for your request and your kind words 🤍🤍🤍 You guys don't realise how much this means to me <3

Word count: 1468

Warnings: smut!!!

His mind was made up. He was going to punish you for what you did. You were his and his alone.

Feitan shook his head at the thought. You weren’t his. Not his alone anyway, but he had agreed to share you a long time ago. It was better to have a part of you than nothing at all. “Tsk”, he narrowed his eyes. Feitan felt betrayed more than anything – a feeling you seemed to give him more often than not.

Yes. That feeling you gave him was a sweet justification for what would come. He talked with Chrollo about your punishment and he gave his full permission. A part of him felt excited. After all, he never thought he’d got to treat you so rough again; that he got to punish you like before. With a determined heart, he opened the door to your room.

“Fei!”, you happily jumped from your desk, “Look, I just finished reading this”.

Feitan froze as he noticed your enthusiasm; your glittering eyes that seemed to light up the darkest of nights.

“You see? It’s a classic”, you proudly held it in front of you, “At first it was kind of hard to understand what was happening but now-“.

 Feitan could only watch as you rambled on. It seemed you were unaware of his mood and feelings toward you but still… A part of him enjoyed seeing you like this, despite his anger toward you.

“What’s wrong?”, your hands dropped to your side, “You seem tense. Is something wrong? Can I do something?”.

Why? Why did you have to make everything so hard for him? He wanted to punish you. You deserved to be punished. So why? Why did he feel like this? So soft, so…

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bore you”, you looked to the ground, “We can talk about something else”. “No”, he hastily intervened, “Tell me more”.

He didn’t want you to stop; to lose that spark in your eyes. He loved seeing you like this.

“Really?”, your eyes lit up again.  “Hm”, he coldly nodded. “Come, sit down!”, you happily jumped on your bed, “I’ll tell you everything”.

Feitan shuddered as your soft touch met his cold skin. He never got used it.

“Besides, where’s Chrollo? He recommended me this”. “Out”, Feitan’s heart shattered a bit. He was supposed to hurt you and here he was, listening to you rambling about a book he couldn’t care less about. “Oh, okay”, you smiled as you gestured for him to lay down on your thighs.

Feitan hesitated for a bit, but he quickly realized he’d never say no to such a luxury.

“Okay so, if you didn’t know this book is called “Metamorphosis”. Franz Kafka wrote this”, you shifted a bit before stroking through his dark hair. “It’s about a cockroach, but it isn’t about a cockroach. Get it?”. Feitan only hummed in response.

Despite is stiff position; he felt more comfortable than ever. It never took him long to doze off like this.

“One day, this business clerk wakes up as a cockroach and his entire family-“.

Those were the last words he heard before he fell asleep. It didn’t take him longer than a minute – as usual.

When he woke up, he found his arms wrapped around your body. You must’ve fallen asleep not too long after him.

Feitan stared at your face. Something he cursed himself for. Were you an angel? Sent by the Lord himself? Or a demon that had him wrapped around your finger? It didn’t matter to him. You had his heart, his soul, his mind… Every part of him belonged to you.

He softly positioned himself on top of you; his hands resting beside your head. “Y/N?”, his voice still rough as he gently moved a strand of your hair. “Hm?”, a frown on your face as you woke up. “Please”, his gaze fixed on your eyes. “Fei?”, you softly grunted as your tired eyes looked at him. “Can I- Can we”, he never felt so unsure. “What?”, your brows pulled together at his strange behavior. “Can you take care of me?”, his eyes seemed cold, but his breathing betrayed how he truly felt. “Oh, you want me to-“, your eyes widened. “N-no, I want you to take care of me”, he coldly looked at you. “I don’t understand”, a confused look in your eyes. “I think I want something else today”, he gently grabbed your hand and placed it against your cheek, “I don’t know what, exactly, but I know that I want to feel as I did earlier”. “Earlier?”. “When you were stroking through my hair… I want that feeling”, he softly guided your hand to his hair.

He didn’t know what he was asking. He didn’t even understand this part of himself or what he craved.

“I think I understand”, you sweetly smiled, “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of you”.

Feitan watched as you moved away.

“Where are you going?”, he jolted upright. “Well, you asked me to take care of you, right?”, your cheeks reddened. “Hm”, he nodded. “Don’t worry”, you shyly slipped out of your gown, “I’ll take care of you”.

Feitan didn’t answer. Instead, he sat back again.

“You always take care of me”, you gently sat on his lap; your arms wrapped around his neck. “You think I don’t notice everything you do for me?”, you whispered as you massaged the back of his head.

Feitan’s heart started to race. Your voice never sounded so soft.

“Hm”, his eyes were locked to the ground. “Fei?”, you gently wrapped your hands around his cheeks, “I notice everything”.

His eyes widened as he saw the vulnerable look in your eyes.

“D-don't-” he frowned as you pushed against his chest. “Let me take care of you. I promise I’ll make you feel good”, you placed another soft kiss on his cheek.

He wasn’t used to this; for you take control but… It felt nice.

Your hands gently tugged on his belt, eager to see more of him.

Feitan took off his clothes and threw them into the nearest corner of your room.  

“Fei?”, you gently placed yourself on top of him. “What?”, his cold gaze hid every ounce of emotion he felt. “Tell me what you want me to do”, another kiss against his cheek.

“I-I want you to take care of me-“. “How?”, you left a trail of kisses on his chest, down to his stomach. “You know how”, an irritated sigh. “I don’t”, your hand gently stroked his member. “F-fine”, he loudly swallowed, “I want you on top of me… I want you to tell me how much you enjoy being mine and… And I want you to tell me that you, I don’t know, love me or something”.

Your eyes widened as you noticed his stubborn expression. You never saw this side of him. Despite knowing him for so long, you still didn’t know who he truly was; what he was hiding deep inside of him.

You nodded as you shifted on top of him; his member easily sliding into you. “S-shit”, he closed his eyes. He wasn’t used to you being on top. “Fei-“, you slowly started to ride him. “Hm?”, his hands grabbed your waist; guiding you. “I love you”, your hands resting against his chest, “I love you not because you make me feel good but because you take care of me-“. “Y/N-“, he practically moaned your name. “I love the way you look out for me; how you ignore your own needs for me… I love how you look at me and at anyone who dares to look in my direction-“. “S-stop-“, he pressed his head against the mattress.

He didn’t want to come already. Not now. This felt too good to be true.

“I-I love how jealous you get and how good you look when you’re angry at me-“, you picked up the pace, your eyes closed in pleasure. “Y-you like that?”, he admired how your breasts bounced up and down as they invited him them. “I-I do”, you grabbed his hand before he could do so and placed it between your thighs. “F-fuck Y/N-“, he loudly swallowed. “Together?”, you leaned forward as you pressed your lips against his. “H-hm”, he gently grabbed your jaw as his other hand rested on the back of your neck.

It didn’t take long before you both reached your climax.

“Fuck, that felt good”, you softly moaned against his ear. Your body still shaking. “You were amazing”. You noticed how his voice didn’t feel as cold as before. “Fei?”, you gently pulled away. “Yes?”, he softly stroked a strand of hair behind your ear. “I love you”, you barely whispered.

For a moment, he didn’t know how to respond, but luckily his heart knew.

“I don’t know what love is”, his voice still rough, “But I think that this comes pretty close”.

[myromanempiree]

enchanting ; act one

(Previously titled; dreamers with no stars.)

Pairing; Eris x Archeron!Reader

Warnings: angst if you squint.

Summary: Your sister invites you to a ball, you meet an enchanting man.

"With all I've loved,

I loved alone"

-Edgar Allan Poe

....

To be isolated is to walk down the mahogany stairs of the House, trailing curious fingers down the barely textured, cream-colored walls. To hear the third step squeak when you place your weight on it, just on the left side. To walk down the endless hallways, filled with family portraits that seem to mock her existence with the words whispered in the back of her mind,  "you are lost, yet no one cares to find you.” To walk into the warm light of the kitchen to find everyone gathered around the breakfast table for some Saturday tradition.

Forgotten as Feyre and Rhysand dote over the bump that grows larger and larger with each day, forgotten as Nesta and Elain quietly converse, still adjusting to the crowd of fey, yet comfortable in their presence. Forgotten as Azriel makes an off handed comment that rials Cassian up, Mor grinning against the rim of her glass.

To be isolated is to walk to the counter to grab something to eat, only Amren sparing her a single glance, paired with a barely-there nod.

She slowly piles food onto her plate, before finding those same portrait filled hallways, the same cream-colored walls, the same mahogany steps, a new day, yet the same routine.

….

Hours pass as she searches the library, keen eyes scanning the leather bound books looking for a specific title that one of the priestesses had recommended. She pulls a book down with nimble fingers, before adding it to the pile of books for the week. 

She absent mindedly sorts through the books, eyes darting from the stack of books to the list she had made a few days ago. Her mind was much too focused on the titles to hear the soft shutting of the large doors, and the rustling behind her. It takes the woman behind her a few tries to pull her out of her focus, Feyre's voice growing louder as she repeats her name several times, before tapping on her shoulder.

“Yes?” She said, head slowly turning to glance at her sister. Feyre hums, circling the chaise and sitting down beside her. “I wanted to speak to you about something.” Feyre began, opening her mouth to speak before being interrupted by the woman next to her. 

“Is it about breakfast? I don't usually go anyways–” “No, no… its not about breakfast, I wanted to ask you to join us, Rhysand is hosting an event in Hewn City and… Don't make that face, Sea Lion.” Feyre said at the obvious distaste in her sister's face. 

Ah, yes… that nickname. Born from Nesta's teasing over a decade ago, due to her brief curiosity of the creatures after hearing of one from her fathers business partner, it was mocking at first, but morso a pet name as they grew older. Something she had never understood was how her sisters could use something that was originally thought of as mocking, as an endearment. 

She was pulled from her thoughts yet again as Feyre sighed, gently reaching out for her sisters hand. “It is very important to me that you go, I would like all my sisters to be there.” At her sisters silence, she nods.

“Please, think about it.” 

Please was not a word any of her sisters used often, other than Elain, of course. Feyre must really want this, so she sighed, “I suppose  Ill attend.” She said softly, turning to her sister and nodding, looking into her eyes for the first time today.. Feyre thanking her hand skittering off, probably to tell Rhysand.

“Smile. You look like you don't want to be here.” Nesta said, looking amused as she sips from her glass. 

“I don't.” She responds, her sister sighing. “Neither do I, and I much less want to have to seduce that.” Nesta said, gesturing to a man in the crowd, speaking with Mor's father, Kier or something. The man turning to look behind him towards the dias, letting her see a proper peek at his face.

Oh, Mother.

There stood the most gorgeous man she had ever seen, cropped copper hair, high cheekbones that added an air of regality to him without making the man look haughty. Plump  lips pulled into the most self assured grin, showing his perfect teeth, keen whisky eyes examining the room in a manner that bordered on predatory.

 The moment those dazzling eyes met hers, she looked down to her glass, cheeks pinked. Unable to see his eyes widen ever-so-slightly, unable to see the urgency in which he looked away. 

She silently excused herself, moving to the clear balcony to catch her breath, not knowing whatever the feeling she held in her heart was. The thought slightly scaring her. 

She stays on that balcony for a long while, only parting with it when the still-new sensation of a presence in her mind. And Rhysand’s voice echos words into her mind. “Come to the dais”

….

She walked to the dias, her midnight blue velvet gown ever so slightly brushing against the floor as she steps into the spare spot in between Nesta and Elain, assuming that to be her designated spot. She stands there for a while, watching silently as the beautiful man walks up the stairs, conversing with the High Lord and Lady. 

What was said not registering as she gazes at the man. Something about him felt familiar, though she was sure she'd never met him. She only began to pay attention as he walked their direction, Nesta adjusting her posture to appear more sensual. 

She assumed this to be the part where Nesta seduced the man, which felt wrong to her, for whatever reason. However, he does not stop at Nesta, he moved past her to stand in front of herself. He stepped a stair below his current stature and bow, taking her hand to his lips and brushing them against her hand. 

The sensation setting a fluttering feeling off in her stomach. “What is your name, Lady Archeron?” The man asked her, tilting his head. As she introduced herself, and he introduced himself, she was led to the dance floor by the man– Eris. 

Eris. 

Her eyes find a mole on the side of his face, right below his right  eye, gaze trained on it as they begin their waltz. She claws at her brain to find the steps, yet cannot remember. Eris gently moves his hand to the small of her back, bringing here closer to him and leaning his face  against her neck as he whispers softly.

 “Follow my lead.”

It felt natural to do so. Even though Eris kept attempting to strike up a conversation, she was too focused on trying to not step on his toes and bring them to the ground to converse. The waltz came to an end, and she bows, her hands shaking. 

The walk back to the dais was as silent as the rest of their interaction. She felt guilty for not being able to seduce the man, but regardless, was glad she was even able to waltz without falling and crashing into something or someone. 

She moved swiftly up to her sisters as shocking words ring in her ears. 

“I will offer you support, in exchange for her hand.”

a/n - I read this back and she's kinda autistic-coded, so I hope everyone is okay with that :)

Taglist;

@babypeapoddd @mybestfriendmademe @lilah-asteria @impossibelle @thestartitaness

comment if you want to join taglist!

[monster4monster-bracket]

Propaganda under the cut

Hob/Delloso

Starts out as a star-crossed, Beauty-and-the-Beast-style romance between a very animalistic, awkwardly formal, military man—well, goblin (Captain Hob) and a very elfen-esque Master of Ceremonies (Rue), who’s busy with the job of hosting the huge, politically important party they just put together, and is also technically a member of another royal court. SPOILERS: Turns out Rue is an owlbear under their glamour, aka just as massive and animalistic as Hob. Both of them really love the other’s body specifically because it looks like theirs rather than fitting in with the traditional fey standards of beauty, so they’re lowkey serving t4t-vibes, despite existing in a setting where there are zero social expectations around gender. Technically they’d be a monster x monster pairing no matter what, as they’re both fey, but the fact that they both stick out even among the extreme visual variety of the fey people, and very much feel the weight of that exclusion, really makes them a monster x monster pairing in spirit too.

Polymechs

So they are all aliens to each other. They are also like canon found family, and are immortal. I love this ship because the nine of them deserve happiness and some love because they are doomed to have heartache in their lives. They spend so much time together and will die alone and while they are together I think they should kiss.

[feyclowns]

a brief look at pixie biology

goofy guys. i like these ones. sillies.

most pixies are very short and stocky, with square builds. they're the smallest of the seelie

body hair is infrequent, near non-existent

males are ever-so slightly larger than females on average, though it hardly matters

pixies function very similar to fairies, they have near identical anatomies and also get inebriated from sugar

primarily eat fantastical beasts along with magic supplements

pixies grow up a little faster due to less time needed maturing their core systems. takes them about 1300 years.

pixies take very few genes from their non-pixie parent- a hint of eye color here, a darker skin color there..

despite their funky core systems, pixies, once given the magic-using tools they need, are just as adept with magic as fairies

they all speak with the same flat tone, but tend to have difficulty masking their expressions

they have an inborn talent for numbers and repetitive behaviors- they flourish in a group where everyone has a set role that they do over and over again.

each pixie is given a set role after their rearing period has ended. some pixies show the rare ambition to climb some ranks but most are generally comfortable with where Head Pixie puts them.

all fairy-based seelie buzz their wings but pixies are especially guilty of buzzing when agitated

pixies used to be quite rare, with small mixed families, usually employed by fairy companies to deal with paperwork and other tasks- librarians, attorneys, secretaries, etc

honorable mention: the curious case of Head Pixie

so many people cannot stand this guy.

this guy is weird. the council does not like weird. he is like, biologically, the biggest outlier for the pixie species ever

side note: my HP doesn't look as old as canon due to the way my fairies age (and pixies generally live longer anyway since they consume magic rather than produce it) but he is still, in fact, very old

fey dad, pixie mom. HP's pixie status was debated hotly for a long time due to the main factor that he had a functional central core- in fact, it was too functional; HP produces too much magic for his system to handle on a regular basis.

HP handles this in two ways; lots of offspring and lots of using his magic to power things. man, building a business empire is easy.

he's larger than the average pixie as well, by 7 inches (this makes him look huge)

all of HP's kids are normal pixies (barring the handful of fairy children)

HP is old. really old. he's about to hit a million. he's older than jorgen's nana. he's showing his age but he looks pretty good. his fey lineage and magic overproduction are the primary reasons for this, but he just likes to say he lives off black coffee and pure spite. he is staying around forever, baby.

[dottyistired]

gifts from sister iris 💜

iris's knitting skills are overlooked. i think gifts are her love language, both for feenie and her newly un-estranged family. i like to hc she only got a year or so in prison since adrian only got 6 months for tampering with a crime scene, and i want to believe she was around to help maya raise pearl 🥺 the three of them plus bikini are all that's left of the feys, and phoenix seemed pretty busy during the 7yg, i want them to have become really close. pearl and maya are shown in the anime shivering while up in the mountains, so i think iris would remember that and knit them some warmer wear while in jail...consider these the first of many "sorry for being secretive about the plot to save you from being killed" gifts haha. i spent so much time brainstorming the maya sweater design

[pod-together]

Pod-Together Day 1 Reveals 2024

Light up This Old Soul (Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types, Star Wars: Dark Disciple - Christie Golden) written by EustaciaVye, performed by AsterRoc Summary: As Obi-Wan heals, he learns more about the Nightsisters' approach to the Force, while Asajj learns more about her heritage.

Both a Blessing and a Curse [text, audio] (Star Wars: Rebels) written by wanderingjedihistorian, performed by flowerparrish Summary: His memory was both a blessing and a curse. Alexsandr Kallus had known this for many years. The date he’d first seen the name The Ghost cross his desk was forever burned into Kallus’ memory. And that date was getting closer.

View from a Pavilion (镇魂 | Guardian (TV 2018), 绅探 | Detective L (TV), 叛逆者 | The Rebel (TV 2021)) written by Martha, performed by SEF_podfic Summary: During the dark days of the occupied French Concession, Luo Fei helps an injured young captain of the Republican Military Intelligence. [text and podfic]

dream symphony (The Magnus Archives (Podcast)) written by Lua, performed by gracicah Summary: Simon Fairchild loves the sky, and, through his surprisingly long life, he feels loved back by it. It isn’t all that surprising that he has a good time as an avatar of his patron. After all, he is a man in love.

A Case of Identity Fraud (Batman - All Media Types, Batman (Comics)) written by DayenuRose, performed by Nymphie_Wolf Summary: After spending years of putting in the hard work and re-building his life and his relationship with his family, Jason Todd is not amused when he falls over a decade into the past. The Red Hood is in the middle of his vengence on his family, Tim's life is falling apart at the seems, and his family is in shambles. Jason misses his home, his family, and the ability to have a decent meal. After two months of (mostly) observing from the sidelines, Jason can't stand by anymore. If no one else will step in and help Tim, then he will. Can Jason help past!Tim without messing up the future for everyone?

Tenderly (Original Work) written by Hagar, performed by wilfriede0815 (with additional voices by stargateinmybasement, ChaosKiro, Juulna, Tipsy_Kitty, horchata, and flowerparrish) Summary: My name is Amalie Madsen. I’m a schoolteacher teaching sixth grade. Since I became a teacher, I’ve been told many times that my sense of wonder may fade with time but, in fact, just last year I ran into the greatest wonder I have encountered to date. Or, should I say, wonders.

Truth Comes Out Of His Well (Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types) written by TsarinaTorment, performed by stereden Summary: Lee Fletcher had a secret. Luke knew it, and anything Luke knew, Kronos knew. This had consequences, which started with Lee not meeting his end at the business end of a giant's club after all.

Letters to Jiejie [text & podfic] (陈情令 | The Untamed (TV)) written by FlutterFyre, performed by pezzax Summary: Jiang Cheng doesn't know what has gotten into Wei Wuxian and to be honest, he doesn't care. He just wants things to go back to normal. Stuck at the Cloud Recesses guest lectures, he vents to his elder sister as he alsways has, hoping against hope that she will have a solution that might bring some semblance of sense back to his foster brother.

Like a Hozier Song [text, audio] (Daredevil (TV), Daredevil (Comics), The Punisher (TV 2017), Punisher (Comics), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe) written by BurdenedWithPointlessPurpose, performed by 42donotpanic Summary: Matt never expected for Frank Castle to end up on his couch for months on end. He’d never expected to make a home with him, but nothing is as he’d planned. Life isn’t neat like that and his friend gets that more than anyone else ever has. It’s the reason he’s a little sweet on his friend… like the Hozier songs the guy likes to sing.

Phantom Friends (Danny Phantom, Batman - All Media Types, Batman (Comics)) written by Litra, performed by itallcomesbacktoandreil Summary: Five times someone in the bat family died and met Danny, and the one time no death was needed.

Room 505 (The Hotel (Podcast)) written by zombified_queer, performed by MistbornHero Summary: The Lobby Boy gets to flex his creative muscles. The Hotel Herself observes with a pang of surprise.

[dailyadventureprompts]

Adventure: Through the Vine

Surrounded by some of the most coveted vineyards on the continent, your party sits in the shaded garden and listens to the old alchemist explaining why she needs your help getting drunk enough to see the face of god.

Every adventurer knows the name Ultani, at least those with coin and taste enough to order bottles of wine when they and their friends hit up a tavern after a delve. What an irony then for one of the Ultani family to ask for THEM at her table, and with a business proposition of all things.

Bent with age but bright of eye, Ivilia Ultani needs their help tracking down the location of an abandoned druid sanctum in the far wilderness and retrieving fruit sacred to the god of vintners and healers left over from a disastrous ritual. Her reasons? Apparently after decades perusing the alchemical mysteries Ivilia got her hands on a bottle blessed by the wine-god himself, and spent four days in a state of drunken revelation pencilling out her magnum opus. The bottle and her inspiration dry just before she finished, so rather than waiting years trying to trial and error the last piece or searching for another bottle she's decided to make some of her own.

Along the way the party will contend with family drama, the cutthroat politics of the wine trade, and the long echoing consequences of stealing from merciful gods. For their troubles they'll not only earn the thanks of a talented alchemist, but also potentially a new home should they hold true to their task.

Setup: Though she is the oldest of her of her merchant clan Ivilia is not the head of the Ultani winery. Her younger brother Valtar had the talent for cultivation and business while she veered towards eccentric scholarship, now Valtar's adult grandchildren run the business and the numerous sprawling vineyards associated with it while she lives in learned obscurity on the original family homestead.

While she occasionally helps out whit a new formulation of fertilizer or pest repellent, Ivilia is rather distant from the rest of the Ultani family who view her as a bit of a kook, who all to often uses her inherited share of the enterprise to buy obscure texts or finance futile experiments.

Challenges & Complications:

Actually finding the sanctum is going to be half the problem. Druidic orders are notoriously protective about the location of their secret clubhouses, and this order was scattered to the wind more than a century ago. Ivilia has tracked down the vague location where she thinks the sanctum might be, but unless the party wants to spend days combing the dangerous wilderness they're going to need to track down a more reliable source. Parsing through local rumours and records gives them three leads, an elf who still provides council to the local Count (goodluck getting an appointment), a vaguely helpful ditty that was recounted to a local bard (since dramatized in endless retelling), and an elder of the order who flew back to his home village in the shape of a falcon. Investigating the latter finds that the elder was apparently so scarred by what he'd seen at the sanctum that he transformed himself into a tree and has spent the intervening decades letting his mind and memory lignify.

The Sanctum itself and the landscape that surrounds it has been scarred by an act of divine wrath that still lingers in the form of dangerous fey and choking vines. Roots have undermined the walls and foundations, making chambers all to easy to collapse. In the centre of this ruin lays the undead corpse of Elmgrace , a once famed elven healer who sought the boon of the god Litirenn only to try and use that gift to reign the god towards his own purposes. Resentful at this deception Litirenn unleashed havoc on the sanctum, cursing Elmgrace never to die, never to rot, and never to rejoin the cycle of nature. Forever vinebound to the same altar he intended for the deity, Elmgrace's few last fanatical followers still tend to his broken body, attempting to brew up more potent poisons that will finally "free" their teacher from his torment.

Unfortunately, the fruit the party needs to pluck grows only from the plants impaling Elmgrace's body, which his followers are very protective of. Even after the party races through the wilderness and back to civilization with their prize they'll need to look over their shoulder for toxin obsessed cultists stalking their trail.

Further Adventures:

Milo Ultani has something to prove, the oldest of four siblings and a gaggle of cousins poised to inherit the winery he was raised to value hard work and loyalty to the family above all else. All his life it has irked him that his great aunt was allowed to dwell in their ancestral home, some of the nicest land his family owns, leaching off their enterprise like a withered limb. What finally drives him to act is Ivilia offhandedly mentioning that she intends to sign over her house and land to the party as a reward for helping her drink her way to enlightenment again. Resentment turns to rage in the young man's mind as a plan begins to form; A vine must be pruned in order to be fruitful after all.

When the party return with the godly fruit they're going to find Ivilia gone, her home broken into during the night her bed a mess of red that at first seems to be blood, but is infact wine. Surrounded by experts it doesn't take long for the vino in question to be identified as belonging to Jadash Hill, one of the Ultani's oldest rivals who are known for their unscrupulous business practices. It's at this point that Milo comes forward, reporting that some of their carters had gotten into brawls with those from Jadash Hill at a local tollhouse, sending the bastards packing and ignoring their threats of reprisal as idle boasting. This did indeed happen, but only because Milo is in charge of part of the family's delivery operation and instigated the fight himself.

The clock is ticking, the party has a bushel of miracle fruit that's going to rot and the alchemist they were supposed to deliver it to is nowhere to be seen. They can either find Ivilia quick, figure out a method of preserving the fruit, or read through her notes and attempt to concoct the divine wine themselves.

However badly he thinks of her, Milo would never kill his great aunt, having instead had his loyal carters drag her off to a small cottage on the edge of a property the family was keeping fallow for the year. In his reckoning the old woman won't live much longer, and while the emerging feud with Jadash hill keeps the family busy he can figure out a better place to keep his great aunt locked up. He wasn't delicate in his planning but he moves fast and the influence he has with the workforce as the presumptive heir cannot be overstated.

Art 1 Art 2

[thecreaturecodex]

Draxie

Image © Paizo Publishing, accessed at Archives of Nethys here

[The last of the variant sprite lineages from PF 2e's Bestiary 3, and I think the cutest. A little redundant, with faerie dragons (or fey dragonets, I guess) already existing, but when has redundancy ever gotten in the way of monster designers?]

Draxie CR 3 CG Fey This little humanoid is barely a foot tall, with a scaly hide, a long tail and membranous wings. They have small sharp teeth and horns and frills of skin instead of hair.

Draxies, or dragon sprites, are playful, flighty and keen pranksters. They often engage in escalating prank wars with pixies and fairie dragons, both of whom they get along well with. Draxies can be patient when planning some manner of joke or trick, and may spend months or even years for the payoff for a perfect joke. Draxies claim to have their origins in the powerful faerie dragon Elucredrassa, who upon her death reincarnated into a hundred draxies, who spread throughout the First World and then to the Material Plane. Draxies still honor her with the elucera, a soul-bond a draxie might make with a creature or creatures they are particularly fond of. Entering an elucera with a draxie makes one that draxie’s family as much as any blood relative; draxies take their obligations to elucera-mates more seriously than anything else.

Draxies rarely start fights, but are happy to finish them. A draxie is much more skilled at annoying an enemy into fleeing or parleying then they are with direct violence; their first order of business when attacked is usually to breathe draxie dust on an opponent. Unlike the breath of a faerie dragon, which induces a sort of stoned euphoria, draxie breath can cause this along with several other mind-influencing abilities. Even a draxie doesn’t know what its breath will do at any given moment, and they have great fun adapting to the situation as it elapses. If a draxie wants to do permanent harm, it usually relies on its mind thrust spell-like ability.

Draxies come in a wide variety of colors, and most of them have multicolored fringes running along their heads in place of hair, along their backs and on the tips of their tails. Their nails are usually worn long but are too fragile to be used as claws. Their jaws, however, are remarkably powerful for their size. Draxies are omnivorous with a taste for fruit and insects.

Draxie CR 3 XP 800 CG Tiny fey Init +4; Senses low-light vision, Perception +9

Defense AC 17, touch 16, flat-footed 13 (+2 size, +4 Dex, +1 natural) hp 22 (5d6+5) Fort +4, Ref +8, Will +5 DR 5/cold iron

Offense Speed 15 ft., fly 40 ft. (average) Melee bite +8 (1d8-1) Space 2 ½ ft.; Reach 0 ft. Special Attacks draxie dust Spell-like Abilities CL 3rd, concentration +6 (+10 casting defensively) At will—dancing lights, ghost sound (DC 13), mind thrust I (DC 14), prestidigitation 3/day—disguise self (DC 14) 1/day—glitterdust (DC 15), invisibility

Statistics Str 9, Dex 18, Con 13, Int 16, Wis 13, Cha 16 Base Atk +2; CMB +4; CMD 13 Feats Combat Casting, Great Fortitude, Weapon Finesse Skills Acrobatics +12 (+8 when jumping), Bluff +11, Disguise +11, Diplomacy +11, Fly +16, Knowledge (nature) +11, Perception +9, Perform (comedy) +11, Stealth +20 Languages Common, Sylvan, touch telepathy SQ natural guise

Ecology Environment any forests Organization solitary, pair, flight (3-6) or family (7-24) Treasure standard

Special Abilities Draxie Dust (Su) As a standard action once every 1d4 rounds, a draxie can breathe magical dust in a 15 foot cone. All creatures in the area must succeed a DC 15 Will save or suffer from one of the following random effects (roll 1d4): 1. charmed (as per charm monster) for 1 minute 2. asleep (as per the sleep spell, no HD limit) for 1 minute 3. loses the last 5 minutes of memory 4. sickened, staggered and immune to fear effects for 1 minute This is a mind influencing enchantment effect, and the save DC is Charisma based. A draxie can use this ability once every 1d6 rounds, but a creature cannot be suffering from more than one draxie dust effect at a time. Natural Guise (Ex) When a draxie uses disguise self, it can appear as any Tiny creature with the fey or animal types. Touch Telepathy (Su) A draxie can telepathically communicate with any creature it is in physical contact with, regardless of whether they share a spoken language.

[ot3]

🔥 Mia and Maya Fey? Also i really enjoyed your op liveblogs bc all the things you complained about were things I also noticed but noone else seemed to be talking about. I thought i was going insane.

i think people go way too easy on mia for how she treated maya! its definitely Correct that mia had no obligation to be a surrogate mother for maya and had the right to get out of her extremely sticky family situation, but the thing is it's Not like mia got out of her family situation, she was in it the whole time. she spent her life trying and failing to track down the mother that abandoned her, and even after her death she is Still working to perpetuate her family's bullshit.

the fact that during 2-2 she's covering for morgan to the point where you have to break her psyche locks about it is CRAAAZYY!! girl! what's up with you!

aa1 also kind of gives the sense that most of the time when mia is hitting maya up its because she needs her to be a mule for evidence and maya feels really lonely living by herself. here's a snippet of maya and mia's phone convo at the beginning of turnabout sisters:

???: Mia! What's up? You haven't called in a while. Mia: Sorry, I've been so busy. How you been? ???: Well, LONELY. And it's all YOUR fault. Nah, I'm just teasing. I've been great! I'm finally getting used to having my own place. Mia: That's good to hear. Actually, I'm calling because I have a favor to ask. ???: I know, I know. You want me to hold evidence for you?

two thins are going on here that don't really track with what we know about kurain village: 1. maya is talking on her cell phone, but there's no cell reception in kurain. 2. maya talks about having her own place, but presumably in kurain would be living in fey manor alongside morgan and pearl. logically this is pretty much guaranteed to be because they didn't fully know what they were going to do with the fey family stuff so it's a retcon, but that said my personal headcanon is that mia was paying for maya to have an apartment somewhere between the village and the city.

this way maya could be a bit away from the family shit and get some level of formal schooling, and she could be closer to mia and easier to contact. i think maya only went back to living full time in kurain after turnabout goodbyes when she decided to fully focus on medium training, which we know she hadn't really been doing up to that point.

which i think was in many ways the best mia felt she could do in terms of taking care of maya and keeping her safe but it didn't provide maya with any kind of emotional support that she definitely needed. the "i'm LONELY and it's YOUR FAULT haha jk" is pretty transparent.

[danikamariewrites]

sooo for that feyfey request.

everyone is living back in that cottage. fey is fucking that guy. but theres this woman, who is like a neighbour. she always sees fey and has a crush on her, but isaac (i think thats what his name is?) is keeping fey busy

one day, reader gathers the courage to flirt with fey

then slowly, the become friends and some time later, when fey is eating dinner with reader, reader crawls up onto the desk sensually and is being all hot and sexy

fey realises for the first time she likes this woman. its soo taboo but fey wants this

so she lets reader show her all the good stuff 😏

and then in the end its a lil fluff but they both know this wont progress further most probably 😔

(absolute filth plis im so thirsty for mommy feyre 😩😩😩(i also dont mind if its porn without plot i just need som filth 🥲))

When She Loved Me

Feyre x reader

A/n: This was the best Feyre ask I think I’ve ever received and I had to write it. I also added an epilogue-esqu ending and it’s kinda sad so I’m sorry for that but I couldn’t resist.

Warnings: oral, fingering, tribbing, angst at the end (also not fully proof read)

You rushed around the house making sure everything was perfect for when Feyre arrives. Dinner was in the oven, the living room was fully of cozy blankets, and you had turned the lights down to achieve the perfect ambiance.

The two of you met in town months ago. At first you had just waved and passed each other while you were running errands and she was trading pelts from animals she hunted. One wintery afternoon you got up the courage to finally introduce yourself.

The blue of her eyes had taken your breath away. When her rough exterior melted away and she gave you a genuine smile you couldn’t help but get lost in dreams of a future with her. Where that smile was never dulled by her hunting or family.

Tonight was the first time Feyre was coming over to hang out. You had only ever hung around in town together but you wanted one on one time away from prying, judgmental eyes. The nature of your relationship had been a little more than friendly. Sure you flirted, not thinking anything of it. Feyre had told you about her and Isaac. How he was just someone to relieve stress and blow off steam with.

The relief you felt when Feyre had said that was like a weight lifting off your chest. Since she had said that you had turned your flirtatious advances up hoping she would reciprocate. When Feyre did you were rendered speechless. The giggle that sounded from her was angelic.

A light knock on the front door had you squealing with excitement. Rushing through the house you skid to a stop, careful not to fling yourself into the door. Opening the door you’ve never seen Feyre look so happy. “Hi,” you breathed. “Hi.” Her voice light and happy. Stepping to the side you wave her in.

She looks around curiously. Her eyes wide as she shrugged her jacket off. “Your home is lovely.” You take her jacket to hang up. Gosh, how did this thing keep her warm out in the woods? The fabric was barely held together by the leather straps Elain had sewed in for her.

“Thank you. My mother has quite the eye for interior design. You should see her and my father’s room.” You joke. Feyre gives you a sad smile. As if she was remembering her old house. Guilt had your face heating. Feyre grabbed your hand giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Dinner smells wonderful.” She says, that happiness back in her voice.

You perked up at the mention of the meal in the oven. “You’re going to love it. Come,” you pull her along to the kitchen. As you ate the conversation went to weird childhood stories and Feyre’s hunting adventures. After dinner you switched to the living room, curling up in the blankets on the couch and enjoying the brownies you baked.

As the night went on your stares lingered on each other. Eyes wandering what could be seen of the others form. With each tick of the clock the two of you inched closer and closer until your thighs were touching. At the first touch you jumped a little. Only relaxing when Feyre holds your hand again.

When the clock struck midnight Feyre was lying on your chest. You absentmindedly twirled her sandy locks between your fingers. You fall into a comfortable silence just enjoying each other’s comfort. Not thinking before moving, you lean forward pressing a kiss to the top of Feyre’s head.

Shock took over as she popped her head up, eyes wide. “I-I’m sorry. I don’t know-’’ Feyre surged forward, connecting her lips to yours, effectively stopping your rambling. Your fingers go back to those sandy locks, keeping Feyre’s lips attached to yours.

The kiss was all want, need and a fight for dominance that you were determined to win. You wrap an arm around her waist, pulling Feyre up, flipping her to lay on the couch. Feyre’s breath hitches, her fingers digging into your scalp. You detach your lips from her, nudging your nose against her perfect button one.

Holding yourself back was becoming impossible. You need Feyre like you need to breathe. Every part of her is perfect and you were desperate to explore her.

You were both breathing heavily. Feyre lifts her head to peck your lips before dropping back against the couch cushion. “Do you want to keep going?” You asked, hopeful her answer would be a resounding fuck yes.

Feyre nodded vigorously. Her blue eyes glazing over with lust, “I want you, y/n.” Your lips break out into a wide smile. Climbing off of the couch you grab her delicate hand, pulling her to follow you to your bedroom. Slamming your door you turn to find Feyre laid out on your bed, only in her underthings, smirking at you seductively. In a swift motion you slip your dress off, leaving it in a puddle on the floor as you bound toward Feyre.

She lets out a giggle, the sound so sweet it almost stops you completely. It has your cheeks flushing as you straddle her hips. Feyre rests her hands on your hips, gently running them up and down your sides, reveling in the smoothness of your skin. Something flashed in her eyes, making her look anywhere but you.

“Hey,” you say softly, bringing your hand to rest on her cheek. “What’s wrong, Fey?” She squeezes your hips gently before looking into your eyes. “I just…I’ve never been with a girl before and I like you, I just don’t want to, ya know,” she rambles. You tilt your head in curiosity. “Fey it’s ok. We’ll take it slow, you just relax. I got you.” You smirk at her, leaning down to place soft, open mouthed kisses down her neck.

Moving down her body you undo the band around her breasts, stopping at the top of her underwear. You look at her through your lashes, finding her face flush, eyes half closed and lips parted. You rub her clothed cunt, making her wet spot grow with each circular motion. Feyre lets out a soft moan as you kiss up her thighs. “Please y/n, I need more, need your mouth.” She begs, throwing her head back against the pillows.

Sitting up on your knees you remove the band from your own breasts, reaching to pull Feyre’s panties agonizingly slow down her legs. Wasting no time you dive into Feyre’s dripping core, lapping at her arousal. Feyre moans out your name, gripping the sheets, her hips squirming against your face.

Capturing her clit in your mouth you let out a hum. Your eyes roll back at the taste of her plus those sweet, sweet sounds falling from her lips. “More,” she begs, “please more. Your fingers p-please.” Feyre struggles to get out. Bringing your finger to her hole you slowly work her open. “Tell me, was Issac this good with his mouth?” You ask with a teasing smirk against her pussy. She shakes her head, “N-no. Fuck no, you’re so much better y/n.”

You go back to sucking her clit, slipping another finger into her pussy. You know you hit that sweet spot (one that Issac clearly never hit) by the way she clenched around your fingers as you curled them. Feyre’s screams became louder and louder with each motion. “Come on Fey, let go.” You urge her. Arching her back Feyre falls apart on your fingers, one of her thighs trembling. Removing your fingers you lap up her release, the sweet taste of her intoxicating.

Sitting up on your knees you run your hands in a soothing motion up and down her thighs. Feyre went limp against the sheets, her chest heaving as she collected herself. Spreading her legs Feyre lets out a small laugh, “Good. I wasn’t done yet.” You laugh at her breathlessness. Throwing one leg over her hips you rest your pussy against hers, lightly rocking back and forth.

Feyre throws her head back again, leaving her neck exposed to you. You picked up the pace of your hips, leaning down to suck and nip at her the juncture of her neck and shoulder. Feyre brings her hands up to your breasts. Running her thumbs over your peaked nipples you moan against her skin at the contact.

Neither of you lasted long. Feyre’s hands felt too good, too skilled. Sharing a pillow she played with your hair as your eyes fluttered at the feeling and softness. You could get used to this. The softness of Feyre, taking care of her, having her in your arms every night. But that was a dangerous way of thinking. Maybe if everything worked out with her sisters marrying, then maybe she could be yours.

———

After that night with Feyre there were only a few more until you stopped seeing her. You had been holding back your feelings, hoping to bring it up while holding her to your chest. It had been a while since you’d been past her family’s cottage, or into town for that matter. Feyre would usually knock on your door asking you to accompany her but hadn’t in weeks.

Donning your cloak and winter boots you head out. Passing through town you heard whispers of the Archeron family name. “His boats were found.” “No, I think a beast did that. No winter winds have ever been that strong,” “I wonder when the middle one will throw a party.” “The aunt is sick I believe.”

All of these pieces yet nothing whole. The gossip made your heart pound. Picking up the pace you start running to the Archeron cottage.

Finally stopping in front of it you feel your heart stop. Your eyes wide taking in the darkness inside and the broken front door. Stepping closer you saw claw marks in the rotting wood. You stopped breathing. What the hell happened here?

“Are you looking for the Archeron’s?” You jump at the voice behind you. You turn to face the stranger, hand over your now rapidly beating heart. Clearing your throat you answer, “Yes, do you know where they are?” “Yeah, new fancy manor-lookin’ place on the other side of town.” You nod in thanks rushing off, knowing exactly where to go.

Politely knocking on the massive front door you step back and wait, twisting your gloved fingers nervously. Elain answered with a bright smile. Her eyes lit up with recognition at seeing your face. “Y/n! What a lovely surprise.” She said cheerily. “Hi, Elain. Is Feyre around?” You ask peeking over her shoulder. Elain’s face fell a little. “Oh, no, I’m so sorry. She’s visiting our aunt. She’s very ill right now so Feyre is helping around her house for a bit. I can’t believe she didn’t tell you.” She says with an air of curiosity, tilting her head a little to the left much like Feyre did when you rambled.

Tears stung your eyes at the familiar movement. You quickly blink them away, not wanting Elain to feel pity for you. “Oh, well I’m sorry about your aunt, I hope she gets better soon. Would you mind umm…when Feyre gets back will you tell her I want to see her?” “Of course!” You nod in thanks and turn to leave. Left with an empty feeling in your heart you let your tears flow freely once you’re back on the street. Why wouldn’t she tell you?

[nyaagolor]

The software I use at work is Not Working and I have an hour to kill before I can go home so here’s some HCs about assorted characters’ living situations bc I wanted to make notes for myself for fic purposes:

Phoenix: Used to live in a regular apartment, but moved into the apartment above Wright and Co Law offices with Trucy after his disbarment. Edgeworth paid off the building’s mortgage after Turnabout Goodbyes so Phoenix doesn’t have to worry about rent

Edgeworth: Owns a penthouse in LA. He rents hotel penthouse suites while in Europe but doesn’t have a permanent one anywhere other than LA because he thinks it’s a hassle. There’s a locked room in the LA penthouse filled with Steel Samurai merch

Gumshoe: Rents the shittiest basement studio you have ever seen. Does not own a bed. Genuinely questionable if the building is up to code (it’s prolly not)

Maya: Lived in Kurain Village until Mia’s death, then moved into the apartment above the office. After BttT she moves back to Kurain

Pearl: Lived in Kurain until her mother’s incarceration, then moved in with Maya in the upstairs apartment, then back to Kurain with Maya after BttT

Mia: Lived in Kurain Village until she founded Fey and Co law offices with Diego, at which point they moved into the apartment upstairs together until her death

Diego: Lived in a regular LA apartment until he founded Fey and Co with Mia. They moved into the upstairs apartment together until his coma. When he wakes from the coma he spends about half a year recovering in the hospital, then throughout AA3 just loiters around the courthouse because he refuses to speak to Phoenix. After BttT he goes to prison and moves in with Maya and Pearl in Kurain Village after his release

Franziska: Technically lives in the von Karma estate with her mother and sister, but is so busy traveling that she mostly stays in hotels. She used to spend holidays there, but Edgeworth has taken to inviting her to stay with him because she's not very close with the rest of her family, so now her room is mostly just storage.

Ema: Her and Lana lived in their parents’ house together until Lana’s imprisonment, during which Ema moves to Europe with an exchange family. When Ema returns from Europe, she moves back into the house with Lana joining her when she’s released

Apollo: He lived on the road with Thalassa and Jove until the latter’s death, then with Dhurke in the countryside, then in an American orphanage until he was 18, at which point I imagine he crashes on Clay’s couch for most of law school because he is technically an orphaned illegal immigrant with absolutely no money or credit. The internship with Kristoph and his job with the WAA gets him enough money to actually rent a place, but his lack of documentation and student loans mean he’s in the cheapest possible apartment. He keeps it extremely neat but there's only so much one can do. He and gumshoe can commiserate about it.

Trucy: Lived mostly on the road / in the tourbus + hotels with her dad and the troupe until she was adopted by Phoenix, at which point she moved into the apartment above the WAA

Klavier: Lived in his parents’ mansion with Kristoph until going to Themis. When he moved back he had enough money from gigging / his band to buy a fancy ass house and still lives there. It’s a little lonely by himself but when he let Daryan throw parties there it was POPPIN

Kristoph: Lived in his parents’ mansion his entire life. He got ownership of it when they died and raised Klavier in it, and continued to live there until he got arrested. Now he’s cushy in solitary cell 13

Athena: Lived in the space center then was shipped off to European relatives when her mom died. When she moved back to the states she got a decent apartment bc her WAA income was supplemented by those rich as hell European relatives

Simon: Lived in a small apartment with his sister growing up, which he continued to live in after she moved to the Space Center. It was sold when he was incarcerated. After his release he moved in with Athena briefly (no one thought it was a good idea for him to live alone) then to a small but nice apartment, which Edgeworth paid for until he could get back on his feet financially